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THE 



^atholie ^orld 



MONTHLY MAGAZINE 



OF 



General L(Iterature and Science 



PUBLISHED BY THE PAULIST FATHERS. 



VOL. ex. 
OCTOBER, 1919, TO MARCH, 1920 



NEW YORK : 

THE OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WORLD 

120 West 60th Street 



1920 



CONTENTS. 



A Medical View of Miracles.-- 

Sir Bertram Windle, M,D„ F.R.S,, 

A Study In Sin— Macbeth.— A /&erf 

B. Purdie, 

American Family Life In Fiction. — 

Maurice Francis Egan, 

An Irish Pilgrimage.— £. /. Quigley, 

Armenian Crisis, The.— Wa/<er 
George Smith, 

"Beneficent America." — One in the 
Government Service 

Big Bus;ipje4i, The Problem of.— 
Leo Af, Murraif, 

Capitalism and Christian Democ- 
racy. — Anthoni^ J. Beck, , 

Chesterbelloc, The. — Theodore May- 
nard, . . . 145, 319, 483, 

Atonement of St. Paul, The. — L. £. 
BellanH, SJ^, 

Beaver Island, The Story of. — 
Rose Mullay, 

Cardinal ^Newman, The Personal 
Influence of. — W. A, Conacher, 

Christmas in the Rio Grande Coun- 
try. — Margaret B. Downing, . 

Conservative Mind, The. — William 
J, Kerhy, Ph.D„ . . . . . 

Digby, Kenelm Henry. — Henry A. 
Lappin, 

Doctrine of Signatures, The. — Har- 
riette Wilbur, ...... 

Dorothea. — May Tomlinson, 

Evil of Poverty, The.— Vincent 3fc- 
Nabb, 0.P 

Facts Respecting Spirit-Photog- 
raphy. — /. Godfrey Raupert, 
K.S.G., . 

Fair Play in Ireland. — John Barnes, 

Father Kino, The Lost Manuscript 
of. — Margaret Hayne Harrison, 
M.A., 

Fiction, American Family Life in. 
— Maurice Francis Egan, 

French-Canadian Poets and Poetry. 
— Thomas 0*Hagan, .... 

French Catholic Scholars. — William 
P. H, Kitchin, Ph,D„ .... 

Henry Bordeaux at the Croal. — 
William H, Scheifley, Ph.D., . 

Hohenzollem, A Seventeenth Cen- 
tury. — Mary J, Malloy, 

How to Read St. John's Gospel.-^ 

C. C. Martindale, S.J., 
Ireland, Fair Play in. — John Barnes, 
Irish No Man*s Land, The.— P. G. 

Smyth '. . . 

Is There a Catholic Theory of 

Criminology? — Francis T. J. 

Burns, 

Keltic Poe. A.— Joseph J, Reilly, 

Ph.D 

Literature, The Lithuanian Clergy 

and. — F. Aurelio Palmieri, O.S.A., 

Ph.D 



221 

184 

289 
630 

305 

591 

231 

355 

617 

721 

782 

773 

344 

577 

1 



Lithuanian Clergy and Literature, 
The.— F. Aurelio Palmieri, O.S.A., 
PJ^D 161 

Lost Manuscript of Father Kino, 
The.— Margaret Hayne Harrison, 
M.A., 653 

Luxemburg.— A. P. Schimberg, . 57 
Macbeth— A Study in Sin.— Albert 

B. Purdie 134 

Mind, The Conservative.— W«»a/n 

/. Kerby, Ph.D 577 

Miracles, A Medical View of.— S^r 

Bertram Windle, M.D., F.R.S., . 221 
National Resurrection, A Polish 

Mystic on the. — Monica M. Gard- 

«^'' 444 

"Open Bible" In Pre-Reformation 

Times, The.—/. M. Lenhart. 

O.M.Cap 601 

Personal Influence of Cardinal New- 
man, The.— W. .4. Conacher, . 773 
"Petering Out."— Francf* Aveling, 

S.T.D 763 

Polish Mystic on the .National 

Resurrection, A. — Monica. M. 

Gardner, ...'..., 444 
Present Wages and Prices.— 7o7in A. 

Ryan, D.D., 433 

Problem of Big Business, The.— 

Leo M. Murray, . '. . . 231 

310 Recent Events, 
37 \ 123, 269, 414, 553, 699, 845 

^Revival of French Catholic Social 

Activity.- Afax Turmann, LL.D., 504 
Russian Revolution, A Theorist of 

the. — F, Aurelo Palmieri, O.S.A., 

Ph.D 331 

Scholars, French Catholic— W//- 

licun P. H, Kitchin, Ph.D., . 634 

Seventeenth Century Hohenzollem, 

A. — Mary J. Malloy 646 

Shakespeare and the Art of Music. 

— F. /. Kelly, Mus.D., . . . .498 
Silver Lining, The. — John Cava- 

naugh, C.S.C., 456 

Story of Beaver Island, The. — 

Rose Mullay, 782 

St. Patrick's Folk in America.— 

Carl Holliday 787 

St. Paul, The Atonement of. — L. E. 

Bellanti, S.J., 721 

The Irish No Man*s Land.— P. G. 

Smyth ^ . .196 

14 r[l Theorist of the Russian Revolution, 
w/ A.— F. Aurelio Palmieri, O.S.A., 

196 \ Ph.D 331 

Thomas of London. — Horace H. 

Hagan, 208 

742 Three New Irish Novels.— tfenrg A, 

Lappin 734 

751 Treasures That Grow Not Old. — 

Fanny Morton Peck 175 

Washington's Associate at York- 
161 town. — Margaret B. Downing, . 95 



464 




653 
289 
373 
634 
471 
646 
65 



STORIES. 



An Uncanonlzed Saint — Mary 

Foster, ..... 82, 241, 365 

Road to Connaught, The, . . . 382 

The First Snow.— E. /. O'Toole, . 476 



The Little Brown Bird.— A radeZ 
Mgulton-Barrett, 29 

The Loyalist. — James Francis Bar- 
rett 515, 661, 796 



CONTENTS 



111 



POEMS. 



A Ballad of Dying. — Franklin C, 

KeyeBp V* * 

Afflrmatioii. — Laura Simmons, . 

A Prayer Upon the Sea.^-CAar2e« /. 
Powers, C,S,P 

Beauty. — Armel O'Connor, . 

Friends. — James J, Daly, SJ„ . 

3femorles of France. — Francis P, 
Donnelly, SJ., 

My Answer. — C. A, Chilton, 



207 
470 

793 
060 
741 

174 
47 



Niagara In Winter. — Edward F. 

Gareschi, S.J„ 

Song of Going. — Katharine Tynan, 
The First Christmas.— Coro/toe Gil- 

tinan, 

The Holy Free.^Afary /. 0*Brien, 

The Lamb. — Fmncis Ctwlin, 

The Return of the Magi. — Geoffrey 

Bliss, SJ, 

To the Supreme. — Harry Lee, . 
**Whose, Then, Shall Those Tilings 

BeV*— Emily Htckey 



WITH OUR READERS. 



American Catholic Historical Asso- 
ciation, 

America's Tribute to Cardinal 
Mercier, 

Call of the Foreign Missions, . 

Catholic Mission Board for Colored 
People, 



715 

2S2 
430 

j ' ^'^ 
Cattiolic Preaching in Hyde Park, 141 

Cattiolic Soldiers by Sixty Chap- 
lains and Many Others, 710 
Comments on Cardinal Mercier, 138 
Competition of the United States 

Catholic Historical Society, . . 287 
Father Hecker and Present Prob- 
lems, 564 

Hon. Thomas J. Lanahan, 718 

Labor Agitation, 278 

Pastoral Letter, . . . . .854 



Prayer for Church Unity, . 

Relics of Louvain, 

Rev. Gilbert Simmons, C.S.P., 
Spiritism and Fortune-Telling, 

Spiritual Values, 

The Catholic Press, . . . . 
The National Catholic Welfare 

Council, ....... 

The Industrial Conflict, 

The Lecture Guild, .... 

The New Paullst Superior, Very 

Rev. Thomas F. Burke, C.S.P., 

The Spirit of Lent. 

The Soul of Ireland and Phases of 

Irish History, 

The World's Need for Catholic 

Principles Today, .... 
Thrift, k . . 



496 
463 

354 
781 
600 

317 
772 

63 



675 
717 
143 
429 
137 
135 

285 
281 
286 

141 
858 

861 

425 
716 



NEW PUBLICATIONS. 



A Daughter of the Northwest, . 550 
A Cattiolic Social Platform, . . 121 
A Geograpliical Dictionary of Mil- 
ton, 120 

A History of the Great War, . . 112 

A History of Latin America, . 545 
A History of the New Thought 

Movement, 689 

A Padre in France, .... 404 

A Primer of Old Testament History, 265 

A Scholar's Letters from the Front, 395 

A Sketch of Mother Mary Lawrence, 413 
A Spinner of Webs, . .842 
A Student's History of the United 

States, 414 

A Subject-Index to the Poems of 

Edmund Spenser, .... 684 

A Vision of Music, 267 

A Wliisper of Fire, .844 
A World of Windows, .696 
Addresses in America, . .543 
Albania, Past and Present, . 252 
American Painting and Its Tradi- 
tion, 683 

Bach for Beginners in Organ Play- 
ing, 267 

Baker's Biographical Dictionary of 

Musicians, 263 

Barbara of Baltimore, .... 412 

Baudelaire 843 

Bible Stories for Children, . 266 

Blood and Sand, 838 

Blue Smoke, 542 

Bolshevism, 254 

Books in General, . . 543 

Broome Street Straws, .... 830 
Canada at War, . . .115 

Captain Zillner, 550 

Catechism Notes, 266 



Catechist's Manual, 410 

Catholic Tales and Christian Songs, 108 

Chatterjee's Picture Albums, . . 267 

ChrisUan Ethics, 535 

Common Sense Drawing, '. 255 
Completed Tales of My Knights 

and Ladies, 262 

Conferences for Married Women, . 840 

Crucible Island, 116 

Cynthia 256 

Dangerous Days, 260 

David Blaize and the Blue Door, . 686 

Democracy, 408 

Dictionary of the Apostolic Church, 546 
Dictionnaire Apolog^tique, . . .414 

Don Falquet, 267 

Elementary American History and 

Government, 835 

Essentials of Spelling, .... 121 

Eunice 690 

Everyday Science, 841 

Experiments in Psychical Science, 104 

Fantastics, 836 

Father Duffy's Story, . .824 

Father Tom, 253 

Fields of Victory, 694 

Fifty Years of Europe, .... 257 

Flexible Ferdinand, .... 119 

Foreign Publications, 122, 268, 698 

French Ways and Their Meaning, 688 
Good Old Stories for Boys and 

Girls, 413 

Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh, 833 
Greater Extension and Development 

of Church Influence, .... 828 

Heritage, 118 

Hidden Treasure, 119 

Historical Records and Studies, 404 

Ibsen in England, 686 



\^ 



1 '.'■■*' > 



IV 



CONTENTS 



Ireland's Fairy Lore, .... 642 

Iron City, 604 

Joan of Are, 680 

John Ayscough's Letters to His 

BCother, 307 

Labor in tlie Changing World, . 825 
Life of Blessed Margaret Mary 

Alaeoque, 114 

Lo» and Behold Yel .... 683 

Lost With Lieutenant Pike, . . 605 

hyrtk. Angelica, 265 

Making Tin Can Toys, .... 844 

Man's Great Concern, .... 843 

Man-0-War Rhsrmes, .... 110 

Marriage While You Wait, . . 602 

Mary Olivier, 412 

Mary the Mother 530 

Merchants of the Morning, . 400 

Model English 601 

Moments With the Consoling 

Christ, 263 

Mother Anne of Jesus, .... 606 

Mr. Dooley on Making a Will, . 261 

Mr. Steadfast, 410 

My Italian Year. 258 

"My Little Bit," 603 

My Rose and Other Poems, . . . 685 
New Modem Illustrative Bookkeep- 
ing. 120 

New Rivers of the North, . . .44 

Old-Fashioned Verses, .... 548 

Our America, 685 

Our Casualties and Other Stories, 551 
Our Own St. Rita, . . . . .115 

Out to Win, 540 

Plant Production, 267 

Poems, 682 

Poems by Francis X. Doyle, S.J., 607 

Poems — First Series, .... 538 

Poems, With Fables in Prose, . 540 
Preparation for Marriage, . . .120 

Punishment and Reformation, . 306 

Questions of the Day, . . 121 

Rezanov. 412 

Robert Bums, 697 

Rhymes with Reasons, . .109 

Sailor Town, 110 

Second Marriage, 410 

Second Report of the Joint Com- 
mission on the Book of Common 

Prayer, 536 

Sermons in Miniature for Medita- 
tion, j. 406 

Self-Govemment in the Philippines. 116 

Shining Fields and Dark Towers. . 403 

Simon 842 

Singing Mountains. 688 

Small Craft, 110 

Small Things, 603 

Social Studies of the War, . . 259 
Spiritism and Religion, . . .826 

Standing By, 105 

Storm in a Teacup. .... 694 

Studies in the Elizabethan Era, . 544 

Sweden's Laureate, 690 

The Acts of the Apostles. . . . 831 

The American Priest, .... 552 

The Awakening of Asia. 251 

The Catholic Home Annual for 1920, 414 
The Christian Monarch. . .262 

The Chronicles of America, . 398 

The Church and the Ministry, 107 
The Complete Poems of Francis 

I^dwidge 827 

The Confessions of a Browning 

LK>ver, 253 



The Crime, 

The Curious Republic of Gondour, 

The Day of Glory, 

The Day's Burden, 

The Death of Tumos, 

The Deep Heart, 

The Doing of RaflOes Haw, 

The Dramatic Story of Old Gloiy, 

The Dream of Mary, .... 

The Epitome of Moral Theology, . 

The Essentials of Spiritual Unity, 

The Four Roads, 

The Freedom of the Seas, . 

This Giddy Globe, 

The Gospel and the Citizen, 

The Government of Religious Com- 
munities 

The Gray Nuns in the Far North, 

The Heavenly Road, .... 

The Hills of Desire, .... 

The Home and the World, 

The International Pocket Library, 

The Journal of a Disappointed 
Man, 

The Lady of the Crossing, 

The League of Nations, 

The Life of the Party, 

The Little Flowers of Saint Francis, 

The Mind of Arthur JameS Balfour, 

The Modem Comedy, .... 

The Mud Larks, 

The New Earth, 

The Next Step in Democracy, 

The Old Madhouse, .... 

The Place of Agriculture in Recon- 
struction, 

The Prisoners of Mainz. 

The Priests* Canonical Prayer, 

The Reformation, 

The Shamrock Battalion of the 
Rainbow, . 

The Spanish Armada, .... 

The Story of the Rainbow Division, 

The Sword of Deborah, 

The Tower of London from Within, 

The Symbolist Movement in Liter- 
ature. ....... 

The Three Mulla-Mulgars, 

The Things Immortal, . 

The Victory of the Gardens. 

The Wild Swans at Cool. . 

The Will of Song, . . . 

The Words of Ufe, . . 

The Young Visiters. 

7'ales from Hans Andersen, 

••That Arch Liar, Froude," 

Their Mutual Child. . . 

Theodore Rooseveit, 

Theodore Roosevelt's Letters to 
Children, 

Travelling Companions, 

Treaty of Peace with Germany, 

Trouping for the Troops, 

True Stories for First Communion. 

Vergil and the English Poets, 

Walled Towns. 

War and Love. 

War in the Crarden of Eden, . 

WTiat is America? 

Whom the Lord Lovcth, 

Why We Fail As Christians, . . 

Winona's Way, 

Wooden Spoil. 

World's War Events, .... 

Zionism and the Future of Pales- 
tine, '. 



His 



530 
842 
250 
534 
406 
842 
261 

lis 

264 
606 
121 
258 
407 
844 
121 

113 
835 
413 
256 
841 
606 

111 
605 
829 
262 
537 
681 
542 
540 
263 
836 
533 

252 
111 

843 
681 

691 

108 
549 
.396 

839 
840 
831 
266 
547 
264 
119 
409 
266 
260 
261 
254 

832 
405 
266 
687 
265 
548 
602 
411 
545 
547 
552 
253 
832 
117 
405 

109 



* 1 I • 



OCTOBER 1919 



a, oV^» THE 

. . Of *AvV/^ 



^atholie^pld 

Kenelm Henry Digby Henry A. Lap pin 1 

Fair Play in Ireland John Barnes 14 

The Little Brown Bird Arabel Moult on-Barrett 21) 

Dorothea May Tomlinson 37 

My Answer C A, Chilton 47 

Facts Respecting Spirit-Photography i. Ovdfrey Raupert, KS,G. 48 

Luxemburg A. P. Schimberg 57 

"Whose, Then, Shall Those Things BeV* Emi/y Hickey (53 

How to Bead St John's Oospel C. C. Martindale, SJ, 65 

An Uncanonized Saint ' Mary Foster 82 

Washington's Associate at Torktown Margaret B, Downing 95 



New Books 
Becent Events 

Russia, Germany, Hungary 
Austria, Rumania^ Ualy. 

With Our Beaders 



Price -25 cents; $8 per year 



THS OFFICE OF THE CATHOLIC WOBLD, NEW TOBE 

120-122 West 60th Street 



I 
p 



Enteied as second-class nmtter at the Post Office at New York, N. Y. 




Awo&fi, iifiy 



rs: 



^ ' '■" 



* "^ E IV «P t/ ® L I C cA T I fl S 




A Primer of 
Old Testament History 

'By Rev. Francis E. Gigo(, D.D. 

The Well Known Biblical Scholar of St. Joseph's 
Seminary, Dunwoodle, New York 



' I ^HIS is the first of a series of Kiblical 
Primers to be publisjied. It sum- 
marizes Sacred History from the crea- 
tion of the world to the coming of 
Our Blessed Lord. The book is well 
printed in handy size. It is enriched 
with illustrations and appropriate maps. 
An excellent volume to be in the 
hands of pupils beginning a Scripture 
Course. 



Price 60 Cents 



Carriage loc 



THE PoA UL 1 S T <J> R E S S 



120-122 fVEST 60th STREET, 



NEW YORK CITY 



=5\ 



i!/ 



i) 



id monthly by the Missionary Society of St. Paul t)»€ Apostle of the Stale of New York (Paulist Fathers). 

iJisecoDd class matter July 8, 1879, at the post office at New York, New York, under the^ctof March 3, 
1879. Acceptance for mailing: at special rale of postage provid» d for in Sectinn 1 103, 

Act of October 3. 1917, authorised October c, 1918 



■> m 



THE 



^atholie^pld 



Vol, CX, 



OCTOBER, 1919 



No. 655. 



KENELM HENRY DI6BY. 



BY HENRY A. LAPPIN. 




F the small band of defenders and interpreters of 
Catholic truth and life writing in England today, 
Mr. Bernard Holland is one of the most schol- 
arly, dignified and convincing. His pen is grace- 
f ul, lucid and flexible, and everything from it is 
read with interest and sympathy even by those whose religious 
views differ widely from his own. He commands a knowl- 
edge of history and of the history of apologetic which is exten- 
sive and thorough : his narrative and expository skill is of the 
highest His latest work, the biography of an eminent Catho- 
lic Victorian,^ is eloquently, and at times brilliantly, written: 
there is vigor and freshness on every page. 

Almost forty years have elapsed since the laborious and 
fruitful life ended of which the record is now first given to the 
world. Bom at the beginning of the last century Kenelm 
Henry Digby died in 1880. During sixty of his four-score years 
he wrote assiduously and produced many volumes. Besides 
his Norrisian prize essay, composed in his twentieth year while 
he was a Cambridge undergraduate, he published The Broad- 
stone of Honour (1822) — later revised and issued in four 
volumes; Mores CatholicU which appeared in eleven volumes 
between 1831 and 1842; Compitum, published in seven volumes 

^M$moir of Kenelm Henry Dtgby. By Bernard HoUand« CV. New York: Long- 
mABt, Green A Co. 15.00. 

Gopjrrlght. 1019. Thk Missionaby Society op St. Paul thk Apostuc 

IN nn State or Niw Toul. 

(B. 1 



2 KENELM HENRY DIGBY [Oct, 

between 1849 and 1854; The Lovers' Seat (two volumes), 1856; 
The Children's Bower (two volumes), 1858; The Chapel of 
St. John, 1861; Evenings on the Thames (two volumes), 1864. 
This is the full tale of his prose. Of his verse no less than ten 
volumes came from the press between 1865 and 1876. This 
imposing array of books 'Mr. Holland has thoroughly mas- 
tered, and in appraising them he has exercised the sound judg- 
ment of an admirably-balanced critic of the conservative 
school. 

The events of Digby's intimate family life, also, are here 
recorded sympathetically and attractively. To measure the 
exact altitude of his subject's talent or to discover his precise 
place in English letters was no part of the biographer's pur- 
pose; he makes no attempt to analyze Digby's style — though 
thereupon he offers more than one illuminating comment — or 
to suggest comparisons with other writers: his object is sim- 
ply to give such an account of Digby's life and works as may 
induce people to admire the one and read the other. It is a 
pleasure to welcome a book which will indubitably take and 
keep a foremost place in the biographical literature of modem 
English Catholicism. 

The Digbys have a long and honorable history, going 
back to the days of Edward the Confessor. One of them met 
his death at Towton Field in the cause of the Red Lancastrian 
Rose. A later bearer of the name, Sir Everard, was executed 
for complicity in the Gunpowder Plot. The seventeenth cen- 
tury Sir Kenelm Digby fought a duel at Paris on behalf of his 
kingly master, the first Charles; published a criticism of that 
benign book, Religio Medici: discovered the necessity of oxy- 
gen to the life of plants; married Venetia Stanley, a very great 
lady; and had Descartes for his friend. The father of the nine- 
teenth century Kenelm Digby was Dean of Clonfert in the 
Irish Establishment, a mighty athlete and traveler. Kenelm 
Henry was the younger son of the Dean's third wife, who was 
a kinswoman of the Ahh6 Edgworth, into whose ear was whis- 
pered the last confession of that ill-fated monarch, Louis XVI. 
The boy came of right lusty stock, for he entered the world 
when his father was a sexagenarian. In his twentieth year 
Kenelm, through the death of his elder brother, came into pos- 
session of the family estates and possessions, and was thus en- 
abled to order his life as he desired. His childhood was spent 



1919.] KENELM HENRY DIGBY 3 

in one of the most beautiful spots in the heart of Ireland, at 
Geashill, where he fleeted the time carelessly amid the sur- 
rounding woods and meadows, looked out upon the loveliness 
of the distant Sleeve Bloom range, and invited his awakening 
soul with the novels of Scott and the plays of Shakespeare. 
Canying with him a great love for Ireland and many happy 
memories, Digby, after a period of preparation at Petersham 
School near Richmond, went to Trinity College, Cambridge, in 
1815, and there quickly made his reputation as the most fear- 
less of youths and the " founder of boating on the Cam." Upon 
one so constituted, emotionally and intellectually, the gray old 
Alma Mater could not fail to lay her immemorial spell. The slow 
waters gliding in peace beneath the ancient walls of colleges 
and chapels founded by great kings and their daughters; the 
golden stillness sleeping among the trees of venerable gardens on 
endless summer afternoons; sober-suited evenings in the Long, 
filled with the drowsy music of college bells and the drowsy fra- 
grance of limes; the first pale violets at Grantchester in Febru- 
ary, the russet blooms of autumn at Cherry Hinton — these 
were the gracious influences that helped to mold and must 
have powerfully affected the early manhood of the author of 
The Broadstone of Honour and The Lovers' Seat " Here if 
anywhere ** — a great living scholar has written — " the student 
may hope to hear the still voice of truth, to penetrate through 
the little transitory questions of the hour to the realities which 
abide. • • ." 

The title of his Norrisian essay, Digby's first book. Evi- 
dences of the Christian Religion, provides a clue to the nature 
of the studies to which he was thenceforth to devote his days, 
and gives evidence of his already wide range of reading. He 
turned now with eagerness to the study of books upon chivalry 
and the history of the Middle Ages. From Sir Walter Scott 
he had learned to love those dayjs of faith, and to explore them 
upon their spiritual side. Chateaubriand's Le Ginie du Chris- 
tianisme (18Q2) had already marked the beginning of that 
revival which found its further and more complete expression 
when Joseph de Maistre, in his Du Pape (1819), insisted upon 
the necessity of the Papacy as a bond of union among believers 
and a palmary source of inspiration for the life of religion. 
The Oxford Movement had not yet come to quicken a stag- 
nant Ecclesia Anglicana, to vitalize English theological 



4 KENELM HENRY DIGBY [Oct., 

thought, to recover a past that was forgotten, not to say dis- 
owned, and to originate a definitely ecclesiastical revival in 
church art, music and architecture. Eenelm, indeed before 
going to Cambridge, had discovered an interest in Catholicism. 
As a youngster at Petersham he had come in contact with two 
Catholic laymen as learned as they were pious: Charles But- 
ler, nephew of the Alban Butler whose Lives of the Saints has 
made his name a household word among English-speaking 
Catholics the world over, and Sir Henry Englefield. True it 
is that they made no attempt to influence the boy in the du*ec- 
tion of Rome; their talk to him was mainly of the great writers 
of classical antiquity: but their bearing and character were a 
living testimony to the Faith they professed. 

At the end of his Freshman year Digby set out on the 
usual Continental tour, going through Belgium, Switzerland, 
Italy and France. Then for the first time he went into a Catho- 
lic church and had, in his own words, his " first view of Popish 
superstition.** He speaks of the incomprehensible operations 
of the ministering priests, yet notices that ** there is not a sin- 
gle individual to be observed either inattentive or behaving 
irreverently.** But the time had not yet come when it would 
be impossible for him to write, as now he wrote, of ** that dark 
empire when priests held a dominion over the minds and 
bodies of men, which kept all Europe in ignorance and misery, 
which was the disgrace of Christianity and the scourge of 
humankind.** 

Though, like many another, he realized it not, Rome even 
already had marked him for her own. At Cambridge, some- 
time after his return from abroad, he spent a night of vigil in 
King*s Chapel; and at Marklye in Sussex, with his friend Darby, 
he conducted a solemn tournament in approved mediaeval 
fashion ** with ponies for steeds and hop-poles for spears.*' For 
the Trinity dons of his time his respect was deeper than that 
ordinarily entertained by the undergraduate; Whewell and 
Julius Hare, in especial, he revered. Among his fellow- 
students were numbered not a few who in years to come were 
to achieve fame and to have honors thrust upon them. To 
mention only two: W. M. Praed and Thomas Babington 
Macaulay were his direct contemporaries, and between 1825 
and 1828, while Digby was still intermittently resident, there 
came to Cambridge, Trench, the future Archbishop of Dublin, 



1919.] KENELM HENRY DIGBY 5 

John Sterling, Frederic Maurice, Edward Fitzgerald, Alfred 
Tennyson and Arthur Hallam. Mr. Holland interestingly notes 
that The Broadstone of Honour, published in 1822, greatly in- 
fluenced the early poems of Tennyson. Strangely enough, 
Di^y seems to have refused an invitation to join the ranks of 
"^The Cambridge Apostles," that brilliant university society 
which included so many subsequently famous men. 

Of Di^yy's foreign wanderings in undergraduate and later 
years the story is charmingly set forth in the long poem. The 
Temple of Memory, which he wrote when he was nearing the 
end of his life. Di^y was as fond of swimming as were Byron 
and Swinburne, and he performed some striking feats in the 
great rivers of Germany and Italy. He swam across the peril- 
ous breadth of the Rhine near Drachenf els, and he was called 
a water-rat by the riparian Romans who saw him breast the 
rushing waters of the Tiber. It was Italy in particular, and the 
city of Rome, that won and held his love. ** At Rome," writes 
Mr. Holland, **he loved to see the rising sun stream on the 
portals of the great church of St. John, or the ancient Benedic- 
tine Convent on the side of the valley at Subiaco, or the view 
from Tivoli of * the distant rising majesty of great St. Peter's 
matchless pile ' while the setting sun colored all the plain with 
deep ruddy hues." In Mores Catholici, written several years 
later, there are many exquisite descriptions of the scenes upon 
which he looked so lovingly at this time. Nothing could be more 
beautifully impressive than those pages wherein he describes 
his feelings when he first saw the College of Cardinals in stately 
congress, or his memories of the uplands of Switzerland 
studded with monasteries and convents and churches: or of 
the roads by the side of which he talked with happy children, 
kindly old men and women, and gentle priests. 

It was such sights as these, and the enlargement of mind 
— to use Newman's phrase — ^which came gradually to him in 
the course of the social and historical studies he prosecuted in 
preparation for The Broadstone of Honour, that at length de- 
termined him to submit to the See of Rome, the Source of Unity 
and the Centre of Truth. He came finally to recognize, in his 
biographer's apt words, ** that the leading motives of the men 
who broke with Rome and made essential changes in the an- 
cient doctrines and ritual of religion in England were of the 
most material and secular kind, and that they were a minority 



6 KENELM HENRY DIGBY [Oct., 

forcing their policy upon a mostly reluctant people who had no 
real voice in the matter and lost by the changes then made. . . . 
First came the breach, the act of will, and then to justify it, 
theories arose about the Church. And these theories have ever 
since been in a Protean process of perpetual change and varia- 
tion, in accordance with the changing humors of various 
times." 

In Digby's early days it was a more formidable adventure 
to take the road to Rome than happily it is now; for one thing, 
the social consequences of such a step were likely to be much 
more painful, and there were many avenues of advancement, 
professional and other, from which a Catholic was debarred 
because of his Faith. Digby, however, having made up his mind, 
would permit no obstacle to stand in the way of the fulfillment 
of his purpose, and although he was rebuffed by at least two 
priests, in succession — ^who, it may be, doubted his earnestness 
— ^he succeeded at last in being received into the Church by a 
London Jesuit to whom Charles Butler had directed him. 

From now on, for several years, Digby lived at Cambridge, 
^ reading in libraries books not often in modem days disturbed 
from their secular repose, and decanting their contents into 
volumes of his own making." The liberal dons meantime per- 
mitted him to retain rooms at Trinity; possibly they looked 
upon his change of religion as an unfortunate aberration to be 
passed lightly over in a young man of so much learning, sin- 
cerity and charm! Not long after his conversion Digby be- 
came the friend of Ambrose Lisle March Phillips, who had 
already been two years in the Church, and who as a fervent 
layman was destined in years to come to do a great work for 
Catholicism in England. Later on the two friends saw much 
of the Honorable and Reverend George Spencer, another Trin- 
ity convert who afterwards found his vocation in the Passionist 
congregation and, as Father Ignatius of St. Paul, died the 
death of a saint in 1864. 

These three Cambridge men," Mr. Holland notes, • . . 
all became Catholics before the Oxford Movement had begun. 
Each of them contributed his share to the return towards 
Catholic principles which brought many to the Chair of St 
Peter, and brought far more to the half-way shelter which be- 
gan to arise within the Anglican Church. Kenelm Digby con- 
tributed to this by his writings, Ambrose de Lisle by his en- 






1919.] KENELM HENRY DIGBY 7 

thusiastic propaganda in action, and Spencer by his personal 
influence. Thus the Catholic movement began, as a matter of 
fact, not at Oxford, but in the more decidedly Protestant Uni- 
versity of Cambridge. The reason perhaps is that Cambridge 
was less isolated than Oxford then was in narrow self-esteem, 
and more open to continental influences. Thus it was sooner 
touched by the great wave of the romantic return to the 
mediseval spirit, which was sweeping over Germany and even 
France, as a reaction against the strictly classical spirit of the 
French Revolution and the Napoleonic period.*' When, in 
1825, Digby became a Catholic, Pugin's "little gem," St. 
Andrew's Catholic Church, had not yet been built, and the 
convert was obliged to ride twenty-six miles each way to Mass 
on Sunday at Old Hall. Faithfully every Sunday the two friends, 
Phillips and Digby, rode over, fasting, to early Communion, 
High Mass, and Vespers, getting back to Cambridge at night- 
fall. 

Those were the days when to become a Catholic was to 
make sacrifices. But Digby did not complain. He had found 
that after which his heart had longed. He was in love with the 
Faith into whose joy he had entered. And, as Mr. HoUand 
says finely at the ^close of his account of Digby's conversion, 
** the Christian religion is a love affair, and the complete con- 
summation so far as it can be on earth is in or through the 
Catholic Church. Between mere friendship and love com- 
pleted there is for him who has once felt the attraction, no firm 
standing ground any more than for the earthly lover in the 
conception of * Platonic love.' Those who have never been real 
lovers can be friends, but those who have been can hardly fall 
back upon the line of friendship. If they retreat at all they 
must retreat much further into the wilderness of uncertainty 
and doubt." 

The Broadstone of Honour, the first of Digby's longer works, 
derives its title from the ruined castle of Ehrenbreitstein, across 
the Rhine from Coblenz. As Mr. Holland indicates, this book was 
for Digby what The Essay on Development was for Newman 
and By What Authority for Robert Hugh Benson — and, one 
might appropriately add. The Principles of Church Authority 
(that forgotten masterpiece of Anglo-Roman controversy) for 
Archdeacon Robert Wilberforce; in each case the book im- 
mediately preceded or followed the author's submission to the 



8 KENELM HENRY DIGBY [Oct, 

Ifoly See. The intention of Digby in The Broadstone was to 
demonstrate the greatness and display the beauty of the Catho- 
lic Church through the centuries. There was then, there is 
always, room for such a work. Since the so-called Reforma- 
tion nothing had been left undone to vilify the Spouse of 
Christ, no slander had been thought too l]jase or too ab- 
surd to heap upon her, no lie too foul with which to besmirch 
her. To The Dublin Review and to Studies Hilaire BeUoc has 
recently contributed certain vital and scholarly articles, in 
which he shows how the original authorities and documents 
have been handled by a modern historian like Gibbon. It 
would be no difficult task for a trained Catholic historian to 
discover many similar suppressiones ueri and suggestiones 
falsi in the work of most of the standard historians who have 
written from a non-Catholic or ** impartial '* standpoint dur- 
ing the last hundred years or so. Unfortunately for the cause 
of truth and justice the James Gairdners have been few and 
far between, and the wells have been pretty thoroughly 
poisoned. 

The Broadstone is divided into four parts entitled respec- 
tively Godefridus, Tancredus, Morus and Orlandus. '* The first 
two are so named after the heroes of the ICrusades, the thurd 
after the Catholic martyr, Sir Thomas More. The main object 
of the book is to describe the heroic and chivalrous spirit, 
intimately bound up with the religious faith as it appeared in 
the Middle Ages. But in Morus and in part of Orlandus are 
stated those undeniable facts about the Protestant Revolution 
in England, and on the Continent, the public exhibition of 
which gave so much offence to the excellent rector of Hurst- 
monceaux. [Julius Hare, of Guesses at Truth fame, who later 
wrote to Digby: *' Luther is the man to whom I feel that I 
myself, and that the whole world, owe more than to any man 
since St Paul."] In one of his latest works, written when he 
was over seventy, Digby admits that in his youth he wrote 
things in religious controversy possibly too wounding to others, 
and expressed more strongly than he would have expressed 
them in old age. This is a very common reflection in old age 
concerning ardent and intolerant youth, which has the defects 
of its qualities. All the same, in England, in these days it is 
well to be definite and lucid in order to avoid misinterpreta- 
tion. From his early youth till the end of his very long Ufe 



1919.] KENELM HENRY DIGBY 9 

Kenefan Di^^y never wavered for one moment in his definition 
€d the Catholic Church. It is for him, that religious society 
existing throughout the world, of unbroken historic continuity, 
and consisting of people of all nations and languages, which 
is visibly, avowedly, and organically connected with the cen- 
tral Apostolic See at Rome, and it is nothing either more or less 
than this. ... He never admitted the assertion made by some 
modems that the Catholic Church consists of ^ all who profess 
and call themselves Christians," or the more exclusive asser- 
tion made by other moderns that it consists of an imagined 
combination of certain churches having properly descended 
episcopal institutions. 

The Broadstone of Honour has not been without its in- 
fluence upon subsequent English hterature. Mr. iHolland, as 
we have recorded, notes the indebtedness of Tennyson to it in 
his early poems. Ruskin also, whom Digby greatly admired, 
has paid tribute to this great book, assuring the reader of 
Modem Painters that he ** will find every phase of nobleness 
illustrated in Kenelm Digby's Broadstone of Honour*' It may 
be, too, that Ruskin modeled the titles of some of his own later 
opuscula upon those of Digby's lesser prose-writings, e. g.. The 
Children's Bower^ The Lovers' Seat. And the author of Sesame 
and Lilies did not hesitate to acknowledge a further debt: 
" The best help I have ever had,*' he writes in Modern Painters 
— ** so far as help depended on the sympathy or praise of others 
in work which, year after year, it was necessary to pursue 
through the abuse of the brutal and the base — ^was given me 
when this author, from whom I had first learned to love noble- 
ness, introduced frequent reference to my own writings in his 
Children's Bower." It is a pity that Ruskin did not learn yet 
more from these powerful and persuasive pages; that he did 
not go on to admire and embrace the marvelous coherence 
and unity (^ that dogmatic truth out of which Digby*s highest 
inspirations proceeded; but many things are hidden from the 
prudent that are revealed unto babes, and Ruskin was never 
made wise unto salvation. Brought up in a rigidly Puritan 
atmoqphere he never knew at first hand the daily lives of Cath- 
olic men and women. Perhaps it was because of this that he 
was capable of writing: "Modem Romanism is as different 
from thirteenth century Romanism as a prison from a prince's 
chamber." 



10 KENELM HENRY DIGBY [Oct, 

It is to be feared that many of the absurd assumptions 
and statements made by those who sit in judgment on Cathol- 
icism, are attributable entirely to their crass ignorance of the 
real motives and beliefs of the Catholic. W. E. H. Lecky, for 
instance, has talked amazing nonsense about '*the enormous 
difference ^ between the ofiBcial Catholicism of the Council of 
Trent and of the writings of Bossuet and Newman and the 
'" pure and manifest polytheism and idolatry [italics are ours] 
of the actual religion as it is practised in a great part of Europe 
with the direct sanction and under the special benediction of 
the highest authorities of the Church/' Even so keen and so 
honorable a writer as Bishop Gore asseverates that a modem 
Roman Catholic wiU hardly find himself at home in St. Paul's 
epistles! It is inexplicable that Christian men of intelligence 
should write like this, and should fail to realize that the evi- 
dences of Christianity are all, when examined, equally 
evidences of Catholicism. 

To the writing of his next, longest, and, beyond question, 
his most enduring work, Digby gave no less than ten years. At 
the end of Mores Catholici there is a noble passage — ^recalling 
the famous paragraph in his Autobiography wherein the 
author of The Decline and Fall records the bringing to a close 
of his master-work — ^in which Digby describes the circum- 
stances under which he entered upon its composition; but not 
Gibbon himself, it is scarcely an exaggeration to declare, ever 
achieved a more sumptuous pageant of prose. 

The plan of the book is simple enough : taking up the eight 
beatitudes he demonstrates by a vast accumulation of interest- 
ing and beautiful examples how each of them was realized in 
the lives of mediaeval men and women. He shows how the 
ideals of the beatitudes were maintained and inculcated by the 
mediaeval Church, and how they influenced the individual in 
every walk of life, in youth and age, in peace and war, in 
sorrow and in joy. 

The scope of these eleven eloquent volumes is admirably 
summarized in the view Digby commends to us at the begin- 
ning of Mores Catholici: ** Such a view would present a varied 
and immense horizon, comprising the manners, institutions, 
and spirit of many generations of men long gone by; we should 
see in what manner the whole type and form of life were Chris- 
Qan, although its detail may often have been broken and dis- 



1919.] KENELM HENRY DIGBY 11 

ordered; for instance, how the pursuits of the learned, the con- 
solations of the poor, the riches of the Church, the exercises 
and dispositions of the young, and the common hope and 
consolation of all men, harmonized with the character of those 
who sought to be poor in spirit; how again, the principle of 
obedience, the constitution of the Church, the division of min- 
istration and the rule of government, the manners and insti- 
tutions of society, agreed with meekness and inherited its 
recompense; further, how the sufferings of just men, and the 
provisions for a penitential spirit were in accordance with the 
state of those that were to mourn and weep; then, how the 
character of men in sacred order, the zeal of the laity, and 
the lives of all ranks, denoted the hunger and thirst after 
justice; again, how the institutions, the foundations and the 
recognized principle of perfection proclaimed men merciful; 
moreover, how the philosophy which prevailed, and the spir- 
itual monuments which were raised by piety an4 genius, 
evinced the clean of heart; still further how the union of 
nations and the bond of peace which existed even amidst 
savage discord, wars and confusion, as also how the holy re- 
treats for innocence which then everywhere abounded, marked 
the multitude of pacific men; and finally, how the advantage 
taken of dire events and the acts of saintly and heroic fame 
revealed a spirit which shunned not suffering for the sake of 
justice.** 

Mores Catholici is a veritable library in itself, and the 
devout Catholic in this age of small things would do weU to 
make the book his constant companion. After the writings of 
Cardinal Newman, it is one of the greatest contributions ever 
made by a Catholic to English prose literature. There are 
not so many great Catholic men of letters in our own time 
that we can afford to ignore Kenelm Digby. The Catholics 
who spend money on books are neither numerous nor wealthy, 
Bfr. HQlland laments, and he expresses the pious hope that 
some rich benefactor of his kind might cause the Mores Cath- 
olici to be republished at a price within the reach of the lean- 
est purse. It is, indeed, a matter for grave concern that what 
he admirably calls **this immense storehouse of wisdom and 
beauty and knowledge** must remain inaccessible to the 
majority of readers today. There is truth in his remark that 
^ a priest who possessed The Broadstone of Honour, Mores Cath^ 



12 KENELM HENRY DIGBY [Oct., 

olici and Compitum would have an inexhaustible store of 
ammunition from which to feed his sermons. On every page 
he will find quotations from the best ancient and modem 
thinkers and poets suggesting trains of thought to himself » and 
many a tale of heroic and saintly deeds to illustrate his 
themes.** 

The last of Digby's three longer works, Compitum, 
was published in 1849. His later writings are, after all, merely 
opuscula — ^mellow, delightful and wise, it is true, but bearing 
the same relation to the three great books as a foothill to Mount 
Everest. Compitum is ^ the Latin word for a point at which 
roads meet, or to which they converge, like the straight 
drives one sees in such forests as Compi^gne or Fontaine- 
bleau, meeting at a point from which they radiate like 
spokes in a wheel. The meeting point in the book is formed 
by the central principles of the Catholic Church, in which 
alone is found the happiness and peace of those who 
travel by the many roads. The roads are the various 
phases of human life, such as the road of children, the 
road of youth, the road of the family, that of old age, that of 
the schools, that of travelers, of joy, of sorrow, of death, of 
contemplation, of wisdom, of warriors, of priests, of kings, 
of active life, of the poor, of friendship, and many others, 
through seven long volumes, crowded with admirable quota- 
tions and reflections." Here almost more than in any other of his 
books Digby is unflinchingly Catholic and Roman. His chief con- 
cern now is to make abundantly and convincingly clear his idea 
of Rome as the Centre of Unity, ** as the guardian of what he so 
often calls * central principles' of life in all its provinces.'* 
Digby had no patience with those eclectic souls who refuse 
the magisterium of the Church on the score that it is a 
** Western growth,** "legal and Roman,** *" unknown to St. 
Athanasius, etc.,** Qui vos audit me audit was to his mind a 
sufficient answer to them; the magisterium of Rome is surely 
preferable to that of Mowbray, he would have said had he 
lived in these days. Newman said that to be deep in history 
was to cease to be a Protestant, and Digby was logical and 
knew his history. 

Into the Compitum as into its two predecessors, Di^y 
poured the riches of his theological, historical and literary 
knowledge. His range of allusion is wider even than Milton, 



1919.] KENELM HENRY DIGBY 13 

and unlike Milton he was not cut off by imperfect sympathies 
and downright prejudice from some of the most treasurable 
writings of the Bfiddle Age. His knowledge of the liturgy of 
the Church he uses with something of Dante's beautiful effec- 
tiveness. ^ He is an excellent guide in reading/* his biographer 
dryly remarks, ** to those who prefer literature somewhat mel- 
lowed by time to the last books from Smith's or Mudie's, and 
the solid wisdom of the ages to the latest theory in cir- 
culation.'' 

Digby's minor works, the titles of several of which were 
mentioned at the beginning of this article, need not detain us 
long. The best of them are the two books of reflections and 
discussions. The Lovers' Seat and Evenings on the Thcunes; 
and one might fitly call them ** Recreations of the author of 
Mores CatholicL" He brings his imagination home, so to 
speak, from its indefatigable joumeyings through Europe, and 
writes of familiar scenes and every-day topics. The note of 
these later and briefer books is somewhat that of a peculiarly 
Victorian benevolence and cheerfulness. They abound, like 
everything he wrote, in pleasant autobiographical touches, 
and are characterized throughout by his usual surprisingly 
wide allusiveness. Adequately to annotate the works of Di^^y 
would require the cooperation of a committee of scholars! 
Some of these lesser writings are filled with a moving tenderness 
and wistful regret. In The Children's Bower he tells the story of 
his beloved children, and it is difficult to read with dry eyes 
the heartbroken father's grief at the death of his baby son, 
John Gerald, ^the sweetest companion that ever man bred 
his hopes out of, so loving and so joyous. . . ." Mr. Holland 
devotes two long chapters of the Memoir to an account of 
Digby's family life, a chronicle of domestic piety and rectitude, 
of profound happinesses tranquilly and joyfuUy shared, of 
sorrows and bereavements and disasters manfuUy borne and 
turned to heavenly uses. Such lives and such approaches to 
death are the mountain-summits towards which we who walk 
in the plains below must raise eyes and hearts of aspiration. 



FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND. 



BY JOHN BARNES. 



IIBERTY has inspired raptures in all languages, 
but no one can speak about it more movingly 
than the Englishman. The Englishman that 
talks — the orator, the historian, and the poet — 
has rung the changes upon this most abused of 
until the Englishman that listens may be forgiven 
if he has yielded to the spell and come to look upon liberty as 
a sort of English shamrock, a growth of English soil, luxuriat- 
ing at home, transplanted only to perish. At least the converse 
holds true, according to the famous decision of a famous 
jurist, which the poet has expressed in lines dear to every Eng- 
lish heart: 

Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs 
Receive our air, that moment they are free; 
They touch our country and their shackles fall. 

In favor of his sincerity is the choice he has made of a 
national virtue — fair play — the best preservative against the 
abuse of power, in a majority or an oligarchy or a despot, and 
almost of itself sufficient to keep unrestraint from license. 
It is no sign that a man loves liberty simply that he wishes to 
be free. Every man does that, be be a roisterer in the clutches 
of a policeman for doing his own sweet will or the worst 
tyrant that ever kept the world in chains. There is little merit 
in a love of virtue with reservations, according to the adage 
about " honor among thieves." Not until one brings oneself 
to look beyond the interests of oneself or one's clan does one 
get much farther than Nero or the Puritans. The familiar line, 
" who rules o'er freemen must himself be free." might better 
read, " he that loves l^eedom rules not over slaves." In the 
portrait painted by hipiself the Englishman never fails to make 
fair play the most prominent feature. He would not, to be 
sure, be understood to mean that he is the discoverer of the 
Golden Rule, or that no one else knows how to play fair; but, 
whether it be that fair play is the exception elsewhere but in 






1919.] FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND 15 

En^and the rule, or that others have it as an acquired virtue 
while the Englishmen is to the manner bom, it is a virtue 
distinctively English. 

It would be superfluous to add fresh colors to so lively a 
picture, and spiteful to try to spoil it. England has fairly 
earned the right to have a good opinion of herself. After prej- 
udice has set on one side all that can be said against her, there 
will remain enough to her credit in the cause of humanity to 
make any other nation slow to cast the first stone. If she has 
gained power she has used it beneficently, either by spreading 
the blessings of freedom in both hemispheres over tracts where 
her own little island could be hid in a comer, or by bestowing 
upon subject races a degree of well-being which they could 
not hope to attain to of themselves. And this power has come 
to her in no small measure from her love of liberty and fair 
play. Nor is it any drawback from her deserts that her tri- 
umphs in the cause of liberty, from Magna Charta to the Re- 
form Bill, have been achieved, not in pursuit of a Quixotic 
ideal, but under the pressure of grievances that were felt as 
intolerable. Rather this speaks well for her good sense, since 
it shows that she has as little use for the political charlatan 
as she has for the despot. 

If the picture is spoiled this will not be done by any man 
outside of England. But it stands in danger of being spoiled 
there at the present hour. She herself has to choose, and she 
must make her choice in the broad light of day, whether she 
will live up to her professions and gladden the heart of every 
true lover of liberty, or give them the lie, to the great glee of 
those who are waiting their opportunity to point at her the 
finger of scorn. Just off her western shore lies the sister isle, 
which ought to be a happy spot if nature had her way, since 
she made it beautiful and rich and peopled it with a warm- 
hearted race. The passions of men have been let loose there 
for eight hundred years, and the story they have made is the 
saddest history has to tell. There, at the present moment, all 
the fine phrases about English liberty and English fair play 
sound like cruel mockery. How the world applauded little 
Belgium because for the space of four years it refused to be 
cowed beneath the heel of the conqueror! A nation whose 
spirit has not been broken in twice as many centuries has 
proved its right not to be deprived of its nationality. The Irish 



16 FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND [Oct, 

have been left to starve and coaxed into the soup-houses by 
turn, they have been chased into the bog and ushered into their 
seats in the British Parliament, but they have never been 
brought to acquiesce in the spoliation. Being of the tempera- 
ment they are, with the spectacle before their eyes of their 
ancestral domain in the possession of strangers, the wonder 
is, not that they have been restive, but that they have been so 
little turbulent. 

Deep feelings crave a symbol, and Ireland has her own 
Bastille perpetually before her eyes as the embodiment of her 
wrongs. Here is how it looked to Justin McCarthy : ** Ameri- 
can readers in general can have but little idea as to the 
peculiarities of that singular institution Dublin Castle, the cen- 
tre and fortress of Irish government. It has become from gen- 
erations of usage, a very bulwark against the progress of Irish 
national sentiment. The fresh current of feeling from the out- 
side seems to make little impression on its stagnant and moldy 
atmosphere. It is ruled by tradition, and to that tradition be- 
longs the rule of hostility to every popular feeling and every 
national demand.'' ^ Gazing up at it, the chronicler sighs over 
what has been, the poet dreams of what might have been, but 
even the child starting out in life with the burden of ages upon 
his back thinks of the morrow, and asks himself, what is to be? 

If Ireland were made to feel that she is living in an age of 
democracy she could place her trust in the people, for Ireland's 
friends are the people everywhere. If she could get her case 
submitted to arbitration, she could rest it upon justice, for the 
native race were in peaceful possession of the soil centuries 
before the invader left his German home. If she were to get 
the benefit of that law of human nature by which pity is con- 
verted into indignation, a law which even the despot some- 
times has to take into account, she could appeal to humanity, 
and the answer would come in tones which even the venal 
press would be forced to hear. But so long as she is left to ^eal 
alone with her rulers her reliance must be upon English fair 
play. The best settlement of all, if it ever comes about; as 
much better than any other as an understanding between 
friends is better than the decisions of armies or tribunals. 

Now it may be said frankly that things would be more 
hopeful for Ireland if her English ruliers were less conscious 

> PoUHcal PoTtraiU. 



1919.] FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND 17 

of the possession of this virtue. Once a man persuades him- 
self that any moral virtue whatever is in his blood, those who 
are on the safe side can afford to laugh at him, but those who 
have to deal with him are rather fiUed with concern about the 
possibilities for evil in his self-deception. At least such is the 
view of the moralists, and the novelists and the dramatists 
seem to be of the same opinion. ** Beware instinct '' is the best 
advice to be given one that is not afraid of going wrong. The 
first impression made by a moral portrait in which the colors 
are unusuaUy bright is suspicion rather than admiration; all 
the more when the artist sits for his own portrait. If when the^ 
features are those of a single individual we are inclined to 
think that such a picture flatters him, what are the chances that 
it will be a true likeness when it is the composite picture of a 
large body of men, of a party or a people, though only for one 
generation. And, with regard to the particular virtue in ques- 
tion, there is all the more reason for mistrust, if, as one of Eng- 
land's greatest political thinkers teUs us, ** the genuine love of 
liberty is very rare.*' A virtue that is rare the world over is not 
likely to be a universal possession in any one land, even though 
that land be England. Indeed, it is England herself that Burke 
has in mind, and as he proceeds, he finds the '' love of domina- 
tion ** a strong trait in the English character. 

Let us say rather, in human nature, and add that the Eng- 
lish character is not exempt. For it is in human nature that 
the power begets the will to play the bully. Even Jack the 
Giant Killer must have felt the temptation to swagger a little 
after his deed of prowess. Jack might well be forgiven for 
letting his head be a little turned when he *" felt the thews of 
Anakim, the pulses of a Titan's heart;" but he could not have 
indulged the humor and tried to play the giant himself with- 
out losing our affection. To assert that John Bull has always 
been stronger than the temptation would be fulsome flattery. 
A recital of instances to the contrary will be gladly spared by 
the reader. But if he has revealed his soul in his literatiu*e it 
will be sufficient to allude to that. The note df Ciois Romanus 
sum is found there as clearly discernible as in Virgil or in Livy 
— Tu regere imperio populos, Ronvane, memento. It is already 
heard in the older literature; but it has grown Ibuder rather 
than fainter with the* passage of time. ' It is a note which can- 
not b^ struck too often or with too much force to please the 



18 FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND [Oct, 

multitude. Macaulay and Mr. Rudyard Kipling may be called 
to mind as instances in our own and the preceding generation; 
the writings of both resound with the notes that so grated on 
the ears of Burke — ** Our colonies," " Our empire." 

Here was too good an opportunity to be lost by the other 
side, who were blamed for precisely the same excess; and they 
were not slow to seize upon that titbit furnished by the national 
anthem, which, from the perfectly laudable sentiment that 
*• Britons never shall be slaves," draws the inference that they 
must rule over two-thirds of the surface of the globe. So Eng- 
land herself has supplied Anglophobes with material to feed 
the suspicion that the peace which she has in mind is a pax 
Anglicana. Our view has traveled over a range wider than 
our subject, but stiU it embraces our subject. If the 
question were put whether Burke is right in sa3ring that 
the English love to domineer, the general run of Irishmen 
would unhesitatingly answer, yes, and they would point to 
their own experience as a proof. 

Granted, then, that the Englishman has more of the virtue 
of fair play than the rest of us, still it cannot be admitted that 
he plays fair by instinct, or that he is free from the danger of 
doing his neighbor wrong. A glance at the history of reform 
teaches otherwise. So far is he from being carried away by an 
uncontrollable impulse to do as he would be done by, that cry- 
ing abuses have been remedied only after efforts that took long 
years. This, however, the Englishman has to his credit, that 
with time and patience he can be educated up to a perception 
of what is amiss; and England herself has been blessed with a 
succession of men worthy to assume the task of instruction — 
great souls with the clear insight and the fertility of resources 
that belong to genius, with noble ideals and the courage to 
work on in the midst of failure and the face of obloquy. 
Thanks to the efforts of such men, who have kept their eyes 
fixed as steadily upon the standard of justice as upon the Union 
Jack, multitudes have been won over in the past to the cause 
of the downtrodden. Alas for Ireland! England now has no 
Burke nor Bright nor Gladstone, and Ireland no 0*Connell. 

There is a guilty past which those who do not know it by 
heart can find, if they care to learn it. Bad as it looks when set 
forth with righteous indignation by an Irish pen, it looks ten- 
fold worse when told sorrowfully, and with a sense of shame. 



1919.] FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND 19 

by a truthful Englishman; but it never looks more revolting 
than when a Froude has daubed his powder and smeared his 
rouge over the hideous features. One short line of a humorous 
jingle sums it up : ^ I like to see 'em squirm." Not even Sir 
Edward Carson, or the most rabid of his followers, would have 
the face to stand before the world and say that this past is 
something for England to be proud of. The Englishman of the 
present hour may flatter himself that he is above anything of 
the kind, but perhaps he will not be judged more leniently by 
his posterity than he himself judges his forbears. The reason 
why Ireland is more discontented now than she was in sorer 
times may be that relatively she is worse off than ever; just as 
the woridngman is more discontented because, though he is 
better off than in the olden time, he is not as well off as he 
thinks he ought to be. The ^ ferocity " of Queen Anne laws 
has gone out of fashion; but for this the thanks are due to civil- 
ization. If the love of domination is still active, it will not 
make itself more amiable by gilding the chains or covering 
them with velvet. 

What part Ireland would have acted in the late War if 
Pitt had played fair with the Irish people and refused to soil 
his hands with the dirty work of stealing her Parliament; or if 
Gladstone's efforts had been crowned with success and so much 
as one generation of Irishmen had been allowed to grow up 
to feel that the British flag could be to them something like 
what it is to a Canadian or an Australian; or even if in 1914, 
the Government, after dangling before the eyes of a heartsore 
people the promise of better things, did not pull it away just 
when loyalty was most needed, is a question which each one 
will be able to answer wisely for himself according to his 
knowledge of human nature. The fact is that in the year of 
grace, one thousand nine hundred and nineteen, the Irish- 
man, after more than seven centuries of conquest, is more 
than ever **a disaffected subject of the British Crown ;** far 
more disaffected than he was at the beginning of the century. 
The cause of the increased discontent is another chapter added 
to the already too long story of misrule. 

The contents of this last chapter are not known to us in 
their entirety; but the eagerness of Ireland to get the story be- 
fore the world, and the violent efforts of England to suppress 
it, warrant the suspicion that it is not all a chapter of fair play. 



20 FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND [Oct, 

The proof is public, however, that, in the view of the English 
Government, toy-rebellions are a luxury, innocent enough in 
a handful of invaders whose interest it is to keep the native 
race in subjection, but a crime to be pimished pitilessly in 
those who have no interest in any other soil but that which has 
mingled with the dust of their fathers. It is an axiom of de- 
mocracy that the sense of the people is to be trusted to know 
what is good for them, far better than a benevolent despot. 
There is no mistaking the sense of the Irish people now. Their 
discontent is not, as is too often the case, that of a handful of 
restless men stirred up by demagogues against the sober wishes 
of the majority. One piece of the meagre information that 
has leaked out of the unfortunate country is that they tell you 
there, '* We are all Sinn Feiners now." Something has hap- 
pened to sweep away the Nationalist Party. The voice of 
moderation is no longer heard. And that party which yester- 
day went begging for a few votes now has with it the temper 
of a united people. 

While the native race are trying to grope their way from 
bondage into freedom, and the politicians are playing their 
fantastic tricks l^efore high heaven, we may leave them both 
to the unknown forces which control the future. Little as we 
know about these, perhaps we know not less than the rulers. 
Wise as these may be, perhaps they are no wiser than some of 
their predecessors from whom they now and then take a text 
when they wish to descant upon the shortsightedness of states- 
men. In the meantime we may indulge our fancy a little and 
taty to imagine what would take place in Ireland if this world, 
instead of being a world of shams where politicians blow hot 
and cold in the same breath, were a fairyland where political 
^thyrambs are meant to be taken seriously. 

If English rulers sincerely wish to bring contentment to 
Ireland they know how to do so, or their ignorance is beyond 
cure. The method is prescribed in that speech which every 
member of the British Cabinet may be presumed to have read 
over and over again for its noble concept of the British Empire 
and its stores of political wisdom, set forth in glowing 
eloquence. Indeed, so clearly is the method there marked out 
for dealing with ^ a people that think they ought to be free and 
know they are not," that its principles are accepted as 
fixiomatic and the statesmen who were so blind as not to see 



1W9.] FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND 21 

them are spc^en of as England's evil genius. How, for in- 
stance, could humanity better articulate its feelingi with re- 
gard to Ireland than thus? ** You ought not in reason to trifle 
with so large a mass of the interests and feelings of the human 
race. You could at no time do so without guilt; and be assured 
you will not be able to do it long with impunity/' Or, with the 
change of a word or two, we have the truly democratic appeal 
to public opinion enunciated in a way that cannot be improved 
upon : *' If I were sure the colonists had at their leaving this 
country sealed a regular compact of servitude, that they had 
solenmly abjured all the rights of citizens, that they had made 
a vow to renounce all ideas of liberty for them and their pos- 
terity to all generations; yet I should hold myself obliged to 
conform to the temper I found universally prevalent in my own 
day, and to govern two millions of men, impatient of servitude, 
on the principles of freedom/' Or again, it formulates the 
principle of fair play : *^ It is not what a lawyer teUs me I may 
do, but what humanity, reason, and justice tell me I ought to do. 
Is a politic act the worse for being a generous one? " Or, once 
more, how completely it sweeps away the plea of the benevo- 
lent despot: **If you mean to please any people, you must 
give them the boon which they ask — ^not what you may think 
better for them, but of a kind wholly different" 

But of what use to Ireland are all the fine phrases in the 
world unless a contented Ireland is really an object of desire. 
The liveliest interest in her affairs is manifested by that faction 
which makes no secret of its view that a subject Ireland is the 
foremost consideration, compared with which contentment 
is only a secondary matter. Indeed, there is good reason to 
believe that the will is not lacking to embroil the natives with 
their rulers, and to get affairs in such a tangle as the British 
Government alone can unravel. At least, so it has been of yore. 
One of the dark crimes that history has to record is rebellion 
fomented with malice prepense in order to furnish a pretext 
for coercion. To attract the attention of the world to this 
sort of foul play was a rare good service unwillingly done by 
the London Times. Let us trust that this instance was the last, 
and that the specific details which have recently been offered 
in support of the same ugly charge belong to the realm of the 
imagination. 

But with all the good will in the world fair play will not 



22 FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND [OcU 

get very far if it has to make its way through a fog of prej- 
udice. The weapon within easiest reach of prejudice, and a 
powerful one when it is dexterously wielded, is travesty. It 
has been used upon the Irish character pitilessly. So it was even 
from the beginning. For instance, the following citation 
appears in a well-known account of the Elizabethan drama: 
** The Irish masquers were so well liked at court the last week 
that they were appointed to perform again on Monday; yet 
their device, which was a mimical imitation of the Irish, was 
not pleasing to many, who think it no time, as the case stands, 
to exasperate that nation by making it ridiculous." ' From then 
on up to within recent times, when gentler manners have put 
some restraint upon explosions of ill nature in print, the wits 
have had their way. But no limit has been fixed beyond which 
the cartoonist is not to pass. The manner in which he has 
abused his liberty in English sheets — and, sad to say, also in 
sheets on this side of the water — shows, if it shows nothing else, 
what a weight of prejudice has first to be removed if Ireland 
is to get her measure of fair play. The use for political pur- 
poses is obvious. Make your enemy contemptible and you keep 
him from gaining friends. Get the world to believe that Ire- 
land is a nation of Yahoos and Kerns and Gallowglasses and 
she must be civilized before she is granted self-determination. 
But all the heirs to the bigotry of a bygone age are not 
strong enough of themselves to delay the triumph of justice. 
Indeed, there is nothing formidable in their numbers if we can 
trust the count which has been made. Part of the blame must 
rest on the indifferent many whose silence gives consent. But 
most is to be feared from those who satisfy themselves, per- 
haps too easily, that they are filled with good intentions. '' Put 
yourself in his place " is the best rule to apply whether in judg- 
ing of the deeds of our fellow mortals or in adjusting differ- 
ences between man and man. As this is not an easy thing to 
do when self-interest stands in the way, it is well to eke it out 
with the poet's prayer for the gift " to see ourselves as others 
see us.** It cannot be denied that it is a rule which makes de- 
mands for nothing less than a considerable degree of the dra- 
matic faculty; but if any nation might be supposed to be 
favored in this respect it is the English, to judge by the excel- 
lence of their dramatic literature. Whether they are blessed 

*Hiitorg of BnglUh Dramatie LUerature, By A. W. Ward, toI. IL, p. 996. 



1919.] FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND 23 

with it in the same degree in political matters is another ques- 
tion. In the view of the late Mr. Andrew Lang they are not. 
According to him, ** Englishmen especially find it impossible 
to understand tastes and emotions that are not their own — ^the 
wrongs of Ireland (till quite recently), the aspiration of 
Eastern Rumelia, the demands of Greece."* The Irishman 
may be wrong from his own point of view, but at least he has 
his own point of view, which must be reckoned with if an 
accommodation is to be reached. It was set forth dramatically 
at the outbreak of the War by a writer who is not, or at least 
was not, a Sinn Feiner, as might appear, but a Nationalist.^ 
**Let us suppose that Germany smashes England in this 
War and takes over the government of England. Let us sup- 
pose that all the English people are swept like vermin to the 
mountains of Wales, and the shires of England are planted 
with German junkers. Let us suppose that the governor of Eng- 
land is a German princeling surrounded by German younger 
sons and that all legislation for England is made by Germans in 
Berlin. Let us suppose that laws are passed in Berlin making 
it illegal for the English to export any article that could pos- 
sibly compete with Germany, making it criminal for any Eng- 
lishman to own property or be educated or practice a learned 
profession. Let us suppose that all young Germans are taught 
to believe that the English are poor and dirty and lazy and low, 
and that all Germans are righteous and Grod-f earing and * play 
the game.' Let us suppose that education is at last introduced 
into England, education of a wretchedly inferior character, 
and the English are taught to sing, in German, ' We are happy 
little German children.' Let us suppose that, under the benev- 
olent German regime, a famine occurs in which one-eighth of 
the population, or over four million dirty English people, die 
simply of starvation. Let us suppose that the English revolt 
and are finally allowed to send representatives to sympathetic 
Berlin, where, after many years' agitation, they are graciously 
permitted to buy their land back from the junkers, but are re- 
proached continually for poverty, ignorance and sloth. Let us 
suppose that the tenacious Englishmen in Berlin keep up their 
agitation, always struggling to get a parliament established in 
London, and are finally told that the thing is practically im- 
possible, because the descendants of the Prussians in York- 



24 FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND [Oct, 

shire and Lancashire feel safer in the hands of Germany. Let 
us suppose, however, that finally a bill is drafted which half- 
heartedly concedes a limited measure of Home Rule, but that 
the German army refuses to go against the rebellious Yorkshire 
and Lancashire Prussians. Let us suppose that the bill is event- 
ually passed, subject to Yorkshire amendment — and a war 
breaks out against the Japanese, in which the Germans turn to 
the English and say : * Come, fellow Germans, to the defence of 
your Empire I * Ufider these circumstances, would it be sur- 
prising if one found the English * involuntary and disaffected 
subjects' of the German Empire? ^ 

We can imagine an Englishman stopping his ears at such 
language, which must sound to him little short of blasphemy. 
But if the bare imagination is painful, what must the reality 
be to the Irish? 

On the other hand we must avoid falling into the very 
excess we condemn. This article will have much overshot the 
mark if it seems to convey the impression that fair play is 
known in England only by reputation. On the contrary, there 
is a great deal of it there, and more now than ever. In days 
when it was rarer than it is now, it is interesting to find among 
those that were able to enter sympathetically into the minds 
of the Irish that stanch old Tory, Samuel Johnson. Whether 
his views were drawn from his conversations with Burke or 
from his own goodness of heart, we find that English misrule 
attracted his attention on more than one occasion. For in- 
stance, looking back over the past, he once remarked : ** The 
Irish are in a most unnatural state; for we see there the 
minority prevailing over the majority. There is no in- 
stance, even in the ten persecutions, of such severity as 
that which the Protestants of Ireland have exercised over 
the Catholics. Did we tell them we have conquered them, 
it would be above board: to punish them by confiscation 
and other penalties, as rebels, was monstrous injustice.*' ' 

In reference to their then condition he was not less strong. 
To a gentleman who hinted that the ^* barbarous debilitat- 
ing 'policy*' might be necessary to support the authority 
of the British Grovemment he replied : ^* Let the authority of the 
English Government perish rather than be maintained by in- 
iquity. Better would it be to restrain the turbulence of the 

* Lif4 of Samuel Johmon, By Jaoim Bocw^. 



1919.] FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND 25 

natives by authority of the sword, and to make them amenable 
to law and justice by an effectual police than to grind them to 
powder by all manner of disabilities and incapacities. Better 
to hang or drown the people at once than by an unrelenting 
persecution to beggar and starve them." * 

The Government in time came around to the Doctor's way 
of looking at the matter; but there is another conversation 
worthy of a place here for its bearing on complaints that are 
still heard. It took place with George Faulkner up in the 
Hebrides. *" George said that England had drained Ireland 
of fifty thousand pounds in specie annually for fifty years. 
' How so. Sir? ' said Dr. Johnson. * You must have very great 
trade.* — * No trade.' — * Very rich mines? ' — * No mines.' — * From 
whence, then, does all this money come?' — * Come I why out 
of the blood and bowels of the poor people of Ireland.'" ^ But 
the Doctor also attempted the r61e of a prophet, and it appears 
he did not do so badly. ** Do not make a union with us. Sir,*' 
he said to an Irish genUeman when that important question 
was mooted. ^We should unite with you only to rob you.'* 
And he adds the characteristic touch: ^'We should have 
robbed the Scotch if they had anything of which we could 
have robbed them.** * 

This will do for a voice out of the depths before the 
q>och of reform. Once reform got well under way, Ireland 
was sure to get some of the benefit, if not from love of the Irish, 
at least from that sense of decency whence springs the desire 
to dwell in a respectable neighborhood, to keep the street clean 
in front of one's window, to have the house next door free from 
quarreling neif^ibors. So Ireland, though not in the full flood 
of reform— far from it — ^was not untouched by some of its 
currents. It speaks well for the progress of fair play in the last 
half -century that enough has been said in her favor by noble- 
minded Englishmen to fill the shelf of a library. There is an 
augury of brighter days to come in the fact that the difSculty 
now is not that of a long and disappointing search, but where 
to choose amid such abundance. It will be sufficient to cite as 
a sample one whose utterances have the best chance of sur- 
viving as literature, that stanch friend of every good and noble 
cause, John Bright 

*tbid* ^Joutmd of a Tour tn th§ Hebrtdea, By Junm BotwdL 

* Lif4 of 8amm$l Jokmaon. By Judm Bo«w«U. 



26 FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND [OeU 

It is as true today as in 1848, when he said : ** You have 
toiled at this Irish difSculty Session after Session, and some of 
you have grown almost from boyhood to greyheaded old men 
since it first met you in your legislative career, and yet there is 
not in ancient or modem history a picture so humiliating as 
that which Ireland presents to the world at this moment; and 
there is not an English gentleman who, if he crossed the 
Channel in the present autumn, and traveled in any foreign 
country, would not wish to escape from any conversation 
among foreigners in which the question of the condition of 
Ireland was mooted for a single moment." * 

Not less timely is the following : "" I shall be told that I 
am injuring aristocratical and territorial influence. What is 
that in Ireland worth to you now? What is Ireland worth to 
you at all? Is she not the very symbol and token of your dis- 
grace and your humiliation to the whole world? Is she not an 
incessant trouble to your legislature, and the source of in- 
creased expense to your people, already overtaxed? Is not 
your legislation all at fault in what it has hitherto done for that 
country? The people of Ulster say that we shall weaken the 
Union. It has been one of the misfortunes of the legislation 
of this House that there has been no honest attempt to make a 
union with the whole people of Ireland up to this time. We 
have had a union with Ulster, but there has been no union with 
the whole people of Ireland, and there never can be a union 
between the Government and the people whilst such a state of 
things exists as has for many years past prevailed in the south 
and west of Ireland." ^^ 

Again, what could bring out more strongly the contrast 
between the callousness of England and the sympathy of the 
rest of the world than the following, even though now the 
void is not in the stomach; for the pain in the heart is keener 
from the added poignancy of disappointed hopes. ^^ Sir, I am 
ashamed, I must say, of the course we have taken upon this 
question. Look at that great subscription that was raised 
three years ago for Ireland. There was scarcely a part of the 
globe from which subscriptions did not come. The Pope, as 
was very natural, subscribed — the head of the great Mahometan 
empire, the Grand Seignior, sent his thousand pounds — the 

*Speeehe$ on Questions of Public Policy. Edited by James B. Thorold Rogers. 
London, 1883. Ireland, 111., p. 161 d. ^•Ibtd,, iv., 173 d. 



1919.] FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND 27 

uttermost parts of the earth sent in their donations. A tribe of 
red Indians on the American continent sent their subscription ; 
and I have it on good authority that even the slaves on a plan- 
tation in one of the Carolinas subscribed theu* sorrowful mite 
that the miseries of Ireland might be relieved. The whole 
world looked upon the condition of Ireland, and helped to 
mitigate miseries. What can we say to all those contributors, 
who, now that they have paid, must be anxious to know if 
anything is to be done to prevent recurrence of these calam- 
ities? We must tell them with blushes that nothing has been 
done, but that we are still going on with the poor-rates, and 
that, having exhausted the patience of the people of England in 
Parliamentary grants, we are coming now with rates in aid, 
restricted altogether to the people of Ireland. That is what 
we have to tell them; whilst we have to acknowledge that our 
Constitution, boasted of as it has been for generations past, 
utterly fails to grapple with this great question.** ^^ 

After a picture which it is hard to forbear from quoting 
in its entirety despite its length, he adds: ""I venture to say 
that this is a miserable and a humiliating picture to draw of 
this country. Bear in mind that I am not speaking of Poland 
suffering under the conquest of Russia. There is a gentieman, 
now a candidate for an Irish county, who is very great upon 
the wrongs of Poland; but I have found him always in the 
House of Commons taking sides with that great party which 
has systematically supported the wrongs of Ireland. I am not 
speaking about Hungary, or of Venice as she was under the 
rule of Austria, or of the Greeks under the dominion of the 
Turk, but I am speaking of Ireland — ^part of the United King- 
dom — ^part of that which boasts itself to be the most civilized 
and the most Christian nation in the world. I took the liberty 
recentiy, at a meeting in Glasgow, to say that I believed it was 
impossible for a class to govern a great nation wisely and 
justiy. Now in Ireland there has been a field in which all the 
principles of the Tory Party have had their complete experi- 
ment and development. . . . And yet what has happened? 
This, surely. That the kingdom has been continually weak- 
ened — that the harmony of the Empire has been disturbed, and 
that the mischief has not been confined to the United King- 
dom, but has spread to the Colonies." ^* 

» Ibtd., !▼.• 174, 17S. « Ibid^ yi. 



28 FAIR PLAY IN IRELAND [Oct, 

But of all John Bright* s sayings the one by which he will 
be longest remembered is the passage which, in its striking 
imagery, reads like a reversal of Dante's curse against the 
Pisans : ** I believe that if the majority of the people of Ire- 
land, counted fairly out, had their will, and if they had the 
power, they would unmoor the island from its fastenings in the 
deep, and move it at least two thousand miles to the west. 
And I believe further, that if by conspiracy, or insurrection, 
or by that open agitation, to which alone I ever would give any 
favor or consent, they could shake off the authority, I will 
not say of the English Crown, but of the Imperial Parliament, 
they would gladly do so." *• 

England is to be congratulated that amongst her sons she 
has not a few who have the courage to tell her frankly what 
she needs to know, and what she would not listen to from Irish 
lips. The advantage of plain words over honied phrases does 
not need to be pointed out to the wise. It will be an evil day 
for England when she has no ear for hard truths. The picture 
which we all draw in our minds of the tyrant is wrong seated 
in power and surrounded by flattery. 

Mr. Bagehot somewhere speaks of the lyrical function of 
Parliament; by which he means public speaking that tickles 
the ear with what it likes to hear. And certainly there is no 
lack in recent years of oratory to usher in a reign of universal 
democracy with an enthusiasm worthy of the Jacobins. The 
small nations even, all of them, are invited to the feast; indeed, 
they are to have the place of honor. All save Ireland. She is 
the Little Gretchen left out in the cold, looking in at the glory 
of the lights, tantalized by the odor of the viands, and straining 
her ear to catch the notes of the music that mingles with the 
sound of the happy voices. What effrontery in the ragged 
urchin to knock at the door of the banquet-hall of Versailles 1 

» tbid.. It., 177 a. 



THE LITTLE BROWN BIRD. 



BY ARABEL MOULTON-BARREIT. 




I. 

OHN? Sweet John! Sweet- John-to-Whit I *• 

The little brown bird in the branches of the 
great leafy cedar whistled his heart out to the 
sunny air. " Sweet John. Sweet-John-to-Whit** 
If you whistle the words you will give a faint 
imitation of the little bird's song; but were you to try for a 
thousand years you could never get the roundness of the notes, 
nor the gay sweet triumph of them. 

•* Sweet John," said the bird. 

The child looked up into the swaying branches; her eyes 
were full of light and a little fear. 

** Daddy, I can't see the bird. Where is he?** and she 
placed her small hand in her father's. There was no longer 
any fear when the man's fingers closed tenderly over hers. 

*' John-to-Whit," sang the bird, and his little bright eye 
rested on the upturned face. It was such a tiny point of light 
that it was mixed up with the sunbeams and the child did not 
see it. *' I want to see him, daddy," and her voice sang with 
sweet insistence. " Find him." 

^ He isn't very much to look at," said the man, obediently 
searching the branches with his strong keen eyes, ** but he has 
a big soul." 

•* Sweet John " whistled the bird. 

'* A sweet soul, as well as a big soul," corrected the man, 
smiling. '* He wants you to think well of him, girlie." 

** Do you see him, daddy? Look, do look." 

'*No," said daddy, throwing his head still further back- 
ward in an effort to see better. ** I don't see him." ' It was a 
very painful position, but he would have suffered much greater 
inconvenience to please his little girl. ** I don't see him, but 
I hear him. The most beautiful things of life, the things we 
want niost; are alwajrs hidden from us." 

**I see you, daddy," said the child. The man's heart 
swelled, and he clasped the small fingers very closely in his. 



30 THE LITTLE BROWN BIRD [Oct, 

She was too young to understand the deeper meaning of her 
own sweet words, but the innocent tone of them was very 
precious to him. " Sweet-John-to-Whit,** sang the bird tri- 
umphantly, and the clear note^ came from the far end of the 
garden. 

**0h, daddy! He has gone." A cloud came over the 
brightness of her eyes. 

'*>He has only changed his quarters," said daddy cheerfully 
and manfully as became a hero in search of the ideal. '*Let 
us follow him." 

So, through the garden they went; past beds of wind- 
blown petunias that lay in a tangle of color and perfume; past 
clusters of sunny phlox, and prim sweet marigolds and jas- 
mine flowers; past scarlet hibiscus that bent opening buds, all 
wet with dew, to earth; past trailing lengths of coralilla and 
honeysuckle, and wax-plant flowers, and beds of heliotrope 
that stayed their feet by its exquisite breath ! 

" I love you, I love you." 

And on, and on, over the mossy lawn where Chinese bam- 
boo swept the grass with heavy fringes of blue-tinted leaves; 
and under the tall palms that sang a little tune, their heads 
lifted high to the sky; and away now to the Poinciana Regia 
trees where the child's feet sank deep in the fallen crimson 
blossoms. ** Sweet John," sang the little bird from a pimento 
tree; and the brown of his breast was hid in the silvery mist of 
the flowers. 

" Do you see him, daddy ? " said the child. 

"" John ? " said the bird, and there was laughter in his voice 
and triumph of concealment. ** Sweet- John-to-Whit ! " and the 
blossoms opened and closed on the little brown bird. 

"Sweet John!" 

The glad clear call fled away behind them out into the 
wild free world beyond the garden. 

'* He has gone," said the child and her lips trembled. Who 
can ]>enetrate to the source of a child's grief, or sound its 
depths? ** Never mind," said daddy; and he lifted the child 
in his great arms, and held her close and kissed her. 

''Let's follow him, daddy," said the child, and her arm 
slipped round his neck, and her tangled curls were against his 
cheek and she smiled; for here was her kingdom, and she, the 
queen. ** Do let's follow him, daddy." 



1W9.] THE LITTLE BROWN BIRD 31 

^He has gone a long, long, way off/* said daddy very 
slowly, for he was thinking how best to comfort his little girl, 
further chase being out of the question. *'Yery far away; 
over the pastures, and across the rivers, and over the hills, and 
down through the valleys, and across the sea, and on, and 
on. And now he has reached the end of the world." 

" Wm he get lost, daddy? " 

'* When he gets to the very edge," said daddy cautiously, 
for he felt that he himself was perilously near the brink, ** he 
will begin to fly up, and up and up ... " 

"As far as the stars?" 

** Oh, much further, right past the stars," and daddy's voice 
was now quite confident, for would not the little bird's journey 
be over when it reached nothing? 

"* Does he sing all the time ? " 

"" All the time. And now he has passed the stars, and he 
goes on, and on and on." Daddy paused, for now that he had 
reached space he found the crossing of it very difficult. Reali- 
xation of space confounds the minds of even the very, very 
wise. But the eyes of the child were looking into his, and they 
were full of a strange and beautiful wisdom. 

** Hasn't he got to God yet? " she asked wistfully. 

"Yes," said daddy very humbly, for his soul was very 
big; and though he had the mind of a philosopher he still kept 
the simple heart of a child; and the fingers of his little girl 
were warm about his neck. " Yes, girlie; the little brown bird 
has flown right up to God. All the best and most beautiful 
things of life come from God, and return to Him." 

" I want to see the little brown bird," said the child. 



U. 



" Sweet John ! " sang the little brown bird. The heaving 
branches of the great cedar hid him from sight as he dived 
through the green hollows of leafy seas. "John-to-Whit- 
John? " The girl looked up into the branches, a wistful curi- 
osity in the depths of her limpid eyes. 

" Do you see him ? " she asked the boy. " I wish I could see 
him." 

The boy, for he was little more, laughed carelessly. 

" You can never see a John-to-Whit," he said. "He gets lost 



32 THE LITTLE BROWN BIRD [Oct., 

amongst the leaves. And the bird is nothing much to look at. 
Dead leaves and ashes. That's what he looks like." 

** I want to see him," said the girl, and her beautiful head 
was thrown backward in a vain endeavor to pierce the mystery 
of the little bird's hiding place. '' Look for him," she added 
imperiously. But the boy only laughed. 

^ I like better to look at you," he said, his glowing eyes on 
her face. 

^' Sweet-John-to-Whit," sang the bird, and he put his head 
on one side and eyed the girl too. 

" When I was a little girl," she said. " I walked here with 
daddy." 

'' Did he find the little brown bird? " asked the boy with 
sudden misgiving. 

*' No," said the girl, and her eyes looked straight in front of 
her over the bright and beautiful garden where flowers and 
trees and palms still grew and blossomed beautiful in the sun- 
shine. ''No, he couldn't find the little brown bird." '*He 
couldn't find the little brown bird " echoed the boy; and there 
was a great relief in his voice, the relief of one who is not 
ashamed to fail where a greater than he has been vanquished. 

'* But we followed the bird," continued the girl, and now 
her eyes were looking much further than the garden; they 
gazed beyond it; far, far into the distance. 

"Did you?" said the boy, and he laughed. The brown 
depths of his eyes held inextinguishable fires of mirth. But the 
girl's eyes were on the edge of the world and they held a 
gravity beyond her years. 

^ We followed him," said the girl, '' and he flew on, and 
on, over pastures and through valleys, and over hills and 
across rivers and seas to the very edge of the world." 

"Sweet John," said the bird overhead. "And then he 
flew up and up, right through the stars and beyond them, and 
on and on. ..." 

" Then you dropped back to earth," said the boy, and he 
looked into the girl's face and laughed again. But she did not 
look at him, and the wistfulness of her eyes troubled him. 

''And then the little brown bird reached God," said the 
girl, and the tears sprang suddenly to the clear beautiful eyes. 
"Sweet John! Sweet-John-to-Whit," sang the bird, and his 
voice sounded far away in the cool darkness of a wild-fig tree. 



1919.] THE LITTLE BROWN BIRD S8 

^ Why do you cry? " said the boy, and the laugh died away in 
his eyes as the light does out of a landscape when a cloud drifts 
over the sun. ** Don't cry. I love you. I love you. Do not 
cry because the little brown bird went away to. . . ." And then 
he hesitated. After all, it was only a f cury tale and very silly 
and childish. He could not understand the girl. 

*" The litUe bird went to God," said the gu*l softly. ** And 
not long ago daddy went too. All the best and most beautiful 
things of life come from God and return to Him." 

*" I love you," said the boy passionately, and his eyes were 
like storm-swept seas. "I love you ... I love you." Then 
he put his arm about her and led her away. 

ra. 

The great cedar branches swayed in the sunshine, and the 
wind rushed through the leaves stirring them to tumultuous 
joy and life. Like the music of many waters the sound of it 
swept through the garden. 

** Sweet-John-to-Whit. Sweet?" sang the little brown 
bird. 

**Do you see him?" said the woman. She was very old, 
and her face bore the footprints of heavy sorrows. But her 
eyes, bright and hopeful, glanced upward into the tree with 
the eager look of a child. 

** Sweet John," said the bird, and he looked down into the 
childlike eyes of the woman. 

** Where is he? Do you see him? " She asked softly of the 
little grandson that leaned against her knee. 

** The branches hide him," said the little grandson; "'and 
he is an ugly little bird." 

^ I want to see him," said the woman, and her voice was 
full of piteous entreaty. " Find him." 

'' If I were to climb the tree . . ." began the little grandson, 
and he put his foot on the bench. 

*' Come down," cried the woman, and there was fear in her 
voice. 

*' You will frighten him away." 

•• Sweet-John-to-Whit," sang the bird. 

** Oh, he is there right enough," said the little grandson. 

**ril tell you what Fll do. I'll bring him down with a 
stone." And he picked up one from the ground. 

?0L. cz« 3 



M THE LITTLE BROWN BIRD [OcU 

•• Sweet John! " whisUed the bird. " John? '' 

** Stop ! " screamed the woman, and she rose feebly from 
the bench and snatched away the stone. 

Her limbs trembled so violently that a great fear came 
over the little grandson. If his grandmother w^e to die out 
there in the garden, and he all alone ! He began to cry. 

** Hush ! " said the woman, and she drew him to the bench, 
and made him sit close to her whilst she comforted him. 
•* Don't cry, sweetheart . . . don't cry. You did not mean to 
be cruel, but the stone . . . the stone ... it struck right against 
my heart.** 

** I didn't throw it," said the little grandson, and he began 
to cry again. He hid his face against her knees. 

"There . . . there . . . Don't cry. You don't understand. 
It doesn't hurt now. Come I'll tell you a story." 

" John-to-Whit — Sweet John I " sang the little brown bird. 

" Once upon a time there lived a little brown bird in the 
cedar tree," began the woman; and her hand, which was still 
beautiful, played with the little grandson's curls. "He was 
only a little brown bird but he had a big and sweet soul. And 
he sang all day long." 

" Sweet-John-to-Whit," said the bird. 

"Do you hear him?" said the woman, and she smiled. 
" But you never can see him. I tried to find him when I was a 
little girl. It was very long ago. I was smaller, oh ! very much 
smaUer than you, and we went together to look for him." 

"Who went with you?" asked the little grandson 
drowsily, for the caressing touch of the grandmother's fingers, 
and the torrent in the cedar, and the scent of the flowers, 
and the warm sunshiny air were making him feel quite 
sleepy. 

"I went with your great-grandfather," said the woman. 

" He must have been very old," said the little great-grand- 
son, and the lashes lay on his cheek for quite three seconds, and 
then slowly raised themselves again. The little great-grandson 
was getting very, very sleepy, indeed. There were no giants in 
this story : only birds, and the grandmother that he saw every 
day, and the great-grandfather who must have been very wrin- 
kled and bent and old; and how could such an old man, older 
than his grandmother, chase a bird over pastures and hills, and 
through valleys and across rivers and seas* till he got to the 



1919.] THE LITTLE BROWN BIRD 35 

very edge of the world? It must have been just like the edge 
of a table, thought the little grandson, and then he too leant 
over to see what was below, and lost his balance and fell over 
and he went down, and down and down . . . and there lay the 
little grandson fast asleep with his head on his grandmother's 
knee. 

The woman's head rested against the hoary old trunk 
of the cedar. Perhaps the weight of the little grandson tired 
her, but she was not thinking of that; she was going on with 
the story, and the beautiful hand lay peacefully still amongst 
the bri^t tangle of curls. She had forgotten the little grand- 
son; for now the little brown bird mounted the sky: he flew 
straight through the shining stars. How lovely they were, and 
so many miUions of them; and how they shone on the little 
brown bird as he passed, singing. And now the stars were left 
behind and still the little bird flew on, and on, and on. . . . 

** I have come to meet you," said daddy. ** I thought you 
might lose your way,** and he put his arms about her and held 
her very close and kissed her. 

** I followed the little brown bird," said the child, and she 
put her arms about his neck in the old childish way. ** Is he 
singing to God, daddy?" 

** Yes," said daddy, and he smiled. 

** Shall I see him ? " asked the child, and her beautiful eyes 
shone like stars. 

•* Yes," said daddy, " for he sings very, very close to God. 
All the best and most beautiful things of life come from God 
and return to Him. Let us go together to Him now." 

Then the child felt the great strong arms close round her 
very tenderly, her head rested against his cheek, and together 
they sprang upward to God. 

IV. 

- Sweet-John-to-Whit," sang the little brown bird. " Sweet 
John!" 

The cedar branches moved triumphantly in the sunshine. 
Every leaf was a sun-lit banner that hid away the little brown 
bird in their glorious depths. 

•• John-to-Whit. Sweet?" 

••The boy is asleep," said a woman's voice, ** but . . ." 

There came a sharp cry. 



36 THE LITTLE BROWN BIRD [Oct.. 

^ Hush ! *' said a man's voice, and in it was a great tender- 

ne89. 

"She is asleep too. She was very tired. Take the boy. 
Can ypu carry him, dear heart? Hush . . • Hush . . . Don't cry. 
Leave me with her. I am glad it happened so. She, she is 
smiling still." 

'*Did you find the little brown bird?" said the sleepy 
voice of the grandson; the muffled sound of the words told you 
his lips were against his mother's cheek. Then he fell asleep 
again. 

''The little brown bird . . ." faltered the woman's voice. 
You heard her crjring softly. 

*' ^e has seen the little brown bird at last," said the man's 
deep voice; there was a smile in the words though you knew 
his eyes were f uU of tears. ** All the best and most beautiful 
things of life come from God and return to Him." 

" Sweet- John-to-Whit. Sweet John!" The clear whistle 
sounded through the leaves of the great swaying branches of 
the cedar. 

" Sweet- John-to-Whit. Sweet John!" The voice of the 
little brown bird came from far, far away, right away beyond 
the stars . . . on . . . and on . . . and on . . . the little brown 
bird was singing in the Heart of God. 

All the best and most beautiful things of life come from 
God, and return to Him. 



DOROTHEA. 



BY MAY TOMUNSON. 




HE figure of Dorothea presents, in almost ideal 
embodiment, the womanly character as we con- 
ceive of it today. The conditions under which 
Dorothea lived are, it is true, not precisely those 
of the present, but she herself is quite essentially 
modem, both in the larger sense and in the sense that one can 
easily conceive of her as welcoming, and even embracing, the 
many opportunities and privileges now open to women. It is 
particularly easy to imagine her as enthusiastic in the pursuit 
of academical knowledge; and remembering her interest in 
matters socially useful, one can easily think of her as applying 
her ready intelligence to such practical subjects as domestic 
science and market gardening; or one can picture her as en- 
grossed in some one of the many forms of philanthropic work, 
or absorbed in self-forgetful, merciful tendance upon the sick 
and wounded, or actively concerned with the welfare of 
orphaned children. 

But easy as it is to think of Dorothea as thus engaaed. one 
half shrinks from such imagining. Somehow one prefers not 
to associate Dorothea with the idea of professional efficiency 
and special training, since, even now, when scientific knowl- 
edge and trained efficiency are lightly carried and by no means 
uncommon, one is rather inclined to think of this sort of service 
and this sort of equipment as something apart from the idea of 
grace and charm and youthful bloom. The imagination does 
not readily accept the idea of training. Grace and bloom go 
with spontaneity. That certain indefinable something, that 
delicate quality that we designate as chr.^, can never be 
coupled with the thought of grind, routine,.;^, idmill toil, hard- 
won erudition. Implying as it does a certain simplicity, it 
very rarely belongs to the highly instructed. Now Dorothea, 
we know, was ** adorably simple and full of feeling." ** Her 
nature,*' we are told, ** was always taking on some new shape 
of ardent activity; ** her vital energies were always moving in 
unison with her spiritual promptings; her sympathies were 



38 DOROTHEA [Oct., 

forever hungering for something to feed upon, forever reach- 
ing out in some form of direct and specific action. But, how- 
ever employed, she would ever need to make for herself some 
vivid emotional life. She found comfort in the belief that 
" by desiring what is perfectly good, even when we don*t quite 
know what it is and cannot do as we would, we are part of the 
divine power against evil, widening the skirts of light and 
making the struggle with darkness narrower." " She longed,'' 
we know, " for work which would be directly beneficent like 
the sunshine and the rain.** ** How happy you must be,*' she 
said to Lydgate, •*to know things that you feel sure will do 
great good! I wish I could awake with that knowledge every 
morning. There seems to be so much trouble taken that one 
can hardly see the good of! ** 

This clearly expressed need of confidence in the direct 
beneficent effectiveness of effort makes one somewhat skeptical 
of Dorothea's enthusiastic acceptance of the privilege of suf- 
frage. Of course, those who look to the ballot for the eradica- 
tion of every evil and the amelioration of every unhappy con- 
dition will feel confidently sure of Dorothea's support. They 
would do well, however, these persons who resent what seems 
to them the injustice of denying to women the privileges of 
citizenship, to bear in mind one little fact: in her life with 
Mr. Casaubon Dorothea's desire was to give tenderness, not to 
claim justice. It was characteristic of her that she could 
always look ** along the one track where duty became tender- 
ness." There was in Dorothea no lack of inward fire ; we know 
that she had moments of rebellious anger; we have seen that 
she could be stirred to a high pitch of indignation; but she 
was in no way exacting in demands for herself. The dominant 
spirit of justice within her was engaged in behalf of others. 
Her mind was occupied with the thought of other people's 
needs and other people's wrongs. Indeed, it may be said that 
tenderness was thu- controlling impulse of her being, a vital 
force shaping all ker thoughts and deeds, giving color (one 
likes to believe) to her cheek, tone to her voice, beauty to her 
face, and grandeur to her form. 

No, Dorothea would never be much concerned with the 
indirect, impersonal, unreactionary methods of reform. Nor 
does the execution of large schemes seem just the work for 
her. Consequently one feels no regret at the relinquishment 



1919.] DOROTHEA 39 

of that plan which for a time occupied her mind — ^the hope of 
founding a viUage which should be a school of industry. The 
outpouring of that full river of her soul must needs be in re- 
sponse to some emotional appeal, some vision of individual 
need or hardship, some exigency calling for direct, immediate 
action which should be the offspring of some vivid, sympathetic 
experience. ** It is wicked/' she said to Lydgate, ** to let peo- 
ple think evil of any one falsely, when it can be hindered." 
When she offered to do what she could to dear him, she was 
quite right in thinking there was nothing better that she could 
do in the world. ** And her voice, as she made this childlike 
picture of what she would do, might have been almost taken as 
a proof that she could do it effectively. The searching tender- 
ness of her woman's tones seemed made for a defence against 
ready accusers.** The simple inspiration on which Dorothea 
acted at all times is most admirable. It is in the doing of these 
direct, heart-prompted deeds of mercy and generosity that one 
likes to think of her. One feels that the dispensing of whole- 
sale munificence may well be left to those who are less en- 
dowed with the rarer qualities. , 

But those same rare qualities are none too fine, we believe, 
for the offices of wife and mother. There were, however, in 
Dorothea's time those who thought it '* a pity that so rare and 
substantive a creature should have been absorbed into the life 
of another, and be only known in a certain circle as a wife and 
mother." But happily the world still holds plenty of people 
who see in those functions unlimited scope for the exercise of 
noble powers, hosts of people who conceive of nothing better, 
nothing nobler, than the full assumption of those grave respon- 
sibilities and the glad acceptance of those glorious opportuni- 
ties, people who can think of nothing better for any woman 
than the outpouring of womanly feeling, the transmission of 
noble qualities, the implanting of right thoughts. Those who 
so feel would exalt the office of motherhood to the highest 
pinnacle; they would admit into its service none but the worthy 
— the brave, the unselfish, the sweet-natured, the large-hearted, 
the noble-minded. 

Despite the general modernity of Dorothea's character, 
she was in one respect quite unlike her sisters of today, for 
she dressed plainly, we are told, and with little regard to style. 
One finds it impossible to imagine a young gentlewoman of 



40 DOROTHEA [Oct, 

today going abroad with sleeves hanging all out of style. 
We feel sure that nothing less than poverty would stiffen the 
determination of a young woman of our time to such a point 
of independence. The pride of being a lady might, indeed, 
give her courage and enable her to do with better grace the 
thing she would rather not be obliged to do, but it is not 
likely to make her sufficiently independent deliberately to 
appear in unfashionable attire — not in this country at least, 
where there are no real distinctions of rank. Dorothea, it 
is true, could afford better than most women to disregard the 
mandates of fashion, for she had, we are told, that kind oi 
beauty that seems to be thrown into relief by poor dress. " Her 
hand and her wrist were so finely formed that she could wear 
sleeves not less devoid of style than those in which the Blessed 
Virgin appeared to Italian painters; and her profile, as well as 
her stature and bearing, seemed to gain the more dignity from 
her plain garments, which by the side of provincial fashions 
gave her the impressiveness of a fine quotation from the Bible 
... in a paragraph of today's newspaper." Certainly the garb 
in which she appears before us suits her noble bearing and 
lessens in no degree her natural grace and dignity. Whether 
one thinks of her in the long Quakerish gray cloak and white 
beaver bonnet, or in the blue-gray pelisse edged with white 
fur, or as gowned in that soft white woolen stuff that she was 
fond of wearing and which always seemed to have been lately 
washed and to smell of the sweet hedges, the attire seems 
altogether fitting. Indeed, this individuality of dress is pre- 
cisely what one would expect and desire in Dorothea. It does 
in truth seem a part of her distinction, just as Rosamond 
Vincy's nice observance of fashion and exquisite perfection of 
costume seems entirely in keeping with her general punc- 
tiliousness in respect to outward forms and her tendency to 
attach undue importance to things superficial, matters in 
which she was especially clever. 

Dorothea, being full of sweet self-forgetfulness as weU 
as ^' entirely without hidden calculations either for immediate 
effects or for remoter ends," had not that bewitchment which 
so often constitutes the fascinating power of a designing 
woman. She was neither covetous of conquest nor solicitous of 
admiration. And it appears not to have been either her per- 
sonal beauty or her cleverness that fixes the attention. It 



1919.] DOROTHEA 41 

seems that men who were with her were not consciously aware 
of these attractions. When Rosamond questioned Lydgate as 
to his impressions of Mrs. Casaubon, wishing to know if he 
thought her handsome, **She certainly is handsome, but I 
had not thought of it,'* was his reply; and when, later, Rosa- 
mond drew a similar answer from Will Ladislaw and de- 
manded of him what it was that men were thinking of when 
with Mrs. Casaubon, the answer came short and sharp, " Her- 
self," clinched by the added words, " when one sees a perfect 
woman one never thinks of her attributes — one is conscious of 
her presence.*' And Lydgate, we know, found in Dorothea ** a 
fountain of friendship for men." " A man can make a friend 
of her," was his inward comment. 

Dorothea possessed, however, one personal charm (a 
charm partly spiritual, indeed — or as nearly spiritual as a cor- 
poreal attribute can ever be), of which the sensitively organ-' 
ized Will Ladislaw was at once and acutely sensible, the charm 
of a richly modulated voice. It seemed to Will like " the voice 
of a soul that had once lived in an seolian harp." And one re- 
members how Caleb Garth was impressed. Do we have now- 
adays speaking voices characterized by liquid flexibility? Cer- 
tainly the girl voice of today is not remarkable for musical in- 
tonation. The young woman who, in conversation with her 
land agent or any other man, lets flow snatches of speech 
melodious enoujzh to remind one of " bits from the Messiah " is 
exceptional, indeed. Recause of this exceptionableness, the 
very thought of Dorothea suggests always a human voice, 
wonderful, thrilling, mercifully tender, lovingly persuasive. 
Her personality presents itself to the imagination in audible 
embodiment. 

Rut this Dorothea with the voice of "a soul that had once 
lived in an aeolian harp " was beset, like other mortals, with 
the trials of this earth. And being one of those who bear in 
mind the injunction, "Be ye perfect," she was not unwilling 
to admit her own need of discipline. No rational being, in his 
better moments, will rebel against what he knows will further 
his progress towards perfection. Rut his vision is not Blways 
clear. His self-knowledge, too, is sometimes incomplete. 
Moreover, it is only the noble soul that is capable of resolute 
submission. And it seems to be the noblest upon whom the 
Lord heaps the heaviest weight of trial. Doubtless the Father 



42 DOROTHEA [Oct., 

does this out of love, just as an earnest, idealistic teacher, a 
devotee of the arts, is often more exacting of a promising pupil, 
demanding of him the very best of which he is capable, prod- 
ding him on to his highest possible attainment. Every lover of 
excellence is quick in the discernment of potentialities, the 
Supreme Instructor no less than the earthly master. And 
every trainer, in every art whatever, especially in the art of 
expression — and what is man's life but embodied expression? 
— ^knows the value of restraint. And in this life of ours, who 
can tell what infinitely delicate and inestimable aids to effec- 
tiveness may be administered through the agency of that form 
of trial known as self-repression? It was to this sort of dis- 
cipline that Dorothea was subjected. In her life with Mr. 
Casaubon her native strength of will was converted into ^ reso- 
lute submission.'* Though high-spirited, "permanent re- 
hellion, the disorder of a life without some loving reverent re- 
solve, was not possible to her." There were times, however, 
when, ^ like one who has lost his way and is weary, she sat and 
saw as in a glance all the paths of her young hope which she 
should never find again.'' But always the resolved submission 
did come. "And the energy that would animate a crime," 
George Eliot remarks with characteristic insight, " is not more 
than is wanted to inspire a resolved submission, when the 
noble habit of the soul reasserts itself." 

It cannot be said that the narrator of Dorothea's history 
satisfactorily accounts for her acceptance of Mr. Casaubon. To 
explain her choice by saying that there was in her " a dash of 
stupidity " (to use Leslie Stephen's expression) seems hardly 
fair, unless we qualify the statement with the admission that 
the noble have ever something of stupidity about them, some- 
thing to stir the wonder of the small-brained Celias of this 
world. The fact that Mr. Casaubon was a stick might have 
been clearer, yes, to a commoner mind. And we agree with 
Celia that " the commonest minds " are sometimes rather use- 
ful. Celiacs commoner mind could observe the manner of Mr. 
Casaubon's soup-eating and the way he blinked. But it was not 
Celia alone who was taken by surprise, not Celia alone who 
thought it wonderful that Dorothea should have liked a dried- 
up pedant 

Her choice could scarcely seem other than wonderful 
even to those of us who are favored with a clearer view of 



1919.] DOROTHEA 43 

the open elevation of her natiure, and some perception of the 
fact that ''all her passion was transfused through a mind 
struggling towards an ideal life/' Even we who know that 
her whole soul was possessed by the thought that a fuller life 
was opening before her, and that she looked upon marriage as 
a state of higher duties, never thinking of it as mere personal 
ease — even we cannot but wonder at her choice. But this 
wonder does not lessen our admiration of her wifely devoted- 
ness and gentle loving manifestations, nor does it make us less 
confidently believe that she was '' full of those affectionate im- 
pulses that are the bent of every sweet woman,** and that '' with 
all her yearning to know what was afar from her, and to be 
greatly benignant, she had ardor enough for what was near 
to have kissed Mr. Casaubon's coat-sleeve or to have caressed 
his shoe-latchet," if he would have made any adequate sign of 
acceptance. 

That there is much wifely devotion in this second decade 
of the twentieth century cannot be denied by one who goes 
about with open eyes. Still, one does not readily picture a girl 
wife of today in devoted attendance, after the manner of 
Dorothea, upon a studious, formal husband thirty years older 
than herself. The young wife of today might, like Dorothea, 
possess to an unusual degree the power of devoting herself to 
her idea of the right and best, but her idea of the right and best 
would probably not be that of Dorothea, and would most likely 
not demand of her such service as Dorothea rendered Mr. 
Casaubon. For instance, such a picture as the following could 
hardly belong to the scenery of married life as we conceive 
of it today (the scene would be amusing, if it were not touch- 
ing) : '' After she had read and marked for two hours, he 
said, 'We will take the volume upstairs — and the pencil, 
if you please — and in case of reading in the night, we will pur- 
sue this task. It is not wearisome to you, I trust, Dorothea? ' " 

" 1 prefer always reading what you like best to hear,' said 
Dorothea, who told the simple truth; for what she dreaded was 
to exert herself in reading or anything else which left him as 
joyless as ever.** 

But even Dorothea found it a hard fate to be always try- 
ing to be what her husband wished, and never able to repose 
on his delight in what she was. And one can safely say that 
were she alive today she would be far less likely to marry a 



44 DOROTHEA [Oct., 

Mr. Casaubon, less likely for the simple reason that there is in 
our time a greater wealth of opportunity. The Dorothea of 
today would find other channels for the outrush of her intel- 
lectual and spiritual aspirations. Her ardor would be less 
likely to '' alternate between a vague ideal and the common 
yearning of womanhood." Her energies would be more defi- 
nitely and purposefully directed (whether more advantage- 
jausly in respect to spiritual growth, we will not say). But we 
have ever to bear in mind Dorothea's himger for something 
more satisfying than the companionship of ** sustaining 
thoughts ** and her longing for ** objects who could be dear to 
her and to whom she could be dear." It is certain that Doro- 
thea would never be satisfied with any mode of activity that 
did not move in alliance with the sympathies and affections. 
Just to be occupied, however purposefully, would not be 
enough. One recalls a certain little speech of hers, uttered, 
somewhat impatiently, in protest to Ladislaw*s expressed fear 
that she was too much shut up, and his suggestion that it would 
be better for Mr. Casaubon to have a secretary, as Sir James 
Chettam and Mr. Brooke advised. " Yes," said Dorothea, " but 
they donH' understand — they want me to be a great deal on 
horseback, and to have the garden altered and new conserva- 
tories, to fill up my days. I thought you could understand that 
one's mind has other wants." 

Then, the Dorothea of today would possess from the be- 
ginning a clearer conception of what should be the basis of 
matrimonial union, the only basis on which an adventurer 
can safely embark upon that unknown sea. This knowledge 
Dorothea had to be taught through the hardships of her life 
with Mr. Casaubon, the trials that she had to undergo. And 
it was the learning of this lesson that made her the more reso- 
lute in her determination to marry Will Ladislaw. Dorothea 
at no period of her existence would have been very imagina- 
tive regarding the discomforts of a life without abundant 
means. Celia could readily conceive of the trial of being pent 
up to one accustomed to the expanse and greenness of a park. 
"How can you always live in a street?" she exclaimed when 
she learned Dorothea's intention of going to London. But 
Dorothea, with all her idealism, had in her a strain of prac- 
ticality. Did she not say : " I will learn what everything costs." 
There is something inexpressibly charming in the naivete of 



1919.] DOROTHEA 45 

that speedi. How WiU Ladislaw must have blessed her sweet 
soul I A man would be a very brute not to respond to such 
sweet persuasion. 

One particular phase of George Eliot's art is so conspicu- 
ously noticeable in the novel of Middlemcwch, and so effec- 
tivefy used in the working out of Dorothea's story, as to call 
for special comment. Among the many manifestations of deli- 
cate poetical feeling which illumine the whole body of George 
Eliot's fiction, and especially the novel of Middlemarch, there 
is one particular touch that is closely associated with — ^is, in- 
deed, a part of — the method by which George Eliot secures for 
her figures that richness of background, setting, and atmos- 
phere which so characterizes her work. It reveals, moreover, 
her keen realization of the way in which visions are inter- 
woven with certain moods, and the manner in which par- 
ticular aspects of nature are a^ociated for us with certain 
qK>chs of our history. Here is an iUustration : '' Any private 
hours in Dorothea's day were usually spent in her blue-green 
boudoir, and she had come to be very fond of its pallid quaint- 
ness. • • • The bare room had gathered within it those memories 
of an inner life which fill the air as with a cloud of good or bad 
angels, the invisible yet active forms of our spiritual triumphs 
or our spiritual falls. She had been so used to struggle for and 
to find resolve in looking along the avenue towards the arch of 
western light that the vision itself had gained a communicating 
power. Even the pale stag seemed to have reminding glances 
and to mean mutely, ^ Yes, we know.' And the group of deli- 
cately touched miniatures had made an audience as of beings 
no longer disturbed about their own earthly lot, but stiU 
humanly interested." 

Then note the effect of the poetical touch in the following 
passage: **She was not aware how long it was before she 
answered. She had turned her head and was looking out of 
the window on the rose-bushes, which seemed to have in them 
the summers of all the years when WiU would be away." One 
more example of the same subtle effect : *' So by the end of 
June the shutters were all opened at Lowick Manor, and the 
morning gazed calmly into the library, shining on the rows of 
notebooks as it shines on the weary waste planted with stones, 
the mute memorials of a forgotten fate; and the evening laden 
with roses entered silently into the blue-green boudoir where 



46 DOROTHEA [Oct., 

Dorothea chose oftenest to sit." Just why this mention of 
morning sunshine and June roses, this suggestion of flower 
fragrance and evening quietude, should make Dorothea's soli- 
tude seem doubly mournful and the loneliness of her heart so 
very piteous, it is hard to say, yet one feels that it is so. 

The history of Dorothea, like that of every life where 
there is noble aim and noble habit of soul, is a spiritual his- 
tory, a record of spiritual struggle and spiritual growth. Hence 
the hold that it takes upon the mind and heart; hence, likewise, 
the modernity, in the larger sense, of the figure itself. For it 
cannot be denied that the spiritual life of mankind remains 
fundamentally the same throughout the ages. If the inner ex- 
perience of the first woman (supposing her possessed of a 
malleable soul) could be written out with introspective min- 
uteness, the trials of her existence, though circumstantially dif- 
ferent, would most likely prove to be not essentially dissimilar 
from those that try the metal of her pliant-souled sister of 
today. In both cases, the march of advancement would doubt- 
less progress by the same stages and reveal the same general 
processes. And to a master in the art of fiction, the two his- 
tories would appear quite equal in plastic potentialities. 



MY ANSWER. 

BY C. A. CHILTON. 

" How have I fared with Him 

Whose early promises beguiled my youth T " 
You ask. 
** Has that fair-seeming high estate 
Proved in these years of trial 

But Dead Sea fruit? " 
" That vast unmeasured store of covenanted joys 
Melted — ^and left behind 

But sad-eyed — ^vain illusions? " 

"niusions!" 

Yes, there were illusions* 
Dense webs of them before my eyes — 

In those first years. 
Yet such as fed my novice fancies then 
Served well, and wisely, their appointed end. 
Ever they lured to higher ground 

My wavering, untutored steps. 
And now — 
Now with the great realities in sight 
I bless the dear illusions 

Every one! 

But, for the subtle slight I read 

Between your words. 
Touching the honor of my Chosen One, 
Take from my lips — as solemn as my vow 

My passionate reply: 
" A world's-breadth deeper, higher, truer 

Than His word 
Has been the dear fulfillment of His bond. 

Sweet was the spring-time of His love. 
But lo ! as once at Cana*s wedding feast. 
So has He kept for me — (His own by that first vow) 

So has He kept — the best wine of His vintage 
UntU nowl " 



FACTS RESPECTING SPIRIT-PHOTOGRAPHY. 

BY J. GODFREY RAUPERT, K.S^. 

iHE publication, in a recent issue of the Chicago 
Herald and Examiner, of a photograph of Sir A. 
Conan Doyle with the image of an "extra" 
which he claims to bear " a general but not very 
exact resemblance " to his deceased son, has 
once more drawn the attention of the thoughtful public to the 
perplexing problem presented by spirit-photography. 

In view of the manifest importance and significance of the 
subject at this time, and the many inquiries that have come 
to me on the subject, it may not be out of place to set forth in 
the pages of The Catholic World what long experience and 
personal experiment have taught me respecting it. 

The late Holy Father, who so clearly, and indeed prophet- 
ically, foresaw the coming of the present spiritistic movement 
and who was so anxious to guard wealt Catholics against the 
perils incidental to it, desired that all the ascertained facts 
should be made fully known, it being his conviction that it was 
only in this way that a true weapon could be forged for the ef- 
fectual combating of this dangerous heretical movement. "The 
Chnrch," he said,"basDothingtofearfromwell-establishedfact 
and truth. What she has to fear ia imperfect knowledge, the prop- 
agation of half-truths, and a misinterpretation of the facts as- 
certained." Experience certainly, it must be confessed, is daily 
confirming the wisdom of this statement, imperfect knowledge 
of the subject, ignorance of facts often withheld from the 
public by enthusiastic theorists, and misinterpretation of the 
facts established being, beyond doubt, the most frequent cause 
of lapses of orthodox Christians into spiiifism. The dissemi- 
nation of full and accurate knowledge, and the admission and 
right interpretation of facts adequately est&blished, can alone 
serve our cause. 

Numbers of our young. Catholics, especially in the larger 
cities of the country who, as I have good reason to know, posi- 
Avtfy devour in our public libraries the fascinating books on 



1W9.] Filers RESPECTING SPIRIT-PHOTOGRAPHY 49 

spiritism increasingly issuing from the press, have questions 
to ask which must be answered. They are no longer satisfied 
with the lame and conventional explanations of persons who 
daim to speak authoritatively on the subject, but from whose 
explanations it is often only too evident that they are them- 
selves wholly unacquainted with the facts which modern re- 
search has brought to light. 

Such ignorant platitudinizing is rapidly bringing Catholic 
science into discredit. Thoughtful and well-read Catholics 
have again and again spoken to me with positive contempt of 
statements on this subject, issuing perhaps from some college 
or university professor and clothed in lofty and learned-sound- 
ing language, but, nevertheless, disclosing a most woeful and 
pitiable ignorance of the subject. Such Catholics are feeling, 
and are feeling justly, that in view of what is increasingly be- 
ing brou^t to their knowledge, all this foolish talk about fraud 
and fake, and double-exposure so far as this aspect of the sub- 
ject is concerned, can, at this hour of the day, but damage our 
cause and make us ridiculous in the eyes of the generally well- 
informed non-Catholic and of " the man in the street *• who, as 
the late Professor Alfred Russel Wallace so justly pointed out, 
has been found to be the true scientist.^ The circumstance that 
a man knows something of photography or chemistry does not 
manifestly imply that he knows all about it, and from recent 
discoveries we may surely safely infer that he knows very lit- 
fle about it at best. 

It has to be admitted, of course, that while the Church's 
decree, barring a Catholic from experimental research, is a 
most wise and timely one, exhibiting the accurate knowledge 
which the Roman authorities possess on the subject, it never- 
theless places him at a disadvantage, since he cannot secure 
for himself that experimental knowledge to which the non- 
Catholic has access, and which has been so largely instru- 
tnental in bringing about the present movement. 

But this disadvantage can be compensated for to a con- 
siderable extent by a thoroughgoing study of the works of 
scientiflc men of the saner sort, who have no particular reli- 
gious or philosophic theory to advance or defend, and, above 
aU, by approaching that study in a spirit of humility and teach- 
ableness, bearing in mind that there may conceivably be more 

* If iradM atid Modan SpitUaaiUmi 
a. 4 



50 FACTS RESPECTING SPIRIT-PHOTOGRAPHY [Oct., 

things in heaven and on earth than even a college or univer- 
sity professor has dreamt of in his philosophy. 

One reason, of course, why these inquiries are addressed to 
me is because one of my first books on Spiritism * contains prints 
of spirit-photographs, which I claimed to have obtained under 
conditions guaranteeing their genuineness, and respecting 
which it is known that I have never seen cause to change my 
mind. 

In a work in which the results of photographic experiment 
are only one element in the evidence presented, it was impos- 
sible to go very deeply into the matter and to produce the avail- 
able evidence in full. I was anxious, moreover, not to lay too 
much stress upon this particular kind of evidence. I desired 
my readers to consider the evidence as a whole and to form 
their judgment accordingly. I will now, however, supplenient 
the information given in my book by presenting the evidence 
of the then highest photographic authority in England which, 
so far as I know, has never appeared in print in this country 
and which will, I think, answer all the questions of my in- 
quirers and, indeed, settle the matter once and for all, for all 
open and fair-minded persons. It should, of course, be borne in 
mind that we are here not dealing with fully materialized forms 
which, as the late Professor A. R. Wallace put it, " shape them- 
selves out of the emanations from living bodies in proper 
magnetic relation to them," ' and which become visible to the 
eyes of all persons present at the experiment. It goes with- 
out saying that such forms can be photographed, either in the 
dark with the aid of magnesium light, or in daylight, as in the 
well-known and carefully conducted experiments of the late Sir 
William Crookes. It is here a question of ** photographing the 
invisible,*' in other words, of photographing forms so delicately 
constructed (apparently because of the insufficiency of the 
available amount of such emanations) that they are imper- 
ceptible to the natural sight, although believed and, indeed, 
known to be present by reason of other very perceptible in- 
dications. Can such forms be photographed and have they 
been photographed? This is the question before us and is the 
question which inquirers everywhere are now asking. I will 
answer it in the words of the photographic authority referred 

'The Dangers of SptritaalUm, 
•iiintaei ahd Wodetn SpMtualism. 



1919.] FACTS RESPECTING SPIRIT-PHOTOGRAPHY 51 

to, the quotation being taken from a popular lecture which he 
delivered in London some years ago when questions, similar 
to those now asked in this country, were asked in England: 

* 

There are some rays of light which, when reflected from 
an object on which they fall, are visible; so called, because 
they enable the normal eye to see such an object; but there 
are other rays which, if thus employed, would fail to render 
an object visible, but would still cause photographic action. 
These are popularly termed invisible rays because then: 
effects are not perceived by ordinary vision. If anything or 
entity — call it spirit if you like— -emitted rays of this nature 
only, most assuredly it could be photographed by one poS" 
sessing even rudimentary knowledge only of photography, 
although such a figure could not be seen. It would be amen- 
able to the law of optics, by which the image will be pro- 
jected by the lense on the plate, and to those of chemistry, 
by which that image will subsequently be developed. 

When, years ago, I obtained on the photograph of a guest 
staying at my house, taken with my own camera and on a 
newly-bought plate, no professional medium being present, 
the image of a deceased friend of mine which all the members 
of that friend's family acknowledged to be a very fair 
likeness of him, I realized that the possibility of photographing 
the invisible had been proved to demonstration so far as I was 
personally concerned. I could not, with the best intention in 
the world, discover any flaw or defect in the conditions ob- 
served, and the preceding and attending physical manifesta- 
tions, indicating the presence of an extraneous intelligence 
tended to remove any misgiving that might otherwise have re- 
mained in my mind. 

But I was not even then satisfied. I thought that, not be- 
ing an expert in photography, there might, after all, be some- 
thing that had escaped my attention. I therefore placed my- 
self in conununication with the expert referred to, the late 
Bfr. Traill Taylor, the then President of the Royal Photographic 
Society, Editor of the British Journal of Photography and the 
admitted highest authority on the subject in England. 

I submitted the result of my experiments to him, f uUy de- 
tailing the circumstances under which the picture had been ob- 
tained. Bfr. Taylor's verdict was as follows : ^ I would give a 



52 Filers RESPECTING SPIRIT-PHOTOGRAPHY [Oct, 

good deal if I were able to obtain, under reasonable test-con- 
ditions, such a picture as yours. I have read your letter with 
great interest and have shown it to expert friends. I can only 
now say: by all means continue your investigations in this 
direction and you will have your reward in greater success.'' 

Mr. Taylor, strongly influenced by striking evidence of 
this character, increasing in bulk and value and coming in 
from many and most unexpected quarters, finally decided 
upon making experiments himself. He took all the precautions 
which his intimate knowledge of the subject would suggest, 
and when, to his amazement, identical results were obtained, 
he communicated those results to the members of the London 
and Provincial Photographic Association in England. En- 
tirely eliminating myself, therefore, and my evidence from 
the inquiry, I now place before my readers the verbatim re- 
port of Mr. Traill Taylor's experiments as it appeared in the 
British Journal of Photography,^ the original copy of which 
is in my possession. 

'Tor several years I have experienced a strong desire to 
ascertain by personal investigation the amount of truth in the 
ever-recurring allegation that figures, other than those vis- 
ually present in the room, appeared on a sensitive plate. The 
difficulty was to get hold of a suitable person known as a sen- 
sitive or ' medium.' What a medium is, or how physically or 
mentally constituted differently from other mortals, I 
am unable to say. He or she may not be a photographer, 
but must be present on each occasion of trial. Some 
may be mediums without their being aware of it Like 
the chemical principle known as catalysis they merely act 
by their presence. Such a one is Mr. D. of Glasgow, in whose 
presence psychic photographs have long been alleged to be 
obtained. He was lately in London on a visit, and a mutual 
friend got him to consent to extend his stay in order that I 
might try to get a psychic photograph under test conditions. 
To this he willingly agreed. My conditions were exceedingly 
simple, were courteously expressed to the host, and entirely 
acquiesced in. They were, that I for the nonce would assume 
them all to be tricksters, and, to guard against fraud, should 
use my own camera and unopened packages of dry plates pur- 
chased from dealers of repute, and that I should be excused 

« March 17, 1898. 



1919.] Filers RESPECTING SPIRIT-PHOTOGRAPHY 53 

from allowing a plate to go out of my own hands till after de- 
velopment, unless I felt otherwise disposed; but that, as I was 
to treat them as under suspicion, so must they treat me, and 
that every act I performed must be in the presence of two wit- 
nesses, nay, that I would set a watch upon my own camera in 
the guise of a duplicate one of the same focus — ^in other words, 
I would use a binocular stereoscopic camera and dictate all the 
conditions of operation. All this I was told was what they very 
strongly wished me to do, as they d^ired to know the truth 
and that only. There were present, during one or other of the 
evenings when the trials were made, representatives of vari- 
ous schools of thought, including a clergyman of the Church 
of England; a practitioner of the healing art who is a fellow of 
two learned societies; a gentleman who graduated in the Hall 
of Science in the days of the late Charles Bradlaugh; some two 
extremely hard-headed Glasgow merchants, gentlemen of com- 
mercial eminence and probity; our host, his wife, the medium, 
and myself. Dr. G. was the first sitter, and, for a reason known 
to myself, I used a monocular camera. I myself took 
the plate out of a packet just previously ripped up under the 
surveillance of my two detectives. I place the slide in my 
pocket, and exposed it by magnesium ribbon which I held in 
my own hand, keeping one eye, as it were, on the sitter and the 
other on the camera. There was no background. I myself 
took the plate from the dark slide, and, under the eyes of the 
two detectives, placed it in the developing dish. Between the 
camera and the sitter a female figure was developed, rather 
in a more pronounced form than that of the sitter. The lens 
was a portrait one of short focus, the figure being somewhat in 
front of the sitter was proportionately larger in dimensions. I 
submit this picture. It is, as you see, a lady. I do not recog- 
nize her or any of the other figures I obtained as like any one 
I know, and from my point of view, that of a mere investigator 
and experimentalist, not caring whether the psychic subject 
were embodied or disembodied. 

"^Many experiments of like nature followed; on scmie 
plates were abnormal appearances, on others none. All this 
time Mr. D., the medium, during the exposure of the plates was 
quite inactive. After one trial which had proved successful, 
I asked him how he felt and what he had been thinking of dur- 
ing the exposure. He replied that his thoughts had been ntiainly 



54 Filers RESPECTING SPIRIT-PHOTOGRAPHY [Oct, 

concentrated upon his chances of securing a corner seat in a 
smoking carriage that night from Euston to Glasgow. 

""K the precautions I took during all of the several ex- 
periments, such as those recorded, are by any of you thought 
to have been imperfect or incomplete, I pray of you to point 
them out. In some of them I relaxed my conditions to the ex- 
tent of getting one of those present to lift out from the dark 
shde the exposed plate and transfer it to the developing dish 
held by myself, or to lift a plate from the manufacturer's 
package into the dark shde held in my own hand, this being 
done under my own eye, which was upon it all the time; but 
this did not seem to interfere with the successful going on of 
the experiments. 

"' The psychic figures behaved badly. Some were in focus, 
others not so; some were lighted from the right, while the 
sitter was so from the left; some were comely, as the dame I 
shall show on the screen, others not so ; some monopolized the 
major portion of the plate, quite obliterating the material 
sitters; others were as if an atrociously badly vignetted por- 
trait, or one cut oval out of a photograph by a can-opener, or 
equally badly clipped out, were held up behind the sitter. 
But here is the point : not one of these figures which came out 
so strongly in the negative was visible in any form or shape 
to me during the time of exposure in the camera, and I vouch 
in the strongest manner for the fact that no one whatever 
had an opportunity of tampering with any plate anterior to 
its being placed in the dark slide or inunediately preceding de- 
velopment Pictorally they are vile, but how came they there? 
... I again assert that the plates were not tampered with by 
either myself or any one present 

" There are plenty of Tycho Brahes capable of supplying 
details of observations, but who is to be the Kepler that will 
from such observations evolve a law by which they can be 
satisfactorily explained? 

'' In the foregoing I have confined myself as closely as pos- 
sible to narrating how I conducted a photographic experiment 
open to every one to make, avoiding stating any hypothesis or 
belief of my own on the subject generally, and it only now 
remains to exhibit the results, bad and fraudulent-looking as 
they are, on the screen." 

In a subsequent popular lecture, Mr. Traill Taylor sup- 



1919.] FACTS RESPECTING SPIRIT -PHOTOGRAPHY 55 

plemented his very interesting exposition by the following 
statement from which it will be seen how very deep and abid- 
ing a conviction is which is based upon first-hand knowledge 
and upon accurate and experimental investigation. 

^ I can afford to look with the greatest charitableness upon 
editors and photographers who, not having had opportunities 
of acquiring a sufficiency of knowledge, relegate these photo- 
graphs to the limbo of fraud. I myself did so at one time and 
can therefore scarcely blame them for doing likewise. Where 
blame rests is in their not scientifically investigating a sub- 
ject which ought to be replete with interest to a photographer; 
and where misfortune steps in is in the difficulty of being able 
to secure access to certain conditions necessary to the de- 
siderated investigation, and this altogether apart from belief 
or even desire of belief in spiritism, either as a science or a re- 
ligion. As known to many, I was afforded exceptional facili- 
ties for endeavoring to satisfy myself, first, as to the reality of 
human abnormal forms appearing on the photographic plate 
by means other than those regularly obtained in accordance 
with the well-recognized photographic laws, accepted by every 
student of the phenomena of photography; and, secondly, if 
such were the case, to do what the Right Honorable A. J. Bal- 
four suggested when, in a presidential address to the Society 
for Psychical Research, he spoke of the desirability of efforts 
being made Mo discover what laws this strange class of 
phenomena obey.' •* 

It is hardly necessary to add anything to this compre- 
hensive and courageous verdict on the part of unquestionably 
one of the very highest authorities on photography, whose in- 
timate knowledge of the subject may surely be supposed to 
cause him to take all the precautions which the most skeptical 
mind could deem necessary to impose. It will be seen from 
it what the vague platitudes of half-informed writers about 
fakes and fraud and double-exposure are worth. They are 
more than twenty years too late with their assertions, and such 
assertions can but serve to disclose their very great ignorance. 
The fact of spirit photography, quite apart from the question 
as to the nature of these spirits is, beyond all doubt, an estab- 
lished fact in science. The men therefore, whatever tiieir 
academic standing, who, at tiiis hour of the day^ still attempt 
to explain tiiisse phenomena in the manner indicated are most 



56 Filers RESPECTING SPIBJT -PHOTOGRAPHY [Oct, 

assuredly blind leaders of the blind who are vainly seeking to 
instruct a public which, in very many instances, is infinitely 
better informed than themselves. And it must be clear that all 
such attempts are but calculated to damage our cause and to 
bring discredit upon Catholic science. It cannot be sufficiently 
emphasized that we cannot hope, at this hour, successfully to 
defend our Christianity by denying facts which patient and 
laborious and long-continued research has adequately estab- 
lished, and with which the intelligent public everywhere is be- 
coming increasingly familiarized. Our defence must be 
directed not to the denial of such facts but to the securing of 
accurate information respecting them, and to a true and 
adequate and reasonable interpretation of them — ^in the light 
of those facts which the promoters of the spiritistic movement 
are so apt td" conceal from the public. And I maintain that this 
can be done even while remaining on purely scientific ground 
and without directly urging the Church's teaching, a statement 
of the concealed facts referred to positively necessitating an 
interpretation of the phenomena favorable to the orthodox 
Catholic standpoint. 

I am convinced, moreover, that my theory, that while the 
** stuff " necessary for the formation of these mysterious forms 
is derived from emanations from living bodies, the images of 
the dead impressed upon them are obtained from the sub- 
conscious minds of the living, is the theory that covers the 
whole ground. It is certainly confirmed by the description of 
the peculiar characteristics of this very image of his deceased 
son obtained by Dr. A. Conan Doyle. 

In any case it is difficult to see how the evidence for the 
existence and operation of some kind of intelligence, external 
to the observer and to the medium, can ever be better than it is 
at the present time, and the grave question to which we have 
to address ourselves and which we have to answer adequately 
and correctly is : What is really the nature and aim of the in- 
telligence or intelligences causing these operations? 



LUXEMBURG. 



BY A. P. SGHIMBERG. 




|HE recent letter of the Right Rev. Louis C. 
Casartelli, Bishop of Salford, England, to the 
Catholics of the Allied nations in behalf of the 
Grand Duchy of Luxemburg, has again drawn 
attention to this interesting little country which 
was until of late practically unknown to Americans. 

Luxemburg figured in the public press to a very limited 
extent, and for a brief period only, when the Germans violated 
its neutrality in 1914, passing through the Grand Duchy on 
their march into France. While the War waged and the fate 
of mighty empires hung in the balance, the world forgot little 
Luxemburg. But after the armistice was signed another army 
passed through Luxemburg, the American soldiers on their 
march to the Rhine, and in letters to their homefolk, Pershing's 
doughboys told of the country's quaint beauty and of the 
cordial hospitality of its Catholic people. And Luxemburg 
became known to more Americans than ever before in its 
history. 

The Bishop of Salf ord in his letter calls Luxemburg '* prac- 
tically the last thoroughly Catholic nation and State, sovereign 
and independent, left, at least in Europe.'* And H. C. Bailey 
in the Daily Telegraph of London says: '^AU Luxemburg 
stands together for independence. The events of the last four 
years have only strengthened the desire of the little State for 
complete freedom. Whatever the flag. Republic or -Ducal, 
autonomy is its blazon." 

Throughout its melancholy past, through the long cen- 
turies of foreign domination, merciless taxation and economic 
tyranny, Luxemburg, like Ireland, remained true to the Ancient 
Faith. Neither the cockle of the Protestant Revolt nor that of 
the French Revolution found lodgment in its Ardenne soil. 
The splendid faith of the Middle Ages was preserved and to 
this day has manifested itself in all Catholic ways, especially 
in devotion to the Blessed Virgin and in numerous vocations to 
the hdly priesthood and to the religious life for women. In 



58 LUXEMBURG [Oct, 

proportion to its size, the Grand Duchy has sent forth from 
within its borders more priests and nuns than any other Catho- 
lic country. One of our American Bishops, the Right Rev. 
James Schwebach of the diocese of La Crosse, Wisconsin, is 
a native of Luxemburg, as is also the Right Rev. Bishop 
Fallize of Alusa, Norway, head of the renascent Church in the 
land of St. Olaf . 

When Luxemburg lay prostrate in unprecedented misery 
in 1666, the provincial council on September 27th of that 
year unanimously chose the Mother of God under the title 
Comforter of the A£EUcted, as the special patroness of the 
capital, the city of Luxemburg. On Sunday, October 10, 1666, 
the choice of the pious councilors was solenmly ratified and a 
statue of the most merciful Virgin was enthroned, in the 
capital's chief church. Eleven years later the patronage of the 
Maiden Mother was invoked for the entire land of Luxemburg. 

The people's centuries-old love for Mary gave rise in 
recent times to an appealing, peculiarly Catholic and uniquely 
Luxemburger custom. Each year, during special May devo- 
tions in the Church of Notre Dame in the capital city, an Amer- 
ican flag is placed close to the Blessed Virgin's shrine and on a 
national coat-of-arms beneath the image this invocation is 
inscribed : " Comforter of the Afflicted, Pray for Thy Children 
in America." And it has come to pass that Luxemburgers 
whose wanderlust lured them to the New World, whose heart- 
hunger brought them back to the scenes of their youth in the 
homeland, knelt at this altar and heard the Help of Christians 
invoked for them and their compatriots under the Star Span- 
gled Banner. 

Another link binds the sturdy Catholics of the Grand 
Duchy to their co-religionists in the United States. At Carey, 
Ohio, there is a shrine of the Blessed Virgin with a replica of 
the statue set up in 1666. This shrine was established in 1873 
by the Rev. Joseph P. Gloden, a priest of Luxemburger nativity, 
in fulfillment, it is said, of a vow to dedicate the first church he 
built in America to the Inunaculate Mother of God, patroness 
alike of his homeland and of the new land to which he had 
come to labor for God and His Church. 

Evidence of the old Catholic spirit of unswerving faith and 
deep piety in little Luxemburg is the annual pilgrimage or 
*' dancing" procession in honor of St. Willibrord, patron of 



1919.] LUXEMBURG 59 

epileptics, whose relics are treasured in a magnificent shrine 
at Echtemach, one of the larger towns of the Grand Duchy. On 
the Tuesday after Whitsunday of each year, a procession 
wends its way from the bridge that spans the Sure River as 
it flows through Echtemach, through the ancient streets of the 
town, to the shrine. The first pilgrimage was held in 1374, fol- 
lowing the miraculous healing of an epileptic. Joseph 11., the 
Austrian meddler in ecclesiastical affairs, discouraged and the 
French masters of the Revolutionary regime forbade the pro- 
cession. After 1830 it was revived, and of late has been par- 
ticipated in by exceptionally large numbers of the faithful. In 
1880 the pilgrims numbered ten thousand. In 1912 they num- 
bered twenty thousand, Luxemburgers from all parts of the 
land and devout folk from across the German, Belgian and 
French frontiers. 

When the confident epileptic of five hundred and forty-five 
years ago was cured through the intercession of St. Willibrord, 
he danced for joy. The marchers in this unique pilgrimage 
execute a peculiar step in imitation of this dance of joy, hence 
it is called the ** dancing '' procession of Echtemach. 

Though the Grand Duchy has an area of only nine hun- 
dred and ninety-nine square miles and a population of little 
more than two hundred and fifty thousand, the history of Lux- 
emburg has a fascination all out of proportion to the country's 
size and importance among the nations of the world. To read 
the history of Luxemburg is to read the history of Europe, so 
wide flung are the ramifications of its story of the past. 

The ancient Celts left interesting evidences of their pres- 
ence when they gave way to the conquering Romans, whose 
roads now traverse the land and whose Csesar-imaged coins 
are still turned up by Luxemburger plowmen. In 963-993 the 
first Counts of Luxemburg rebuilt a ruined Roman fortress on 
a mighty rock caUed Luetzelburg, and from this stronghold the 
country and its capital city derived their name. In 1363 Lux- 
emburg became a duchy. The Burgundians came into pos- 
session of it in 1443, later it was ceded to Spain. While it 
formed part of the Holy Roman Empire of the Germans, sev- 
eral of its rulers ascended the imperial throne, among them the 
illustrious St Henry, whose wife was the chaste Cunegunda. 

By the Treaty of Utrecht in 1713 the Duchy was ceded to 
Austria. It became part of France by the Treaty of Campo 



60 LUXEMBURG [Oct.. 

Formio in 1797, and riemained under French domination until 
after the fall of Najpoleon. The Congress of Vienna, 1815, 
raised it to a grand duchy and made it the personal appanage 
of William of Orange-Nassau, King of the Netherlands, as 
Grand Duke of Luxemburg. 

Thus, through the centuries, Luxemburg was under alien 
rule; Burgundian, Hapsburg, Spanish and Austrian; French, 
royal, republican, imperial, and Dutch. It was a tiny pawn on 
the chess-board of Europe, its fate determined by unscrupulous 
diplomats who cared nothing for the people's rights and their 
welfare. For hundreds of years Luxemburg suffered from the 
devastating armies of first one, then another Power. Its men 
and boys were pressed into the service of its conquerors, forced 
to fight for the glory of ambitious monarchs, for aims always 
foreign, often contrary to Luxemburg's weal. 

Surcease from the devastation of contending armies, from 
exorbitant taxation and economic t3rranny did not come to 
Luxemburgers until recent times. In 1839, at the expense 
of a final exploitation which left only one-fourth of its orig- 
inal area, Luxemburg was made the ward of the Powers, with 
its perpetual independence and territorial integrity solemnly 
guaranteed. But even the prosperous peace which followed 
did not fully satisfy the Luxemburgers, for they were still un- 
der foreign rule. 

When the last King of the Netherlands died in 1890, his 
daughter Wilhelmina could succeed him on the Dutch throne, 
but was barred from the grand ducal throne of Luxemburg 
by an old family pact of the House of Nassau. The nearest 
male heir was Duke Adolph of Nassau, who ruled Luxemburg 
until his death in 1905, when he was succeeded by his son, 
William. Grand Duke William, a Protestant, had married a 
Catholic princess, Marie Anne of the Portuguese House of 
Braganza, much to the joy of the Luxemburgers. But no son 
blessed this union and under the Nassau family pact none of 
the six little grand duchesses could succeed their father. An- 
other male of the Orange-Nassau line would come out of Ger- 
many to rule Luxemburg, and the people feared that they 
might, somehow, come under the domination of the Teutonic 
Power. 

Anxious to safeguard the independence of their beloved 
little land, jealous of their liberties and of their individuality 



1919.] LUXEMBURG 61 

as a people, the Luxemburgers called upon their chamber of 
deputies to revoke the obnoxious statute which forced com- 
pliance with the Nassau family pact. Then the charming lit- 
tle grand duchesses, in the order of their ages, and their heirs 
after them, were made eligible to the throne. And when Grand 
Duke William died in 1912, his eldest daughter, Orand Duchess 
Marie Adelheid, a native-bom sovereign, began to reign over 
Luxemburg, at the age of eighteen years. 

When the War broke out the Luxemburgers were dwell- 
ing in peaceful prosperity, and looked forward confidently to 
a roseate future. With a native and Catholic ruler, lovable 
and beloved, on the throne at last, free from the burden of 
militarism and the worries of international politics, penalties 
of great size and power, the Luxemburgers appreciated the 
almost idyllic conditions in their little land. They cared not 
at all that it was but a speck on the map of Europe, unknown 
to most tourists, especially to Americans. 

Now that many Americans have learned something of Lux- 
emburg and since it may be brought to the world's attention, 
again before its fate its finally determined by the Peace Con- 
ference, it is probable that more travelers will include Lux- 
emburg in their itineraries. They will find today what Goethe 
found in 1792: ** A combination of grandeur and charm, much 
earnestness mingled with sweetness.** ^ The grandeur of which 
the Crerman poet wrote is not the awe-inspiring grandeur of 
the Alps, of Niagara or the wide Mississippi, the South Ameri- 
can pampas, or the mighty ocean. The miniature country's 
natural beauties are cast in a smaller scale, in a gentler mood. 
It is as if nature had selected this land in which to show all her 
moods to some extent, but particularly her sweetness and allur- 
ing charm. 

Luxemburg is hedged in by France, Germany, Belgium. 
Her mountainous forest lands cover a section of the Ardennes 
plateau which extends beyond the French and Belgian 
borders and divides the basin of the Meuse from that of the 
Moselle River, which latter stream forms a part of the German 
frontier. The potent spell of the Ardennes remains forever 
with all who have walked their mountain paths, gazed up- 
wards at the picturesque castle ruins, downward to quaint and 
colorful villages clustered in the valleys. Luxemburg is like a 

^ Au9 Meinem Leb§n,, ill., p. 166. 



62 LUXEMBURG [Oct., 

succession of small but exquisite stage settings; modest hills 
and shallow valleys, glistening rivers scarcely more than 
brooks, charming old houses. 

But one thing marred the Luxemburg idyll. Anti- 
clericalism came from across the French border sometime be- 
fore the War, and has to the present continued its machinations 
in Marie Adelheid's little realm. It was to some extent at least 
responsible for the girl-ruler's abdication after the armistice 
was signed. A Republic of Luxemburg rose and fell within 
less than one day, and then the next eldest grand duchess, 
Charlotte, was called to succeed her exiled sister on the throne. 

The Luxemburgers who through the vicissitudes of their 
checkered past remained stanchly Catholic, are manfully fight- 
ing this modem enemy. They realize that the sinister force 
aims at once at the Church and at the State, that it would defeat 
their national aspirations: Mir welle bleiwe wat mir sinl* 
Luxemburgers, Catholic and independent. 

That is why the Bishop of Salford addressed his letter to 
the Catholics of the Allied countries. He declares there is dan- 
ger that the future of Luxemburg will be settled otherwise 
than the Luxemburgers desire, otherwise than they have a right 
to expect from those who have written and spoken many 
fine phrases of encouragement to all the little States of Europe. 
Though millions of brave men have died and millions suffered 
agony to make tiie world safe for democracy and insure self^ 
determination for all peoples, there is danger that political 
intrigue will make a victim at the peace table of Luxemburg, 
^practically the last thoroughly Catholic nation and State, 
sovereign and independent, left, at least in Europe." 

"'We want to renudn what we ere.** The words are from the Lazembvirg 
national song, written by the poet Lenta in the native dialect 



'WHOSE, THEN, SHALL THOSE THINGS BE?'' 

BY EMILY HICKEY. 

Whose, then, should these things be. 

Little things dear to me, 
Those little things I have, the small things which 
Borne on my life did help it and enrich. 
Yet cannot help another's poverty? 

It may be I possess 

What e'en may help or bless 
Kinsfolk or friends when I have passed away; 
But these things that I love as well as know. 

What of them when I go 
Out of the twilight to the breast of day? 

Trifles! And yet so dear, 
I scarce can name them here; 
Trifles to others, not to me. 
In verity. 

Among them I have kept a little shell. 
One gave me, and it meant 
What brought us dear content. 
Albeit its meaning none but two could tell — 
And one of them is with the invisible. 

And if you held it to your ear 
Not even a murmur of the great sea-spell 
In its white spiral could you hear. 

Letters? yes, letters too. 
And but a few. 
For many a one was burned in days gone by; 

And, as I know. 
All these must go. 
Ere I begin the journey that is nigh. 

My father, dear my father! Here he laid 
His heart before the one beloved maid. 

The more beloved wife. 

Letters and pretty rimes 



64 " WHOSE, THEN, SHALL THOSE THINGS BE? " [Oct, 

By love dictated in the far-off times 

Of perfect life 
With happy leaf and blossom and fruitage, oh ! 

So long, so long ago! 

And other letters too, 
Written, my mother sweet, by you 
To her, your little child. 
Whom you have met. 
And gladly known, 
(I love to think it true) 
Albeit to woman's stature grown, 
Long since, beyond earth's joyance or its fret. 
In the far country that is Homeland styled. 
No more than these and such 
As any one might touch 
Might smile a kindly smile to look upon — 
Oh, trifles, yes, to any save to one. 

Most certainly. 
But that one, it is I. 
I leave not things like these behind, 
For any one to find. 

And yet they will not have been all unshared 
Ere they departed on the flame's white wings. 

They held the subtle effluence 
Wherewith the spirit dowers material things 

From its own springs 
I bore it biding hiddenly with me, 

And gave it out unconsciously. 
For none can say, in all the universe. 
That anything is merely his or hers. 
But this is not the whole. 
The rest? The rest is silence with my soul. 



HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL. 



BY C. C MARTINDALE, S.J. 



The Doctrine Concluded. 




|FTER John's **word8 of heaven," were not any com- 
ment of ours an intolerable impertinence and 
vulgarity? I will do little more than tabulate 
the doctrine we have already watched unfolded 
in his GospeL 

In Eternity, God exists: God the Invisible, of a Nature 
which no other nature, created or imaginable, can compre- 
hend. Yet this God has uttered Himself — adequately, in that 
mysterious Word which both is He, and is other than He, which 
coexists with Him in His Eternity and through Whom all else 
is made. For God, through the Word, has created a finite uni- 
verse; it too is His limited, inadequate expression; scattered, 
stammered syllables of His perfect self-utterance. Into this 
world, too, is ever streaming that Light which is suited to 
world-minds, reflections and gleams of that Inaccessible Light 
in which He is, and which is He; a Light sufficient for human 
thought to know what it needs of God; more than sufficient, in 
itself, yet proportionate, on the plane of nature, to the mind's 
exigencies. 

But to this Word, men remained, often, deaf; and to the 
Ught, half-blind. 

T*hereupon the Eternal Word and the Immortal Light be- 
came a man like them, that not thought alone might struggle 
its way to God, but that human eyes might see, human ears 
hear, and men's weak hands might handle the Divine. 

True God, One Thing with the Father, and true Man, born 
of a woman, subject to hunger and thirst, weariness of body 
and stress of soul, a heart for friendship and for sorrow, a 
Man destined to die in the extreme of suffering and contempt. 

But by no means only to preach a doctrine and to set a fair 
example did Jesus Christ thus enter human history. True, 
thou^ts were henceforward to be in man's mind which were 
not there before; a manner of life should now be his of which. 



66 HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL [Oct., 

hitherto, he had been incapable. But both creed and code 
should be but the expression, in the areas of wit and will, of a 
New Life which, through Jesus Christ, was henceforth to be 
personally appropriated by humankind. 

A New Life, transcending that of mind as essentially as 
mind transcends mere sense, was to be inbreathed by a new 
Creation into the soul. Man must be born anew, and from 
above. Baptism is the Sacrament, the mysterious transaction, 
part physical, part spiritual, which, it was covenanted, should 
cause, in man, this new Birth. But the life should not remain 
inert. Forthwith, like a living Fountain, it should spring from 
its inmost spiritual recess, and flood its way through all man, 
transmuting him. And its condign food must it have; a food in 
no way inferior to itself; a food which should be Christ Him- 
self, given, preeminently, in the Supreme Sacrament, the 
Eucharist 

For, after all, what is this Life? A new, real, substantial 
conmiunication, so far as human nature can receive it, of that 
Fullness of Uncreated Life which is in God, and reaches men 
through Christ. Not that we can become what Christ is, nor 
what God is. Not that we shall ever be, or can be called, God, 
Yet neither can human thought exhaust, nor the words which 
alone express it, fully state, that which by participation in this 
Life, we are, and which, at the consummation of all things 
shall not only invisibly be, but shall be revealed and mani- 
fested. 

Such a man, therefore, has in him an Eternal Fact, and, 
while for his natural coefficient, so to say, there is a future date 
at which he shall be raised from death, and "judged," and 
glorified, yet, from the standpoint of the Eternal Life already 
his, he is "" separated '' from that which alone separates, evil 
will, world, flesh, viewed as rejecting God's new Gift; he is in 
Conmiunion ; he is in heaven, in Christ, in God, one with Them, 
as They are with one another. 

Yet John guards, sternly, the enraptured soul from that 
false liberty which such joy in possession might suggest to 
its reasoning. The dark, the flesh, the world, the lie, sin, exist; 
our initial act of rejection has to be continued; nay, we must 
die to them, painfully, as He died, and die all through our lives, 
for the sake of the Eternal Life, which though it includes all 
reality, and enriches every other life, yet exacts the slaying 



1919.] HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL 67 

of those selfish attachments which exist in every will to the 
lower forms of life. Not all have that courage : not all ** come/' 
in the first instance. In some the element of response seems 
not to exist at all; in all it does exist, but in some it is, at the 
outset, stifled. Others, indeed, respond; they come, they hear; 
but — a terrible mystery — they change; they do not "remain** 
in Him ; they are shoots cut off from the Vine-stem, and wither, 
and bum; they are anti-ChrisL 

But those who remain in Christ remain, necessarily, in one 
another; and in the visible Church they form the expression 
of that conmion inner Life, in a triumphant, mutual Love. 

Do not think that St. John is alone in proclaiming this mys- 
tery. It is the essence of our Faith. St. Peter, too, speaks of the 
" divine power unto Life ** given to us, that we might " become 
sharers in a divine nature ;" ^ and St. Paul recurs again and 
again to the doctrine of the vital union between Christ and His 
Church, He the Head, she the members, each incomplete and 
in truth unintelligible without the other; and of how this 
mystic Christ is, indeed, still adequately to be built up, in the 
uncharted future, into His perfect self, and of how human mar- 
riage, in which two become one flesh is but the shadow of that 
supreme espousal; and how in God and man and universe one 
Spirit dwells, straining upwards towards the full revelation of 
the Sons of God.* 

It was of this that the Greek Fathers, too little read and 
known, used a language almost too rapturous for modern ears : 
how God became man, that men might become gods; how the 
Eucharist is the very Medicine that makes Immortal; for this 
too the Liturgy prays daily, when the priest mingles at Mass 
the wine and water, and reminds the Father how His Creation 
of the world was wonderful, but its Re-creation yet more won- 
derful, and asks that we may be worthy " to be partakers in 
His Divinity, Who in our humanity did not disdain to share." 

And of this Catholic philosophy and theology, ever more 
perfected across the ages, have taught. There are kinds of life, 
they tell us: the stone does not live; the rose, at least, can Uve; 
but the lion, more richly and fully than the rose; and than the 
Uon, the thinking man; so that while the rose, by culture, can 

> 2 Peter 1. S, 4. 

*See etpeelaUy Sph. 1. 10-22, 23; U. 13-22; til. 19; It. 8-1«: Col. 1. 16-20. 24-28; 
U. e-15, 16-19; ill. 11. And 1 Cor. lU. 9-11, 16-17; ▼!. 15-20; xll. 12-21; 2 Cor. ▼. 17; 
mad Romani Till. 16, 18-22, 28-27. 



68 HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL [Oct., 

become a perfect rose, yet may it never be developed into a 
thing of animal life; nor the animal of mere instinct, into 
humanity. Even so, above all these natural modes of life, 
remains a super-natural life, which man, left to himself, could 
never claim nor earn, nor into which in any way could he 
raise himself; but God gives it to him, freely, as a ** grace," if 
he will but accept it. 

This super-natural life He did, indeed, already give to our 
first parents: but conditionally. They held it, provided they 
proved obedient to His command. They disobeyed, and lost 
it. That is the Fall. But Adam was regarded not isolatedly^ 
but as head of the race, and as forming a solid unity with his 
descendants. Therefore they, in him, lost that Super-nature, 
and were bom on their co-natural level merely — ^in ** Original 
Sin.'' ••In Adam aU died." 

But not irretrievable was the fault. A Second Adam was 
to come into the world: a new Head to a new race; a •'new 
a*eation.^ He should be, in a higher sense than Adam, God's 
Son; true God, albeit true man. By incorporation with Him, 
mankind should recover its super-humanity, with its capacity 
for a super-human vision and joy of God. This substantial 
union, on earth, is given the name of ** sanctifying grace;" here- 
after, it is glory. Glory is the flower and fruit of that germ: 
we are what we shall be; but what we shall be has not yet 
been made manifest. This grace is, by covenant, given in Bap- 
tism, and is increased by every willed unification of the soul 
with the Source of grace, preSminently through those Sacra- 
ments which symbolize, convey, and cause it; and of these, the 
chief is the Eucharistic Communion. By grave sin, this grace 
Is lost : its final loss is hell ; its triumph, heaven. 

Yet need a man not fear. Though his act of faith, by which 
he yields consent to God's revelation, is free, and his acts of love, 
whereby he adheres in will to God's command, are free, yet 
initial act and even further act of persevering choice, are alike 
preceded and assisted by God's own act. His summoning and 
supporting grace, so that throughout, the process of salvation 
is, indeed, man's, but yet more truly God's. The two wills inter- 
twine; better, interpenetrate. As to each "how" in all this 
mystery, how each of these things can be, how the new cre- 
ation is accomplished, so that man receives thus a divine life, 
and yet becomes not God, how by no metaphor he enters into 



1919.] HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL 69 

this transcendent relation with the ever-inviolate Absolute — 
well, even the law of the first Creation outstrips our compre- 
hension: enough we know, through God's good guidance of 
our thought, intelligently to believe and humbly to adore. 

Thus, without coercing the Gospel's words to suit our 
dogma, nor proving our dogma by any misuse of the words of 
John, we can see, by a broad yet accurate vision, how Gospel 
and dogma make one harmony. And thereby, assuredly, our 
^ole spiritual life is enriched. The dogma remains no mere 
map; and the Gospel is no bewildering, though beautiful, docu- 
ment of ancient Apostolic piety. There have been those who 
tell us that John's Gospel marks a crisis in Christian history, 
because it breaks with the narrow Palestinian tradition and 
abandons its set forms of language, and is accessible to '" Alex- 
andrian ** wajrs of thought, spiritualizes the old materialisms, 
and in fine offers a Christianity ** acceptable to culture." Chill 
and worldly notion, which the Evangelist would have rejected 
with horror, and from which even we turn, indignant. The 
Gnostics traveled along that road; the Gnosis is dead, dead its 
philosophies and spiritualisms: what lives in the Gospel is 
first, the human love which may bring poor and peasant to the 
side of Jesus weary by the well, bowed at the Apostle's feet, 
and making Magdalen His messenger; and then, the outpouring 
of a Spirit which a very child, be he but pure in heart, can 
recognize and welcome far better than can scholarship ; Love, 
^t the last, is betttf , as interpreter, than logic. Even the out- 
lined explanations of these pages must be forgotten, in their 
thin separate poverty: once the mind has found contact with 
John's mind, and moves freely in his circuit of ideas, the world 
of his Gospel need no longer be mapped out by diagrams be 
they never so exact; its air can be breathed, its mountains 
sealed, its vallejrs rested in; it can become our home and 
familiar dwelling-place. 

The Word of God. 

Why does John, in his prologue, describe the Second Per- 
son of the Blessed Trinity as the Word? 

A very brief account of the history of that expression must 
suffice. ^ 

in John's world, the term Logos, which we translate, 
inadequately, ipord, was as much on everybody's tongue as. 



70 HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL [Oct., 

say, evolution has lately been on ours, though its meaning 
was, as a rule, much more carefully thought out. 

Logos means the reasonable account which may be given 
of a thing: the intelligible expression of its nature. It tends 
therefore to define itself in two directions ; either as intelligible, 
then it approximates to our idea — ** The Idea of a University ** 
— or as expression: a thought in the brain, a word on the lips. 
Greek philosophy began six hundred years before Christ, 
by trying to explain the manifold universe by a single formula, 
the shorter the better. It was accounted for, say, by water, or 
fire, manifesting itself variously; one immanent, ultimate Fact. 
This, in itself, is the unseen Thing which underlies all else; the 
ultimate account which can be given of things: their Logos, 

From the East (presumably) came the notion of (in effect) 
two Ultimates, Spirit and Matter, Light and Dark, Truth and 
Illusion, of which the conflict, or at least the combination, cre- 
ates the world-process, and is to be offered as its reasonable 
explanation, its Logos. Plato and Aristotle, in different ways, 
far too subtle to explain here, combined the notions of One 
Ultimate " God,'* and of ** matter,'* definitely distinct from Him, 
and yet governed and as it were ** souled " by Him. It was the 
Stoics who best developed this suggestion : the universe is so 
indwelt by Cxod as to be, taken as a whole. His adequate Logos, 
or expression, while He, in it, is its Logos, or living explana- 
tion. You have therefore (to speak briefly, I have to speak to 
some extent inaccurately) God, the Ultimate : God, as contain- 
ing the universe in Himself : and God, as expressed outwardly 
in the universe. 

Now it was the habit of the Greeks, Egyptians, Persians 
and perhaps of all ancient religions, to present their theories 
under a veil of myth, that is, in the shape of a human or 
human-divine story. Very many beautiful personifying myths 
developed in which the God, the Logos, and the history of the 
universe were related. One of the most beautiful is that of 
Osiris in Egypt. 

Not only, then, were different theories of the Ultimate 
account to be given of the Universe, and of God's creation and 
preservation of it, current in the pagan world, decked out, 
very often, in touching and human mythology, but the Jews 
too of Alexandria made great use of them; of these, the writer 
whose works best survive is Philo, who died about 50 A.D. 



1919.] HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL 71 

These Alexandriaa Jews liked to apply Greek philosophy and 
habits of mind to their own very un-Greek religion, and Philo 
used the "" logos " idea very frequently, both in allegorizing 
the Old Testament, and in constructing a general philosophy. 
But his was not a great mind, and his system was very con- 
fused, and, indeed, contradictory, and at no point original. 
Until this was realized, it was often said that John borrowed his 
/ogfos-doctrine from Philo. But the divergencies are radical. 
In Philo, the Logos is primarily God's thought, immanent, in 
Himself; in John, His uttered Word: Philo calls it God's First- 
Begotten, in contrast to the world. His Second-Begotten : but in 
John, the Word is the Sole-Begotten: Philo's is the image or 
shadow of God; in John, he who sees the Son, sees the Father 
also. Philo's Logos is a real half-way intermediate nature, a 
link between two separate antagonistic objects. In John, it 
'"mediates" because compenetrating and welding into one, 
two extremes. In Philo, it is divine: in John, God. And with 
John it is a human person too, a man, flesh: that, all Greek 
philosophers would have agreed, however divergent else their 
systems, it could never be, though as man or hero it might be 
metaphorically portrayed. 

Therefore John neither borrows nor even adopts logos- 
doctrines. He is aware of /ogro5-doctrines, many, beautiful 
and in various measure true. He does not say — '* Yours is my 
doctrine from another point of view " — ** There' is much to be 
said for yoiu* idea '' — *' We mean almost the same thing " — 
and "^Each may learn from the other." He simply takes the 
term Logos^ and then declares his Doctrine: that the Word 
is co-Eternal with God; one with, while yet mysteriously other 
than, the Father. Through Him was made the universe. He is 
Truth and Life in fullness; He comes, a Light into the world, 
and in His fullness we, if we will, participate. For He is be- 
come Man, and a man; and to His welcomers He gives power 
to become God's children. 

The " WrrNBSs.*' 

No one can fail to notice the recurrence, in the Fourth Gos- 
pel, of the word witness, and allied expressions. Practically, 
what John is trying to offer is an answer to the question : What 
evidence for your extraordinary doctrine can you provide? 
And the situation is complicated by his conceiving the question 



72 HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL [OcU 

put, first, by the Jews to Our Lord Himself » and then (though 
this is less in the forefront) by his readers to John. And again, 
an external (and to us, unnecessary) complication is intro- 
duced, by an attempt to accommodate his answer to the re- 
quirements of the Jewish law regarding witnesses. 

The first external witness is John's own. Whatever else 
may be said about the writer of this Cro^iel, this at least is ob- 
vious : he gives himself as an eye-witness of historical fact. I 
cannot see that this can be seriously disputed. Moreover, if 
the objective reality of what he witnesses, is to be doubted, the 
whole character of his witness is impaired. Over and above in- 
cidental phrases like: We beheld His glory; * and special in- 
cidents referred to, like the Water and Blood after the Piercing 
of the Side : *'and he who saw bore witness, and truthful is his 
witness, and he knows that he speaks the truth;" and phrases 
where his personality and his affirmation are descried across 
the actual speakers,^ you have the quite definite assertions of 
the character and purpose of the book itself ^ resting enturely 
on the reliability of its author.*^ And the whole sums itself up, 
perhaps best of all, in the emphatic declaration at the begin- 
ning of John's First Epistle. 

That which existed from the Beginning, 

That which we have heard. 
That which we have seen with our eyes. 
That which we have watched and our hands have handled — 
(Concerning the Word of Life: yes! for the Life was made 
manifest, and we have seen, and we are bearing witness, and 
we are announcing to you, the Eternal Life which existed 
with the Father and was made manifest to us — ) 
That which we have seen and have heard 
We are announcing to you too, in order that you too may 
have fellowship with us . . . yes, these things we are writ- 
ing, even we, that our joy may be fnll-fllled! 

Could appeal to personal experience^ full sense-experi- 
ence, be made more emphatic? 

But it was as clear to St. John and his contemporaries 
that this appeal to personal experience might be taxed with 
subjectivism, though that word was not at his disposal nor 
theirs. He had to appeal to some sort of evidence, other than 

•John 1. 14e. «Jolm I. 84; iU. 11. •Jolm zx« 80, 81. •John nl. 84. 



1W9.] HOW TO READ ST. JOHITS GOSPEL 73 

his own, which his hearers would start by admitting as valid. 
Now a Voice to which an even exaggerated authority had been 
attributed, was the Baptist's. Of him and his witness, John 
therefore has much to say. But that witness presupposed be- 
lief in the Baptist. " You believed the Baptist in all other mat- 
ters : a fortiori you should believe the whole point of all his 
career, namely, witness to Jesus, Son of Mary." But what is 
there for those for whom this argumentum ad hominem is not 
valid, who can say: "For us the witness of the Baptist has 
no cogency? " 

I pass over as rapidly as the Evangelist does the appeal to 
the witness of Moses and the prophets. Christ made that ap- 
peal, and the Jews recognized that their sacred books were a 
legitimate court of appeal; but experience had amply proved 
that ** Moses and the prophets " supplied nothing which would 
convince a mind undesirious of being convinced; and any- 
how that past was rapidly becoming too remote to be of much 
cogency for that changed world in which St. John was 
writing. In any case there was a spiritual opposition 
between one element of Moses* work and one element of 
Christ* s : through Moses came the law : Christ brought '* grace 
and truth " and freedom.'^ None the less, what Moses lifted 
up before men's eyes was a symbol, though no more, of that 
reality which was Jesus; • the mysterious manna should have 
made it easy for men's minds to welcome the True Bread; • the 
Jews did ** search " the Scriptures, because they thought that 
in them they had "eternal life"*® — ^well, it was those very 
Scriptures that witnessed to Himself. He had no need to 
accuse them before God of spiritual blindness; Moses himself 
did that, Moses, in whom they had hoped. If really they were 
believing Moses, they would be believing Him ; for about Him 
Moses wrote. "But if you do not believe his writings, how 
shall you believe My words? " Words? No, He had definitely 
declared : " "If they will not believe Moses and the Prophets, 
neither will they believe though one returned from the dead;" 
and the summing up of the story of "T^azarus" is justified by the 
ill consequences (in so many cases) of the miracle worked upon 
the real Lazarus, and by the failure to convince of the Resurrec- 
tion itself. Even as Moses and the Law carried no convincing 

'John I. 17. 'John 111. 14. •John vi. 32. 

**J«lai T. aS-47. ^ See LiOw xtL 31. 



74 HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL [Oct., 

force, so neither did Isaias and the prophets,^' for Our Lord 
here definitely declares, there is a spiritual obstacle in the 
minds of the Jewish readers which prevents their under- 
standing even what they read, and reading recognize as 
authoritative. 

Our Lord's first appeal is to His own miracles. **The 
works that My Father has given Me to accomplish, these very 
works bear witness** to My divine mission." Yet you will 
notice that all through this Gospel a belief in Christ due to hav- 
ing seen a miracle, is subordinated as definitely inferior to be- 
lief in Him on His own intrinsic merits. The ** Works " are 
a useful — almost a regrettably inevitable — stimulus to belief. 
The Messiah was expected to do such things; ^* had He not 
done them, there would have been excuse for disbelief; but 
now that He has done them, there is no real excuse for not turn- 
ing the will towards belief. Christ has fulfilled a condition 
promised in order that belief might be the easier. Take some 
examples. Nathanael is ** shocked " into submission by Christ's 
miracle of clairvoyance. ** Because I said I saw thee under 
the fig-tree, dost thou believe?" Jesus asks, half sadly. 
'* Greater things than that shalt thou see." The Samaritan 
woman, "shocked" in her turn by Christ's having read her 
thoughts, rushes to the town, relates the incident, and num- 
bers of the townsfolk " believe " because of her ** witness." But 
Christ spends two days there, and "far more" believe be- 
cause of His words. "And to the woman they said that 
•No more because of thy chatter do we believe; for ourselves, 
we have heard.' " *• When the officer from Capharnaum begs 
him to cure his son. Our Lord protests, " Unless ye see miracles 
and portents ye will not believe," and thereby extracts a pro- 
fession of faith, antecendent to the working of the miracle. 
Then is the wonder worked and becomes a confirmation of 
faith rather than its cause." After the miracle at Bethesda, 
Jesus similarly affirms that greater works than this act of 
beneficence shall the Jews behold, that they may have true 
grounds for wondering — the spiritual resurrection of the 

ttJohn xU. 88-41. 

u John ▼. 38. CA John x. 25. " The works that I do In My Father's name, these 
bear witness concerning Me: " " In My Father's name " like ** which My Father has 
given Me to do," Is Important God's veracity is Involved. Were Jesus a liar, or de- 
ceived. His divine works would be sufficient to convict His Father of abetting His 
lie or deception. 

^Jobn vli. 81. >*John iv. 89-42. » Jbhn iv. 48^^. 



1919.] HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL 75 

spiritually dead.'* " In chapter six, verse twenty-six, the atti- 
tude of the Jews towards the great miracle of the Bread seems 
put even below wonder-lust; they sought Him not even be- 
cause they had seen miracles, but because He had supplied 
them with plenty of food. 

Jesus is longing to win from the Jews acceptance on His 
own merits; because of the intrinsic character of His words 
and message. ** If you will not believe Me, at least believe the 
works;**" "Believe Me, that I am in the Father, and the 
Father in Me; failing that, believe for the sake of the very 
works . . . these and greater, shall he do who believes in Me.** 
The works are sufficient to condemn the Jews : " If I had not 
done among them these works, which no man ever did, 
tliey would not have had sin; but as it is, they have both seen 
them and have hated both Me and My Father.** " Yet even 
this strong affirmation follows and is subordinate to a similar 
claim to the cogency of His words.'® The whole episode of St. 
Thomas* recovery of faith, and Our Lord*s approval, pri- 
marily, of the belief which does not rest upon material signs, 
throws light on the whole of Christ*s feeling about miracles, 
and even on St. John*s who follows the story of St. Thomas 
with an acknowledgment of their due function — ** Many other 
signs Jesus did in the presence of His disciples, which have not 
been written in this book: but these have been written in 
order that you should believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the 
Son of God.*' «* 

Christ*s miracles, therefore, are a sufficient guarantee of 
the divine sanction of His message. But they are not the best 
He can do for us : nor all that He intends to do. After all, the 
physical cures and even resuscitations had been paralleled, 
long ago, by other accredited envoys of God. The real dif- 
ference is in the message — a difference affecting alike the na- 
ture of the Messengerf and the kind of work which He really 
intends to be His work; His unique, unshared work, achieved 
within the soul. It stands to reason, that in the long run, the 
unique quality in Christ can only declare itself through itself; 
and the imique work done in souls, be adequately recognized 
not by sight, but by faith, issuing, it well may be, into a unique 
and unmistakable experience. 

"John ▼. 20. »J<^in x. 88. ^John zt. 24. 

» Ibid^ XT. 22. « John zzi. 80, 81. 



76 HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL [Oct, 

Our Lord insists that He speaks what He knows, and what 
He alone knows, and what He alone c€Ui know. 

What we know, we speak; 

What we have seen, to that bear we witness • . . 

No one hath ascended into heaven (to discover God's secret) 

But He alone (knows it) who came down from heaven. 

Even the Son of Man Who exists in Heaven.** 

What I have seen at My Father's side, I speak. ** 

The obvious retort to this is : We only have Your word for 
it. The first reply of Our Lord is : ** 

"* I do not merely bear witness to Mjrself . If I bear witness 
to Myself, My witness is not true (valid) ; I have an outside wit- 
ness. The Baptist. His witness was true. You ought to take 
it. Still, I do not take my witness from a human creature at 
alL I have a witness greater than John's: My works. But 
you do not accept them. There are, too, Moses and the 
prophets. But neither do you understand them." 

And again, in chapter eight, verse thirteen, the Pharisees 
say: 

*' You bear witness to Yourself; such witness is worthless." 

Now Jesus answers : ** Even if I do. My witness is valid. 
Because I know my Origin and my Destiny. You know neither. 
Your way of judging is a human way. I judge no one. [Does 
this very difiBcult sentence receive its meaning from what fol- 
lows? I. e.p 1 am Mem, pass no verdicts, not even on My own 
message?] But even if I do pass verdict on Myself, my verdict 
is valid, for I am not alone — but there are Myself and My 
Father. Now in your law, it is settled that the evidence of two 
witnesses must hold good. Well, there are here Myself, the 
Eternal Son of God; and My Father, Eternal God. You do not 
know Me, really — ^nor yet My Father. If you really knew Me, 
you would know Him too." Here is an argumentum ad 
Judaeos: an appeal to the regulation of the Mosaic Law. Twp 
witnesses are needed. For Jesus of Nazareth there are two : 
the Eternal Word who makes, indeed, one Person with the Man 
Jesus, but is independent in existence of that humanity, . and 
the Eternal Father, Who also sanctions Him. 

»Jolm ill. 11. 13. This is Joluumliie dletlon. Maldonatns sees well (U. 465) 

that Our Lord does not use this plural of Himself. He considers it a generalisation x 
Men speak of what they know, etc.: so, foo. L 

» John TiiL S8. ••John t. tl. 



1919.] HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL 77 

But to tell the truth, we are no further forward. ** Yes," 
say the Jews, ** we know You say You know, that You have 
seen^ that You are the Son of God, and God. But why should 
we believe You? We still have to take your word for it Why 
should we? As a matter of fact, Your claim seems to us a 
horrible blasphemy. We have no means of testing Your 
claim." 

Our Lord answers in effect: "'You have, or you should 
have. There ought to be in you an interior response to My 
words. Something in you — you somehow— ought to leap up 
and cry, 'Yes, that is truel I know it. I afiSx My seal to it. 
My whole self is explained by it, and rushes to welcome it.' If 
it does not; if you have no such afiSnity with My message, and 
neither do nor wish to nor can welcome it, well, you are wrong; 
you are mutilated men; you are dislocated and out of vital 
communion with the world and with God. You ought to ex- 
perience that unique consciousness which asserts, without 
tolerating any denial, that My words are God's word^ and 
true." 

But is not ttiis the strangest doctrine? Does it not reduce 
all the act of faith to mere feeling and emotion? 

Whether or no, St John states this as clearly as possible. 

** Men preferred the daric to the Light, because their works 
were evil ... he who does the truth comes to the Light, that it 
mqr be made manifest how his works are done in God." *^ 

** He who accepts His witness, sets his seal to it, that God 
is truthful" «• 

**You have never heard the voice of God nor seen His 
shape; but you have not got His word (His mind, as we should 
say) remaining in you, because you do not believe in Him 
Whom He sent" *^ . . . I know you, and how you have not the love 
of God in you. I came in My Father's name, and you do not 
accept Me; others come in their own name, and them you 
accept How can you believe, if you accept one another's 
opinions, and do not seek the 'Mind of the Only God? " ^ 

^ If a man chooses to do My will, he will know whether 
My doctrine is from God or My own invention. 

Mjolm UL 19-21. »Jolin ill. 33* •'John ▼. STb, 38. 

m John T. 42, 43, 44. That Is: You hunt for Me— €. g„ in the Scriptures; but jou do 
not find Me. You form theories, and inquire about people's "views;** but jou cant 
get the View of God. The word 864a wliich can of course mean glory, must needs 
be rsndered liere* I think, as I have done. It is unlikely that there is, eren* any 
latent " ambiguity ** in John's use of it here. Contrast with viL 18. 



78 HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL [Oct., 

'' You seek to kill Me, because My Word (or Mind) finds 
no place in you. What I have seen at My Father's side, that I 
speak; and you what you have heard from your father, that 
you do:*® (You are God's sons? No!) If God were yoiu: 
Father, you would be loving Me . . . Why cannot you under- 
stand My words! because you cannot appreciate My thought. 
[This is what this difficult sentence practically means.] You 
are from your father the devil, and you choose to work the 
lusts of yoiu* father ... He who is of God, hears the words of 
God : the reason that you do not hear them, is, that you are not 
of God." '^ 

All this passage, chapter eight, verses thirty to fifty-nine, 
is directly to the point. 

" If you were blind, you would not have been guilty. But 
as it is, you say : We see. So your sin remains." There is a 
double doctrine in this very compressed sentence, if not a 
triple one. First: You are unseeing; you neither do nor can see : 
despite your claim to sight. You willfully prefer the dark. So, 
from this point of view, to start with, you are guilty. Second : 
You don't really see, but you say you do, which is equivalent 
to saying the dark is the Light, and you teach that, and mislead 
the world. This too is a horrible guilt. Third: You are right 
in saying " you see." That is, you have the power of sight, and 
the Light is shining for you, and the object of vision is there, 
and in your hearts you are seeing : but you refuse to acknowl- 
edge what you see in your conscience, and say that there is 
nothing there. This is to blind your conscience, and a soul- 
suicide. ""I know Mine, and Mine know Me.'^ You do not 
believe, because you are not of My sheep. My sheep know My 
voice, and I know them, and they follow Me." •* 

'* He who sets Me at naught, and does not accept My words, 
has his judge. The word that I spoke, that shall judge him at 
Last Day."'^ (Notice here again, the distinction between 
p-fl^axa the actual words listened to, and \6yoq their spiritual, 
vital content which is not " heard," but rejected *by the soul, 
and thereby made the occasion of its self-chosen separa- 
tion.) 

"Everyone who is *of the truth' (i. 6., belongs to it, is 
* bom of • it) hears My voice," " 

•John vlil. 38. ••John Till. 42-47. » John x. 14. 

"John X. 26, 27. "John xU. 48. MJohn zvlil. 87. 



1919.] HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL 79 

This Discourse in the Supper-room is full of apposite sen- 
tences; especially John xiv. 6, 10, 17, 24; xv. 16; xix. 22, 24; 
xvi. 9, 13; xvii. 2, 3, 9. So also is the First Epistle: ii. 19, 20, 24, 
27; iii. lb. 6, 9, 24b; iv. 5, 6 (very strong), 7, 15, 9-12 (very strong 
too), 18-20. Cf. Second Epistle 1, 2. 

There are two main elements in all this which are points 
of anchorage. For any supernatural result, Grod's initiative 
and grace are necessary. And man's will is free. Mapping 
out the Eternal Fact in time, this is what happens : There is 
enough Light in the world, even apart from the Incarnation, 
for men to know God " naturally." To know him sufficiently. 
The human intellect may muddle its conclusions terribly; may 
achieve very curious and (in reality) false ideas about Grod. 
But it can know Him enough; and if in the end it rejects the 
knowledge possible to it, it does so through evil will. Hence we 
need not fear to say, that, in God's judgment, pagans, the ignor- 
ant, scholars and skeptics, may well have that amount of knowl- 
edge of Grod which is possible to their temperament and cast of 
mind, natural or acquired. But Christ came into the world to 
give a supernatural knowledge of a super-natural union with 
Grod. How are we, then, to give in our adhesion to Christ? 
He supplies us with sufficient natural evidence. His miracles: 
prophecies concerning Him; the character of His sinless life 
and incomparable preaching: the result in the lives of those 
who sincerely live by Him : a cumulative agreement of which 
each part multiplies itself into each other part and is not 
merely added to it. But this is " sufficient evidence *' for what 
exactly? To make it prudent for us to give in our intellectual 
assent to this: '* Christ is Grod's envoy, and His doctrine is 
sanctioned by Grod and therefore true. But what makes us 
actually give in that assent? Well, sheer reasoning, if it be 
no more than a natural consent. But such a consent is in any 
case improbable, because the evidence is not coercive. There 
is no two plus two equals four about it. Grace, th^efore; and 
the assent is supernatural. Grace solicits the attention in the 
first instance; I look: it illuminates the mind, in the next; I 
see: it strengthens the will, in the last; I adhere. I **8ee/' 
** hear," " come," " believe," am. But how do I know that has 
happened?' Well, how do I ever know I am alive? or not 
dreaming? or not hypnotized? By direct intuition. Immediate 
awareness. I know it It is vital exp^ience. It is no good 



80 HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL [Oct., 

telling me I'm not alive. And, if I believe, it is no good telling 
me I do not. 

Is not this reducing Faith to "feeling?" Not exactly. 
Mere emotional feeling may be, and often is, quite absent. On 
a higher level, reasonable assent there must be and is. But 
some other name than feeling must be found for that precise 
mode of consciousness which awakes and responds to grace. 
Grace cannot make you get more out of a thing than what 
is in it: therefore, not out of an argument. Arguments are 
natural things; therefore, supernatural stuff is not to be got 
out of them, however much the arguing mind be deluged with 
grace. The inexperienced may find it hard enough so to dis- 
sect themselves as to "realize" that in their assent, and 
therefore mode of consciousness, is a double element, natural 
and super-natural. Often an onlooker can see more clearly 
than can they. But St. Teresa, for example, insists till she 
grows tired of it, on the absolutely indisputable knowledge 
which the soul has when it receives an authentic conmiuni- 
cation from God that it has received it. It simply cannot doubt 
it. Its intellectual mapping out of the pros and cons may be 
hesitating and faulty; but as to the fact, it simply cannot doubt 
about it, because something has happened which is it It is a 
vital self-conscious way of being. We repeat, this need not over- 
flow into the emotions: it may be quite a dull experience; but 
it is a direct one, and under all the soul's sheaths and surfaces. 

Therefore, all alike the Father "draws" to Jesus. Else, 
no one would approach. Even of these, not all yield to His 
solicitation. They are not His. They oppose Him. But if 
they are His, they " come " to Christ, for all that is the Father's 
is His too: therefore, they too are His. He speaks; they can 
" hear:" He " chooses " them, they welcome His call. Thence- 
forward, none can snatch them out of His hand. But they can 
snatch themselves — separate themselves. " Have I not chosen 
you, the Twelve? Yet out of your numbers, one is a devil." On 
God's side and Christ's, all is love: yet that love, if it cannot 
kindle the human heart into a reciprocal glow of heavenly 
heat, chars it to a cinder. 

John is happiest, and therefore writes most easily, when 
he is not wrestling with " proofs." They are l)ut incidentally 
dtsc^^ in, becaufie of restive thoughts and wills, and actoal 
problems in the elurly Mstdry of the Christian Church. He is 



1919.] HOW TO READ ST. JOHN'S GOSPEL 81 

not constructing an apologetic, primarily : not seeking to solve 
the mystery of predestination and perseverance. He is hymn- 
ing the Communion of the Soul with Christ. He supplies 
illustrations and authority to the professed and formal 
theologian, yet not such is he. He would be sorry, almost, 
were " proofs " in the front rank. He wants Christ to be self- 
sufficient: he exults, to find that He knows His own and His 
own know Him. "Dilectus mens mihi: et ego illi." And humbly, 
together with the great rapture of inconununicable personal 
knowledge, comes submission to that Church's doctrine to 
which all Saints, however triumphantiy ecstatic, have yielded 
their unhesitating assent; It remains that 

. . . The Master is so fair. 
His smile so sweet to fallen men. 
That those who meet Him unaware 
Can never rest on earth again. 

[the end.] 



AN UNCANONIZED SAINT. 



BY MABY FOSTEH. 



xn. 

I HEN Caterina was left alone outside the city 
walls, she looked at the olive trees which 
gleamed dully in the shadow the sun had cast 
on them, at the waving cypresses and at the 
tinkling little brook. Then she looked up to the 
cloudy vault above her. 

" Madonna," she said slowly. " I don't think he meant it" 

*' Dear Lord God," she prayed in her little chapel before 
seeking her father's house, " You won't take him from me, will 
You? If he does not really believe in You, send him to good 
Don Filippo who will tell him all that is right and good." 

For a few days she was almost as happy as ever in her 
quiet trusting faith, and each morning she watched for his 
return. But the days stretched into weeks, and he did not 
come. Strangers came to see the church and the house, but he 
was not amongst them. Don Filippo said his daily Mass. heard 
the confessions of his simple folk, and performed his parish 
duties as usual but no one came to him for instruction. 

Slowly Caterina began to realize that he was gone. 

" Madonna," she whispered, eis she stood in her dark cor- 
ner in the church, " he is really gone. I shall never marry, and 
have dear little babies to love me." Her voice faltered in a sob. 
Perhaps after all, he never loved me, though I loved him bet- 
ter than any one but the dear God and you. Won't you send 
him to Don Filippo that he may learn to love you? Surely 
you must wish him to do so! But perhaps he will find a priest 
in England who will make him believe. And then," she added 
naively, " he would come hack to me." 

She sobbed quietly for a few moments, and then raised her 
head. "After all, dear God, You must have Your way," she 
said softly. 

Little children came trooping into the church as she stood 
there, laughing as they stretched forth their little hands to the 
sanctuary lamp. Caterina smiled through her tears. 



1919.] AN UNCANONIZED SAINT 83 

** How You must love those babies, dear God,'' she whis- 
pered, ^ and how glad You must feel that they are so happy in 
Your House." 

She watched them as they trotted down the stone pave- 
ment, making clumsy attempts at genuflections, and dis- 
appeared behind the leathern curtain where their cries mingled 
with the shriUer voices in the street. Caterina had grown thin 
and silent But now, as she prayed for strength, it came to her. 
The neighbors scarcely had time to notice her listless step 
and altered demeanor, before she was as her old self again^-- 
not inwardly, for she would never be the same light-hearted 
girl. But outwardly her cheerfulness came back to her, and 
she resumed her old life with all the interests that had filled it 
before she had met the artist stranger in the church. 

So time passed on, weeks giving place to months, and they 
in their turn speeding by, till spring came round once more. 
Caterina was very weary of waiting, poor child, but she never 
gave up hope. That anyone should not love and believe in the 
Grood God, was something that she had not known was possible. 
She had never met anyone in her quiet life, who was not in 
the habit of spending a few minutes each day in prayer before 
the tabernacle. Yet she remembered she had never seen him 
pray, and that he had often smiled at her faith and devotion. 
Her childlike mind could not comprehend the mystery, so she 
prayed the more earnestly to her one real Friend, and left the 
answer in His safe Hands. 

"Are there people who do not love the dear God?" she 
asked timidly of Don Filippo one day. 

The priest looked at her in some surprise. He was hard 
working and earnest with an intense love for his parishioners, 
and the big warm Italian heart for children, and he was watch- 
ing Caterina rather wistfully as she grew into womanhood. 

**Alas! my dear child," he retiu^ned quietly, "do we all 
love Him as we should? " 

"But, I mean, are there people who do not believe in 
Him?" 

"Ah, yes, child. You have heard of the missionaries, 
priests who go to convert the heathen in countries far from 
here. There are many, yes very many, in this big world of ours 
who have never heard of Him." 

"But when they hear, they believe?" she asked eagerly. 



84 AN UNCANONIZED SAINT [Oct, 

The priest sighed, (^ancing at the upturned face with some 
curiosity. 

** There are some people who are not good,*' he answeredt 
** some who will not believe in Him or love Him. We should 
pray for them." 

^ Is everyone who does not believe in Him bad? " the gbl 
asked gravely. 

** Some cannot, my child, some may wish to believe but 
cannot, because they have not faith, which is Grod's free gift** 

Caterina was silent for a moment Then she said in very 
low tones : ^ And those who laugh at Him, and at His dear 
Mother? " Don Filippo looked at her sharply. 

'*What should you know of such people?*' he asked 
swiftly. ** Those are not good people." 

The young girl hung her head, flushing deeply. *'Then 
we should pray for them," she murmured. 

** Yes, we should, indeed, pray for them," the priest replied 
gently. ^ We should pray very earnestly for them. They re- 
quire many prayers." 

Caterina crept home. Some young children had come up 
to the priest, and were clustering round his knees, and he 
patted their little heads as they looked up fearlessly into his 
face with their innocent eyes. But he glanced regretfully at 
Caterina's retreating figure, and wondered why she had asked 
him such strange questions. 

The following winter proved to be a season of unusual 
severity. Snow fell in the streets and was piled in great heaps 
in the narrow little vicolt The children snowballed each 
other, and laughed with glee at the unusual sight of the frozen 
fountains. Caterina smiled too, for she fancied that it must be 
like an English winter, as she watched the white flakes falling 
softly all day. 

Christmas came round, and as she knelt in the dusky 
church, at the priest's feet, after her simple confession, he de- 
tained her for a moment 

** Do you pray for the conversion of sinners? " he asked her 
quietly, as she raised her bowed head. 

"Yes, oh yes, Father," she repMed quickly, ** I pray for them 
every day, that is I — I pray for one in particular." 

** Then offer your Christmas Mass and Holy Conmiunion 
for that soul, and pray earnestly, and still more earnestly. 



1919.1 AN UNCANONIZED SAINT 85 

Think what a great thing it would be if you could be the cause 
of bringing one soul to God." 

In the few weeks that followed the festival, Caterina felt 
curiously restless and unhappy. She experienced, as it were, 
a shrinking from something unknown which seemed about to 
happen to her. Gradually she felt as though some task lay be- 
fore her, that this soul she desired so earnestly to bring to God, 
would require a very heavy price from her. God must be go- 
ing to ask her to give Him something very dear to her. Yet her 
prayers seemed very difficult to utter, very cold and lacking 
in devotion. One day she stood in her corner in the church. 
Outside the boisterous January wind rushed through the streets, 
and the short day was drawing to a dreary close. The young 
girl's face was raised according to her wont, but she stood in 
silence, no whispered prayer parting her lips. 

It seemed to her that the church grew very dark around 
her, and that the sanctuary lamp burnt dimly and fitfully be- 
fore the tabernacle door. Suddenly she felt frightened, at what 
she knew not. The wind had been moaning sorrowfully, but 
now there came a sudden lull, and in the stillness a voice 
seemed to say to her : 

" Why donH you offer your life for his soul? " 

It sounded so dose, that she turned quickly. But she was 
alone, and there was no sound, save a sighing whisper from the 
rising wind. The young girl knelt, and leant her head against 
a chair. She fancied that, for the few minutes it rested there, no 
thoughts passed through her brain, but hours of time seemed 
to have elapsed when at length she raised her head very slowly, 
and turned her eyes towards the one spot of brightness. 

** Dear God,'* she scud steadily, ^ if You will turn his soul 
to Yourself, and bring him to the Faith, I will give You my life 
to do what You will with it. Take it altogether, if You wish.** 

How the young life seemed to thrill in her body I how 
rapidly the warm blood seemed to leap through her veins, how 
strongly the strong heart beat within her breast I And how 
dear was the beautiful world, the joy of living in it among the 
beauties of nature, birds and flowers, and the lovely country 
under the vault of Grod's own heaven. 

Caterina turned and left the church skiwly, her head 
bowed down. She had left her offering in His Hands to do 
with it what He would. 



86 AN UNCANONIZED SAINT [Oct., 

xm. 

Assist lay bathed in a bright flood of sunshine as Mark and 
Tony drove up the steep, dusty road from the station. 

'* This is something like the * sunny south,' " said Bland, 
and he gave a vicious kick to the great coat for whose services 
he had been so thankful in England. 

Mark was supposed to be the leader of the expedition, 
but he did not know any more than Tony why they were 
ascending the road to Assisi. The great dome of Santa Maria 
degli Angeli rose amidst the vines, a landmark for the whole 
plain. Up above, Assisi's square campaniles reared their heads 
upwards and Perugia's site was marked by a tall church tower 
upon the horizon. 

'' One can't escape churches after all," Standish remarked. 
** Everywhere one looks there is some temple dedicated to the 
God of the Catholic Faith." 

Tony nodded. " All over the world," he returned. " The 
Catholic Church is universal, there's no doubt about that. 

Mark did not reply and they drove on in silence. 

The vines were a tender green on the plain, the fruit trees 
were putting forth timid white and pink blossoms. Wild 
flowers laughed to each other in the hedges, the pink nettle 
flower vying with the starlike anemone, while the humble 
violets hid beneath their cool leaves and sent a cloud of per- 
fume to freshen the sim-scorched air. Mark found Assisi very 
charming. The sun peeped into his room every morning and 
blinked at him, as it ro^e over the crest of Monte Subasio, dash- 
ing aside the clinging mists with his power. Natiu*e at her 
fairest is best enjoyed in solitude, so when Mark and Tony, 
each provided with their packet of lunch, set out of a morn- 
ing, they parted, each to his own way. Mark always chose the 
olive groves, which swept down in silvery confusion to the 
plain below. He clambered down a favored gorge which a 
little stream had cut out for itself, a huge bed for so small a 
creature. It gurgled down in the depths of its high banks, half 
hidden by the rich growth on either side and bounded into 
the sunshine as it trickled from stone to stone until it dis- 
appeared once more into the cool recesses below. 

Mark sat down as close as he could get to the water, for 
the sun was playing hide-and-seek and was searching for him. 



I 
I 



1919.] AN UNCANONIZED SAINT 87 

It was pleasant to sit comfortably on a soft knoll with the 
flowers nodding around and the bees droning, as they passed 
from bell to bell gathering the sweetness from the cool depths 
of the petals. 

In the orchards, the peasants were tilling the ground, or, 
perched on ladders, they pruned the wealth of silvery olive 
leaves, throwing them to the ground in great branches. These 
were carried away by flat ox-carts, or tied in bundles on to 
backs of mules to be burnt. Below, the little stream was cap- 
tured and persuaded to fill a large stone basin where the 
women washed their linen. Their voices rose on the hum- 
ming air, shrill and loud. Sometimes they broke into song, 
weird strains with scarcely any noticeable melody, something 
like an Eastern church chant, which they poured out from 
throats which were surely made to sing. The dull beating of 
the wet clothes upon the stone accompanied their voices, as 
the humming insects formed a bourdon to the whole. 

There was a tiny shrine at the foot of the path which led 
to the washing place. It contained a picture of the Madonna 
which displeased the painter's artistic susceptibilities, but he 
was struck by the picturesque homage paid to the ugly little 
oleograph. Each woman, as she passed, drew her colored 
kerchief closer over her dark hair, and knelt for a moment to 
say a prayer to the Virgin and her Child. Little babies toddled 
up, crying to be lifted to the Madonna, that they might press 
their soft lips to the staring pink and white cheeks. A small 
girl came with a bunch of freshly culled flowers, and taking 
down the gaudy blue and gold vase full of yesterday's blos- 
soms, she washed it carefully in the stream and arranged her 
fresh posy in it. Then she laid her offering very close to the 
picture and her lips moved as she made her prayer. When it 
was finished, she tossed back her clustering hair, and with a 
loud joyous song, she ran back to her home. 

"" These people are all the same,** Mark said to himself. 
" They all believe. And what faith they have ! " 

The sun grew hotter as noon approached, and the clocks 
struck twelve one after the other, and were succeeded by the 
melodious clan^ of the church bells as they pealed out the 
Ave Maria, answering the deep-tongued Cathedral bell in their 
various voices, shrill and sweet; low and harsh. The tower of 
a little chapel close at hand in the olive groves almost shook 



88 AN UNCANONIZED SAINT [Oct., 

with the eagerness with which its two cracked little bells 
obeyed the summons. All round rang out the praise of the 
Creator of all, and Mark thought it quite a pretty idea. 

To the midday clatter there succeeded a wonderful silence. 
Voices in the orchards ceased as the prayer died away on the 
peasants* lips, the men replaced their rough hats upon their 
heads, the women rose from their knees, and all turned home- 
wards. It was very still. Even the insects droned lazily, as if 
they, too, wanted a siesta after their labors. Only the brook 
ran on hurriedly in its anxiety to reach the plain below. 

Mark lazily unpacked his parcel of lunch, and ate. He 
threw the paper to the rapacious little stream which clutched 
eagerly at its prize and played with it, until a long bramble 
stretching out a thorny arm, caught it in its embrace. But still 
the river laughed; it was very good-tempered. Standish 
changed his position once more. There was very little shade 
now, but he laid his head on a little grassy comer which was 
shielded by a projecting comer of the bank. From there he 
could look down the symmetrical rows of olive trees with their 
dainty foliage and dark distorted trunks. 

All was very peaceful. Even the church door was closed 
and the wizened old man who had rung the bells and locked 
the chapel had disappeared. There was something very 
drowsy in the air, and following the example of his surround- 
ings, Mark slept. 

When he awoke the sun had found his way to his shelt- 
ered nook, and was laughing and winking at him through the 
olive branches. Only it was less ardent now, and Mark allowed 
its rays to play upon his face with their chastened warmth. 
There were voices close beside him, and the regular thud of 
the spade told him that work had begun again. Two bare- 
legged urchins stood on the bank above him, regarding him 
with large wondering eyes. They sat down beside him as he 
opened his heavy lids, and asked him if he had slept well. 
Mark smiled. They were such mites, but they were so self- 
possessed and confiding. 

They told him where they lived, and how many brothers 
and sisters they had, and when he asked them their names, 
they asked him his. They opened the book which lay un- 
touched at his side, looking with bewildered eyes at the strange 
prints, and the queer etchings they could not understand. But 



1919.] AN UNCANONIZED SAINT 89 

when they saw a queenly form m a small engravings they 
cried out that it was the dear Madonna, and pressed their rosy 
lips to the page with a pretty fervor. Mark did not undeceive 
them, but he drew the book gently away. 

Then he stepped across the stream and chose a shady 
nook near the now deserted washing-pool, from where he could 
see Perugia rearing a slender campanile against the western 
sky. When the sun chose to set, he would watch its radiant dis- 
appearance from here. 

The church door had been unlocked and showed a cool 
interior dimly lighted by an ugly stained-glass window, but 
against the dark background below there burnt a tiny flame. 
From out of this coolness into the sunshine came an old 
priest He carried a book and his lips moved quietly as he 
came slowly forward. Then he raised his head, and slipped 
the well-thumbed breviary into his pocket. He was a bent, 
white-haired old man, with a shabby snuff-colored cassock, 
and an unshaven chin, and Mark, whose person was always tlie 
essence of cleanliness, felt a repulsion to the untidy old figure. 
But the priest raised a pair of kind eyes, and when he saw 
the stranger he smiled and bowed graciously and quickened 
his steps, sure of a welcome. 

" Ah, a lovely day," he exclaimed genially, ** and you are 
comfortable where you sit. Have you seen my little chapel? 
There is not much of interest to show you, perhaps, but we 
simple folk love it and think it beautiful." 

Mark smiled slightly. He did not remember ever having 
spoken to a priest before, and this old man was different from 
what he had expected. But he refused politely to visit the 
chapel, and the priest, glancing kindly at him, did not insist. 

'^ Pray for me, my son," he said gently as he turned away, 
** and I will pray for you. For we are all poor sinners." 

He passed into a small garden near the chapel, and took 
a seat under a great bare fig tree. Then he took a huge pinch 
of snuff with slow enjoyment and blew his nose loudly. 
Presently little feet came pattering along the narrow path and 
young voices vied with the stream in merriment, and a dozen 
urchins burst into the priest's garden with an easy familiarity 
and surrounded him on all sides. Three or four little girls 
followed, and pushing their way through the group, seized the 
priest's hands and kissed them. Then with much scrambling 



90 AN UNCANONIZED SAINT [Oct., 

they settled themselves down like a swarm of bees, and the 
priest's voice alone could be heard speaking low and earnestly. 
A shrill voice interrupted now and then with a puzzled inter- 
rogation, and giddy little heads constantly turned this way and 
that and their owners had to be frequently brought to order by 
the mild-eyed instructor. 

Mark could not hear what was being said, but he watched 
the little group with interest and forgot to look for the sunset 
glow, as his eyes rested on the picture before him. A wild 
whoop from the children told him when the instruction was 
over and they scattered all over the tiny garden in pursuit of 
a low flying bird, a belated bee, anything, to serve as a vent for 
their pent up energy. Then the priest called them, and they 
flocked round him once more, wrangling for the places nearest 
to him and plucking at his cassock with their sunstained dirty 
little fingers. Thus they walked out of the narrow gate to- 
gether, in a pushing, struggling mass, and bent their steps 
towards the chapel. 

From Assisi the sunset hour tolled forth, and once again 
the bells took up their tuneful hymn of praise, the two little 
cracked bells waving frantically as they joined their discor- 
dant voices to the evening prayer. A few men and women left 
their work and joined the children in the chapel, and a low 
murmur was wafted through the open door as they prayed. 
Then they sang a queer tuneless hymn which seemed to have 
no beginning and no end. It was not pretty, the voices were 
not in tune, some lagged behind, while others took a note of 
their own. But somehow the simple rendering did not dis- 
please even Mark's critical ear. The sparse congregation 
streamed out talking volubly, the women smiled at Mark as 
they passed, wishing him a soft good night. 

The sun had dipped behind Perugia, leaving a flushed 
sky behind it. And as a certain glamour rests upon one de- 
parted which perhaps had not been his lot in life, so a radiance 
greeted the sun's disappearance. The rosy clouds in the west 
told their neighbors in the east how beautiful was the sun 
which had just gone from their midst, until the news spread 
over the whole sky in a marvelous glow. Nature forgot that 
the sun had scorched some of her tenderest blossoms and let 
the ruddy magnificence rest upon the weary petals she was 
closing so gently, and throw a reddened hue upon the sombre 



1919.] AN UNCANONIZED SAINT 91 

olive trees. And then it faded, and night crept up, throwing 
her dark blue mantle swiftly around. 

Mark looked upwards at the pale stars which were ap- 
pearing in the sky, and then his eyes fell again on the shrine. 
A couple of women were lighting the lamp as they talked and 
laughed and prayed in one breath. He felt half pleased that it 
was burning, although it only illuminated a very ugly picture. 
Still, he had looked to see it lighted ever since he had that 
morning spied the conunon blue receptacle filled with oil, 
standing near the vase of flowers in the shrine. 

XIV. 

After that day Standish used to seek his friend, the stream, 
very frequently. Each time he went everything seemed differ- 
ent The sun never cast precisely the same shadows, new 
flowers unfolded their beauties, different mists hung over the 
plain. Sometimes distant roads were indicated by a cloud of 
flying dust sweeping along in the wake of some hurrying motor, 
or a passing carriage caught a ray of the sun and shone like a 
diamond for a moment. One day, as he sat there it struck him 
that there was an unusual silence around. A few voices sound- 
ed from the field, and Mark could not at once discover what 
familiar sound was missing. Then he realized that the bells 
were silent, and he missed their jangling discord. No one 
passed him as he lay in his sheltered nook, but as the day stole 
on silently, the old priest walked down the steep path from 
the town. He bowed as he saw Mark and they entered into 
desultory conversation. Then the artist asked idly : 

" Why are the bells not ringing today? " 

The good Father stared at him with his red handkerchief 
half way up to mop his hot face. 

** Is it possible that the signore does not know? '* 

'*I haven't the faintest idea," replied Standish, smiling. 

^You do not know that the great Signore died on this 
day?*' 

"The great Signore? Oh! Who is He? One of the town 
councilors?" Mark inquired flicking the head off a daisy. 

For a moment the priest looked angrily at him and opened 
his mouth to i>our out a torrent of words. But as he met the 
young man's j^ance of quiet surprise, a look of profound pity 
came into his face. 



92 AN UNCANONIZED SAINT [Oct., 

" Ah, you do not know," he said very gently. " This is the 
day upon which the Good God died for us, nineteen centuries 
ago/* 

Mark felt, for perhaps the first time in his life, that he 
must, indeed, look small in the ^yes of his companion. He mur- 
mured some sort of apology and rose with a hurried farewell. 
He did not like to be under the gaze of those kindly, sorrow- 
ful eyes. 

He tried to find another spot in which he could en- 
sconce himself during the next few days, but he ended by re- 
turning to his favorite comer near the stream. Here, all the 
old bitter thoughts of his love and the religion he had so hated 
were softened, and in their place came an indescribable long- 
ing for something better. With it, was mingled an intense 
curiosity about that God Whom he had looked upon as a 
successful rival, and the feeling of pressure which he had tried 
to express to Tony became intensified. 

In the long hours he spent in the orchards, he meditated 
ui>on many subjects. He dwelt upon his past life, the life of 
which he had been so proud, full of talents, riches and pleas- 
ures. Yet nothing stood out above the rest. Even his pictures 
had not lived, nor had his art which he had prized so highly, 
won him a name. Now that he came to think it out, his ex- 
istence seemed to have been empty hitherto — ^peaceful and 
pleasure loving as the life of an animal. Surely there was 
something higher in man's life than the existence of mere 
brute beasts! 

Mark had known no opposition. Up to now, there had 
never been wanting rich, amiable friends to praise his talent 
and to f£te him. Nothing had ever been denied him until a 
poor Italian girl had renounced his love for her Faith, and 
his London world had laughed at him when they discovered 
that there actually was something he could not paint. These 
thoughts occurred to him as he idled in the orchards and he 
brooded over the crosses which had been suddenly laid in his 
path. - * ' ' 

He had begun to feel a strange friendship for the old 
priest whose chapel lay buried in the olive trees, an un- 
explained interest in the personality of his new acquaintance. 
It seemed strange to him that this quiet old Father — ^like Mrs. 
Langford in far away London — ^never spoke of his Faith. 



1W».] AN UNCANONIZED SAINT 93 

Though of the people, the priest was a well-read and intel- 
lectual man, possessing a deep insi(^t into human nature 
coupled with a keen appreciation of the beautiful, untutored 
though his taste was. And Marie suspected that there was a 
very noble nature hidden beneath some perhaps uncouth 
characteristics. His hands were alwajrs dirty but Standish 
grew accustomed to their touch. He even once suffered a pinch 
of the despised snuff to remain on his coat sleeve, for fear of 
offending the old man if he flicked it daintily off. 

Gazing at the mild countenance of his companion, Mark 
often marveled at the complex nature which lay behind it. 
How was it possible to combine a broad-minded knowledge of 
the world with simple faith, childlike sincerity? When Stand- 
ish asked questions about the Catholic religion, he met with 
courteous but brief replies. 

** You think I am idly curious," he said to his new acquain- 
tance one day as they sat together near the chapel garden. 
The Father was drawing patterns on the ground with his stick, 
raising a cloud of dust which was settling upon the well pol- 
ished boots of the artist. 

''You are walking on holy ground," the priest replied 
gently. 

** I do not wish to be disrespectful," the younger man re- 
sponded, ''but sometimes I feel that I would like to know 
something about your Faith. It interests me, it interests me 
strangely." 

" We do not talk lightly of what we hold most dear," the 
padre said after a moment, " and what we believe is so pre- 
cious to us that it is only with those who are in earnest that we 
can discuss such things." Marie felt reproved. 

"I do not know why I feel interested," he said slowly, 
" for I do not want to become a Roman Catholic. Yet some- 
thing seems to urge me to ask about these things. I do not 
want to scoff now. I have done that in my time — ^it was bad 
form, I know — ^worse than bad form, no doubt But though I 
want to find out what puzzles me, I do not want to be — " 
" caught " he was about to say — " compelled," he substituted, 
" to believe what I cannot." 

"Faith can never be compelled," the other answered. 
"In such matters coercion is impossible. If Cod wants you. 
He will give you the grace " 



94 AN UNCANONIZED SAINT [Oct, 

The last words rang in the artisfs mind all day. That 
God should not want him, had never occurred to him. He had 
always fancied that it must be the other way about. If he 
wanted God at any time he could get Him. It certainly gave 
rather a jar to his pride, nor were his feelings soothed upon 
the occasion of his next meeting with the old priest. 

The latter was telling his beads with a crowd of young 
children around him. He waved the young man aside, paying 
no attention to him until the prayers were quite finished, and 
the last child had said all he wanted to. Mark was acutely con- 
scious that, after all, he was only a human atom in the great 
world, second even to children where prayers were concerned. 

When the priest at length turned to him, his manner was 
very gentle and kind and they sat together till the sun was 
lowering in the west. Then the old man took his friend to see 
his little chapel in the quiet fields, and somehow the bare 
interior, with its crude pictiu^es and tawdry hangings, made a 
pleasing impression upon the particular artist. There was 
something very real in the atmosphere of the place. 

No one could have been more surprised than was Mark 
himself, when, next evening, he related his story to the priest, 
and actually found it easier to poiu* it into his old ears than 
it had been to tell Tony upon the Devonshire moors. Before 
he knew what he was doing, he was also speaking of the events 
which had occurred since his love dream, and of the sensations 
he had experienced in the past few months. It was wonder- 
fully easy, the Father was both tactful and kind, and Mark was 
awai 4^ of anxiously awaiting a reply to his confidences. 

"I do not think she has forgotten you," the padre re- 
marked slowly, taking a deliberate pinch or snuff. *' I think 
she is praying for you.** 

"Is that why I have this strange, iu*ging sensation? '• the 
young man asked eagerly; then he smiled at himself the next 
moment that he could entertain such a thought. 

But the priest did not smile. 

[to be continued.] 



i 

i 




WASHINGTON'S ASSOCIATE AT YORKTOWN, 

BY MARGARET B. DOWNING. 

I HOSE who seek stimulus in historical paraUels 
may find it abundantly in the expedition led to 
America by the Comte de Rochambeau and that 
of General Pershing in the late glorious chapter 
of American military history. Hope and ma- 
terial resources were almost exhausted when on July 11, 1780, 
Rochambeau and his army landed at Newport. The devoted 
Washington could well be described in the term which gained 
such currency in the spring and early summer of 1918, with 
his ""back against the wall" and facing the dreaded extremity of 
retiring beyond the Susquehanna. Fifteen months later, the 
contending armies faced each other at Yorktown, drawn by a 
series of strategy which Washington cordiaUy acknowledges 
the work of his associate conmiander. There were seven thou- 
sand French soldiers under Rochambeau and St. Simon and 
five thousand of the Continental Line, with a reserve of three 
thousand five hundred Virginia and other militia men. Sur- 
rounded, Cornwallis had but one hope of escape, the open sea 
and at the mouth of the James and York Rivers, thirty-six 
French ships under De Grasse blocked his way. On October 
19, 1781, the army of Cornwallis surrendered, and the cause of 
American freedom had been won, equally by Washingtc < and 
Rochambeau and the troops they commanded. 

It was in the summer of 1917 that the American army un- 
der Pershing arrived in France. Those were black days when 
Foch saw the French line bend and break under the German 
offensive which began in March, 1918. Never was the cause 
of the Allies more critical than when the American legions were 
hurled into the Argonne Woods and stormed about Chateau- 
Thierry. In the late autumn came the surrender, as the accep- 
tance of the terms of the armistice will be written by history. 
AUowing for the changes which the lapse of one hundred and 
thirty-nine years had wrought and the difference of the modes 
of warfare, there is su£Scient similarity between the martial 
exploits of the French allied army under Rochambeau and 



96 WASHINGTON'S ASSOCIATE AT YORKTOWN [Oct., 

the American Expeditionary Forces under Pershing to engage 
the attention of the chroniclers. 

This study of paraUels serves, also, to establish the fact, 
seemingly forgotten, that Rochambeau rendered no minor aid, 
but was the immediate instrument of Providence for the tri* 
umph of the sacred cause of freedom, just as Pershing and his 
army were the final weapons of Foch to smite the oppressor. 
From the military standpoint, then, there can be no controversy 
over the success with which the Commander-in-Chief of the 
French allied army executed the benevolent intentions of his 
King. Rochambeau, however, too often figures in the Ameri- 
can mind solely as a symbol of the friendship of France, gained 
through painful weary efforts of Franklin, Jefferson and other 
great fathers of the Republic. It is full time that he should be 
known for the splendid, virile unusual traits of character, 
which his contemporaries give him, an admirable type of old 
Catholic France, a member of the ancient noblesse, a sturdy 
soldier, an upright, religious man. He is a figure to fill the can- 
vas, no matter who takes up the brush to paint him. Wash- 
ington shows him as the honest colleague and dependable 
ally from the moment he set foot on American soil. In his 
greeting to the Commander of the Colonial forces, the French 
General wrote: ""I send you a copy of my instructions, and 
of my secret instructions as well, for I feel that if we are to 
codperate usefully I must have no secrets from my General.'' 
In the late days of February, 1784, when Washington, another 
Cincinnatus, was busy with the cares of husbandry about 
Mount Vernon, and Rochambeau, honored by his King, also for 
the nonce rested on his sword, he wrote that immortal 
eulogy to his former associate which may be found graven on 
the statue of the French hero in Jackson Square, Washington, 
'^We have been contemporaries and friends in the cause 
of Liberty and we have lived together as brothers should, in 
harmonious friendship." 

Some historians make an episode of the trifling disagree- 
ment between Lafayette and the commander who brought the 
forces of the French King. Lafayette always impetuous, and 
acting as intermediary between the French army and the 
Colonial, allowed his zeal and ambition to overrun his pru- 
dence in accepting the judgment and experience of the soldier 
who had won fame at Klostercamp and Minden where the 



1919.] WASHINGTON'S ASSOCIATE AT YORKTOWN 97 

elder Marquis de Lafayette fell. But the friction was momen- 
tary. Rochambeau in many letters to the brilliant young Mar- 
quis, and in speaking of him in letters to Washington, alludes 
to himself as " the old father speaking to his dear son.** There 
is a saying of Rochambeau, recorded by Lafayette in his 
memoirs, which deserves to be engraved on his statue, adja- 
cent to the great tribute of Washington. No soldier can make 
a nobler claim and with more truth. As Lafayette records the 
incident, he had iu*ged Rochambeau to make a brilliant sortie 
which could not but add to his military repute, and to do it even 
though he had to sacrifice some of his men. Rochambeau re- 
plied sternly that he would never consent. Then he added 
gently to the noble-minded if somewhat headstrong young 
soldier: " If during my years of service, I have retained and 
still retain the confidence of my army, it is because, and God is 
the witness of my sincerity, that of the fifteen thousand sol- 
diers and officers of higher rank who have been killed or 
woimded under my orders and in most deadly action, I have 
not to reproach myself that I caused a single one to die or be 
maimed for the sake of my own fame.** 

An incident is related by the Baron Closen, secretary and 
later aide of Rochambeau, which throws an amusing human 
light on the French generaFs conduct when the troops of the 
two armies lay encamped side by side. Some of the Indian 
warriors who still clung to the old regime in Canada, had 
traveled down to pay their respects to Rochambeau. They 
could not conceal their amazement that though the French 
soldiers were in quarters in an orchard, the boughs of the 
trees hung heavy with fruit, and the nearby bam fowls strutted 
about in freedom and at their accustomed pursuits. Things 
had been diflferent when a French army was in their country. 
Count de Segur, son of the Field Marshal under whom the 
General had once served, and a future Academician, has an 
illuminating paragraph in his memoirs of this period : " Our 
Rochambeau seems to have been created purposely to under- 
stand Washington and to be understood by him. For like the 
great American, he too is a friend of order, of law and of 
liberty. It is his example, much more than his authority, 
which obliges us scrupulously to respect the rights, the proper- 
ties and the customs of our allies.** 

Vivid as these portraits are, Washington's associate at 

▼OL. cz. 7 



98 WASHINGTON'S ASSOCIATE AT YORKTOWN [Oct., 

Yorktown has painted his own picture in two volumes of 
memoirs, as no one else could do it. His private papers, in- 
cluding many autograph letters from Washington, which 
American historians, with masterly inactivity, have allowed to 
remain undisturbed in the files of the Congressional Library, 
are also illuminating. Doniol has gathered many documents 
dealing with the French army of alliance and has published 
hundreds of valuable letters from the Commander to the Min- 
ister of War; also the correspondence of Chevalier La Luzerne, 
the French envoy to the Continental Congress, including his 
report on the presentation of the oil paintings of Louis XVL 
and Marie Antoinette, later destroyed by the British act of 
vandalism in burning the United States Capitol in 1814. 
Mathieu Dumas wrote brilliant memoirs of his experiences in 
the American War of Independence. So did the Due de 
Broglie and his erratic young colleague. Due de Lauzun, who 
ascended the scaffold with him fifteen years after. The regi- 
mental chaplain, Abb^ Robin, has left entertaining accounts 
of Rochambeau's army. These papers, untranslated, remain 
a virgin field for the American patriot who seeks to know 
something of the services of France during a crucial period of 
the Revolutionary struggle, and of the personality of the Gen- 
eral Commander and the brave officers and men who accom- 
panied him. Many names encountered there were written 
large in the later history of France. 

Jean Baptist Donatien de Vimeur, Comte de Rochambeau 
and Mar^chal de France, was bom, as he tells in his memoirs, 
in the chateau of his family on the River Loire near Vend6me, 
July 1, 1725. He was to die eighty-two years later in the same 
stately chamber where he was ushered into a life of varied and 
noble achievements. He was to spend sixty years on the bat- 
tlefield, so that it is plain that he hurries through the homely 
details of his early years to reach the great adventures. Yet 
he tells enough for the sympathetic reader to fill the long space. 
He was the second son and of fragile health. In the old 
noblesse there were but two professions, arms and the Chiu*ch, 
therefore he was sent in his sixth year to study under the 
the Fathers of the Oratory in Vendome. 

The young Donatien was not without pride and ambition 
in his chosen career. He relates that he was frequently called 
the " Little Vicar " because he relished the ceremonial and was 



1919.] WASHINGTON'S ASSOCIATE AT YORKTOWN 99 

happy when in radiant sacerdotal attire. He was contented 
with the Oratorians, but with a stroke of his pen the future 
friend of Washington reveals the seething polemics of the era 
when that fateful alliteration, Jesuit and Jansenist* was heard 
so clamorously. The house of Rochambeau was stanch and 
conservative. Knights of the line had fought with the sainted 
Louis during the Crusade; one had died in Egypt. All had 
followed the Faith with uncompromising adherence. The 
father of Donatien, governor of Vend6me, preferred that his 
son should follow the Jesuits as there were hints of Oratorian 
sympathy for the other side of the controversy. So one morn- 
ing 'M. de Crussol, Bishop of Blois, appears at the school, 
armed with instructions from the Comte, and conveys the youth 
to the Jesuit Seminary in his episcopal city. 

Donatien utters no complaint, indeed makes no comment 
on this change, but continues his ecclesiastical studies with 
zeal and diligence. He has passed the age of fourteen and is 
about to receive minor orders when again, say the memoirs, 
M. de Crussol appears before him. He has portentous news. 
His elder brother has died, he is now heir to the title and must 
at once prepare for the army and to carry down his noble 
line. And the good Bishop adds solemnly : "" You must now 
prepare to serve the King as loyally in the army and with 
the same zeal and devotion you would have served God on His 
altar.'' 

The Bishop of Blois makes but one more appearance in 
the memoirs of Rochambeau. On the occasion of the assem- 
bling of the three classes of the French people, nobles, clergy and 
third estate in response to the Cahiers of Louis, Rochambeau 
differs with his former superior and mentor. He has passed 
almost two years in constant association with Washington and 
the Continental patriots and his ideas have been revolutionized. 
He cannot see three classes, as he explains to the Bishop, and 
afterwards in a letter to Washington, but only two, the priv- 
ileged and the unprivileged, and his vote and his sword are 
for the oppressed. No doubt the Bishop was sorely tried, for 
his horizon had not widened as had his pupiFs. 

At sixteen Rochambeau had won a commission and was 
serving with St. Simon, uncle of the general who was to serve 
under him at Yorktown. He drew his sword in high hope and 
with fervor in defence of Maria Teresa in the Bavarian cam- 



100 WASHINGTON'S ASSOCIATE AT YORKTOWN [Oct., 

paign against Frederick of Prussia. At twenty-two he had won 
a colonel's rank, and he notes that Washington had won his 
at twenty-one. He draws stirring pictiu*es of the various cam- 
paigns in which he served under Marshals de Saxe, Richelieu, 
de Segur, d'Estr^es and de Broglie. He records with evident 
pride that he had always been a line officer, that he had re- 
fused and disdained using court influence to become an orna- 
mental figm*e on the staff. " I never relished the atmosphere 
of courtiers,** he writes, " and I could never catch the tone of 
the coiu*tiers.** He won his spurs painfully, and on the battle- 
field: functionary glory is never his lot. We follow him 
through scenes of carnage, and through triumphant entries 
into conquered cities, but he is always calm and aloof from 
the exterior things, and keeps his soul free from the pollution 
of war. 

So through the years until he had reached the fifty-fifth, 
and was suffering from a violent attack of an old enemy, inflam- 
matory rheumatism. He is resting in his Paris mansion, a fine 
edifice yet, in Rue Cherche-Midi and the home of the Ministry 
of Labor, when he is aroused in the night to go to Versailles. 
There he learns that he has been selected to command the 
army of alliance and he sets to his task despite bodily dis- 
comfort. A grotesque attempt was made in 1838 to translate 
into English that part of Rochambeau's diary which describes 
the American expedition. But there are so many errors of 
proper names, dates and general description that this task also 
still awaits some clever pen. The other parts of this wonder- 
ful autobiography remain untranslated except in meagre ex- 
tracts. In the French, but few copies of the memoirs are found 
in this country. 

There is one incident modestly told, with no aim at self- 
glory but as a necessary part of the record. It is the mission 
of the younger Rochambeau, Donatien Marie Joseph, who was 
sent to plead with Louis for more troops, for ships and above 
all for money to satisfy the demands of Washington's soldiers. 
Congress had virtually repudiated the Continental currency. 
De Grasse had brought one million two hundred thousand 
francs with the men and ships from San Domingo. This war 
chest, Rochambeau divided with Washington, louis d'or to 
louis d'or until all had been distributed. 

He tells of the honors paid him and his officers and 



1919.] WASHINGTON'S ASSOCIATE AT YORKTOWN 101 

soldiers when he arrived m Philadelphia after the victory at 
Yorktown, and he gives a spirited encounter with a pacifist 
Quaker who upbraided him for following the profession of 
arms. Then the splendid reception in Paris and his few quiet 
years as governor of Picardy. His memoirs tell his anguish as 
his country was caught in the maelstrom of revolution, and he 
writes sadly to his friend at Mount Vernon. But cheerfulness 
and firm reliance on the will of God are the paramount traits 
of Rochambeau*s character, and throughout his life the spiritual 
training received in the novitiate at Blois bears fruit in the 
substantial virtues of fortitude, resignation and devotion to an 
ideal. There is one splendid saying handed down by the loyal 
Closen. When France danced madly in the red stream, after 
she had executed her Bourbon King and his Hapsburg consort, 
Rochambeau, last Marshal of France under the dynasty, gath- 
ered his bewildered army and offered his services to the awful 
tribunal. His old friends and aristocratic kindred reproached 
him for making peace with the enemy, and hinted at unworthy 
motives. Then the hero of Yorktown and of a half century of 
wars, drew himself up haughtily and flinging his sword on 
high, he exclaimed : *^ France ! whoever rules her, my best and 
my aU." 

No more graphic picture of the Conciergerie, "^that 
sepulchre of horrors/' exists than the one Rochambeau has 
written. Despite his endeavor to bring peace and order he 
fell under suspicion, for was he not the last great general of 
the Tyrant, and why was he so rewarded if he were not too a 
tyrant and friend of tyrants? So he was seized in the shelter 
of his chapel at the chateau on the Loire and thrown into the 
dungeon. He lingered day after day while so many went to 
the guillotine. FinaUy he boldly demanded of the President 
of the Revolutionary tribunal a fair trial, citing his services 
for France, his wounds and sacrifices and adding, as if an 
incantation against that evil power : ** I invoke the name of 
the great Washington as the safeguard of my honor and that 
we made war together for the liberty of America." More for- 
tunate than many of his companions in arms in the American 
campaign, Rochambeau escaped the guillotine and returned 
to his ch&teau on the Loire without the formality of a trial 
or, indeed* any charges being lodged against him save the 
vague one of being an aristocrat. Here he lived in retire- 



102 WASHINGTON'S ASSOCIATE AT YORKTOWN [Oct., 

ment, solaced by a well beloved wife, until Napoleon called 
him to become First Marshal of France under the new regime 
as he had been the last under the old. Seeking a man who 
would be a type of all the noblest and best in France: in the 
France of Charlemagne, of the Crusades, of the troubled 
Mediaeval Ages, and the stormy reaction against their influences 
typified in the Terror, the aged Marshal at the Loire realized 
Napoleon's idea. 

No finer tribute to this good man, whose early training as a 
member of the religious order founded by the warrior Saint, 
Loyola, had prepared him so nobly for the duties of life, can be 
found than in Napoleon's citation offering him the Grand 
Commandership of the new military order of the Loyal Legion. 
For this supreme honor. Napoleon's document says, he desired 
a man whose martial renown was fair as the fame of France. 
Such a man was the Comte de Rochambeau. He desired a 
man whose life had been blameless, whose honor was un- 
sullied and whose soul was lofty. Such a man was the Comte 
de Rochambeau. It was thrilling praise but the days of the 
Marshal were running low. He had known the depths and 
shoals of fortune. He had sat with nobles of France during 
the burning " Night of the Pentecost, " when freely and for the 
good of the people they had renounced feudal privileges and 
given up centiuy old estates. Napoleon's honors could not 
have made a great appeal. His last quiet years were passed 
at the ch&teau on the Loire. 

A most entertaining paragraph in his memoirs tells that in 
more than sixty years of military service he had never set 
foot on a foreign country without a regiment at his heels, until 
he went to England on a twelve days' leave to visit Lord Corn- 
wallis, this sometime in the early nineteenth century. Cour- 
tesy and generosity which made so large a part of his nature, 
were so evident at Yorktown and in the management of the 
details of the surrender, that the British general nourished 
the most profound gratitude for his Gallic foe. He invited 
him for a visit, and Rochambeau, happy over a holiday as a 
boy of twelve, accepted the invitation. Just before the end, 
Rochambeau records in his memoirs what he considered the 
chief blessing heaven had sent him dm^ing his long life — the 
love and devotion of his wife. " She has made my happiness 
aU these years," he writes, ** as I hope I have hers by a love 



1919.] WASHINGTON'S ASSOCIATE AT YORKTOWN 103 

which has never wavered even for a moment." The vener- 
able Marshal of France and hero of Yorktown died on May 10, 
1807, in the room where he had been born, but now enriched 
beyond words with trophies of his American campaign and 
by the handsome portrait of Washington in Continental uni- 
form painted by Charles Wilson Peale, with a dedicatory 
inscription in the First Patriot's writing, "To my cherished 
friend and aUy." He was buried simply in the parish cemetery 
at Thord, a mile and a quarter down the Loire from the 
chateau, his mausoleum occupying a commanding point on 
the river. His obsequies as Marshal of France were cele- 
brated simultaneously in Paris. The rare American visitor to 
the tomb may read a spirited account of the Marshal's life 
written by Chevalier de Boufflers. He may read also one of the 
most touching of lapidary tributes, that of his wife, who sur- 
vived him for more than seventeen years. 

A model as admirable in his family as in his armies; 
An indulgent but enlightened mind ever 
Concerned with the well being of others; 
An honorable and tranquil old age 
Was the crown of a spotless life : 
His tomb awaits me, but before I descend, 
I have desired to engrave upon it 
The memory of his many merits and virtues 
In gratitude for more than fifty years of 
Happiness. 

Not all of the nation which owes so much to the man who 
inspired the tender tribute his Countess has engraved in stone, 
have neglected his memory. Ten years ago the Regents of 
Mount Vernon sent to the cemetery at Thor6, some saplings of 
the noble oaks and sycamores and maples which shade the 
tomb on the Potomac. These are now full grown and are silent 
guardians of the sacred place where Rochambeau has found 
his well-earned rest. 



flew Books^ 



EXPERIMENTS IN PSYCHICAL SCIENCE: LEVITATION, CON- 
TACT, AND THE DIRECT VOICE, By W. J. Crawford, 
D.Sc. New York : E. P. Dutton & Co. $2.00 net. 
Last year a record of a series of experiments carried out by 
Dr. Crawford in 1915 and 1916 for the purpose of determining 
the nature and mechanism of so-called physical phenomena of 
mediumship appeared under the title, The Reality of Psychic Phe- 
nomena. The present volume follows as a continuation of this 
work, but besides a description of additional experiments with 
Miss Goligher, the Belfast medium, and a comprehensive analysis 
of the total results, it also contains a chapter of questions and 
answers and a chapter each on contact and direct voice phe- 
nomena. 

The new experiments with Miss Goligher show the same kind 
of phenomena as the older — chiefly movements of or pressure on 
the stance table, apparently without direct contact with the 
medium, and raps conveying intelligence. To the author's mind 
they serve to confirm and amplify his theory of a " psychic can- 
tilever " issuing from the medium and with its protruding end 
causing the phenomena. 

In whole. Dr. Crawford's theory is purely hypothetical and 
could be sustained, apparently, only by elimination of other pos- 
sible causes of the phenomena. Of rival h3rpotheses, that of 
mechanical operation on the part of the medium, whether with 
or without apparatus, will necessarily lay claim to serious 
consideration. In a criticism of the first series of experiments 
which appeared in the July number of The Catholic World, 
it was pointed out that Dr. Crawford's account lacked evidence 
of necessary precautions against fraud and of sufficient control 
of the medium ; the present volume fails to show an improvement 
in this regard. 

Dr. Crawford admits that he considers constant, painstaking 
efforts to prevent fraud unwarranted. He thinks that " the true 
and genuine nature of the phenomena can always be discovered by 
a little investigation." But this is distinctly contrary to the ex- 
periences of many distinguished investigators in the field. 

Purely psychological considerations have formed a very im- 
portant element in the study and investigation of mediumship in 
the past. It has been found that tricks may not only be hidden 
from ordinary observation, but that the subconscious activities 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 105 

of persons in certain psychological states will account for much 
even in physical mediumship. Moreover, v^here intelligence is 
conveyed, thought-transference as well as mental phenomena of 
abnormal psychological states, so amply demonstrated by Janet, 
Boirac, Alrutz, and others, must be taken into account. In his 
later volume Dr. Crawford admits that the medium was in a state 
other than the normal waking during the stances, but he con- 
fesses that the psychical side of the question puzzles him, and that 
he dismisses that part from consideration. 

The direct voice phenomena were produced by a medium 
other than Miss Goligher and occurred in a completely darkened 
room. Under such conditions, as Dr. Crawford also admits, there 
can be no control of the medium, who therefore is free to use 
fraudulent methods. 

The fact that Dr. Crawford has made use of very little exact 
scientific apparatus in studying the phenomena is a source of dis- 
appointment. One would have expected, for instance, attempts at 
photographic reproduction of the cantilever by employment of 
different sources of light. 

Dr. Crawford proposes as his own opinion that discarnate 
spirits manipulate the cantilever, but does not insist upon this 
point as essential. There is, however, nothing in the whole series 
of phenomena to suggest preternatural causation. If there were 
sufficient warrant for the acceptance of the ** psychic cantilever " 
theory, it would rather seem that Dr. Crawford had hit upon a 
purely natural process and that he thus had dealt a severe blow to 
Spiritism. For it must be admitted that whatever force produces 
the phenomena, these may be occasioned at will and occur in a 
perfectly constant manner according to the laws of physics. On 
the other hand, the intelligence displayed gives no evidence of be- 
ing supramundane, but seems rather quite unable to go beyond the 
suppositions of the experimenter. 

STANDING BY. War-Time Reflections in France and Flanders. 

By Robert Keable. New York : E. P. Dutton & Co. $2.00 net. 

It is a refreshing experience in these days of material tur- 
moil and spiritual insensibility to meet with such a book as this 
of Mr. Keable's, whose testimony, coming as it does from one out- 
side the Church, strikes us by its rarity as well as by its truth. 
The circumstances of its writing are these: Mr. Keable had been 
for some years an Anglican pastor of a native parish in Basuto- 
land. South Africa, and in the third year of the War went to 
France as chaplain to a regiment of natives. His book, however, 
possesses value not as a chronicle of wasted fields and shattered 



106 NEW BOOKS [Oct., 

towns and drifting populations and all the other devastations 
commonly described in war-books, but as a record of his own 
spiritual reactions — ^what he thought and what he felt rather than 
what he saw, and these are, indeed, magnificently out of the 
ordinary. 

For instance, one of the first things he noted was the popu- 
larity among the men of the British Expeditionary Forces of what 
he calls the Y. M. C. A. religion. He enumerates its attractions 
and advantages: ** It keeps the men's spirit up; it provides them 
with amusements; it offers a flavoring of religion, sufficiently 
toned down so as not to hurt anyone's feelings (except those of the 
Roman Catholics, who stand entirely by themselves in the view 
of the army) ; and it is a thoroughly successful business concern." 
But after all, he feels, whatever else it may be, this is not the 
religion of Christ, and so he says : ** The whole question resolves 
itself very simply, therefore, into a question as to whether you 
believe Christianity to be a dogmatic, sacramental, sacerdotal re- 
ligion, or whether you believe it to be a theistic system of ethics." 
As to his own position in the matter the reader is left in no doubt 
" Chaplains," he says, ** are an anomaly in the B. E. F. . . . The 
greater part of them should be absorbed by the Y. M. C. A., and 
the rest should become Roman Catholic. Not that I suppose 
either will happen; we are English." 

The book is overflowing with splendid and wistfully loving 
tributes to the Church. It is full of thf^ most delicate spiritual in- 
tuitions and of the keenest observations as, for instance, where the 
author contrasts the Church of England and the Church in France : 
** In a word, if religion means anything, it means the abandon- 
ment of oneself to God, indifferent to appearances; and in Eng- 
land, even in religion, it is improper to abandon oneself, and ap- 
pearances are everything. . . . Montmartre is an Act of Faith, of 
course, but there is something so abandoned and childlike about 
it that it brings tears to the eyes. . . . And on any weekday probably 
more people worship at Montmartre than in all the churches of 
London put together. . . . And above all, Christ shows His Sacred 
Heart, which is a figure so humanly simple and sentimental that 
English religion is positively shocked at it." 

And then there is that War-Sunday at Notre Dame which 
" stands out as unforgetable. . . . Far away the mysteries of reli- 
gion were being performed. I formulated to myself, for the first 
time, the realization that Humanity has gathered, in Catholicism, 
the Christ-story to its heart, and made of it a world religion. . . . 
Once the Faith of Humanity had gripped the Christ-story, the 
Love of Humanity demanded its expression. High Mass at Notre 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 107 

Dame is a worthy expression. It is Catholic, for everjrwhere 
Humanity has striven for expression — ^in India, China, or in the 
ancient world — ^it has expressed itself as here. Matins in St 
Paul's, or even a sung Eucharist, is a totally different thing. It 
is the congregation that is catered for in London; it is Almighty 
God in Paris." 

Altogether Standing By is a really extraordinary performance 
and a sign of the times in which we live; it is a frank utterance 
and a most touching cry from the heart of a sick generation. The 
author has, indeed, a most uncommon apprehension of spiritual 
truths, especially of those spiritual truths which among non- 
Catholics are as a rule not so much passed over as totally unper- 
ceived. This, together with his brave outspokenness, makes us 
wish for his book the widest possible circle of readers. 

THE CHURCH AND THE MINISTRY. By Charles Gore, D.D. 

New York : Longmans, Green & Co. $6.00 net. 

The first edition of this volume was published by Bishop 
Gore thirty years ago. The present edition has been revised by 
Mr. Cuthbert Turner, the author of the essay on the Apostolic 
Succession in the recent volume of Essays on the Early History of 
the Church and the Ministry. According to the author it is an 
apology for what is in fact the formal or official attitude of the 
Church of England — he should say of a certain party in that 
church — ^towards non-episcopal bodies. ** She does not condemn 
them, but she refuses to acknowledge their ministry." 

When Bishop Gore resigned his bishopric some months ago 
it was reported that he intended to submit to Rome. This volume 
gives not the slightest indication of his having accepted the 
Papal claims. 

On page after page he uses the offensive terms Romanism 
and Romanist; he sets aside with a wave of the hand the special 
witness of St. Irenaeus to the Papacy, and proves to his own satis- 
faction that St. Cyprian was a good Anglican. He speaks of the 
payment of Masses and naively wonders " how frequently, and 
from what opposite quarters, we meet with the identification of 
Christianity with that phase of Christianity which is characteristic 
of the Middle Ages." In his viewpoint authority and discipline 
were needed then to win to the Church the untamed and undis- 
ciplined races which were to form the material of our modern 
nations. The Papal authority of today is to his mind mere im- 
perialism, which has colored both church theology and church 
organization. 

It is amusing to find the learned bishop rebuking his fellow 



108 NEW BOOKS [Oct., 

Protestant Christians for heresy and schism, while throughout 
this volume he shows his utter inability to grasp the meaning of 
these terms. 

« 
CATHOLIC TALES AND CHRISTIAN SONGS. By Dorothy Leigh 

Sayers. New York: Robert M. McBride & Co. $1.00 net. 

There are» as Charles Lamb long ago pointed out, books and 
" wolves in books' clothing " — and we confess with no little dis- 
appointment that the present volume falls, from a Catholic view- 
point, into the latter class. To be sure, it is a winsome and at 
moments a worshipful little wolf! That is to say, it is an effort 
to reproduce the divine familiarity of the Middle Age singer — 
and of the saint in every age. But while it attains the familiarity, 
it usually misses the divinity. For to achieve Catholic songs, or 
even to retell Catholic tales successfully, more is needed than 
archaic type or ecclesiological illustration, more than Anglo-Latin 
ballad forms, more than a jocose intimacy with Christ and much 
more than sentimental visions of Him. What is needed is, briefly, 
the Faith: Faith in the Lamb of God Who takes away the sin of 
the world — in His sacraments and His Mother, and a real, if 
ofttimes stormy, allegiance to His vicar upon earth. These things 
made up the sum of the nearness, the intimacy of mediaeval 
prayer-poems — ^an intimacy exquisitely reproduced in our own 
day by Hilaire Belloc or Joyce Kilmer. Occasionally this very 
Catholic consciousness is attained by one as yet outside the body 
of the Church, like Gilbert Chesterton — ^perhaps because he never 
jests save when very much in earnest. But by the present writer 
it is not captured, and so her book will have little real appeal for 
Catholic readers. Yet the poet who can achieve a religious lyric as 
appealing as this opening one on Judas' kiss, may almost be 
trusted to travel further up the ** narrow and green path," as one 
gracious Middle English bard described it! 

THE STORY OF THE RAINBOW DIVISION. By Raymond S. 

Tompkins. New York: Boni & Liveright. $L60 net. 

Tsnpifying and symbolizing the best ideals of American man- 
hood, the Rainbow Division will live always in the hearts of the 
American people whence it was drawn. When praise is given, the 
diflBculty lies in making it adequate. 

In this respect the author of its " Story " shows his wisdom 
by letting the facts, to use a legal term, "prove themselves." 
There is nothing of the exalted, the heroic about his story. It is 
a human document of the doings of human beings who had no 
pretensions save those of the American doughboy. As a conse- 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 109 

quence it is quick with the tread of the unwearied feet that crossed 
unfalteringly the Ourcq, glows with the intrepidity of those 
hearts that knew no dismay at La Croix Rouge Farm, inspires with 
the spirit of sacrifice that carried them on at St. Mihiel, and en- 
dears with the homely humor of the American soldier mingling 
with the Germans in the Rhineland. The author has rendered a 
rare service in thus catching up the spirit so representative of 
the United States. Not merely does he record valorous 
deeds, but re-creates the atmosphere in which they were per- 
formed — a knowledge of which adds love to the feelings of admira- 
tion and pride that have been the universal reward of this won- 
derful Division. 

ZIONISM AND THE FUTURE OF PALESTINE. By Morris 
Jastrow, Jr., Ph.D., LL.D. New York: The Macmillan Co. 
$1.25. 

Dr. Jastrow of the University of Pennsylvania, while heartily 
sympathizing with the effort to establish a Jewish colony in 
Palestine, is strongly opposed to the reorganization of Palestine 
as a Jewish state. He holds that the existence of a tiny Jewish 
state, representing at the most one-tenth of all the Jews, so far 
from helping to solve the Jewish Question, will only succeed in 
complicating it in various directions. It will, he says, arouse the 
opposition of the natives of Palestine and of the adjoining Syria 
who resent being pushed to the wall; it will create hyphenated 
Jews all over the world ; and it will place Jews outside of Palestine 
in a position that will oblige them in self-defence to present a de- 
cided attitude of opposition to their fellows who insist upon their 
separate nationalism. 

RHYMES WITH REASONS. By the Author of " Aunt Sarah and 
the War." New York : P. J. Kenedy & Sons. 35 cents net 
From the hand of Wilfrid Meynell comes this new volume 
of whimsical poems, which may be said to concentrate the message 
of those two rare prose volumes which preceded it — Who Goes 
There and Aunt Sarah and the War. Mr. Meynell was once aptly 
described by the Athenseum as " an earnest wit," and seldom has 
that unique combination of qualities been more manifest than in 
the present little book. It is very deft, very daring and very dis- 
tinguished. Verses such as Leap Years or The Sculptor recall the 
gracious and ingenious punning of the same author's Verses and 
Reverses. But in Bearers of Lost Sons, A New Commandment, and 
Of England: Her New Army, this pregnant and vivacious fancy is 
seen playing " about the foot of the Cross "—even the cross of Eng- 



110 NEW BOOKS [Oct.. 

land's multitudinous battlefields. High-souled and deep-hearted 
then becomes the music of these modestly-labeled "rhymes" — 
and vibrant with such fine compassion that lovers of the best 
in our contemporary literature will lift this slim sheaf of verses 
up into the company of that which must live when war is done. 
Back to Wilfred Meynell himself may well be thrown the closing 
apostrophe which he so finely applies to ** the soldier poets : " 

O men, the doubly armed and dear of name, 
Take your promotion in the ranks of Fame ! 
Splendid with swords you were; but with a rhyme 
You dulled Death's razor-edge, and conquered Time. 

SAILOR TOWN. By C. Fox Smith. 

« 

SMALL CRAFT. By C. Fox Smith. New York : George H. Doran 
Co. $1.25 net each. 

MAN-O-WAR RHYMES. By Burt Franklin Jenness. Boston: 
The Cornhill Co. $1.25 net. 

Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch in one of his lectures on English 
composition at Cambridge University remarks on the dis- 
advantage of the sea as the scene for an epic poem, since the in- 
cidents that may happen on board ship are so few and the life so 
restricted in movement that the poem almost necessarily grows 
monotonous. We are often reminded of this fact in reading the 
three books of verse before us, and though they are of course not 
epics but series of short poems on various incidents connected with 
life at sea, still one cannot avoid getting from them a certain 
effect of monotony. There is, however, quite a difference in 
quality between the first two books and the last. 

The author of Sailor Town and Small Craft, though a woman, 
has acquired a wide knowledge of sailors and their ways of think- 
ing and talking, and she has the power to bend this knowledge to 
artistic use. Her rhythmic sense is well developed, and her songs 
and chanties and ballads have in consequence a lively, rollicking 
swing. For the most part she follows her own lead, but so far 
as she can be said to have a model it is that of a very fine artist 
indeed, namely, the author of A Shropshire Lad, and in such pieces 
as Gerrans Churchtown, The Prairie Shepherd, Traveller's Rest 
and The Traveller she has written deftly and with restraint. 

Not nearly so much can be said for the third volume, which is 
a collection of pieces having to do with men in the service — ^in 
the army as well as the navy. The individual poems are un- 
distinquished in workmanship, and in general the author's sense 
of rhythm is very defective and is constantly playing havoc with 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 111 

his tunes. The influence of the Barrack-Room Ballads is pre- 
dominant» and most of the pieces have an unpleasantly imitative 
effect. 

THE PRISONERS OF MAINZ. By Alec. Waugh. Illustrated. 

New York: George H. Doran Co. $2.00. 

This, although it must be classed as a war-book, is a really 
charming affair. The facts it sets forth are commonplace enough, 
namely, the daily round in a German fortress, in which the author, 
an English officer of twenty, was imprisoned with five hundred 
other officers during the last eight months of the War. But the 
facts are told with such buoyancy and good humor and in such 
an eminently readable style that the reader is hurried along in a 
wholly delightful and, in such a kind of book, far from usual 
fashion. 

The author has no asperities, no rancors — due partly perhaps 
to the proverbial generosity of youth and partly to the fact that his 
prison experiences were not so severe as those of men in other 
prisons in Germany. Moreover, he has real humor. And thirdly 
he wields a style of fine literary quality. But, after all, probably 
the real reason he escapes the stodginess of most war-books, is 
because he is content to be personal and individual and human 
instead of trying to represent the collective consciousness and the 
general mind of the race. It is in such broad attempts as these 
that, as the author himself says, a writer " does not write what 
he feels, but what he thinks he should feel. All that is genuine in 
him is inarticulate, and the obvious rises to the surface." It is the 
merit of the present book, and the reader's gain, that here the gen- 
uine is articulate and that the obvious is resolutely kept under. 

THE JOURNAL OF A DISAPPOINTED MAN. By W. N. P. Bar- 
bellion. New York: George H. Doran Co. $2.00 net. 
This volume is a narrative in diary form of various impres- 
sions, impulses, ambitions, achievements, and disappointments 
of a young Englishman named Barbellion from 1903 until just 
before his death in 1917. Barbellion was a self-taught naturalist 
who won a position in the Natural History Museum on his merit. 
Tense nerves and precarious health seem to have been a part of 
his heritage and his emotional reactions in consequence are fre- 
quent and marked. He studied hard, read enormously, and in his 
Journal revealed the thousand and one impressions which his 
books, his studies, the theatre, music, his friends, casual glimpses 
on the street or in trains, all made upon him. But while in- 
trospective, Barbellion has the saving grace of self-criticism and 



112 NEW BOOKS [Oct., 

thus his work has the savor of a mind fundamentally clear and 
sound. 

His comments on men and books are unusually fine, as, for 
example, where he enjoys Hardy's poetry " for its masterfulness, 
for his sheer muscular compulsion over the words and sentences." 
He confesses to knowing "" what stubborn, sullen, hephaestian 
beasts, words and clauses can sometimes be,*' though the reader 
would not suspect it, for the volume is written in a style limpid 
and graceful enough to derive from the letters of Lawrence Sterne. 

The book makes an unmistakable appeal, for it invests the 
minor details of life with unfailing interest and mirrors a spirit 
^o glowing with romance as to suggest a kinship with Stevenson 
himself. Though dying at twenty-eight, this boy had genius. Per- 
haps one should say has genius, for everlastingly in the reader's 
mind the question, like Banquo's ghost, refuses to down: Is the 
authorship a clever literary hoax? If so, the disclosure of the 
writer's identity can detract nothing from his fame, even though 
he prove to be the ablest of our modern day novelists. 

A HISTORY OF THE GREAT WAR. Volume IV. By Sir Arthur 
Conan Doyle. New York: George H. Doran Co. $2.50 net. 
In this the fourth volume of his history of the War, Sir 
Arthur Conan Doyle gives with a wealth of detail the British 
campaign in France and Flanders, covering all the actions of 
1917 and stressing particularly the operations at Arras, Messines, 
Ypres and Cambrai. 

He shows at the opening of the new year, the retreat of the 
Germans in the Arras-Soissons sector due to the pressure exerted 
by Cough's army in the district of the Ancre, and their solidifica- 
tion on the famous Hindenburg line. He then takes up the bat- 
tle of Arras from April 9th to April 23d, and points out that the 
objects of the Arras battle were to hold and use up as many Ger- 
man divisions as possible in order to help the French offensive 
which was about to start in the south. In this respect, he justi- 
fies the heavy losses and the limited results. The author then 
outlines the operations in the Arras sector which were of a minor 
nature, but no less important than the battle of Arras. In like 
manner, he treats of the battle of Messines, the fighting around 
Lens, and the third battle of Ypres, which ran from July 31st to 
October 3d, and which the author claims as a British victory, 
although incomplete in the south. In this arduous struggle, last- 
ing three and one-half months, the British took twenty-four thou- 
sand prisoners and seventy-two guns, and used up no less than 
seventy-eight divisions of the enemy. 



191B.] NEW BOOKS tU 

The volume ends with a survey of the battle of Cauibrfii in 
both its phases. In his summary of the critical period of 1917, 
the author states that while the French and British armies had 
met with hardly a sii^e repulse, yet in spite of these results in 
the west» the year was a disappointing one for the Allies, since the 
Russian collapse greatly weakened their position. It clearly 
showed that the year 1918 would find them confronted with .the 
whole force of Germany aided by contingents of her ^lies, a^d tt^t 
their only hope lay in the help that might come Irom the jUuited 
States. 

Sir Arthur Gonan Doyle has done much for history in thus 
presenting the military phases of the War, and, in this voluine, thfi 
operations that made the year 1917 a very uneasy one for tfa^ 
Allies. He gives a vast amount of detail yet not enougt^ to make 
the recital a mere technical review of military movements. His 
style is clear and entertaining which, together with the subject 
matter obtained from the ofiBcial record, makes his work one of 
great interest and, as a contemporary chronicle of momentous 
events, of some permanent value. 

THE GOVERNMENT OF RELIGIOUS COMMUNITIES. By Rev. 

Hector Papi, SJ. New York: P. J. Kenedy & Sons. $1.00. 

The main subject of this treatise is The Government of Reli- 
gious Communities iaken from the Tenth Title of the Second 
Book of the Code. A preliminary chapter treats of the definition 
of the religious state and the religious institute, the excellence of 
the religious state, the various kinds and the organization of 
religious institutes, and the rules of interpretation and precedence. 
Title I. discusses the establishment and suppression of religious 
institutes, houses and provinces; Title II. on the government of 
religious communities, discusses the various classes of superiors, 
their appointment and obligations, the duty of canonical visita- 
tion, their parochial rights and duties, their honorary titles, the 
duties of confessors and chaplains, the administration of tempor- 
alities, and kindred questions. 

THE DRAMATIC STORY OF OLD GLORY. By Samuel Abbott. 

New York: Boni & Liveright $1.60. 

Although not one hundred and fifty years have yet seen the 
folds of the American flag waving to the breeze, there is no little 
controversy on the subject of its history. Into this, however, w^ 
do not propose to enter. It seems strange that inaccuracies and 
false statements should have crept into so plain a story. .Mr. 
Abbott instances the well-known painting of Washington crossing 



..^ 



114 NEW BOOKS [Oct, 

the Delaware, which has become classic, as an example of ana- 
chronisms and states apropos of the appearance of the flag in the 
picture: "The Stars and Stripes on that wild night of high adven- 
ture was still to be designed in a room in Philadelphia thirty miles 
away" (p. 14). 

To be sure, artists should be true to history in historical 
scenes, but veracity is an equally desirable characteristic in our 
chroniclers. The question of the flag is worth settling, now. 

After 1781 the writer gets into calmer waters, and the story 
is most interesting. Not always in fights on land and sea does 
our flag wave, but in the ways of peace in Arctic Sea or in Africa 
in the Livingstone expedition. A most interesting exploit was that 
of W. F. Lynch, U.S.N., in the exploration of the Dead Sea, when 
Old Glory sailed where, "The blue wave rolls nightly on deep 
Galilee," descended the Jordan and swept into the Dead Sea. So 
it has floated over the waters into which the Master gazed and 
where His disciples ofttimes cast their nets. 

Of course, those periods of history when the flag was en- 
dangered, are those upon which the writer dwells, and especially 
on the late War ending with " Old Glory " at Coblenz on the 
Rhine. The writer concludes with an appeal to make known the 
glorious achievements of the colors which began their career not 
two centuries ago. The book would serve as a review of United 
States history, every part of which is linked with The Dramatic 
Story of Old Glory. 

LIFE OF BLESSED MARGARET MARY ALACOQUE. By Sister 

Mary Philip of the Bar Convent, York. London: Sands & 

Co. $1.80. 

The occasion of the canonization of this Saint renders the 
publication of her life both suitable and timely. And this action 
of the Church in this era of working for results, for success, some- 
times for show, seems more than usually significant. Blessed 
Margaret Mary was the saint of apparently small things, of mo- 
tives, of abnegation. No matter where we fix our gaze upon her 
magnificent mission we note how wonderfully God chooses the 
weak things of the world to confound the strong. Shut up in an 
enclosed convent, not even appreciated as able or talented by her 
own; timid and shrinking among the most retiring; seeking only 
humiliation and oblivion, Margaret Mary was triumphant for 
the cause of her Beloved. 

Her life is fortunately written by a nun — one who, knowing 
intimately convent life, could enter into the views and motives of 
those who thwarted and opposed, as well as those who befriended 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 115 

and admired the Saint. Among the former were superiors gen- 
uinely anxious to do right, to serve God, yet afraid of any devia- 
tion from uniformity, who desirous of making assurance doubly 
sure, carefully tested her spirit, and caused her wonderful 
humility and obedience to shine forth the more brilliantly. But 
there were occasions, also, when the spirit of the world in the 
days of Louis XIV. penetrated even into the cloister of the Visita- 
tion. On the whole fervor and regular observance ruled. Yet am- 
bition or rather tenacity of rank was responsible for much of the 
Saint's sufferings as Novice Mistress. Her life, so full of details 
of the spirit, is an impressive lesson on Our Lord's ways of seeing 
and judging, and affords food for serious thought. The volume 
closes with an account of the movement for the consecration of 
families to the Sacred Heart, a devotion much favored by our Holy 
Father and a sure source of joy and honor to the Sacred Heart of 
Jesus. 

OUR OWN ST. RITA. By Rev. M. J. Corcoran, O.S.A. New York: 

Benziger Brothers. $L00. 

The cult of St. Rita has borne an almost charmed life through- 
out the centuries from 1457 to our own day. Her gentle per- 
sonality, joined to the wideness of her appeal, "as girl, wife, 
mother, widow, and nun," have endowed her with an attractive- 
ness for the children of the Church who are led to those whose life 
resembles their own — she who had lived their life, known their 
sorrows, could aid them to win heaven out of the very stuff that 
formed obstacles in their upward path. 

This story is satisfactory, in explaining many questions con- 
cerning the traditional honoring of the Saint, and the emblems 
connected with her representations, but in some respects it lacks 
definiteness. There are a few typographical errors which might 
well be corrected in a future edition. 

CANADA AT WAR. By J. Castell Hopkins. Including a Story 
of Five Cities, by Robert John Renison, Chaplain Fourth 
Canadian Infantry Brigade. Introduction by Sir Robert Bor- 
den. New York: George H. Doran Co. $5.00. 
Nothing could be more perfunctory than Sir Robert Borden's 
preface to this large and important work. The magnificent 
achievements of citizen-soldiers, the majority of whom had never 
seen a shot fired in anger, would almost unloose the tongues of 
the dumb. But the Prime Minister's inspiration runs dry at the 
end of a few soulless, platitudinous sentences. Nescis, mi fili, 
qnantilla sapientia homines reguntur. 



116 NEW BOOKS [Oct, 

The book itself is a full and painstaking compilation of Ca- 
nadian deeds and heroism. The whole effort of the Dominion is 
passed in review, from the very outbreak of hostilities to the close. 
The Homeric battles in which the Canadians covered themselves 
with glory — ^Amiens, Arras, Cambrai, Valenciennes — are graph- 
ically described in the words of eye-witnesses. Numerous photo- 
graphs enhance the value and interest of the work. A reviewer, 
whose tastes are mainly literary, observes one omission — there is 
ho chapter devoted to the literary productions of the War, to the 
songs, poems, tales, vignettes that war conditions suggested to 
Canadian writers. Such a chapter still remains to be written and 
is weir worth writing. For it will record results, less tangible 
perhaps, but less perishable also, than trenches captured and 
towns re-won. 

SBLF-«OVERNMENT IN THE PHILIPPINES. By Maximo M. 

Kalaw. New York: The Century Co. $1.50. 

This volume contains a record equally honorable to the peo- 
ple of the United States and the Filipinos. The conquerors under- 
took to train their vassals in self-government, and the latter wisely 
permitted themselves to be so trained. The result is mutual re- 
spect and esteem, and the advancement of the Filipinos in cul- 
ture, prosperity and happiness. Mr. Kalaw singles out for special 
encomium the late Representative William Jones of Virginia, and 
Governor Harrison as particularly helpful and sympathetic 
towards his fellow-countrymen. The archipelago has prospered 
marvelously under American rule. Education has been extended, 
philanthropy increased, the civilization of the non-Christian tribes 
notably advanced. Withal taxation is light, and the national debt 
less than three dollars per capita. In these days of colossal 
expenditures and unbridled extravagance, such a bagatelle is not 
worth notice. 

CRUCIBLB ISLAND. By Cond£ B. Pallen. New York: The Man- 

hattanville Press. $1.00. 

This is described in the sub-title as '*A Romance, An Ad- 
venture, and An Experiment,*' and it belongs to the ever-growing 
body of Utopian literature, of which Sir Thomas More is the 
progenitor in modern times, though it goes back to Plato, if one is 
curious in searching out origins. Bellamy's Looking Backward is 
the chief modern success in this difficult field of the fictional pre- 
sientment of ideas and ideals in conditions supposed to be appro- 
priate; though H. G. Wells is probably the name most commonly 
thought of in connection with literary Utopias. Dr. Pallen's con- 



1«19.] NEW BOOKS 117 

fribotioii to the subject is a notable one. It contains a story which 
would make a thrilling ** movie," and at the same time it deserves 
its title of The Crucible through the way in which it exhibits the 
workiug out of philosophical ideas to their logical ultimates, with 
the certainty (and much of the explosiveness!) of chemicals in 
combination. The ideas he employs are mainly those of ** pure ** 
Socialism — ^the same which are now rending and blasting that 
vaster crucible which is Russia. Crucible Island is a place set 
apart by the governments of the world as a prison for Socialists, 
in which, however, they are permitted full liberty to run a Socia- 
list State of their own. The story describes the great success 
the exiles make of their experiment — a success, however, which is 
the most awful and tragic failure to poor Mina and Carl, the lovers 
of the tale, when the State-mating bureau of the island destroys 
their dream of personal love, and condemns Mina to be an item of 
the anon3anous motherhood system which is set forth as the logical 
result of Socialistic ideas, abolishing the private family. How the 
lovers escape after adventurous and most interesting chapters 
which describe the Socialistic workings of Crucible Island, make 
up a book which fully justifies its sub-title. 

WOODEN SPOIL. By Victor Rousseau. New York: George H. 

Doran Co. $1.50. 

This odd title refers to property in Canadian timber, inherited 
by Hilary Askew from his uncle who, living in Massachusetts, has 
been steadily and systematically defrauded by those to whom he 
intrusted his business interests in Quebec. Hilary discovers this 
rascality soon after he arrives upon the scene to take personal 
charge of his affairs ; and he at once enters upon a desperate strug- 
gle for his rights against powerful and unscrupulous enemies. 

The opening chapters are full of animation and humor, and 
give the reader well grounded expectations of a story wherein 
keen wits and cool, daring action triumph over treachery and cun- 
ning. He soon finds, however, that in depicting an energetic fist- 
fight the book's jacket conveys the spirit of the content with un- 
usual accuracy. Undoubtedly, physical violence is sometimes ap- 
propriate and necessary, but few of us share Mr. Rousseau's ap- 
parent fhithln it as the supreme remedy of universal applicability. 
The attention wanders while the author lingers relishingly upon 
the details of these encounters, nor is there any edification gained 
when he shows us Father Lucien, the curi, resorting to singlestick 
in order to stop the drink habit among his people, beating the prin- 
cipal offender into submission, and promising to *' break the head 
of every man who has brandy in his house.'* 



118 NEW BOOKS [Oct, 

There is a love-story, but its heroine is uninteresting, as is 
the case with most of the many characters. The plot moves along 
traditional lines; nowhere is there any effect of novelty. Mr. 
Rousseau's paucity of inventiveness is regrettable, for he has given 
to his work a literary quality above the average, as is shown in 
some of the dialogue and in the really delightful descriptions of 
Canadian scenery. 

HERITAGE. By V. Sackville West. New York 1 George H. Doran 

Co. $1.50 net. 

Heritage will probably attract considerable attention, since 
artistically it stands immeasurably above the great mass of con- 
temporary writing. Nor is it altogether the usual blatant exagger- 
ation for the publishers to compare the book, as they do on the 
jacket, to the work of Conrad and to Wuthering Heights, although, 
to be sure, it has neither the imaginative glow and solidity of 
the one, nor the intense passion and tragic gloom of the other. 
Rawdon Westmacott, indeed, is very far from being another Heath- 
cliff, on whom he is obviously modeled, nor has Malory the brood- 
ing imagination and subtlety of his prototype Marlow in Conrad's 
Lord Jim; but there is nevertheless enough original power and 
artistry here to bear up even under these high comparisons. 

Despite its splendid qualities, however, or rather because of 
them — since the finer the edge, the deeper the wound — the present 
novel must be considered anything but healthful reading. Not for 
the ordinary reasons of decadence or suggestiveness, for from both 
of these the book is free, but because of its total lack of an actu- 
ating moral principle. This, in fact, is the book's great defect 
simply on artistic grounds, since even a work avowedly pagan in 
ethics, must, when it deals with man, take into account the moral 
order of the universe in which man moves and has his being. 
In this connection we are inevitably reminded of such similar, 
and yet such dissimilar works as Tess of the D'Ubervilles, Wuth- 
ering Heights, and Lord Jim. Beside these, with their final deep 
note of tragedy, the present book seems tawdry and thin. In- 
stinct and not principle is the law which governs the characters 
in Heritage, but it is an instinct arbitrary and unreal. The book 
is a more or less glorified plea for naturalism, but it is a natural- 
ism which refuses to work on natural lines. That is an old pro- 
verb which says that you cannot eat your cake and have it too, 
and a still older one, which tells us, what are the wages of sin. 
In such ancient saws Mr. West apparently places no credit, and 
chooses rather to enroll himself among those to whom the Spanish 
proverb ironically refers as those who are •'wiser than the wise.** 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 119 

FLEXIBLE FERDINAND. By Julie M. Lippmann. New York: 

George H. Doran Co. $1.50 net. 

Flexible Ferdinand has the reputation of being " soft," and 
"yielding," but in reality he is a goodhearted boy, full of char- 
acter, that prompts him to take upon himself all the cares of a 
family already on the road to dissolution. We are introduced to 
him at the age of seven, and leave him a succe^.i,^ul surgeon — 
against his will — ^with aspirations for an arti ^career. The 
characters of the story are well drawn — ^the hardworking actress 
mother, the unsuccessful, despondent father, the utterly selfish 
elder brother, the ambitious sister, and above all the wonderful 
nurse, Matilda, who reminds one of Martha in Martha bg the Dag, 
one of Miss Lippmann's most successful plays. The war theme is 
introduced on account of its popular appeal, and we leave Ferdi- 
nand about to start for the front after a long and strenuous woo- 
ing of his most attractive sweetheart. The story is clean, well 
written, and remarkable chiefly^ as a study in character. 

THE WORDS OF LIFE. A Handbook of Explanations for Those 
Seeking Knowledge of the Catholic Faith. By C. C. Martin- 
dale, SJ. New York: P. J. Kenedy & Sons. 60 cents net. 
The sub-title of this little book of only fifty-eight small pages 
describes its contents but gives no adequate idea of its value. It 
is sure to prove a veritable boon to all those who have to do with 
the instruction of converts or are thrown among those seeking 
light. As the author tells us in a pre-note, the work is not in- 
tended to take the place of the Catechism, nor is it a complete in- 
struction book, but rather a skeleton outline of Catholic belief into 
which an inquirer can fit each new truth as he comes into posses- 
sion of it. The practical value of the work is increased by being 
produced in two forms: one strongly bound to be kept intact; the 
other with detachable leaves which may be torn off and given to 
the convert or inquirer as needed and afterwards discarded. It 
will prove a very desirable book for free distribution at non-Catho- 
lic missions. 

HIDDEN TREASURE. By John Thomas Simpson. Philadelphia: 

J. B. Lippincott Co. $1.50 net. 

It is not a tale of adventure on the order of Treasure Island, 
that we have here, but a story of modern farming. Bob Williams, 
a lad of eighteen, comes as chore boy to his uncle's farm. He has 
initiative, quick wits, and some knowledge of new and better farm- 
ing methods than those he finds in use upon his arrival. His un- 
cle gradually yields to the persuasions of his enterprising nephew, 



120 NEW BOOKS [Oct, 



and such improvements as reclaiming rich acreage iiy draini^ and 
plowing by tractor, transform the run-down farm, drawing forth 
its " hidden treasure " of productiveness and putting it on a well- 
paying basis. 

Like others of its class issued by the lippincott Compan|r» 
the book is thoroughly practical. The story is negUgiUe» but 
serves the purpose of imparting valuable bits ot knowledge chat- 
tily, and to d.,^^^strate to boys and girls that farm work nuqr be 
made more easy and more profitable than work in the cities. It is 
inexplicable that Mr. Simpson, addressing a young audience, 
should have introduced an incident making light of Sunday cdi- 
servance. 

IN Preparation for Marriage, Rev. J. A. McHugh, OJP. (New 
York: Benziger Brothers. 60 cents net), gathers together for 
the use of the clergy the laws of the Church that have refer- 
ence to the preparation of couples for marriage. In ten brief 
chapters the author discusses the necessity of inquiring about the 
fitness of the parties to contract marriage, formal and informal 
engagements, the civil requirements, residence, impediments, dis- 
pensations, the publication of bans, the knowledge necesfiiary for 
the reception of the sacrament of matrimony. 

This little manual is valuable both to the newly ordained 
priest and to the laity contemplating marriage. 

r[E appeal of the epic poet will never be as wide as that of 
the dramatic, yet lovers of Milton will be fateful to Allan 
H. Gilbert, Ph. D., for A Geographical Dictionary of Milton (New 
Haven: Yale University Press). His pages reveal the astonishing 
number of places Milton touched upon in his works, and his 
intimate knowledge of geographical subjects. His inquiring mind 
assimilated, not only the science as then knowiu but also con- 
temporary publications illuminating the travels of the period. 

r[E American Book 0>., New York, publishes an Introductory 
and Secondary Course of New Modern Illustrative Bookkeep- 
ing, by Chas. F. Rittenhouse, C.P.A. ($1.20 each), which introduces 
the subject by the account method much favored by the best teach- 
ers in this department of mathematics and by accountants in prac- 
tical bookkeeping. The exercises are reproduced from accounts 
of daily business life, the price lists being real business documents. 
The Examinations, the Questions and Reviews are abundant, and 
the Bookkeeping Accounts are written up in neat script by JSdward 
C. Mills. 



t9».] NEW BOOKS 121 

ESSENTIALS OF SPELLING, by H. C Pearson and H. Suzzallo 
(New York: American Book Co.) ; makes the study of spelling 
more the work of understanding and less of memory, while giving 
fnlt wef^t to the fact that much depends on visualizing of words. 
The page of diacritical marks is very succinctly and clearly put. 
A knowledge of the alphabet is declared necessary for consulting 
a ifictionary, yet it is nowhere given. Where, then, is the place 
for an alphabet? 

A CATHOLIC SOCIAL PLATFORM, by Rev. Joseph Husslein, 
SJ., Ph.D. (New York: P. J. Kenedy & Sons, $2.50 per 100), 
** based on the oflBcial pronouncements of the Holy See and of the 
Catholic prelates of various countries . . . places Catholics in the 
van of social progress." It merits careful reading and practical 
application. 

TWO other pamphlets whose content is vital to all hopeful so- 
cial reconstruction are those of the Catholic Social Guild of 
London, published by The B. Herder Book Company (St. Louis, 
15 cents each). Questions of the Day, by Rev. Joseph Keating, 
SJ., and Dom Anselm Parker, O.S.B., treats pithily and suc- 
dnetly the great social problems and their Christian solution. The 
Gospel and The Citizen, by C. C. Martindale, S.J., goes a step far- 
ther and higher in indicating " the social implications of the Gos- 
pel *' as a guide and incentive to make Faith bear directly " upon 
human life at large and the various departments of social ideal 
and conduct .** 

A BOOKLET to be highly recommended to schools and all 
teachers is The Objective Teaching of the Holy Sacrifice of 
The MiBSS, by the Asters of St Joseph of Philadelphia (Phila- 
delphia: The Dolphin Press, 25 cents). The most approved 
modern methods are here applied to familiarize the child with the 
Saered Liturgy and to arouse devotion of a solid order. The les- 
sons are arranged according to grade. The booklet also contains 
a useful bibliography with many beautiful extracts from writings 
on the Mass and explicit instructions how to follow Mass. 

IN The Ee^entids of Spiritual Unity, Ronald Knox (London: 
GathoHc Truth Society. Sixpence), indicates the route by which 
he traveled to arrive at '* the idea of the Catholic Church.*' It will 
prove interesting t« those en route as welt as to those within the 
fold of the One True Church. 



122 NEW BOOKS [Oct.. 

FOREIGN PUBLICATIONS. 

Among the new books from the Librarie T6qiii are the following: 

Canon L4on Duflot's Apologitique Chritienne: La Riuilation, 
VEglise. (4 /r.) Professor of Philosophy for nine years, of Apologetics 
for eight years, afterwards Moderator of Higher Criticism for a distin- 
guished audience for which he had prepared excellent notes on Apolo- 
getics, Canon Duflot was well prepared to give a serious, clear, well 
arranged, and well distributed Manual on the delicate matters neces- 
sarily touched upon in a course of Apologetics. 

Of the two parts which make up this work, La Rivilation and 
VEglise Catholique, the newest and most profound is certainly the 
latter. To form an idea of the importance and the influence of this 
second part, it will be sufficient to underline the following titles: The 
Constitution of the Church; The Church a Necessary Society; The 
Magisterium of the Church; The Legislative, Coersitive and Judiciary 
Powers of the Church; The Church and the State; The Church and 
Civilization. 

Throughout we find ourselves in the presence of profound thou^t 
and of sure doctrine, drawn from the very best sources. 

La Sainte Eucharistie, by Abb6 Jean Ramel. (3 fr. 50). During 
the course of forty years missionary work, in Norway and in France, 
the Abb6 Ramel was called upon many times to explain the beautiful 
and great subject of the Holy Eucharist, from a dogmatic, moral, and 
liturgical viewpoint. Having arrived at the end of his career, when 
his weakened forces disabled him for preaching, he has continued his 
apostleship by means of the pen, hence the book which he now pub- 
lishes. 

The eighteen chapters contain all the Catholic Doctrine of the 
Real Presence, the Mass, and Holy Communion, explained with exact- 
ness and piety, in a clear and simple style, based upon Holy Scriptures, 
the Fathers of the Church, the most recent decisions of the Roman 
Congregations, the opinions of the best theologians, and illustrated 
with numerous and interesting narratives of Eucharistie miracles. 

This work will be found serviceable to the preacher, the con- 
fessor, and the faithful. 

La France, les AUUs ef VAUemagne Devant la Doctrine Chritienne, 
by Monsignor Chapon (2 fr. 60) ; and Le Renouveau Catholique: Les 
Jeunes Avant la Guerre (3 fr. 50), by Abb6 Rouzic, will be chiefly inter- 
esting for French readers. 

From the Librarie Gabriel Beauchesne we have: 

Volumes XIH. and XJV. of the Dictionnaire Apologitique de la Foi 
Catholique, edited by the Abb6 A. d'Al^s, containing articles on Ecclesi- 
astical Law; Loretta; Father Loriquet; Louis XVI.; Lourdes; Magic 
and Magianism; Mahomet; Marriage and Divorce; Mary, Mother of 
God; Mariolatry; Martyrdom; Materialism; Millennium; Miracles; The 
Religion of Mithra and Modernism by capable scholars. 



IRecent iBventa. 



Russia, as the radiating centre of Bolshe- 
Russia. vism and the philosophy of social unrest, 

still holds the -wondering attention of the 
-world. According to trustSn^orthy information the genesis of the 
present iK>licy of the Soviet Government at Petrograd has been as 
follows : 

At the beginning of the year (1919) that policy took a sudden 
change when Lenine and his associates decided to abandon their 
terrorist methods and their plan for immediate socialization. For 
the first month of the year a moderate programme was carried out, 
the object at this time being to make peace first and later re- 
organize the country and put communism in force. While deter- 
mined to keep the power in its own hands, the Bolshevist gov- 
ernment endeavored at home to obtain, as far as possible, the co- 
operation of the Russian parties that were opposing it; to have the 
latter cease hostilities on condition that their present territory 
were left to them. The Government itself agreed, in turn, to cease 
agitation in other countries. 

This policy of the Moderates, however, failed to secure the 
longed-for peace, and it was then that the Bolshevists turned to 
Peters and Dershinsky (two of the leading Red commissioners), 
whose extreme policy it is to make no peace until Europe and the 
world are bolshevized. A majority of the Soviets joined this move- 
ment, and for the last three months they have been the real gov- 
ernment, with only nominal power in the hands of Lenine and 
the other people's commissaries. Latest reports indicate that the 
Bolsheviki, feeling they have not succeeded in Europe, intend to 
develop their propaganda in an easterly direction, with Asia as its 
special object. The ground for such propaganda in the East is 
apparently well prepared, as China since 1900 has been in a state 
of unrest, and the civil strife between southern and northern 
China could be used to advantage by the Bolsheviki. 

In furtherance of this campaign the chief of the department 
at the Bolshevist foreign office in Moscow recently assured a meet- 
ing of Chinese that in a short time hundreds of thousands of copies 
of a pamphlet printed in Chinese would be distributed in China, 
telling the people that victorious Bolshevist troops had occupied 
Siberia and intended to march into China and throw out all the 
foreigners. The governments of both north and south China 
have been invited to institute official relations with the Lenine 



124 RECENT EVENTS [Oct., 

Government. In dispatches, Chinese detachments have already 
been reported among the Red forces. 

Strenuous efforts are being made also to produce anti-foreign 
outbreaks in Persia* where Foreign Minister Tschitcherin is per- 
sonally in charge of the propaganda campaign. Moreover, India 
and Afghanistan, which at the present time are in a serious state 
of unrest, offer a fertile field for the spread of Bolshevism. De- 
velopments towards the East, therefore, may be looked for in the 
next three months, if the present Bolshevist Government still 
continues in power, which, in turn, is contingent on the mUittty 
situation. 

Politically, therefore, the Bolshevists seem to feel that thcfy 
have been definitely checked in Europe, a conclusion strengthened 
by the fact that at present their doctrines are opposed from vari- 
ous motives and in various degrees, by the neighboring States of 
Poland, Esthonia, Finland, Letvia, Lithuania, Germany, Czecho- 
slovakia, Rumania, Hungary, and Austria, many of which have 
troops in the field cooperating with the All-Ru&sian forces of Ad- 
miral Kolchak ; while in Russia itself they are facing the armies of 
Siberia, Ukrainia and the Ural Cossacks. 

With certain of the neighboring States, named above as 
opposed to Bolshevist doctrines, peace negotiations have been in 
progress for the last several weeks between the Bolshevist Gov- 
ernment and those of Letvia, Lithuania, and Esthonia, and accord- 
ing to a late but unconfirmed report have been concluded. Estho- 
nia's decision to enter into negotiations seems to have been 
prompted by distrust of the army and the protests of the Esthonian 
workers against the continuance of the War. The Bolshevik en- 
voys, according to an English correspondent, " have offered to 
recognize Esthonian independence and the inviolability of racial 
boundaries, and restore Esthonian property. But it is stipulated 
that Esthonia shall not become a base for the enemies of the Bol- 
sheviki." Similar proposals have apparently been made also to 
Letvia and Lithuania. 

Turning to military operations we find matters in a h|ghly 
confused state, and because of conflicting reports it is difficult to 
visualize the general situation. Roughly speaking, the southern 
anti-Bolshevik forces under General Denikin have continued their 
successful advance. The forces of Admiral Kolchak in Siberia 
and the north, after falling steadily back to a line several hun- 
dred miles west of Omsk, at last made a stand, and on the first of 
September began a counter-offensive, which so far has met with 
success. Latest reports are to the effect tl^t he has broken the 
Bolshevik front in three places and threateiis to outflank the Bol- 






EVENTS 127 



"^ Ika IpIIowing : Section I. declares 

^^^^ sovereignty being based 

' o^ legislative rights, but 

' idual States. Each 

''slative elected 

men and 

•nal As- 

tie Presi- 

will hold 

r or peace 

reaties with 

csentatives of 

L)eing based on 

rths of the total 

>sia's votes must 

omposition of the 

. twenty-flve votes; 

vViirttemberg, three; 

I ties, coupled. Judges 

for life and cannot be 

nt provides that all Ger- 

id that men and women 

and duties. Preferential 

position are removed, and 

ily part of a person's name. 

i no tokens of honor may be 

ocepted from a foreign State. 

lily of Life" the Constitution 

s the basis of family life and 

it is, therefore, under the special 

on the basis of equality of the 

all be placed under the same bodily, 

s as legitimate ones, and youth must 

itual, and physical neglect. 

istitution declares that all citizens of 

.)Iete freedom of belief and conscience. 

id religion plays no part in citizenship. 

must be universal attendance at sdiool 

irs, and that pupils must attend advanced 

years. It will not be necessary to pay 

vvill be given needy pupils and their families* 

exist only with government permission. 



128 RECENT EVENTS [Oct.. 

Stitccf ate tfdbption of the Constitution, President Eberf hUs 
tdken tbe oat& as Imperial President. He has also withdrawn the 
deeree whieh designates the Assembly as the "Reichstag** in 
difference to protests from the Assembly. 

To one feature of the new Constitution the Allies took strong 
ettiepUoti, and on September 2d the Supreme Council of the Peace 
Gonfei^ence issued an ultimatum demanding its amendment. The 
^^ole matter turns about the ultimate union of Germany and 
Gefman Austria which appears to be provided for in Articte 
Sitty-one of the new German Constitution. This clause, which 
acicording to the Allies categorically violates the Treaty of Ver- 
sailles, reads substantially as follows : 

'* German Austria vdll receive, after annexation to the Ger- 
ttvan empire, the right to send to the German Reichstag a number 
€t deputies corresponding to the population, and meanwhile said 
deputies will have a consultative voice.*' 

The German reply to the Allied ultimatum on this point has 
been considered unsatisfactory. Definite assurances will be re- 
quired of the Germans. 

The disturbances in Silesia seem to be due partly to Sparta- 
clde propaganda on one side and partly to the provocative attitude 
of the German authorities on the other, which has caused insur- 
rection among the Poles. The situation thus resolved itself into 
k three-cornered fight between the Spartacans, Poles and Germans, 
trfaich involved the mining districts and makes more acute the 
6oal shortage in Ceiitral Europe. In consequence of these troubles 
the Pcdish delegates broke off negotiations which had been going 
on in Berlin relative to a plebiscite over the ultimate frontier be- 
tween Germany and Poland. Following fierce engagements be- 
tween insurgents and Berlin troops, the German authorities de- 
dared martial law. Though the insurrection in upper Silesia 
spread rapidly in the industrial sections, the German military 
authorities declared they had the situation in hand. 

Later at a conference of the German Government and the 
Polish Mission, the following resolutions were passed: first, the 
Germans will refrain from further executions; second, the Inter- 
Allied Mission shall start for upper Silesia; third, the Polish Mis- 
sion how in Berlin will go td Warsaw and remain there until the 
fttter-AIlied Commission has made a report. The functions of 
the Commission are limited to those of an investigating board that 
shall r^ort t6 the Peace Conference at Paris. Sporadic fighting 
is in progress still in many sections of the cotmtry. The Suprlfme 
Cbuncil of th^ Peace Conference has discussiid the question of 
semfitig troops to Silesia in case th^ Germans are willing to permit 



tm.] RECENT EVENTS 129 

kfreigH troops to enter the district for police purposes before the 
Pcac* Treaty has bieen ratified. - The general impression in Con- 
ference circles is that the Germans will consent, because of the 
larger property interests involted. 

A Inuch mor^ disquieting situation is that provided by the 

Refusal of the German troops under General Von der Goltz, to 

evacuate the Baltic provinces, as ordered by the Peace Conference. 

I^e German Government has addressed a note to the Entente 

P(}i>wers, saying it is not in a position to compel the obedience of 

ib)j troops by military means, and that "'as a result of the ex- 

tni^I^ely excited feeling among the troops, it is impossible now to 

pre0i4>are a plan of evacuation and return the troops to the 

lid It has not become clear at this writing just what is the pur- 
pojfe^ { of these troops whose numbers have been estimated as high 
ks eire^lghty thousand men. Many profess to see in it an inter- 
Hfltichic^i^al conspiracy headed by General Von der Goltz and Russian 
noli) ^s of German origin, aiming at the establishment of a new 
(SerCro^an-Baltic state as the base of operations against Moscow. 
17 Sjt^eir headquarters are Mitau in Courland. That the army is de- 
' AeTTnitied to remain in the Baltic region is shown by the attempt 
of the soldiers to become citizens of the newly established re- 
publics of Letvia, Esthonta, and others, thus evading the Allies* 
orders that the " German '* forces should be withdrawn. When 
tliis attempt at citizenship and a local landwehr failed, and orders 
for evacuation were actually received from Weimar, the troops 
abandoned pretence and declared that, orders or no orders, they 
would remain. In face of this resolution the German authorities 
at home so far seem helpless. 

Von der Goltz is reported to have promised land in Letvia to 
the troops uiider his command, and much bitterness has been 
caused by the refusal of the Lettish government to grant Lettish 
citizenship to German soldiers. The opposition of the Germans to 
evacuating the country was also reported to be the result of the 
attempt of the Letvian government, headed by Karl Ullman, to 
cooperate with the British forces in that region in expelling all the 
Baltic barons, who are chiefly of German extraction, and other 
Germahs in order to breilk tip the strong German influence in the 
former Baltic provinces and to " frustrate the coming alliance be- 
tween (lermany and Russia." Well-informed critics are of 
dpijiion that Germany intends to try for a league of nations, hop- 
ing for the adherence of Russia, Austria and Hungary, and later 
df I{afy» Japan, and the smaller nations dissatisfied with the t'aris 
Coiif^rMoe. 



130 RECENT EVENTS [Oct., 

As a result of instructions sent to him by 
Hungary. the Supreme Council of the Allies to the 

effect that he must leave the Hungarian 
Government in the interest of European peace. Archduke Joseph 
withdrew late last month as dictator of Hungary. Stephan. 
Friedrich, Hungarian Premier during the short regime of the| 
Archduke, has since formed a new Cabinet in which besides tho 
Premiership he assumes the post of Minister of the Interior! 
The Cabinet decided that elections should be held about September 
20th, and the Premier is to consult the Entente Commissions we- 
garding their carrying out. I 

News dispatches from Budapest and editorial comment#. in 
Hungarian newspapers very generally express the belief l^hat 
events in Hungary presage a return to the monarchical fori^n of 
government. Elements favoring a political and economic it^^nion 
between Rumania and Hungary are said to have been very a^ ctive 
in Budapest, and it seems that Hungarian politicians are fia^oni- 
pletely under Rumanian influence. Color is lent to these rui^^ors 
by the report from Vienna that Premier Friedrich has sei^ it a 
Hungarian delegation to Bucharest. Besides being empower «ed 
to negotiate a separate peace with Rumania, the delgation appah. *- 
ently may discuss the eventual union of Hungary and Rumania. - 
Premier Friedrich's position, however, is by no means assured 
and the next turn of events is problematical. All the members 
of a proposed new Cabinet to succeed the ministry of Herr Fried- 
rich have been summoned to Budapest by telegraph, giving rise 
to a report that an agreement has been reached with the Paris 
Peace Conference authorities. On the other hand Premier Fried- 
rich is said to have extended his original stipulations as to his 
retirement and now makes his withdrawal contingent upon a 
guarantee by the Allies that Hungary shall receive money, food, 
and raw materials. That the present Cabinet is in a very waver- 
ing state is certain, and the formation of a new Cabinet may 
shortly be looked for — an event which the Peace Conference will 
greet with relief, as the Hungarian Peace Treaty has been ready for 
presentation for some time, but no one has come for it. 

Latest reports are to the effect that the Rumanian army, 
which has been in control of affairs in Budapest and has held on 
to that control despite urgent protests from the Supreme Council 
of the Peace Conference, has begun to withdraw, a steady move- 
ment of trains being in progress. It is believed that the retirement 
will be completed within the next fortnight. It is also reported, 
however, that the Rumanians have begun the evacuation of Hun- 
garian territory without leaving behind any organized poHce» 



1919.] RECENT EVENTS 131 

and under conditions presenting great dangers of disorder. It is 
intimated that the Rumanians hope that, after their withdrawal* 
the disorders will be such that they will be asked to return. 

After three months of negotiation between 
Austria. the Austrian Republic and the Allied and 

associated Powers, the Austrian Peace 
Treaty was finally signed on September 10th. Under the terms of 
the Treaty the former provinces of Bohemia and Moravia and a 
part of the duchy of Teschen now form the Republic of Czecho- 
slovakia. The rest of Teschen and most of Galicia have been in- 
corporated into Poland. The new Ukrainian Republic takes cer^ 
tain sections in Eastern Galicia and the former Austrian crown- 
land of Bukowina. Hungary has separated from Austria along 
the historic boundary between those portions of the former em- 
pire, but has herself lost parts of the province of Transylvania 
which have been awarded to Rumania. 

On the south the provinces of Carinthia, Dalmatia, Carniola, 
Croatia and Slavonia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, as well as parts of 
Styria, are formed, in conjunction with Serbia, into the new 
Jugo-Slav kingdom. Parts of Tyrol are taken over by Italy, the 
boundaries of which are also extended so as to include most of 
the Istrian Peninsula and a strip along the western frontier of the 
province of Carinthia. All, therefore, that remains of the former 
empire is what is known as German Austria, including Upper and 
Lower Austria and parts of Styria and Tyrol. Since the close of 
hostilities there has been a movement afoot to annex Austria to 
Germany. By one of the most important clauses of the Treaty 
this is forbidden. 

The Treaty does not stipulate an exact sum to be paid in in- 
demnities, but this amount will be fixed by the Reparations Com- 
mission on or before May 1, 1921, and payments are to extend over 
a period of thirty years. This sum must be paid by the Austrian 
Republic and is not to be apportioned among the component parts 
A of the country which have been declared independent. In ad- 

dition to paying indemnities Austria must also replace, ton for 
I ton, all ships lost by the Allies through the activities of the Aus- 

trian navy during the War and physically restore invaded area. 
Austria's army is reduced to thirty thousand on a purely volun- 
tary basis, and the entire Austrian naval fleet is to be handed 
over to the Allies, all warships under construction to be broken 
up and the salvage used only for industrial purposes. 

By a covering letter which accompanied the Treaty the Allies 
' set forth the great responsibility of Austria, which therefore can- 

■ 

I • 



132 RECENT EVENTS [Qct.. 

not obtain the same treatment as Czecho-Slovakia and Jilgo- 
Slavia, but in view of the small expanse of its territory, promised 
to give her economic and financial aid in order ,to .assure her pos- 
sibilities of existence. No such assistance from the Allies, how- 
ever, has apparently yet been given, and since the signing of the 
Treaty, Austria has drifted toward an internal situation almost 
chaotic. 

Demands are being made for a strong central .government 
that can weld the country into a more harmonious national whole. 
At present, apparently, each region or district is for itself and all 
of them against Vienna. The basis of the trouble seems to be 
largely two-fold — the <rontinued decrease in the value of the 
crown and fear of famine. The central government thus far 
seems to have been unable to cope with either. Recently all vis- 
itors were expelled from rural and summer resort regions by a 
decree of the provincial governments, and, in some instances, of 
the village authorities, all in contravention of the State laws. 
Furthermore, in upper Austria, Which is the granary of the em- 
pire, the farmers and district officials have decided that all :grain 
shall be milled and stored in the districts where grown, and none 
exported to Vienna or other parts of the State. This would jnean 
actual starvation for the cities and less favored regions of lower 
Austria. In its effort to cope with the food and fuel conditions 
which threaten the country, the central government has just 
issued a decree expelling from the country all persons not legally 
residents. This decree, which becomes effective on September 
20th, affects principally a large number of Galicians and those 
Hungarians who remained after they were ordered to leave the 
country by a former decree. 

The outstanding feature of the situation in 
Rumania. Rumania over and above the recent with- 

drawal of its armies from Hungarian soil, 
is its continued firm opposition to the Austrian Treaty. The basis 
of this opx>osition is the refusal of the Supreme Council of the 
Peace Conference to grant Rumania the privilege of making reser- 
vations in connection with the rights of minorities in territorjeji 
detached from the former Austrian empire, as provided for. in the 
Peace Treaty. The Rumanians point out that by royal decrees 
which will be approved by the new Chamber of Deputies elected 
in September, minorities not only in the new territory .attached 
to Rumania, but in the old kingdom, have been more an^ply pro- 
tected than the Peace Treaty provides. Rumania, however, .^does 
not desire to have forced upon her, so it is said, ,provisiQns which 



1919.] RECENT EVENTS J33 

it is feared would be interpreted by the minorities as giving them 
really the upper hand. 

In old Rumania, it is said, the Jews have been given full 
citizenship, while in new Rumania measures have been taken to 
give ample protection to the Germans in Transylvania and to tl^ 
other nationalities of the annexed districts. If the same meas- 
ures were imposed by treaty, instead of being freely taken by ibe 
Rumanians, the minorities would be likely, in the opinion of the 
Rumanian authorities, to taunt them with the fact that they 
were (d^liged to do so. A spirit of opposition and rebellion 
instead of harmony would be favored, the Rumanians say, by 
placing Rumania under obligation to third parties in her rela- 
tions to minorities. 

The Rumanian Cabinet has also refused to accept the de- 
cision of the Peace Conference relative to the division of the 
Banat between Rumania and Serbia, and as a result Serbia is 
reported to be considering the general mobilization of her army. 
Banat is a province in southeastern Hungary, between Rumania 
and the western part of Serbia, which the Peace Conference in 
May decided to divide between the last two countries, ^viiig the 
eastern part to Rumania and the western part to Serbia; Although 
the Rumanians were aUotted the larger share, they protested vigor- 
ously against the decision, appealing to the Treaty of 1916, con- 
cluded at the time Rumania entered the War. By the terms of 
this pact, Rumania was to receive the whole of the region. Pre- 
mier Bratiano of Rumania withdrew from the Peace Conference 
several months ago as a protest against the decisions of the 
Supreme Council on the disposition of the Banat and on methods 
of protection of racial minorities in the small countries of eastern 
and southeastern Europe. Rumanian troops occupied Temesvar, 
the capital of the Banat, in the course of their recent advance 
into Hungary. 

An election of a new House of Deputies was set for Septem- 
ber, and several weeks ago Premier Bratiano declared that in 
spite of his desire to retire before the elections, he had decided 
to retain office in order to take personal responsibility for not 
signing the Treaty of peace for Rumania. The latest dispatches, 
however, announce the resignation of the Rumanian Cabinet, 
headed by Premier Bratiano ;*biit-vrtietfaer -this is due to failure of 
support on the part of the country in Bratiano*s firm stand against 
the Treaty or is merely a form of procedure contingent on the 
election of the new House of Deputies, is not clear. From previ- 
ous intimation as to the general feeling of Rumania, the latter 
would seem to be the case. 



134 RECENT EVENTS [Oct.. 

A dramatic raid on Fiume by a force of 
Italy. volunteers from the Italian army led by 

the soldier-poet Gabriele d'Annunzio/ has 
been the chief event in Italy in the last few weeks. It is easy, 
however, to exaggerate the facts, which actually seem to be as 
follows : Ever since the Fiume issue became acute at the Versailles 
Conference, d'Annunzio has been agitating vehemently in behalf 
of Italy's claim to the city. As a result there were serious clashes 
between French and Italian troops in Fiume early in the sum- 
mer. D'Annunzio has now entered and taken the city with a 
force which at first was estimated at twenty-three thousand men, 
but is now reckoned at ten thousand regulars and four battalions 
of Fiume volunteers. On his entry into the city one thousand five 
hundred English and French troops withdrew. The Italian army 
and the great mass of popular sympathy are undoubtedly in ardent 
support of d'Annunzio's attempt, but Premier Nitti and the Gov- 
ernment and all responsible Italian politicians have characterized 
the incident as mutiny. Steps have been taken to suppress the 
outbreak. In this policy the Government is supported by the 
Chamber of Deputies and by the solid backing of the press, with 
the exception of a few extremist newspapers. The plan at present 
adopted is a land and sea blockade, whereby the mutineers are 
to be starved out. The Peace Conference looks on the incident as 
a purely local and internal Italian concern, and has decided not to 
interfere, at least not at present, apparently having full con- 
fidence in the Nitti government. 

A portion of the Peace Conference consider the d'Annunzio 
coup as a logical consequence of Rumania's successful defiance 
of the Supreme Council in its prolonged occupation of Budapest, 
which has only recently been terminated. 
September 19, 1919. 



With Our Readers. 

r[E great human family is constantly being drawn closer to- 
gether. Mechanical inventions have made the world much 
smaller. The nations of the earth, and the people of the nations^ 
are much closer to one another than ever before, and the prob- 
lems of one quickly become the problems of all. Such community 
of life may not be acceptable to some, but whether we like it or 
not, it is here to stay and to increase. 



AS this fact comes home to us we will see more clearly the 
need of common truth — of definite principles with regard to 
conduct that will guide the whole world and beget justice to all; 
equal opportunity; liberty; good feeling and charity. Into clearer 
light, because of the very necessities of mankind, is thrown the 
position, the right, and the authority of the Catholic Church. She 
is the sole Church in all the world that even claims to be able to 
fulfill this present need of the world. In presenting a solution 
to the fundamental problems of unity in truth and in conduct, 
she gives the light that will ultimately solve every problem. 

Her light should not be hidden nor obscured. Her voice 
should not be that of the gentle zephyrs, but rather the sound of 
a mighty wind that fills the world. 

So conspicuous is she in the world of today, that knowledge 
of her position on any living question is sought by every man. 
The conduct of her children becomes readily the gossip of the 
world. What works she proposes to launch; how her institutions 
labor; how she affects governments, and how in turn governments 
affect her — all these, and the list might be extended indefinitely, 
are news of an inviting kind to all the world. 

The only power today that can adequately carry her voice 
is the Catholic press — the printed word that has millions for 

audience* 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

OUR own people need to realize the opportunity of. the Catholic 
press. They need to realize how thoroughly such a press 
should be equipped if it is to do the work which both the Church 
and the world will demand of it. It should have, in the first place, 
a news service that would command immediate information from 
every portion of the globe: that would, by definite information. 



186 WITH OUR READERS [Oct, 

correct misunderstanding or misrepresentation regarding the pro- 
nouncements and the actions of the Holy See. Its news service 
upon all matters that even touch Catholic interests should be so 
complete and reliable that any inquirer might resort to it with 
confidence. 

To state the problems which the world is grappling with 
today: problems very basic and very fundamental; to expound 
their solution is the work of the Catholic Press. But it would be 
idle to think that this work can be done by other than trained or 
skilled writers. It requires the master hand, the literary crafts- 
man who knows his subject matter intimately and thoroughly. 

♦ « ♦ ♦ 

A LITERATURE is created by the enthusiasm of the followers of 
the cause it represents. Our Catholic literature and our Catho- 
lic press will grow more perfect as the interest and enthusiasm of 
our Catholic people in Catholic work and the whole Catholic cause 
increases. One feeds the other. The desire to know the extent 
of our Catholic Mission work: its manifold departments, will not 
only help the Catholic press, it will help the missions also. How 
is the Church going to meet and answer the intellectual problems 
of the day, to make known the findings of its own ''university" 
Of ideas, save through the Catholic press. Can any Catholic who 
reviews the fact that scholars and teachers have been called to 
ietid and govern the nations of today, remain indifferent to the 
fate of Catholic scholarship? 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

SOCIAL work today, covering such a vast field, and exacting 
such extended service is but another word for the work which 
the Chuteh has done through the ages. Our Catholic laity must 
knew that it is primarily their work. They must not only know 
the problems, they must know how they can actively serve in 
meeting the problems. Their hearts long to know this. Who 
shall acquaint them with the vast fields open to them? Only the 
Catholic press can be such an organ of publicity and of leader- 
ship. It is but leaving the matter in the air if we constantly repeat 
that our laity should be active, yet n^er lay down the definite 
lines on which they may act. To know these lines : to read also 
of what our fellow Catholics are doing — not only in our own colin-' 
try, but throughout the world — is an incentive and a guide to 
them, and an evidence that the Catholic press is fulfilling its 
mission. 

Pius X. declared emphatically that we would build our schools 
in vain if we have not a stable, intelligent Catholic press. Every 



1919.] WITP OUR READERS 137 

Catholic today, clerical and lay, should put his mind and his hand 
to this task, the upbuilding of the entire Catholic press and Qrth- 
olic literature of 



WHEN the world seems almost ready to throw itself into a 
struggle that will deal solely with material well-4>eing, it is 
encouraging to note the emphasis now and again placed upon the 
preeminent necessity and w<»tii -of -spipitual virtues and spiritual 
gifts. This is the more important and significant when the stajt^ 
ments are made by secular journals, for with them it is surfly 
true to say that such a note has not been too frequently sounded. 

i» ♦ ♦ ♦ 

LIFE in a recent issue said of a wealthy man who died recently: 
*The great and lasting gifts to the world are spiritual. He 
did not have them to give. Of wiiat he did have he gave as 
intelligently as he could and with power and much good.'* 

Scribner's for September speaks of a class of women whom 
the War has not ennobled — ^the degenerate result of a new nation 
with more wealth and luxury than it could assimilate. The same 
short essay speaks of how to such people, home has been but ^a 
place to sleep in, to take one's morning bath and breakfast, and 
then forget.*' **The less home you have, in inverse ratio the more 
divorce. Before you get a vital race again you've got to establisfa 
homes." **A world in earnest doesnH need an undue amount of 
frivolous luxury and amusement : it's glad to own a hearthstone." 
**I'm sick to death of the sex talk that's flooded everything for 
the last twenty years." ''Men will be more hun[d>le and more 
appreciative after what they have gone through, and women will 
put maternal tenderness in place of selfish passion." And the 
essay concludes with the hopeful words that ''we are looking 
forward to a new world of patience, and devotion, and unselfish 
giving; a world of home-making and of home-keeping/' 

i^ * * * 

GENERAL PERSHING'S return to this country recalls, in this 
connection, one or two of his noteworthy utterances on spir- 
itual values. 'The invisible, unconquerable force let loose by 
prayers, hopes and ideals of Christian America is incalculable." 
"As soldiers inspired by every spiritual sentiment we have each 
silently prayed that the success of. righteousness should be ours. 
Today with thanksgiving, we humbly acknowledge that His 
strength has givea us the victory." 

i» ♦ ♦ * 



138 WITH OOR READERS [Oct, 

AFTER the great parade of the First Division in New York Qty, 
headed by General Pershing, and during which the General 
paid his respects publicly to Cardinal Mercier, the New York Times, 
said editorially: "At the Cathedral stand, almost as if by acci- 
dent, he met the Belgian Cardinal who is called the Soldier of 
God. In his purple robe, with bared head. Cardinal Mercier raised 
his hand, and with lips moving bestowed th,e apostolic blessing." 



r[E Christian Advocate states that Cardinal Mercier by ''his 
unconquerable spirit lighted the darkest days of the conflict 
(in the Great War), not only for his Belgian countrymen, but 
for all who honor nobility of soul." And yet the same editorial 
charges Cardinal Mercier with allowing his popularity to be used 
'^'to wipe out the stain upon Benedict's pontificals." The use of 
the last word of the quotation is an index to the worth of the 
entire editorial. Not only does it in the same breath praise Car- 
dinal Mercier, as a man of great moral worth and condemn him 
as a willing tool of hypocrites, but it absolutely ignores the evi- 
dences that Pope Benedict gave of his sympathy with the suffer- 
ing Belgians and his protest against Belgium's invasion by the 
Germans. The Evening Post of New York, which is not a Catholic 
organ, stated as early as August, 1917: "The Holy Father has 
not concealed his sympathy with the attitude of Cardinal Mercier. 
His heart has bled for Belgium. This he has made known." 

« ♦ * * 

UNFORTUNATELY, such editorials are inspired by a precon- 
ceived prejudice — to injure the Holy Father and to cast dis- 
credit upon the Church in this country. The Christian Intelli- 
gencer, the organ of the Reformed Church in America, reports 
from the notoriously unfair Protestant Review of New York, an 
article entitled: "The Case of the Bombs." It contains such 
gross unwarranted misrepresentations as the following: "We 
have the public declaration of Mr. De Valera . . . that among the 
reasons why he and his fellow Sinn Feiners were pro-German 
in their sympathies was that the Kaiser intended to restore the 
temporal power of the Pope in the event of the success of the 
German arms." 

And also "the (Protestant) Bible Societies undertook to pro- 
vide Bibles or Testaments (Douay Version) for every Catholic 
soldier." As matters of fact, De Valera never made any such 
statement nor anything resembling it, and the Bible Societies 
never published nor circulated a Douay Version of the Bible. The 
Chaplains' Aid Association, of the National Catholic War Council, 



1919.] WITH OUR READERS 139 

printed and distributed hundreds of thousands of the New Testa- 
ment, free, to our Catholic and also non-Catholic soldiers, and 
supplied the Y. M. C. A. with the Catholic New Testament. And 
in that work there was a spirit of fairness that would shame the 
belligerent, unenlightened editors of both the Protestant Review 
and the Christian Intelligencer. 



IN happy contrast to these so-called religious journals are two 
estimates published in the secular dailies of New York City: 
the Times and the Sun. The former on its editorial page of 
September 10th, published the following: 

"Apart from and above every other figure of the War, that 
of Cardinal Mercier stands august, not merely a symbol of the 
steady courage and long endurance of his Belgian people, but of 
faith in the triumph of good over evil. A man of the people, long 
dedicated to the study of theology and Scholastic philosophy, he 
became an Archbishop and a Cardinal in whom revived not only 
the antique type of the pastor, counselor and friend of his flock, 
but a great administrator and, in the agony of his country, the 
inflexible protector of civilization against barbarism. 

*The motto of his coat-of-arms is Apostolos Jesu Christi, an 
Apostle of Jesus Christ. There is an apostolic energy, love of 
truth, large religious spirit, candor and courage in all those pas- 
torals and addresses which have made his name famous around 
the world. The massacres of August and September, 1914, the 
destruction of immemorial monuments of art and religion and 
the humanities, the bombardment of 'our dear City of Malines,' 
its episcopal palace and metropolitan church, the first stations 
of Belgium's long Calvary, brought from him the immortal Christ- 
mas pastoral which told the Belgians that their duty was 'patri- 
otism and endurance.' 'I hold it as part of my episcopal office 
to instruct you as to your duty in face of the Power that has 
invaded our soil and now occupies the greater part of our coun- 
try. The authority of that Power is no lawful authority. There-: 
fore, in soul or conscience, you owe it neither respect, nor attach- 
ment, nor obedience.' The Germans burned what copies of it 
they could lay their hands on. With more than savage insolence 
they tried to call him from the Mass and force him into an apol- 
ogy. Then, and afterward, they could not bend his lofty resolu- 
tion. He would not sell his own or his 'country's honor.' They 
itched to arrest him, but they did not dare. His appeal to the 
German, Bavarian, and Austro-Hungarian Bishops and Cardinals, 
his messages of consolation and strengthening to his people, his 



14D WITH OVR READERS [Oct.. 

protests against their deportation and servitude — a long series 
of brave and dignified words and acts were to be his; and at 
length his unfaltering faith was to see the triumph of right and 
the salvation of his country. 

''In Brand Whitlock's Belgium there is more than one vivid 
picture of this character of mingled austerity and charm, strong, 
gentle, inflexible, commanding and salient, as if some great 'ath- 
lete of the Church' had been reborn from mediaeval times : 

" 'I told him that after the War he would have to make a voyage 
to America, where he was so much loved and admired, and when 
t related how Protestant clergymen and Jewish rabbis had united 
with the priests of his own Faith to praise his courage and to extol 
his patriotism, he looked at me in the astonishment that was the 
product of his modesty. ... I wish more than all that I might 
give some sense of the charm and puissance of his personality. 
The effect of his visit was most uplifting. He is one of those 
great beings that, in a wortd crowded with little men, lift them- 
selves far above the mass and by the sheer force of moral grandeur 
radiate sweetness and light. In his presence all cares, all petty 
feelings, and all haunting fears fade away; one is before eternal 
verities, and we felt that night as though we had had a prophet 
in the house. Did not our hearts burn within us as he talked 
with us by the way?' 

"From books and pictures, from statues and windows of cathe- 
drals, saints and prophets look at us. It has been thought that 
they were Unintelligible to these later times. A saint and prophet, 
the most admirable and the most exalted actor on the scene of 
nations for four years, has come to New York. He finds here a 
whole nation of friends." 

« ♦ ♦ ♦ 

AND the New York Sun wrote just after the freedom of the 
city was extended to the Cardinal : 

"Cardinal Mercier is a celebrity who wears well. His appear- 
ance in less heroic environment than that with which his secular 
fame is associated, produces no sense of disillusionment. To scores 
of thousands of Americans he is, it is true, a prince of the Church, 
but to other scores of thousands he is first and last an heroic 
Citizen of a despoiled and ravished country. 

"In either rdle he fills the eye and satisfies the imagination. His 
brilliant robes befit his dignity and bearing. His manner is that of 
one on whom authority sits gracefully. On occasion he might be 
stern. Under grave provocation he might be filled with magnificent 
wrath. He could unbend to the pleasures of men who have not 
risen to the heights of responsibility or walked in the depths of 



1919.] WITH OUR READERS 141 

suffering he has known. But he could not be dictatorial, or irri^ 
table, or lacking in poise. His gravity is not the affectation of 
high place, the pose of a man adjusting himself to the traditions 
of a great office, upholding consciously its outward demands. The 
clear light of a scholar truly great in the fine simplicity of glori- 
ously endowed humanity, to whom honesty of thought and sin- 
c'erity of purpose and unflinching courage are the commonplaces 
of a rigorous life, shines from his countenance." 



IN his letter to the Bishops of the Committee on Public Interests 
and Affairs, Cardinal Gibbons, in a thoughtful paragraph on 
** Home Missions " said : ** Some suggest a more active preaching 
c«impaign of going out to the people since the millions fail to come 
to our churches." 

Apropos of such a suggestion, it is interesting to note the 
comment of the English Church Times, an Anglican organ, on 
public speaking that treated the evidences for the Catholic Faith. 
The Church Times thus speaks of the Catholic Evidence group 
*'Over and above a Roman Catholic crowd stood the Crucifix. A 
young layman made a strong claim for the 'Catholic Roman 
Church.' He appealed — suitably in Hyde Park — ^to a world which 
i9 weary of controversy, and some of his claims rather added to 
the controversy. Withal he was genial, kindly, respectfiil. He 
mentioned the Bible, daily prayer, frequent Communion. He was 
what we would call 'evangelical.' He was followed by a more 
elderly man who begged his sisters and brothers to co^e to a 
halt behind the Cathedral at Westminster and to continue their 
search for truth. It was a significant assembly." 

Might not we here in America go more publicly to the millions 
who will not come to our churches, and give them what we alone 
have, and for want of which their souls are starved, the saving 
truth of duristr 



UPON the meeting of the American Hierarchy that was held late 
in September, was focussed the full attention and the hope 
of every Catholic in America. That meeting will mean much, very 
much for the immediate welfare of the Catholic Church and of 
the entire country. Such a meeting of the Hierarchy at frequent 
intervals was a wish often earnestly expressed by Father Hecker. 
As he would have wished, the present Superior General of the 
Paulist Fathers officially offered the services of the Community 
tb carry out any special works that the Bishops may direct. 



142 WITH OUR READERS [Oct., 

UiVDER the newly elected Superior General of the Paulists» the 
Very Rev. Thomas F. Burke, the Community may be said to 
enter upon a new period of its life. Former Superior Generals 
were either among the founders of the Ck>mmunity or else were 
closely associated with them. Time has demanded that their sons 
in religion take the reins of government. The spirit, the work, 
the purpose, will be the same as of old. "All the men in history 
who have really done anything with the future have had their 
eyes fixed upon the past." The exceptional emergencies and 
grave problems of the day demand fresh energy, new interpreta- 
tion and immediate application of old truths to new needs. The 
world has wandered far from the Church, but its very destitu- 
tion is our opportunity. Such is the leadership demanded from 
the new Superior of that Community, which has ever aimed in a 
special manner to prove to a doubting world that the Church is 
not only not opposed to democracy, but is its only safeguard, its 
only protector, its only guarantee. 



r[E Very Rev. Thomas F. Burke received his early religious 
education with the Paulist Fathers. His collegiate course 
was made at the College of St. Francis Xavier, New York City. 
Later he studied at the Catholic University, where he won his 
licentiate in Sacred Theology. He was ordained priest in 1896. 
Within a year after his ordination he began his career as mis- 
sionary preacher, which has been singularly successful, and his 
ability as an orator is known throughout the country. For over 
fifteen years he has preached to hundreds of thousands that 
eternal truth which is the salvation both of the individual soul 
and of society itself. Those years have given him the S3anpathetic 
understanding of St. Paul. He has served all classes of society; 
has known by experience the needs and the aspirations of the 
people; beyond the mission platform his voice has been heard 
in the public forum, and his word has been written in the public 
press. He organized and administered the Newman Club at the 
University of Toronto, and for the past four years was pastor 
of St. Mary's Church in Chicago. 

He assumes the office of Superior General of the Paulists well 
trained in the traditions of the founders, equipped with both 
special ability and far-reaching experience. And it will, we know, 
be the special prayer of our readers that he may fulfill his high 
and responsible task with glory to Christ and His beloved Church, 
and with blessings to the souls of men. 



1919-] WITH OUR READERS 143 



READERS of The Catholic World will learn with deep regret 
of the death of the Rev. Gilbert Simmons, who for almost 
fifteen years wrote the department of Recent Events in The 
Catholic World. Father Simmons died on Wednesday, Sep- 
tember 2d, in the seventy-fourth year of his age. It may be said 
that he died in harness, having written Recent Events of the 
September Catholic World, and having begun the preparation 
of notes for the October issue. 

What the preparation of Recent Events demanded the out- 
sider can scarcely begin to realize. Almost monthly a volume of 
notes was made in following the innumerable publications, the 
dispatches, the inquiries that had to be consulted. 

Few men in modern life were better acquainted with world 
events and world leaders than Father Simmons. But his was a 
far-off acquaintance with the latter, for he never went into public 
life, and was of modesty so great that he never allowed his name 
to be signed to any of his work. 

4t ♦ ♦ 4t 

FATHER SIMMONS was a Scriptural student of exceptional 
ability, in the devotional not the critical sense. He was con- 
verted to the Catholic Faith in Canada, to which country he had 
traveled from England, the land of his birth. He was ordained a 
priest of the Paulist Community in 1882. For years he was novice 
master in the Paulist Novitiate, and later served as assistant in 
the parish of St. Paul the Apostle, in New York Gty. He was 
exceedingly popular as a confessor, and his characteristic gift 
was that of sympathy, particularly with the afflicted and the 
sorrowing. Ever courteous in manner; considerate in speech; 
tenacious in his opinions; wide in his reading; devout in his reli- 
gious life; he was a man who lived with God. Of himself and of 
his history he never spoke. Those who knew him loved and 
admired him. One could but wish that he were better known; 
that greater numbers might come under his influence, yet, un- 
doubtedly, he did a greater work both for himself and for others, 
because so truly a hidden servant of God. 

We earnestly ask our readers to pray for the eternal repose 
of his soul. 



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No. 656 




THE CHESTEBBELLOC. 

by theodore biaynard. 

Introduction. 

I BOUT eleven years ago in the pages of the New Age 
there was carried on a controversy on Socialism in 
which the antagonists were, on the one side George 
Bernard Shaw and H. G. Wells, and on the other 
G. K. Chesterton and Hilaire Belloc. The debate 
was conducted with extreme brilliance, for in that war of wits 
not only great blows were struck, but great jests were made. I 
believe that in one of these Mr. Shaw coined the word "Chester- 
belloc," though I cannot refer easily to the files of the paper; I 
am certain that Mr. Chesterton accepted eagerly so perfect a title, 
for the combination of two names results in an onomatopoeia which 
cannot be improved. What the Chesterbelloc did not refuse, I 
may gratefully use. 

Though the literary styles of Mr. Belloc and Mr. Chesterton 
are as unlike each other as any two things on earth; though there 
is between the friends so great a difference of temperament, they 
are popularly associated as the exponents of a certain set of be- 
liefs, from the subject of God to the subject of beer. Together 
they make up one philosophical entity, whereas separated they 
might have become merely two journalists writing on a variety 
of subjects. United they correct and confirm one another; apart 
the efforts of each would have been largely wasteful. Had they 

CopTri^t 1919. Tbb MituoNABT SociBTT OP St. Paul thb Aporxx 

IN TBB Stats op Nbw Tqbk. 

VOL. OL 10 



149 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Nov, 

been divided by a generation the fame of either would probably 
have been greater than it is, but their influence would certainly 
have been considerably less. 

The strength of the coalition, it seems to me, lies in this, 
that it strikes a just balance between innocence and experience, 
worldliness and other-worldlinesis. Gilbert Chesterton's roman- 
ticism is supported by Hilaire Belloc's practicality. The one man 
is mystic and the other a rationalist; and their agreement is 
strengthened by the fact that though their arguments do not follow 
the same lines they reach the same conclusion. Every road they 
tread leads to Rome. 

Hardly any other writers have in our day produced so enor- 
mous a body of work. Chesterton's and Belloc's printed books 
alone would fill a fair-sized bookcase, but their printed books 
contain only a small part of their literary output. It would be 
almost impossible to collect it, scattered as it is in the columns 
of countless papers broadcast over the English-speaking world. 
Even of their writings which have been gathered up between book 
covers it would be difficult to give a full account, and all that I 
propose doing is to write in so many articles on the Chesterbelloc 
as, in turn, poets, philosophers, politicians and personalities. 
Much of necessity must be omitted. I shall not be able, for in- 
stance, to deal with Mr. Belloc as a military critic — and by such 
an exception abstract a very considerable bulk of work. Even 
the Chesterbelloc as novelists, critics, travelers and humorists will 
have to be ignored, except in so far as they come within the scope 
of poetry, philosophy, or politics — ^though nearly all the Chester- 
bellocian books come, at least in some part, often with a swag- 
ger, into such a scope. 

Cecil Chesterton is usually looked upon as the greatest disci- 
ple of the Chesterbelloc. Influenced he imdoubtedly was by the 
older men, and his mind, oddly enough, inclined to be more Bel- 
locian than is Belloc himself, though his style possessed the fam- 
ily touch. He had, however, a lucidity which neither his brother 
nor Belloc could rival, great as they are in debate, and was be- 
coming because of these gifts the Parliamentary leader, as it were, 
of the party when death took him away. But though he often 
directed an army with great skill and personal courage, he was 
only the inheritor, not the originator, of the Chesterbellocian 
plan of campaign. 



1919] TWjr Chesterbellcc 147 

L 
The Poets. 

Johnson, putting into the mouth of Rasselas words which all 
except a few have to use at last, cried: *^I have experienced 
enough; now give me desire!" Mysticism struggled for mastery 
with stoicism in the soul of Johnson, who saw, without being able 
to reach it, the contentment of the saints beyond. Mr. Qiesterton 
is frequently thought to resemble Johnson. He probably likes 
to believe that he does resemble Johnson, for he has several times 
impersonated him in pageants with tremendous success. But 
though in avoirdupois the two great Englishmen are equal, though 
they both belong to that type of men of letters by whom private 
debate is preferred to writing, though they both possess a deep 
sagacity and humanity and each his crowd of eccentricities, 
though Qiesterton is the only man who ever filled Johnson's place 
in Fleet Street, though, most important of all, Chesterton is the 
most representative Englishman of the twentieth as Johnson was 
of the eighteenth century, the two men are far apart in tempera- 
ment and spiritual outlook. 

The nobility of Johnson's character can never be praised too 
highly, but it was, despite a few hints of shame-faced Catholicism, 
a pagan nobility, that of a stoicism which would not suiFer the 
soul to be crushed. Johnson bore the weight of living manfully 
and suffered without growing bitter; his head was bloody but un- 
bowed. One can hardly say of him, however, as one can say of 
Gilbert Chesterton, that his whole life was one long song of 
praise. It may be conceded that Johnson has not winced or cried 
aloud; Chesterton has cried aloud his intense joy and will not be 
silenced. He more than any man since the day of St. Francis has 
preserved into middle-age the virginity of wonder. He grows 
ecstatic with delight and claps his hands for glee at every inci- 
dent of the day. Each new sunrise strikes him with new surprise. 
When the stars come out in the sky he hears uttered for the first 
time the awful Fiat of the Almighty. Use and custom have staled 
nothing for him. He has remained a child. 

Whatever joy a man possesses comes out most naturally in 
verse, and as we are seeking to understand the Chesterbelloc, we 
cannot do better than to begin with its poetry. We shall find rim* 
ning through all the books of the men who make our subject th« 



14* THE CHESTRRBRLLOC LNov., 

twin notes of innocence and of experience, and these notes will 
prove, I think, the key or clue to their meaning. Hilaire Belloc 
relies primarily upon experience. Moreover, like all who do so, 
he is disillusioned, though being a Catholic he knows that loss will 
be made to serve a divine purpose and that there is a secret which 
even in this life may be partially attained. Such a man sees him- 
self as he was as a child — ^with the most gracious of regrets. He 
has become a man of the world, but is saved from worldliness by 
a wistful desire to be a child again. It is in this mood that 
Belloc ends his charming dedicatory poems to a child: 

And when your prayers complete the day, 

Darling, your little tiny hands 
Were also made, I think, to pray 

For men that lose their fairylands. 

If Belloc is wistful for childhood, Qiesterton might almost be de- 
scribed as wistful for manhood. He is continually longing to 
grow up that he may drive steam engines or be a pirate. Romance 
lies all about him and adventures lurk in ambush, hidden round 
the comer of riext week or a little further on amid the forests to 
be traveled next year. There is no question of affectation about 
it. C. K. C. simply does expect to walk into elfland at any 
moment. A man doesn't carry about a revolver and a sword stick 
unless he thinks that there is a strong likelihood of his being kid- 
napped. Gilbert Chesterton goes about London literally armed 
to the teeth ready for any contingency. 

I have said that Chesterton retains that happy delusion that 
romance awaits maturity. I might also add that he retains the 
still happier delusion, that he has only just been bom, for the 
opening poem of his first book of verse, The Wild Knighty was 
written, apparently, a few days before his birthday. Really I 
do not think it is possible to have a fresher zest in life than is 
expressed in this lyric: 

If trees were tall and grasses short 

As in some crazy tale, 
If here and there a sea were blue 
Beyond the breaking pale. 

If a fixed fire hung in the air 

To warm me one day through. 
If deep green hair grew on great hills, 

I know what I should do. 



1919O The Chestrrbblloc 149 

In dark I lie : dreaming that there 

Are great eyes cold or kind» 
And twisted streets and silent doors, 

And living men behind. 

Let storm clouds come: better an hour 
And leave to weep and fight» 

Than all the ages I have ruled 
The empires of the night. 

I think that if they gave me leave 

Within that world to stand, 
I would be good through all the day 

I spent in fairyland. 

They should not hear a word from me 

Of selfishness or scorn, 
If only I could find the door. 

If only I were born. 

The Wild Knight, published when Gilbert Qiesterton was 
twenty-four, does not contain such good poetry as the later 
volumes, but in many ways it is more arrestingly interesting than 
either of the others. It contains (the poet himself would admit) 
more vigor than lovelihess and some ideas which he has since laid 
aside as errors. Yet even these errors were generous. There is 
that high-spirited impatience which an idealistic youth commonly 
feels for all churches and creeds, and also, a much deeper idea, 
the doctrine of acceptance learned from Whitman pushed to fear- 
less and even fantastic lengths. Poem after poem enunciates 
it, from *TTie Earth's Shame,*' which pictures the mfinite good- 
ness of heaven, to ^^Ecclesiastes,'* which pictures what is practic- 
ally the infinite goodness of earth. The youth Qiesterton felt 
himself to be the prophet of praise and burst in upon the decadent 
age of the eighteen-nineties with the holy fury of a crusader. All 
his songs were sung in challenge to the sterile cynicism of the 
literary world into which he had wandered, and they must be 
read by the baleful light of Oscar Wilde. 

My eyes are full of lonely mirth : 

Reeling with want and worn with scars, 
For pride of every stone on earth, 

I shake my spear at all the $tars. 



ISO THE ChSSTSPBELLOC [Nov., 

A live bat beats my crest above. 

Lean foxes nose where I have trod. 
And on my naked face the love 

Which is the loneliness of God. 

Outlawed : since the great day gone by — 
When before prince and pope and queen 

I stood and spoke a blasphemy — 

** Behold the Summer leaves are green ! " 

They cursed me : what was that to me 

Who in that summer darkness furled, 

With but an owl and snail to see 

Had blessed and conquered all the world? 

To poetry such as this Belloc's work offers a marked con- 
trast. It possesses gaiety in plenty and even exuberance, but 
Qiesterton's visionary outlook is entirely absent. His Verses are 
more accomplished than the poems of The Wild Knight^ and the 
book contains some of the most beautiful things written in our 
generation; but these, though they have delighted thousands of 
readers, have never, I imagine, shaken men to the roots of their 
souls as have C. K. C/s boyish poems. These are full of lines of 
an almost brutal violence, in which the poet sees, as in an apoc- 
aljrpse, the stars fall and the sun become blood; but (I can only 
make the point by using the method of Qiestertonian paradox) 
the poet has even wilder moments in which he sees, in a stiU 
stranger vision, the grass grow and the birds fly.. All this is re- 
mote from Belloc's temper. When he writes it is in a mood of 
charming whimsicality or playful fancy as in that delightful little 
lyric, "The Early Morning:'' 

The moon on the one hand, the dawn on the other : 
The moon is my sister, the dawn is my brother. 
The moon on my left and the dawn on my right. 
My brother good morning: my sister good night. 

Judged by this one small collection of verse, Mr. Belloc is 
among the first half-dozen modem singers. (That conclusion will 
be challenged, but I will defend it.) The man who could write 
"The South Country'* and "Courtesy" is a first-rate poet. Greatly 
as 1 admire these fine things, however, I turn with even greater 
pleasure to the drinking songs (the convivial pieces of the Ches- 
terbelloc are almost the best things of their kind in the English 



1919] The Chesterbelloc i|i 

language) and to the irony of ^^Dives** and of the ''Lines to a 
Lord/* It is characteristic of Mr. Belloc that this poem, like that 
written to defend ^^my Chesterton" aganist an Oxford don who 
had attacked him, was called forth by the needs of a particular 
occasion. The reason for the ^Xines to a Lord" was the Boer 
War, during which Chesterton and Belloc to their eternal glory 
strongly defended the republic which they saw falling before the 
arms of an evil imperialism directed by a still more evil group 
of Jewish millionaires. Their biting irony is only possible to a 
man who knows the world and is full of that scorn of baseness 
which is a necessary part of the poet's character. 

We also know the sacred height 

Upon Tugela side 
Where those three hundred fought with Biet 

And fair young Wernher died. 

The daybreak on the failing force. 
The final sabres drawn: 

Tall Goltman silent on his horse, 
Superb against the dawn. 

The little mound where Eckstein stood 

And gallant Albu fell. 
And Oppenheim, half blind with blood 
Went fording through the rising flood — 

My Lord, we know them well. 

No public scandal has escaped the scourge of the Chesterbelloc's 
satire, nor any public need lacked the support of its eloquence. 
Mr. Belloc even at his wildest — and in many poems he is 
Rabelaisian in temper — can almost be called classic contrasted 
with Mr. Chesterton's vehement romanticism. His exuberance is 
kept within strict limits and does not attempt the impossible. But 
Mr. Chesterton hurls about him grotesque gothic metaphors, dar- 
ing and succeeding where no other man would go. The sense of 
evil, perhaps the strongest as it is the most terrible of experi- 
ences, has been dealt with by each of the two men; let us compare 
their distinct methods. Where Mr. Belloc can say, in one of the 
finest of his poems: 

It darkens, I have lost the ford ; 

There is a change on all things made. 

The rocks have evil faces. Lord, 
And I am awfully afraid. 



tSt The CtiRSTBRBELLOC [Nov., 

Remember me ! the Voids of Hell 
Expand enormous all around. 

Strong friend of souls, Emmanuel, 
Redeem me from accursed ground. 



I challenged and I kept the Faith, 

The bleeding path alone I trod; 
It darkens. Stand about my wraith 

And harbor me — almighty God ! 

Mr. Chesterton opposes a completely opposite spirit: 

I broke the infernal gates and looked on him 
Who fronts the strong creation with a curse; 

Even the god of a lost universe 
Smiling above his hideous cherubim. 

And pierced far down in his soul's crypt unriven 
The last black crooked sympathy and shame. 

And hailed him with that ringing rainbow name 
Erased upon the oldest book in heaven. 

Like emptied idiot masks, sin's loves and wars 
Stare at me now: for in the night I broke 
The bubble of a great world's jest, and woke 

Laughing with laughter such as shakes the stars. 

Since Gilbert Chesterton wrote these verses he has produced 
another collection of poems, which, if it does not possess all the 
surprise of The Wild Knight, is at least free from that book's 
worst faults. Poems is not such a good book — if we consider 
artistic unity — ^as its predecessor; but it contains several things 
even finer than the best of those which are to be found in the 
earlier volume. In particular is this true of the love poetry and 
the religious poetry. 

I cannot think of any writer who feels the simple astonish- 
ment of love so vividly as Mr. Chesterton. He has a natural shy- 
ness or delicacy in speaking of its tender intimacies, but the 
young ecstasy of wonder, though sung in his more recent poems 
with less exaggeration, is sung in lines much lovelier than those 
which used to be characteristic of his work. 



1919] THE CHRSTRRBRLLOC 153 

O go you onward; where you are 

Shall honor and laughter be. 
Past purple forest and pearled foam, 
God's winged pavilion free to roam. 
Your face that is a wandering home, 

A flying home for me. 

Up through an empty house of stars. 

Being what heart you are, 
Up the inhuman steps of space 
As on a staircase go in grace, 
Carrying the firelight on your face 

Beyond the loneliest star. 

It is not only in manner that Mr. Qiesterton has suffered a 
change, but in his beliefs — indeed it is the solidifying of his 
creed which has steadied his craftsmanship. Throughout The 
Wild Knight the enemy to be attacked — ^and this poet must always 
have someone to tilt against — ^was the Church. G. K. C, how- 
ever, assailed it with the weapons of the Faith, with the ideas of 
Liberty and Democracy. He did not accuse the Qiurch foolishly, 
as do many of the more ignorant pacifists, of being false to itself 
by supporting wars. Like the pacifists he entertained the curious 
conviction that he was more Christian than Christianity itself, but 
unlike them he had some justification for his error. It was a 
humble heresy, and consequently one that would soon have to be 
discarded. It was a mistake on a point of fact, not a mistake on 
a point of principle. We might compare him to a man who was 
furiously angry with the Catholic Church because she did not use 
holy water. Chesterton who was then quite as much mistaken on 
the subject of liberty as the man I have invented would be mis- 
taken on the subject of holy water, attacked the Church very 
vigorously. Today he attacks the enemies of liberty in the name 
of the Church. 

In The Wild Knight there were several poems which might 
have been written by a Catholic. In the book which followed it, 
many of the poems could only have been written by a Catholic, 
and one of these, **The Wise Men," I will quote, not only because 
it is (as I think) Mr. Chesterton's most tenderly beautiful lyric, 
but because it is the bridge which crosses over the chasm between 
Modernism and the Faidi. 



154 7*^^ CMBSTRMMRLLOC [Nov., 

Ohy we have learned to peer and pore 
On tortured puzzles from our youth. 

We know all labyrinthine lore. 

We are the three wise men of yore, 

And we know all things but the truth. 



... 



Go humbly ... it has hailed and snowed 

With voices low and lanterns lit; 
So very simple is the road, 

That we may stray from it. 

The world grows terrible and white. 

And blinding white the breaking day; 

We walk bewildered in the light. 

For something is too large for sight. 

And something much too plain to say. 

The C!hild that was ere worlds begun 

( . . . We need but walk a little way. 
We need but see a latch undone . . . ) 

The C!hild that played with moon and sun 
Is playing with a little hay. 

The house from which the heavens are fed. 
The old strange house that is our own. 

Where tricks of words are never said. 

And Mercy is as plain as bread. 
And Honor is as hard as stone. 

Go humbly; humble are the skies, 

And low and large and fierce the Star; 
So very near the Manger lies 
That we may travel far. 

Hark ! Laughter like a lion wakes 

To roar to the resounding plain. 
And the whole heaven shouts and shakes 

For God Himself is born again. 
And we are little children walking 

Through the snow and rain. 

The security of the home — ^whether the home be divine or 
human — ^and the sense of adventure which by some dark paradox 
arises out of the security is the theme of much of Mr. Chester- 
ton's verse. It is as strongly put in the love lyric, '^Baycombe,'' 
as in the poem that I have just quoted. Yet great as G. K. C. is 



1919- J THE CH&STRRBELLOC 15s 

when he deals with love or religion, he is greatest as a war-poet 
^'The Battle of Lepanto/' which many good judges think the best 
thing in Poems (some of them will even say that it is the best 
thing in the whole of his work) is not, I venture to say, fit to be 
compared to The Ballad of the White Horse. I do not imderrate 
'^Lepanto," which stirs the blood like a trumpet, but the epic 
ballad of Alfred seems to me to be the greatest literary achieve- 
ment of the twentieth century. Gilbert Chesterton possesses a 
Homeric capacity for describing warfare; for even in his earliest 
allegorical fantasia. The Napoleon of Notting Hill, the impossible, 
incidents of the fight round the water tower of Campden Hill, 
where Adam Wayne threatens his hosts of enemies with destruc- 
tion by drowning, or in the last rally in Hyde Park where the 
Provost, encircled by his foes, breaks off a branch from a tree 
to use as a club, are described with such tremendous gusto that 
they become convincing in a way of which even the best war cor- 
respondents seldom have the secret. One can think afterwards in 
cold blood that the picture is overdrawn; at the time the picture 
is intensely real. Macaulay could not describe battles with such 
force; while as for Mr. Kipling, whose favorite theme is combat, 
he is not worthy of being mentioned in the same breath with Mr. 
Chesterton. 

Like all of G. K. C.'s work. The Ballad of the While Horse 
is loaded with symbolism. But unlike some of his work, in which 
the symbolism grows so frantic as to become unintelligible, thb 
lK)ok has about it a daylight lucidity. The story may be briefly 
told. Alfred, beaten time after time by the Danes, is in hiding 
at Athelney, where Our Lady appears to him. Out of the mouth 
of the Modier of God all that the broken king hears is: 

^ I tell you naught for your comfort. 

Yea, naught for your desire, 
Save that the sky grows darker yet 
And the sea rises higher.** 

Armed with this message Alfred once more seeks to rally the 
native chiefs. The three men to whom the King goes are Eldred, 
a Saxon, Mark, a Roman, and Colan, a Gael. There is hardly 
any part of the book more admirable than the description of their 
gathering. Eldred, contented, slothful, kindly but bemused with 
sleep and ale, is, however, sufficiently wide awake to see the 



156 Thb Chrsterbelloc [Nov., 

folly of this last hopeless campaign; yet, because of the message 
of Our Lady he consents to join the King, ^'and from a cobwebbed 
nail on high unhooked his heavy sword." Marie, who represents 
what Rome had left behind her in Britain, order and reason, sees 
with his keen Latin mind and eyes the practical difficulties of 
waking Wessex to war more clearly than Eldred could see them, 
but responds as promptly. Colan of Caerleon, the type of that 
Celtic element, never even to this day quite submerged in Eng- 
land, characteristically answers Alfred with angry irony, but 
assists him with a still angrier energy. The chiefs gather, with 
their ragged rabble, and go up against the strong entrenchments 
of the heathen. Beaten back by the heavy odds of their enemies, 
the little Christian army, with Eldred and Mark and Colan all 
lying dead, is rallied by Alfred and, displaying mystical valor, 
is led again to the final and fantastic assault. The account of 
the battle of Ethandune in its successive phases is given with 
graphic power, but cannot be so much as summarized here. 
Guthrum is beaten, is baptized, and the Christian settlement of 
England won. 

The Ballad of the White Horse, an epitome of the whole his- 
tory of the struggle between the Faith and its foes, has (so at 
least I think) as its most interesting passage that visit of Alfred 
as a minstrel to the Danish camp, which is so famous a legend. 
Mr. Chesterton has used it to make a profound criticism of the 
pagan idea. The philosophical antagonism between Alfred and 
Guthrum is the explanation of the military antagonism between 
them. The oft-defeated king, harp on arm, wanders alone to the 
Danish Camp. Successively, after Alfred has sung a ballad of 
one of the old Saxon wars, the chiefs sing songs which are in- 
tended to illustrate the pagan attitude. Harold, the young nephew 
of the king, praises elementary and barbaric violence — ^the mere 
high-spirited wantonness of the Northmen: 

** For Rome was given to rule the world 

And gat of it little joy — 
But we, but we all enjoy the world, 

The whole huge world a toy.** 

Here it is that Mr. Chesterton shows his genius for criticism. Be- 
hind this bluster there is a loneliness half sentimental but alto- 
gether desolate; and of this Elf, the minstrel, sings: 



191 9-1 The CiiESTERBELLoc 157 

^ There is always a thing forgotten 

When all the world goes well, 
A thing forgotten, as long ago 
When the gods forgot the mistletoe. 
And soundless as an arrow of snow. 

The arrow of anguish fell. 

^ The thing on the blind side of the heart. 

On the wrong side of the door. 
The green plant groweth, menacing 
Almighty lovers in the spring; 
There is always a forgotten thing 

And love is not secure." 

Then followed Ogier, the old warrior grown morbidly sav- 
age, a man who is possessed at the last only by the primal anger 
of the divine: 

*^The wrath of the gods behind the gods 
Who would rend all gods and men; 
Well if the old man's heart hath still 
Wheels sped of rage and roaring will 
Like cataracts to break down and kill. 
Well for the old man then.'' 

But if Ogier is disillusioned of the pathetic pagan sentimentality, 
King Guthrum, the wisest of the heathen, is disillusioned even of 
pagan savagery. Ogier had retained the gods behind the gods, 
^^gods then are best unsung" — but Guthrum has entered upon that 
final phase of paganism which is a hopeless skepticism. 

^ It is good to sit where the good tales go. 

To sit as our fathers sat; 
But the hour shall come after his youth. 
When a man shall know not tales but truth, 

And his heart fail thereat. 

^When he shall read what is written 

So plain in clouds and clods. 
When he shall hunger without hope 

Even for evil gods. 

• • • • 

^ There comes no noise but weeping 

Out of the ancient sky. 
And a tear is in the tiniest flower, 

Because the gods must die. 



ISS THR CHESTBRBBLLOC [Nov,, 

^ The little brooks are very sweet 

Like a ^rl's ribbons curled, 
But the great sea is bitter 

That washes all the world." 

Then through the lips of Alfred Mr. Chesterton confutes the 
pagans who have already confuted each other. "You will ap- 
peal,** he cries, "to the pagan simplicities, to the pagan zest of 
life — and by them you shall be judged! Is it joy you possess, 
you ravishers of the world? Our very monks who in their clois- 
ters go gathering grief carry unimaginable fire under the habit 
of renunciation! Is it honor, conquerors of the world? We, 
the poor of Christ, always defeated, are never broken! 

^* Though you hunt the Christian man 

Like a hare on the hill-side, 
The hare has still more heart to run 

Than you have heart to ride ! 

^* That though all lances split on you, 

All swords be heaved in vain, 
We have more lust again to lose 

Than you to win again. 

"Is it even the most brutal enjoyment of life that you pos- 
sess, Lords of the world? Weariness and despair are upon 
you, for the roots of your philosophy stagnate in the pools of 
hell! 

"What have the stray gods given? 

Where have the glad gods led? 
When Guthrum sits on a hero's throne 

And asks if he is dead? 






Judge for yourselves!" So challenges the Christian King. 

Why even on your own chosen ground we overcome you. If for 
no other reason than that a man is happier and more heroic by 
believing in the cross of Christ than in the hammer o" Thor, he 
should be a Christian. 

. . . Because it is only Christian men. 
Guard even heathen things ! " 

This great epic, the summit of Mr. Chesterton's powers, perhaps 



19 1 9-] 7^^ Chesterbelloc 159 

artistically should stop at the defeat of the heathen and of their 
King. But the poet, a preacher in all his woric, sees that the 
story is full of symbols of the modem world and insists upon 
pointing the moral with prophecy. The heathen, the undying 
heathen, he says, will always come again — ^the Christian can 
never be at peace in the world or at peace with the world. The 
spiritual saga never ends. 

Mr. Belloc does not explore such depths in his poems. They 
are full of charm; they accept implicitly Mr. Chesterton's con- 
clusions; but are mainly concerned (in a spirit quite as Christian 
as his friend's apostolic fervor) with the nobler sort of terrestrial 
things — ^with Sussex and ale. Mr. Belloc's output of verse, more- 
over, is small and, except for one volume, is uncollected. He can 
write excellent poetry, but he does it casually. Mr. Chesterton is, 
despite appearances to the contrary, a poet before anything else, 
while Mr. Belloc is only a poet by accident and at intervals. 
These intervals, though divided from each by a wide span of 
time, have fortimately resulted in some of the best pieces of con- 
temporary verse. In The Four Men^ by a long way the most en- 
joyable of his travel-books, he concludes with a poem which, in 
its austere sadness, completes and savors the gay exuberance 
which is inseparable for long from Mr. Chesterton. The men are 
not really at variance; they balance one another. 

At the end of a prose passage, full of lines and half lines 
which could not be worked into the final lyric but which were too 
valuable to throw away as rubbish, Mr. Belloc writes (letting the 
reader into the secret of their composition) those lovely and 
mstful verses: 

I le does not die that can bequeath 
Some influence to the land he knows, 
Or dares, persistent, interwreath 
Love permanent with the wild hedgerows; 
He does not die, but still remains 
Substantiate with his darling plains. 

The spring's superb adventure calls 

His dust athwart the wood to flame ; 

His boundary river's secret falls 

Perpetuate and repeat his name. 
He rides his loud October sky : 
He does not die. He does not die. 



i6o Thr Chesterbelloc [Nov., 

The beeches know the accustomed head 
Which loved them, and a peopled air 
Beneath their benediction spread 
Comforts the silence everywhere ; 

For native ghosts return and these 

Perfect the mystery in the trees. 

S09 therefore, though myself be crosst 

The shuddering of that dreadful day 

When friend and fire and home are lost 

And even children drawn away — 
The passer-by shall hear me still, 
A boy that sings on Duncton Hill. 

That is a poem which will last as long as English speech. 

I have had to begin with the poetry of the Chesterbelloc, with 
which the Chesterbelloc itself began, but if this article has been 
less concerned with Belloc than with Chesterton (as the article on 
the politicians is likely to be less concerned with Chesterton than 
with Belloc) the reason is not merely that the Belloc bulk is com- 
paratively small, but that its interest is narrower and colder than 
the flaming cosmic sweep of Chesterton's poetic vision. Yet even 
in poetry the Chesterbelloc form one entity; for if Belloc could 
not have written The Ballad of the White Horse (and Chesterton 
just as certainly would have been incapable of "The South Coun- 
try"), he could not have written any of his poems had not Chris- 
tian civilization successfully emerged out of the dark ages into 
the light of the Middle Ages, unless in other words all that Alfred 
the Great had stood for had finally established itself in Europe. 
The rollicking drinking songs are a by-product of the Athanasian 
Creed, and "Dives" would never have been heard of apart from 
the Gospel. Chesterton is concerned with the spiritual struggle 
between the Christian and the pagan; Belloc is concerned only 
with the results of that struggle — conveniently symbolized as 
Sussex and ale! It is the difference between a man bom a 
Catholic and the man who is forced to become one. 




THE LITHTrANIAN CLERGY AND LTTEBATTmE. 

BY F. AUREUO PALMIERI, O. S. A., PH.D. 

{HE life of a nation manifests itself in its traditions, 
which again are preserved in the national language 
and reveal themselves in its literature. Given a 
language and a literature, no nation can be consid- 
ered to be dead or non-existent, for she herself is 
conscious of her existence. Therefore, let us Lithuanians remain 
with one language, the language that was not borrowed from the 
foreigner, but was constructed by our race and was formed 
through ages, simultaneously with the formation of our Lithu- 
anian nation. The language is the life of our nation; in it is 
preserved the living spirit of our forefathers.'*^ 

These remarks of a learned Lithuanian ecclesiastic express a 
truth generally recognized. They apply to all races and nations. 
A language is the immistakable mark of a distinct ethnical unit 
So long as its language outlives political changes or decays, the 
autonomous existence of a people as a national unit can neither 
be doubted nor destroyed. 

If the saying be true that ^'a language embodies a soul,'' the 
preservation of the national tongue by a racial group must also 
signify the preservation of characteristic traits. A people can 
lose its own independence and prosperity and territory; its place, 
however, among the nations will not be obliterated if it keeps 
alive the flame of national genius and the customs and traditions, 
tenaciously clinging to its own tongue and literature. "In itself," 
says a Lithuanian writer, "a language is of little concern. It is, 
however, the expression of the character of people. Make a 
people cast away its own language, and it will be doomed to 
death.'" 

An historic proof of this assertion is presented by Lithuania 
itself. If the Lithuanian people and their country were not 
erased from the history or geographic map of Europe, the reason 
for their powerful vitality is to be f oimd in the survival of their 

lA. Juaitis, T*# History of the LUhuamimn Nation and Its Present Naiional Aspira^ 
Hon*. Philadelphia* Pa., 1918, pp. 64, 86. 

SBrolia, Unser naiional Charakter und seine Bewahmng, in Allgermeine Litauische Rund- 
tckam, TUdt, 1911, vol. II, p. 306. 

VOL. ex. II 



I63 LITHUANIAN CLERGY AND LITERATURE [Nov., 

national tongue. Without this strong weapon of national exist- 
ence Lithuanians would have been absorbed or assimilated dur- 
ing the trying times when their independence seemed permanently 
lost The statement has occasionally been made, in ignorance of 
course, that the Lithuanian tongue is a Polish or Russian dialect 
and belongs to the family of the Slavic tongues. This gross mis- 
take, as C. Hagberg Wright remarks, was a stratagem of politi- 
cians. In fact, no Slav is able to understand Lithuanian.* So 
widespread is this misapprehension, even among men of letters, 
that in the finest libraries of the United States, for instance the 
Library of Congress in Washington and the Public Library of 
New York, the Lithuanian granunars and dictionaries are found 
in the Slavic section. 

One of the ablest students of Lithuanian literature, August 
Schleicher, says that, among all the Indo-Germanic languages, the 
Lithuanian is distinguished for antiquity, and holds a foremost 
place in linguistic research.^ In fact, it belongs to a special 
group, the Baltic, which embraces old Prussian, Lithuanian, Let- 
tish. The first was buried in the Germanization of Prussia. Its 
few survivals would test the skill and patience of any profes- 
sional philologist. Lettish and Lithuanian, on the contrary, are 
living Indo-European languages spoken in the Baltic provinces. 
Undoubtedly, because of her political relations to the neighboring 
Slavic countries, Lithuania has been affected in her literary evo- 
lution by Slavic grammar and vocabularies, and her language 
has, in turn, left traces of its influence upon Russian and Polish. 
This, however, does not mean that between them there is any gen- 
uine aflSnity.' 

German philologists have emphasized the native beauty and 
the philological value of Lithuanian. In 1800 F. Heilsberg 
wrote: "Lithuanians are notable for their aflfability and loveli- 
ness; they are compassionate to the sufi'ering and hospitable to 

tV. Gaigalaitit, Du Litaniseh BaiHsehe Ffgt. Berlin, 191S, p. 8. 

^Litauiscke GrammaHk, Prague, 18S6, toI. L, p. 2. 

5Ph. Zenthoefer, Dtr Binfluss dgr lUauiichen Spraehe auf dU BUdung dtr im der Rechis 
—und GtrkhUsprache dtr Germantn und alUn DeuUchen in Miti€Uun0»n dt LUauitcktn 
Httrarischgn GtseUchaft, vol. I. Heidelberff, 1880, pp. 101-114; Einflutt IVgstnustmndt €uf 
Li»9U€n vor dtm 12 Jahrhundert, Ibid,, vol. II, 1886, pp. 306-312; E. Wolter, Ltlfcuofiiimtf » tf#r 
rustiseh^lit^uischgn RgchUffPraehe, Ibid., ▼ol. IV, 1894. pp. 49-61; O. Donncr, Ufbtr den 
Einfluss de$ LiUuiscken &uf die finnischtn Spraehen, Leiprif, 1884. 

• C. Uacberg Wright, The Letts in The Edinburgh Review, October. 1917. no. 463. pp. 
347-348. Alio Benjamin W. Dwight. Modem Philology: lU Discoveries, History ond In- 
fluence (lit i«riea). New York, 1871, pp. 113, 114. See The Academy, 1883, October 
28th. p. 308 (no. 547); Ibid., 1883, September 22d, p. 199 (no. 594). 



\ 
\ 

I 



1919.] LITHUANIAN CLERGY AND LtTERATURR 1 63 

foreigners. Crimes among them are extremely rare. Women and 
girls of the Lithuanian stock deserve the highest praise for their 
constant love of purity, and the best evidence of their lofty moral 
standard is given by the fact that the Lithuanian vocabulary has 
no word to signify divorce, and that in the translation of the 
Bible a periphrase is required to render into Lithuanian the 
Sixth Commandment." According to Emmanuel Kant, whom the 
Lithuanians claim as countryman, Lithuanian is a finer language 
than German. ^'It is an ancient and pure tongue, the tongue of a 
people who because of limited territory lived in a state of isola- 
tion, and therefore preserved their customs, traditions, and lan- 
guage."* 

Another German praises the structure and grammatical 
forms of Lithuanian, particularly the richness of its modes and 
tenses, the regularity of 'the declensions, the absence of articles, 
the great number of auxiliary verbs, the use of the dual, enabling 
it to share in the perfection of Greek. 

The truth of these eulogies is borne out by the testimony of 
learned philologists of other countries also. An English scholar 
writes ''that Lithuanian is one of the oldest languages in the 
world. With Lettish, it shares the honor of being the only living 
representative of one of the great families of the Indo-European 
tongues, the Baltic family. From the fact that it has changed 
more slowly than any other of the Indo-European languages, 
which sprang from it, it has been longed beloved by linguists, 
beginning with Kant and Schleicher and ending with such modem 
investigators as Kurschat, Baranovski, Jaunys, Buya and Meillet. 
The language is remarkable for its beauty. Harmonious, richer 
in affectionate and cajoling diminutives than any other of the 
languages of Europe, Lithuanian possesses the sonority of Latin 
and Greek, the primitive qualities of Sanskrit, and the softness 
and musicality of Italian. So well have some of the primitive 
characteristics of this beautiful language been preserved in the 
undisturbed backwaters of Lithuania that, if it were possible for 
the Romans^ and the Greeks to rise from their graves, they would 
have little difficulty in understanding whole sentences as spoken 

TCbr. Gottlieb Mielcke, Littauisch-Deutsches vnd Deutsck LiitaHxschet Wdrterhuck, 
Kdnifsberg, 1900. Preface. 

SOae of the older Lithuanian writers aaaerts the Latin origin of his race because of the 
fact that the Lithuanian tongue bears unmistakable traces of its kinship with Latin. — Quatd^m 
mi Lithumnimm p§rt%n§ntim 9m fraomtntit Mickalonit LUhuani, Rtipublicoi itatut rtgni Polo- 
«<•#. LUhu&nUtt Pfutti90, Livonit divortorum muetorum, Lugduni BaUTontm, 1627, p. 26S. 



I • •. ' 



164 LITHUANIAN CLERGY AND LITERATURE [Nov, 

by the Lithuanians of today, while these could just as easily un- 
derstand some of the phrases of the Sanskrit/" 

The history of the Lithuanian language has passed through 
three distinct phrases: the literary, the grammatical, the politicaL 
The literary, the most important, dawns with the Reformation. 
Strange as it may seem, up to that date Lithuania was devoid of 
written literature. She does not present even fragments extolling 
the deeds of national heroes. The history of Lithuanian literature 
does not boast of productions as the Russian bylines, the Finnish 
Kalevala, or the Scandinavian sagas. To be sure, Lithuanians 
have their own popular poetry, the dainos, domestic songs that 
generally do not cross the threshold of the ancestral house. Lith- 
uanian dainos express a passionate love for the peaceful life of 
the fertile land and impenetrable forests of Lithuania. Generally 
they ignore the turmoil of war and its bloody trophies. They 
portray the real life of the rustic Lithuanian clinging to the soil, 
and finding happiness within the narrow boundaries of his coun- 
try. The relics of this popular literature have been transmitted 
to us by oral tradition. Research into their historic and philo- 
logical value is of recent date, and not until the nineteenth cen- 
tury were they collected as docimients throwing valuable light 
on the earliest period of Lithuanian history.^^ 

The written literature of Lithuania owes its origin to the 
attempts of German Lutherans to scatter the seeds of Protest- 
antism in Lithuania.^^ Following the methods that had been suc- 

9F. Lee, **The Claims of Lithuania,*' in The Contemporary Review, vol. cxii, August, 
1917, p. 182. The first philologist to show the relation between Sanskrit and the Lithuanian 
language was A. F. Pott: De Borusso — Litkuanicae tarn in Slavicie quam Letticis Unguis prin- 
cipatu commentatio, Halis Saxonum, 1837; De linguarum cum LetHcarum vicinis nexu. Ibid., 
1841. See also: Ph. Ruhig, Betrachtung der Litauischen Sprache, in ihrem Urtprunge, Wesen 
und Eigenechaften, Konigsberg, 1745; J. Karlowicz, O Jegyku litewskim (The Lithuanian 
tongue). Krakow, 1875. 

lOF. Kurschat, Etwas Uber liitouitche Volkspoesie, — Dainos in Grammatik der littauischen 
Spraehe, Halle, 1876, pp. 443-464; Ueber das Litauisehe Volkslied oder die Diana, Mitteilungen, 
1883, Tol. i, pp. 186-219; Chr. Bartsch, Ueber Liiauisehe Volksliterature, Ibid., vol. ii, 1883, 
pp. 75-111; F. and H. Tctzner, Litauisehe VoiksgesSnge. Leipzig (Universal Bibliothek, n. 
3694), 1897; Rhesa. Dainos oder Litauischen Volkslieder, Konigsberg, 1825; S. Stanewicz, 
Dainas uemayceiu surynktas yr issdutas par Symona Stanewicse. Vilna, 1829; S. Daukantas, 
Dajnas Ziamajtiu pagal sodiu Dainininku is srassytas. Petrograd, 1846; H. F. Nesselmann. 
Litauisehe Volkslieder gesammelt, kritisch bearbeitet und metrisch ubersetxt. Berlin, 1853; 
A. Schleicher, Litauisehe MSrehen, Sprickworte, Ritsel, und Lieder. Weimar, 1857. 

llFor the history of Lithuanian literature, see: A. Bezzenberg, BeitrSge Mur Gesehiehte der 
Litauischen Sprache auf Grund litauischer Teste des XVI, und des XVII, lahrhundert, 
Uottingen. 1877; Ibid,, Die litauisehe Literatur, in P. Hinneberg. Die Kultur der Gegem' 
wart, vol. ix, Berlin, 1908, pp. 354-371; J. Sliupas. Lietwviskiejic rastai ir rastininkai (Lith- 
uanian writers and writings). Tilsit, 1890; Maironis. Trumpa Lietuviu rasliavos apsvalga 
(A short sketch of Lithuanian Literature), in Lietuvos istorya (History of Lithuania), Petro- 
grad, 1906 (in Lithuanian); J. lurkunas Scheynius Litausk Kultur (Lithuanian civilization), 
Stockholm, 1917. 



1919] Lithuanian Clergy and Literature 165 

cessful in Poland, Bohemia and Croatia, they aroused national 
feeling by translating the Holy Bible or controversial books into 
* the common speech of the people. Protestantism had an ephem- 
eral growth in Lithuania. Some of the nobility and even a few 
of the clergy looked sympathetically upon its expansion and 
welcomed its doctrines." The Calvinist displayed great activity 
in the literary field. The first book in Lithuanian appeared at 
Vilna in 1533 with the following title: Kelone duszios i ana 
gyvenima (The Behavior of the Soul in the After Life). It was 
printed in Gothic letters." The Calvinists founded three printing 
houses in Lithuania.^^ Martin Mazvydys, pastor at Ragait, pub- 
lished in 1547 the Lithuanian translation of the Catechism of 
Luther, a reading book {Pamokinima skaityti), and the first col- 
lection of sacred songs." Two years previous the Little Bible 
had appeared. Another pastor, Baltrus Villentas, translated into 
Lithuanian the Enchiridion of Luther, and in 1579 published the 
Evangelyos del evangeliku (The Gospel for Protestants)." lanis 
Bretkunas, the best known among Calvinist Lithuanian writers, 
pastor at Labguvo, and later at Konigsberg, printed a second col- 
lection of sacred songs {Giesmes duchaunas), ten composed by 
himself and sixty-six translated. He published also the Sunday 
Gospels with commentaries." Thus the earliest pages of Lithu- 
anian literature bear the names of three Prussian writers impreg- 
nated with the spirit and the teaching of the Reformation. It was 
especially by sacred hymns in the vernacular and by parochial 

isp#r Protesiantumus Litauens im XVI, Jakrhundert, AUgemeine Litauiseht Rundschau, 
1910. Yol. i, pp. 50-55, 87-94. 117-125, 154-160. 

ItThe earliest written monument of the Lithuanian language is a daina embroidered on a 
belt in 1512 and preserved at Desda. According to Karbutt, William, Bishop of Modena and 
Legate of the Holj See in Prussia and Courland, hj his translation of the Latin grammar 
of Donatus into Prussian, is the author of the first book written into any of the Baltic lan- 
guages. A. Viscont, La LithuanU religieuse, Geahrt, 1918, p. 78. 

mbid, p. 155. 

usee Lndvikas lonas Reza, Gtschiehte der litauueksn Bibel, Konigsberg, 1816, p. 5; 
A. Bexzenberg, Drr litauisekg Katechismus vom lahrt 1547. Gottingen, 1874; Jacobj, Zur 
Gtsckichtt der lUauiseken Uebersetsung des kleinen Luthersehen Kaieckitmus, Mitteilungen, 
vol. i, pp. 118-129; R. Schwede, Zur GetchichU der litauischen GesangbUeker, Ibid,, vol. iii, 
1888, pp. 396-406. 

1<A. Bezzenberger, Bartholomius fVilUnfs Utauisehe Vtbersgisung des Lutherschen 
Enchiridions und der Episteln und Evangelien, Gottingen, 1882. The translations of Vil- 
lentas were published at Konigsberg in 1579. Among the earliest monuments of the Lithu- 
anian literature are to be mentioned the Ritual of Baptism {Forma chriskstima), printed at 
Kdnigsberg, in 1559, A. Bezzenberg, Das Utauisehe Taufformular vom lahre, 1559. Gdttingen, 
1882 and a Commentary on the Sunday Gospels: W. Gaigalat, Die Wolfenbutteler Utauisehe 
Postnienhandschrift aus dem lahre 1573, Tilsit, 1900. 

ITA. Bezzenberger, Zur Litauischen Literaturgeschichte, MUteiiungen, vol. iii. pp. 12M29; 
L. Q^Utr, Bretkunova Litavska postiUa is god 1591, Zagreb, 1877 (in Croatian). 



l66 LITHUANIAN CLRRGY AND LiTERATURR IN«V., 

schools that they attracted the Lithuanian peasants to Lutheran 
teaching. 

The Lithuanians and even the Polish Catholic clergy were 
soon aware of the grievous danger to Catholic faith in the literary 
invasion of the Lutherans of Prussia, The Polish clergy had 
neglected the use of the language of the people in their relations 
with their flock. They despised a tongue that had no literature, 
and strove to make Polish the common language of Lithuania. 
Polish was the language of education, of the law courts, and of 
the upper classes. It was held, therefore, to be the only one fit 
for the spiritual care of souls. The result of this policy proved 
disastrous to the development of Lithuanian Catholicism. 

Melchior Giedrajtis, Bishop of Samogitia, in a letter to the 
General of the Jesuits (1587), stated that, because of the neglect 
of the Lithuanian tongue by the clergy, many Catholics never 
went to confession or Conununion. They ignored their prayers, 
and the rudimenta fidei. They offered victims to serpents, oaks 
and thunder. Their piety consisted only in refraining from eat- 
ing meat on Friday or from going to the Lutheran Church." 

The Jesuits, who had been invited to take up the defence of 
the Catholic faith and to establish a Catholic academy at Yilna, 
resolutely initiated a movement in favor of Lithuanian. Some of 
their priests, especially E. Boeck and G. Knishius, preached in 
Lithuanian, and their sermons met with great success. Their ini- 
tiative saved Lithuania to the Church and raised a barrier against 
German Protestantism and Russian Orthodoxy. A well-known 
Russian Panslavist, Hilferding, is forced to admit their services 
as regards Lithuanian nationality." 

The pioneer in the literary Catliolic reaction in Lithuania 
was Nicholas (Mikalojus) Dauksza. He still holds the place of 
honor in the history of Lithuanian literature. From the stand- 
point of style he may be compared to Peter Skarga, exerting the 
same influence upon Lithuania as the latter did upon Polish. Some 
writers assert that he was a Jesuit, but this is denied by the best 
Lithuanian scholars. Simon Dakamitas calls him a canon of Samo- 
gitia {kanauninkas Zemaicziu) j^^ and Bishop Kazimieras Valan- 

ISLithuanicarum Societatis Jesu hiiioriarum pars ottctore Stanislao Rostovski, recognot- 
cente Joanne Martinov, Parii, 1877, p. 153; K. Propolanis, PoUkie apostohstwo w Litwie 
(The Polish apostleship in Lithuania). Wilno, 1913, p. 23. 

IBLtHra t Zhnud (Lithuania and Samogitia) in Sobranii Sochinenii (collected worka), 
vol. ii, p. 374. 

iOLietuvos istorija nu Gedimma iki Liublino unijai (History of Lithuania from Gcdy- 
minas down to the union of Lublin). (In Lithuanian.) Plymouth, Pa., 1897, p. 519. 



19.) LiTHUANiAN CLERGY AI^D LITERATURE 167 

czauskas adds that he belonged to the Qiapter of Wamia. In 
1595 he published at Vilna the Lithuanian translation of the 
Qiristian doctrine or catechism by Diego Ledesma, S. J., printed 
in Spanish in Rome, 1573." His translation, like the other pro- 
ductions of his pen, was based upon the Polish edition. In 1599, 
at Vilna, from the press established by the Jesuits in their acad- 
emy, there appeared his literary masterpiece, the translation of 
the Commentary on the Sunday Gospels written in Polish by F. 
Wuik, S. J.** The beauty and classical perfection of its style 
gives to this work in Lithuanian literature the value of an original 
composition. Because of this work, the modest canon of Wamia 
is recognized as the pioneer of the Lithuanian literaary renais- 
sance." 

A worthy follower of Dauksza was Konstantinas Sirvydas 
(died 1631) a Jesuit, who wrote the first Lithuanian grammar 
and dictionary. He translated from Polish and published at 
Vilna in 1629 a collection of sermons {Punktay Sakimu)^ re- 
printed in the same town in 1845 by Rev. Leonas Mantvydas, 
pastor of Sedos. But his translation was far from attaining 
Dauksza's perfection of style. His work, however, holds second 
place among the monuments of early Lithuanian literature.*^ 

The literary awakening of Lithuania, alas, was short-lived. 
It lasted as long as the danger of Protestant proselytism whetted 
the zeal of the clergy. When the Catholic reaction gained the 
ascendancy, Lithuanian sermons became rare in the churches, 
Polish sacred songs replaced the Lithuanian, Lithuanian prayer- 
books gradually disappeared and the common people grew hard- 
ened in religious ignorance. The literary production of Lithuania 
in the seventeenth century is confined to a few books published 
by Lithuanian Protestants in Prussia. From Prussia, too, came 

llA new edition of this nre book with teTeral erudite prefaces mnd appendices was pub- 
lished bjr £. Volter in the Yolume liii of the Zapiski of the Imperial Academy of Sciences in 
Fetrograd: LitovskU KaHkhigis N. Daukssi po isdaniu 1595 goda (The Lithuanian catechism 
by N. Daufcssa accordinf to the edition of 1595), Petrograd. 18M. In Russian, see J. Bystron, 
Katgehhism Ltdtsmy w prMekhdMti IVitehodniO'Kierwskim (The catechism of Ledesma in the 
translation of Eastern Lithuanian). In Polish, Krakow, 1890. 

9»Postittm kttolicka, Ui #/# ItMguUymat BvangtKju kiekvUnos ntdtUs w sMvtnUs pt 
visus mHus, iu UnkitMko perguldyta, Vilna, 1599. The work, with a learned preface (in 
Russian) was reprinted by P. Th. Fortunatov: Postitts etioKcka Jakuv9 Vyuka v Ktcvskom 
p^fivodU Nikctaia Damkski (The (Utholic Postil of lakub Vyuk in iU Lithuanian translation). 
Petrograd, 1904. 

»E. Volter. AT. Dmuksn, tin IH^witchtr NaHon^isehriftsUlUt dfs XVI. JaktrtmdgrU, UU- 
Uihm§9m, irol. iv, pp. 363-375; LiftmnsMkigjt Rasstai, pp. 7. 8. 

SUUcbard Garbe. SMytwidTM Pumkty k^Mmn iPunktay Sakimu) vom Uhre 1«29. (Sottingen, 
1885. See Maironis, Linwvos irtorifm, p. 217; HtuvisMkUjt ItMMtm. Tilsit, 1890, p. 15. 



l6S LITHUANIAN CLERGY AND LITERATURE [Nov., 

the best Lithuanian poet of the eighteenth century, Kristijonas 
Dunelaitis, who by his poem Melas (The Seasons)^ enriched his 
country with a work of great beauty and genuine poetical inspira- 
tion. "The poems/' writes W. Vidunas, "of Dunelaitis became a 
classical text for the study of Lithuanian. Their importance grew 
as time went on. Their beauty was carefully brought out. His 
admirers went so far as to proclaim that they were the only Lith- 
uanian poems worthy of mention.'*** 

Considerable literary activity marks the beginning of the 
nineteenth century. As before, it received a powerful impetus 
from the clergy. Antanas Drazdaukas,*^ a poet, whom his ad- 
mirers compare to Beranger among the French and Karpinski 
among the Poles, wrote a fiery invective against those of the 
clergy who neglected the common speech of the people in their 
apostolic ministry. "Daring boldness! You come into Lithuania 
without knowing the Lithuanian language, and you hurt the in- 
terests of the Church rather than foster them. All understoo<^ 
Christ and His disciples when they taught the divine wisdom. 
But you, you are the only one to understand your speech, while 
your spiritual flock are dying of starvation. They asked for 
bread, and there was none to give it to them. Don't you know 
that faith comes from hearing, and how can you be heard when 
you do not talk the language of your flock nor care to learn it? 
. . . No wonder then if the enemy steps in and sows tares. 
You do not act as befits good-hearted men and zealous priests. 
Who banished from Lithuanian parishes the Lithuanian sacred 
songs, and rosaries, that were so useful to the knowledge of the 
mysteries of faith? Did you not deprive those who cannot read 
of an instrument of learning? Who compelled the Lithuanians 
to forget their prayers, the Our Father, Hail Mary, the Creeds, 
and the Commandments of God? You know how to shear your 
sheep, but you do not take care to pasture them." 

There can be no doubt that the strictures of Drazdaukas are 

2SSee Ludyikas lonas Reza, Dot lakr in vier Gesingen. Ein tdndisches Epos ins Deutschs 
Ubgrtngen, Konigsberg, 1818; A. Schleicher. Christian Donaleitis Litauischg Dichtungen. 
Erst* vollstindige Ausgabe mit Glossar, Petrograd, 1865; G. H. F. Nesselniann, Christian 
Donatitins Ottauischt Dichtungen nach dtn Kdnigsherger Handsehriften mit metrischsr Usber- 
sstMung, kritischen Anmerkungen und genauem Glossary Konigsberg, 1869; Ch. Donalitiut; 
Litauiseh* Dichtnngen, herausgegehen von Nesselmann, Kdnigsberg, 1884; L. Passarge* 
Christian DonaHtius Htauischo Dichtungen uebersstst nnd erUtutert, Halle, 1894; P. Tetzner, 
Christian Donaiitius, Alipreussischs Monatssehrift, 1897, vol. xsxit, pp. 277-331 ; 409-441. 

S6La Lithuanie dans Is passi et It present, p. 115. 

3TJf. Liii, RasMtai, p. 120. 



191^0 LlTHUANtAN ClEMGV AND LiTERATVME 169 

bitter, even cruel. It would be unjust, however, to say that they 
were not justified by the lamentable indifference of the clergy to 
the Lithuanian peasantry. Drazdaukas only repeated what Nich- 
olas Dauksza had complained of two centuries earlier in the first 
page of the Lithuanian translation of the Postilla Catholicka. But 
the sarcastic onslaught of the Lithuanian priest achieved its pur-' 
pose. The native Lithuanian clergy who had been denationalized 
in Polish seminaries felt ashamed of their ignorance of their 
mother tongue. They began to study and preach in Lithuanian, 
and to cultivate Lithuanian literature, and favor all the literary 
enterprises for the awakening of Lithuanian nationalism. The 
Bishops took a considerable part in the rebirth of the nation. 
Monseigneur Antanas Baranauskas, Bishop of Sejni, equaled and 
even surpassed the literary renown of Dunalaitis in his poem 
Ankyszcziu Sgilelys (The Forest of Ankysciu), published in 186L 

Bishop Antanas Baranauskas (Baronas) was bom in the 
little town of Ankysciu.^^ He pursued his studies in the seminary 
of Wamia and also in Munich and Rome. In 1884 he was con- 
secrated suffragan Bishop of Kovno, and in 1897 transferred to 
the see of Sejni, where he died in 1902. Baranauskas was a 
scholar of note, a learned philologist, and a delicate poet. His 
researches in the ancient fragments of the Baltic languages rank 
among the best contributions to the historic granunar of his 
native tongue. But his popularity is due to The Forest of Anky- 
sciu. This poem, qualified by Maironis as *^the pearl of the Lith- 
uanian language," appeared in 1861. It perpetuates the tradi- 
tions of the Dainos; it reflects the Lithuanians' love for rustic life, 
for the soil that they till, and speaks in the mysterious language 
of the forests and lakes. It is not epic in its conception, but 
rather a series of pictures, after the fashion of an idyl. It won 
for its venerable author the title of bard of Lithuania. 

From a literary point of view, the influence of Motiejces 
Kazimeras Valancauskas on the modem cultural development of 
Lithuania was even more considerable. He was bom in the vil- 
lage of Nastrania, district of Telsze, in 1801. After his ordina- 
tion he filled the chair of theology in the ecclesiastical academy 
of Vilna, and was appointed rector of the Seminary of Wamia. 
In 1850 he was consecrated Bishop of Kovno (Samogitia), and 
died in this town in 1875. His name is attached to the beginnings 

tSMainmit, op, cU,, p. 146. 



170 LITHUANIAN CLERGY AND LiTEMATVME [Nov., 

of research into the historical past of Lithuania, as also widi the 
social movement among the Lithuanian Catholics. The most 
valuable production of his literary labor is The History of the 
Diocese of SamogUia^ a work that exceeds the limits of its sub- 
ject, and assumes the importance of a general history of Lithu- 
ania. The list of his writings by E. Walter contains twenty-seven 
titles. He enriched the ascetic literature of Lithuania with a 
great number of devotional books, both original and translated 
from other languages. 

At the suggestion of Bishop Valancauskas, Simanas Daukan- 
tas (1793-1864), devoted himself to historical research, and in 
1845 published at Petrograd his masterpiece on the traditions 
and customs of old Lithuania, an invaluable woik for the study 
of folk-lore. Lithuanians are indebted to him for the first and 
most complete history of their own country from Gedynimas down 
to the Union of Lublin."* 

A Lithuanian priest also, Antonas Juskevycius (1819-1880), 
deserves the highest praise for having spent his whole life in 
amassing, arranging and illustrating the riches of Lithuanian pop- 
ular poetry. He collected 5,624 dainos.*^ The wonderful mas- 
tery of Lithuanian folk-lore possessed by this modest priest is 
shown by his authoritative woik on the marriage customs of the 
Lithuanians of the district of Wieluni, published at Kazan in 
1870 and subsequently translated into German.*' After the dras- 
tic measures taken by the Russian Government to extirpate the 
Lithuanian language,** the best minds of Lithuania were obliged 
to write their own productions in Russian, and found professional 
activity only in the chairs of Russian universities. The Russian 
Government regarded the study of Lithuanian as the pastime of 

^^AprasMos Zemaftiu IViskuputes (Description of the diocese of Samogitia). Vilna, 1848. 
A new edition of bit erudite work was published at Shenandoah, Pa., by Rev. V. Matulaicius, 
1897. Biographical data about the author in Lietuvisskieje Rasstau PP* S2-74; Maironis, 
op. cit., pp. 237-240; Mat&us Kazimir Wolonczewski, MitttUungen, vol. iii, 1888, pp. 102-104. 

tOLietuvos istorifa nuo teniausiu gadyniu iki Gedimmni Didsiam Littuvos Kunigaikseim 
(Uistory of Lithuania from the prehistoric age down to Prince Gediminas the Great), Ply- 
mouth, Pa., 189t. The second volume was published in 1897. Concerning the writer see 
E. Volter, Simon Dowkont, Mitteilungen, vol. iii, 1888, pp. 260-26S; Haironis, pp. 235-237. 

nUetuviskot dajnos usrasytos par Antana Juskevice. Vol. i and ii, Kasan, 1880; vol. 
iii, 1882. The fourth volume, entitled: LUtuviskos svotbmtt dmjnot (Popular nuptial songs), 
was published in Petrograd, 1883. 

tlVothine teda Veluncyciu Littuviu sutasyta par Antana Juskeviet 1870 metusf. Kazan, 
1880. HcckMeitsbriuch€ dt WitUmitcktn, LUauer, Mittlilungen, vol. Ui, pp. 134-178; 201-248; 
321-383. The writer has left also a monumental Dictionary of the Lithuanian language. 

SlSee Perkunelis, Prttsg-vgrbot in gross'LUausn durck Graf MwravUm, 1863-1904. AW- 
gemeimt LitanUche Rundsckau, Tilsit, 1910, pp. 73-80; 108-117. 



I9I9] LITHUANIAN Clergy AND LITERATUHE 17 1 

phylological dilettanti rather than as the expression of the living 
soul of a gifted people. 

Happily, the Lithuanian language flourished outside of the 
historic Lithuania. Tilsit became the literary centre of Lithu- 
anian literature. In 1883, at Ragnit, appeared the Auszra^ a lit- 
erary magazine to which the best writers of Lithuania contributed, 
especially Dr. Jonas Basanavycius, an authority on Lithuanian 
archaeology. 

Lidiuanian emigrants to America loyally preserved the love 
of their native coimtry, and actually created an entire literature 
to fill the gap of their earlier literary history under the persecu- 
tion of tsaristic Russia.*^ The first Lithuanian paper of the 
United States, Vienybe Lietuvninku (Lithuanian Unity), appeared 
at Plymouth in 1885. At present the number of Lithuanian 
papers and magazines in this country exceeds thirty-five. The 
masterpieces of all literatures, especially of Polish, Russian, 
English and German, have been translated into Lithuanian. An 
untiring worker in this field was a former pupil of the seminary 
of Seiny, Dr. Vincas Kudirka (1858-1899), who translated into 
his mother tongue the works of Slovacki, Schiller, Mickiewicz, 
B3rron and others. 

To evaluate accurately the production of Lithuanian writers- 
outside of Lithuania during the forty years of the ostracism of the 
Lithuanian language in Russia, one would have to cover the 
works embraced in the careful bibliographies of Jonas 2^av- 
ikutis." 

In 1905, at the beginning of the Russian revolution, a liter- 
ary revival took place in Lithuania. The clergy contributed to its 
progress. Under the pseudonym of Maironis, M onsignor John 

Mlnteresting data oa this subject will be found in the yearbook of the Lithuanian clergy 
edited bj Her. P. Lapelit: Amtrikos LUtuviu kat^Uku: MttratHt 1916. Chicago, 1916. 

^SusMim 0rba stoHstica vitn LUtuvitsku knygu oUamstu Prusust nu 1864 metHiki pa- 
Mgai 1896 mrtu (List or statistics of Lithuanian books printed in Prussia from 1864 till 
1896). lUsit, 1897; Suskmta arba tMistika visu lUiuvissku knyguaUpauttu Amerikof nuo 
pmidos LietuvisMkcs Amerikoi emigfcijos iki 1900 metm (List or statistics of Lithuanian 
books published in America from the beginning of emigration to America down to 1900). 
Plymouth, Pa^ 1900. (In Lithuanian.) The richest Lithuanian bibliography is that com- 
piled by S. Baltramaitis and published by the Academy of Sciences of Petrograd: Sbomik 
bibKograpkitheskikh maierimlov d/i# §eografii % statittiki Liivy (Collection of bibliographical 
material eonceming the geography, ethnography and statistics of Lithuania). Petrograd, 1881. 
(In Russian.) As to the earliest Lithuanian bibliography see M. Stankiewics, BibUografia 
Htewska od 1547 do 1701 (Lithuanian bibliography from 1547 till 1701). Krakow, 1889. 
Id Polish; Ibid,, W tprawit gromrndsenia m^terymhw do dMtgjow PismUnmicta Ktewtkiego, 
(The qtMStion of the assembly of material c onc erning the history of Lithuanian literature.) 
Krakew, 1890. 



172 Lithuanian Clbrgy AND Literature (Nov., 

Matsulevic, rector of the Seminary of Kovno, published a great 
number of delicate lyrical poems, which brought him great pop- 
ularity. Mention may be made only of the following: Pavasaris 
bahai (Voices of Spring) and Parskausmus Garbe (Through Suf- 
ferings to Glory. A pioneer of the Lithuanian Catholic press was 
Rev. Aleksandros Dambraukas, bom in 1861, whose activity was 
not confined to literature. He founded the theological monthly 
magazine Draugija (The Society), the leading organ of the Lith- 
uanian clergy. As chairman of the Society of St. Kasimir, 
founded for the purpose of publishing scientific and religious 
books, he stimulated popular culture and even brought to light the 
first Catholic translation of the whole Bible by Joseph Skvireckas, 
professor at the Seminary of Kovno.** The Catholic daily Viltis 
(Hope), at Vihia, was foimded in 1907 by Rev. Joseph Tumas, 
and later on directed by Rev. F. Kemesis, who at present is an 
indefatigable champion of the Lithuanian Catholic press in the 
United States. Three Lithuanian priests of the diocese of Vilna, 
Novicki, M ironas, and Petrulis inaugurated the publication of the 
Ausra, an illustrated weekly. The learned historian of Lithuania 
under the Poles, Kazimiras Propolanis, rector of the Church of 
St. Stanislas in Rome, founded the ecclesiastical review Vadovas 
(The Guide) at Sejni. At the same town there has been pub- 
lished Saltinis (The Source), a weekly largely circulated among 
Lithuanian Catholics and founded by Rev. Joseph Laukaitis. 

In 1914 twenty-five papers and magazines, of which seven- 
teen had a frankly Catholic character, appeared in Lithuania. 
The SakiniSf as I was told in Lithuania, issues more than 50,000 
copies a week. Between 1904-1914 the Lithuanian press pub- 
lished over twenty-five hundred volumes originally printed in 
Lithuanian or translated from other languages. The number of 
original woiks is steadily increasing. Dramatists of renovm, like 
Keturakis, Gizutis, and Vidimas, the author of the Shakespearean 

t6The earliest tnntlator of the Bible into Lithuanian was Jonas Bretkunas. Maironis, 
op, cit,, p. 214. The first printed Lithuanian Bible was that of Samuel Boleslas Chilinskis 
(London, 1660). See: An account of the trafuluiicn of thcBibU into the Lithuonian tongue. 
Oxford, 1659; M. Stankiewicz, Study ia bibliograficsne nod literatura litewska, Wiadomosc o 
Biblii KtewtkUf, drukowanej w Londyni* 1663 rohu, i o wrsekomyn jej tlomacMU Samuelu 
Boguslvwic Chytinskim, (Bibliographical studies in Lithuanian literature. A monograph on 
the Lithuanian Bible printed in London in 1663 and the supposed translator Samuel Boguslaw 
Chylinski.) Krakow, 1886; H. Reinhold, Die sogennante Chylinskische BibelubersetMung, in 
Mitteiiungen, vol. iv, pp. 105-163; 207-273. Reza published his translation of the Lithuanian 
Bible in 1824. Biblia, tai esti, IVitsas Sewentas Rasstas Seno ir Naujo Testamento, Lietu- 
wiukay perstallytas, ism naujo perweiadetas ir ketwirta karia isMspaustas, Tilsit, 1824. 



1919) Lithuanian Clergy and Literature 173 

trilogy Probociu Seseliai (The Ancestors' Shadows) are striving 
to lay the foundations of a national theatre. Satrijos Ragana, 
Bite, Lazdinu Peleda, Zemaite have shown that Lithuanian women 
are anxious to contribute to the upbuilding of an independent 
literary Lithuania. Their novels, filled with graceful descriptions 
of rural life, testify to the flexibility of the Lithuanian tongue 
and the richness of its vocabulary. 

The linguistic argument is brought forward by the leaders 
of Lithuanian nationalism who aim at the political freedom of 
their own coimtry. If Lithuania is peopled with a race ethnic- 
ally distinct from the Slavic races, if the best proof of this asser- 
tion is afforded by the language, if Lithuanian culture develops 
independently from that of the other peoples with whom in the 
past the country was forcibly associated, then, at this time, when 
the small nationalities of Europe are rising from lethargy or 
oppression, there is no reason to deny to Lithuanians the right to 
proclaim their political autonomy, to mark their own boimdaries, 
and to establish in their native capital, Vilna, the centre of 
Lithuanian culture. Between Germans, Russian and Poles, Lith- 
uania has fought the hardest battles for the preservation of her 
national existence. Russians were not able to absorb Lithuania 
by violence, nor could the Germans and Poles succeed in their 
endeavors to denationalize her by means of their culture. 

At the end of his interesting work, Luhuania, Past and 
Present, Vidunas writes as follows: "The great powers want to 
bury the Lithuanian language and customs. Of course they 
attribute to their own culture a greater value. This is the con- 
viction of Russians, as well as of Poles and Germans. These 
peoples are animated by plans to spread their power. By means 
of the absorption of so many living forces they hope to strengthen 
their own national body. They wish to expand their own influ- 
ence at the expense of the weak. The Lithuanian tongue is 
threatened with extinction. The study, however, of the Indo- 
European language shows its grammatical importance. It holds 
a foremost place in the history of philology; it throws light upon 
the modes of thought and the speech of a group of races. Hence 
it follows that from the point of view of civilization, the Lithu- 
anian nation is entitled to live its own life. It would be wrong 
to object that the civilizing power of that tongue is exhausted. 
We are just beginning to achieve great philological value. But, 



174 MEMORIES OF FRANCE [Nov., 

however that may be, it would be unfair to base upon the civil- 
izing power of a language the right to existence. No men can 
take the life of those who, according to their notions, are im- 
worthy to live; for the Almighty called them to existence. The 
same is true with peoples. The divine power leads them through 
the intricate windings of history, and assigns to each its place 
and role.** 

We subscribe to these wise words. If the World War has 
been waged with the purpose of re-establishing the freedom of 
races enslaved to ambitious and unscrupulous power, and if one 
of its chief aims was the defence of small nationalities, Lithuania 
may justly claim her own national autonomy. If the hour has 
now struck for the full awakening of Lithuania, we feel that this 
joyful revival of a vigorous race will serve the interests of Chris- 
tian civilization and add to the list of Catholic nations a people 
that never flinched from its devotion to the Catholic Church, even 
in the face of martyrdom and violent denationalization. 



MEMORIES OF FRANCE. 

BY FRANCIS P. DONNELLY, S. J. 
A " gpltrmghe," Irish dirge written with GdeUe **intemdl rime,*' to the mr: Lament ofMcnree, 

The lilies of France, once fair and white, 

Were bright in bloom and gladdened the glance; 
Their dance was the dance of fairy sprite; 

Ah, light of poise were the lilies of France! 
Lilies of France, your snows have all fled; 

And wet are the eyes you held to entrance; 
Lilies of France upon you have tears bled; 

You are red like the poppy, lilies of France! 

The woods of Argonne, green home of song. 

Where thronging birds ever blithely trilled on. 
Where echoing dells held melody long, 

Ah, glossy green leaves had the woods of Argonne! 
Woods of Argonne, your music is hushed. 

Where rushed the harsh din till the battle was won. 
Woods of Argonne, where our fair ones lie crushed. 

Fall has blushed there forever, woods of Argonne! 




TREASURES THAT GROW NOT OLD. 

BY FANNY MORTON PECK. 

|ERTAIN citizens of New York claim with pride to 
belong to that exclusive class of natives whose in- 
terest in monuments and objects of art is not damp- 
ened by proximity, who have seen all the sights of 
the metropolis, have scaled the heights and probed 
the depths, have admired its most familiar wonders and enjoyed 
the beauties hidden from all but its inner circle. If such a one 
would come nearer to having a clean bill of metropolitan experi- 
ence, I would suggest an addition to the record of his accomplish- 
ment. In one of the most accessible parts of town, in the imme- 
diate vicinity of the Cathedral, may be found a museum of un- 
usual content, whose exhibits not only interest, but, better, inspire 
the spectator with an edification worth going far to seek, for they 
are the trophies of victors in a great war, the war daily renewed 
of Qirist and His missionaries against ignorance and error. I 
refer to the Museum of the Missions in the office of the Society 
for the Propagation of the Faith. The following brief descrip- 
tion of certain of the exhibits chosen at random will introduce 
the collection to those of our readers to whom it is unknown. 

Since 1909 Monsignor John J. Dunn has been amassing his 
treasures, as there arrived by degrees from mission lands gifts 
and specimens from the grateful priests and sisters whom he has 
aided by his contributions of money and supplies. At present 
one room of good size houses the exhibition. Around the walls 
and surmounting the cases one sees ominous-looking weapons of 
war and of the chase, discarded deities, helmets used in African 
devil-worship, snowshoes from the frozen North, and so on, a 
testimony to the obedience of the Qiurch's emissaries to Christ's 
designation of the whole world as a mission field and every 
creature as a hearer of the preaching of the Gospel. 

That no comer is too dark and no soul too humble is borne 
witness to by the objects shown in the section devoted mainly to 
Africa and the islands of the Pacific. In these lands, remote 
from Christian influence, Satan himself directly is the worst foe 



176 Treasures that Grow not Old [Nov., 

of the missionary, and some of the contributions sent by the in- 
trepid priests who must contend against devil-worship are sinister 
in the extreme. A large wooden dagger of peculiar shape was 
once a factor in diabolical seances in Lower Nigeria, and some 
of the native converts testified to having seen it, in their pagan 
days, move long distances through the air unsupported. Near 
it is a wooden gavel, formerly used to summon the devil-worship- 
pers to their orgies. Scarcely less unpleasant is a headsman's 
block from Dahomey, the actual basis of execution of many an 
unfortunate in that State. Here is a handful of leopard's teeth 
bimched together, employed as a charm against evil. 

A glimpse of native life is given by a child's ^^dress," a 
hoop of soft woven material in imitation of snakeskin; a neck- 
lace, also of snakeskin, with bell attached, by means of which 
the whereabouts of the baby yielding to wanderlust could be 
ascertained; and a sample of red material, looking like stiff 
paper, but in reality bark cloth, out of which, when they attend 
to the matter at all, the natives make strong and comfortable 
clodiing. A model of a British East African canoe is long and 
shaped like our newspaper boats of long ago, with planks sewn 
together with thongs, and, notwithstanding the fact that the swell- 
ing of the wood in the water closes to some extent the holes thus 
made, constant bailing is necessary to keep afloat. 

The most arresting exhibit from the Gilbert Islands is some 
garlands of human teeth, formerly used as dancing ornaments, 
and obtained by a cannibal tribe from the bodies of their victims. 
To offset this gruesome story, it is comforting to be able to relate 
that this same tribe has now been entirely converted to Catholi- 
cism. 

Across the room is the British Indian collection, with many 
samples of the domestic and religious art of the country. Really 
beautiful are some alabaster elephants equipped with houdahs, 
and a pair of candlesticks, whose bases are curved serpents' tails, 
while half a shelf is given up to a series of little silver images 
illustrative of the popular life and beliefs of the natives. A 
pair of shoes, of the style we have here, suitable for the muddy 
roads of India, must reduce shoe designing to a pathetic sim- 
plicity. A wooden sole rests on two horizontal pieces of the same 
material, and, as the donor points out, when a small knob set 
towards the front has been firmly grasped by the big toe and its 



I9«9] TREASURES THAT GROW NOT OLD 177 

neighbor, laces or buttons are superfluous! Idols there are 
aplenty, conspicuous by the hideousness of their traits, the notable 
exception being an exquisite reclining Buddha of alabaster, one 
of the finest pieces in the entire collection. 

A most diverting series of statues, which have outlived their 
usefuhiess even for the missions, has been donated by Father 
Aelen, of Nellore, of which we may mention representations of 
St. Antony, who has been reconstructed piecemeal, as each part 
of him died of old age; and of St. Francis Xavier, whose beard 
and stole alone betray him. An Infant Jesus in the Manger is 
strongly suspected by Father Aelen of having seen service as an 
idol in former years. But presently the smile that could not be 
suppressed is forgotten, and the hardships and privations of the 
life of the heroic missionary, of which these figures are but the 
humorous expression, are borne in upon us very forcibly. At 
sight of his old shoes, worn to shreds in God's service and re- 
placed as a great event by a convert on the occasion of his mar- 
riage, we stand in quiet awe, and feel that we are in very truth 
in presence of treasures that grow not old. 

The Japanese section of the museum is next in order, and 
is a veritable Pantheon of Buddhist and Shintoist divinities. A 
delightful little bronze statue represents Shaku (Buddha) as a 
boy, with the right hand pointing towards heaven and the left to 
earth, standing poised for the legendary three steps forward and 
four backward, which it is alleged he took at birth, exclaiming: 
"I alone under heaven and on earth merit all respect." Passing 
with a mention Fu-Do the Immovable, designed to frighten evil- 
doers, and Aizen-Mijo-0, a rather novel conception of the god of 
love, of ferocious aspect, with three eyes and six arms, we pause 
a moment before two handsome gilded specimens of the Fox Cod, 
the favorite deity of Osaka, sitting facing each other, each with 
one paw raised and tail stiffly erect. The sender writes that 
most of the shops and homes of Osaka have a god-shelf, with its 
pair of male and female foxes. In the grounds of nearly all 
the factories is a fox shrine, endorsed by "the firm," who would, 
they say, expose themselves to ruin by neglecting this practice. 

Bearing the foxes company are Ama Inu, the celestial dogs 
that guard the entrance to the Shinto temples. Cerberus himself 
is no fiercer, and the Shintoists who repair to their places of 
worship for prayer possess in full measure the courage of their 

VOL. ex. 13 



178 TREASURES THAT GROW NOT OLD [Nov., 

convictions* The bronze female figure, clad in a red cloak, whom 
we next observe, is presented to us as Kishi-Bojin, formerly a 
woman who devoured children, in second life a demon for pun- 
ishment and the mother of five himdred infants, of whom she 
was condemned to consume one daily. Having been converted by 
Buddha, the Japanese adore her as the protector of children, and 
offer her as ex-votos the clothing and toys of their deceased 
little ones* 

Further on, it is pleasanter to behold a small wooden figure 
of Diakoku, the most popular of the seven gods of happiness, 
squatting upon his inevitable sacks of rice* Numerous little 
shrines or altars are to be seen here and there, one to Buddha in- 
voking him as the "protector of sinners.'* Two very beautiful 
objects are a pair of yellow copper candlesticks, such as are 
used in Nippon as o£ferings to Buddha. The base is a tortoise, 
who is symbolic of ten thousand years of life, and upon his back 
stands a crane, representing a thousand years, who holds the 
candle — ^both exquisitely fashioned. 

In addition to religious trophies our museum contains many 
charming examples of the art of the Land of the Rising Sun, and 
as well some exhibits of real historical value, for instance, the 
small sabre in the collection of swords, most of them about a 
hundred years old. It was once the property of a woman of the 
Samurai, and is suggestive of a sinister page in the history of 
Japan. In accordance with a very old custom each daughter of 
a lordly house, when about to be married, was presented with 
such a sabre, with the following injunction: "You are about to 
leave your house and now belong to your husband and his fam- 
ily. For your honor and ours, you can never return here. If 
any difficulties arise which you cannot bear, take this sabre and 
put an end to your troubles.'* Even the yoimg and weak were 
not spared the tragic duty of hari karu 

The gentle influence of Qiristianity is gradually driving 
these dire customs into the background, and we turn with relief 
to the objects belonging to or made by the Catholic Japanese, 
whose minds are filled with kinder thoughts than suicide, demons 
and false gods. The number of these Catholics is being daily 
augmented, thanks to Japan's zealous bishops and missionaries. 
Here telling proofs of their success greet us on all sides, ranging 
from the fan of a pagan priest of Hokkaido, who exchanged the 



I9T9.1 TREASURES THAT GROW NOT OLD 1 79 

garb of a bonze for the habit of a Trappist lay-brother, to the 
necklace of a sorceress, sent by Bishop Berlioz of Hakodate* Its 
owner was converted by a woman catechist, and died some years 
ago in excellent dispositions and was followed into the Churc) 
by her blind husband and her son. 

Two hand-painted china dishes bear the images respectively 
of Qirist and the Blessed Virgin. Their decidedly Japanese fea- 
tures and the sti£f folds of the robe of Our Lord are at first aston- 
ishing, but surprise soon yields to the gratifying realization that 
Catholicism has indeed become the lasting belief of many of 
the natives of Japan, and that East and West have not only met, 
but become one in honoring Jesus and His Blessed Mother. A 
bell which was in use for many years at the isolated Hakodate 
mission has been sent by Bishop Berlioz. Could it speak English, 
its tongue would tell us, I am convinced, golden tales of piety 
and heroism and, its work taken up by a more powerful succes- 
sor, its faithful service surely entitles it to the honored place it 
now occupies. Not far oflf is an Imperial Cup of white and green 
china, which was granted to Father Jacquet, Bishop Berlioz's 
Vicar General, for exceptional services during the famine of 
1905; and beside it, in a basket, are samples of the food eaten 
by the natives during that famine, dried grains of wheat and two 
hard substances which give every indication of being nothing 
more nor less than stones. 

We shall close our account, necessarily incomplete, of the 
exhibits from the Island Kingdom, with a word or two about a 
little bronze statue, from Hakodate, of the Blessed Virgin and 
her Divine Child, both as unmistakably Japanese as the artist 
who fashioned them during, or shortly after, the time of St. 
Francis Xavier. The statue was left by the last member of a 
Christian family to his pagan relatives, whose descendants have 
had it for three himdred years. It is to be hoped that the light 
of faith will not be denied to the present members of the family, 
whose roof was shared for so long with the Mother of Divine 
Grace. 

The Chinese section of the museum is the last and, perhaps, 
the most interesting, for the missionaries from the Celestial King- 
dom have been particularly generous in their contributions. To 
many of us China seems a mission land par excellence. Its enor- 
mous extent, its conservatism as old as the world, and the conse- 



iSo TREASURES THAT GROW NOT OLD [Nov , 

quent dangers, never wholly absent, for the valorous priests who 
brave them with a divine equanimity, make it loom large upon 
the horizon of the pagan world. Who of us, in extreme youth, 
was not admonished to put by pennies for the rescue of Chinese 
infants? In consequence, if we weathered our first natural storm 
of indignation over the privations entailed, many of us grew up 
with an interest in the babies we had saved and in their ensuing 
career, and from them our solicitude took in the Church in gen- 
eral, of which they are no doubt by this time stable pillars. 

The Chinese exhibit aboimds in charming bits of local color. 
Quantities of opium pipes and incense sticks are redolent of the 
East. Little wooden figures of accurate workmanship show us 
the Celestial at home at his trade, in the fields. Here we see 
a pair of shell spectacles, with elaborately carved nose-piece and 
sticks hinged in the middle. These are the badge of intellectu- 
ality, we are told, and the desire to appear learned rather than 
vision more or less defective, seems to be the prime factor in 
their adoption by the Chinaman. Another evidence of the 
proverbial peculiarity of the heathen Chinee is a razor, which is 
used, the card tells us, not to shave the beard, which, if he can 
achieve it, the native carefully guards, but to do its worst upon 
his unoffending head, leaving nothing but the queue. Since the 
declaration of the republic, it would seem, even this check to the 
shaver's thoroughness has been removed. 

Father Frazer, a yoimg American priest who volunteered for 
the missions in 1905, has sent some curious things, among others, 
one of his calling cards, a large piece of stiff red paper about 
eight by five inches in size, with his name in Chinese in large 
black letters down the centre. The card case is in proportion, 
and we pass on with the conclusion that calling must be one of 
the pet extravagances of the Chinese. A wedding invitation, also 
on red paper about twelve by six, is not unlike the calling card 
to the uninitiated. 

But it is Chinese religious belief that furnishes most of the 
curios in this section of Monsignor Dunn's museum. Of the three 
religions of China — Buddhism, Confucianism and Taoism — the 
first is the most popular. Buddhas without number, large and 
small, artistic and hideous, of metals costly and mean, line the 
shelves and look down at us from their seats upon the cases. 
Some are exceedingly valuable and have played in their day 



I9I9-] TjfSASURES THAT GROW NOT OLD l8l 

important parts in the idol worship of the country of their origin. 
A necklace of Buddhist beads comes from Wen-Chow, and, we 
understand, the words **0 mi do vd^ must be said on each bead, 
the meaning, however, having long been lost. Many little images, 
idols of some sort, would furnish a delightful hour to a student 
of comparative religions, but even the average spectator finds 
much that is interesting in each. Two have realistic beards of 
coarse hair, and look hoary enough to have been adorned by the 
Chinese Adam, Pan-ku. A shockingly ugly deity is the "Guardian 
God." In each temple he stands beside the divinity venerated 
there, with his object in life, "FoA ohV^ (Punish the wicked) 
written upon tablets which he carries. The missionary who sent 
him informs us that when more than life size he is quite terrible 
to behold, and he is doubtless a brilliant success at worrying those 
who regard him into righteousness, at least for the moment. A 
little further on one makes the acquaintance of the Goddess of 
Mercy, a gilded squatting figure of extreme ugliness, whose 
clients, looking "not with the eyes, but with the mind," must rely 
upon her interior beauties of disposition, nobly ignoring her 
physical handicaps. 

A white china statue of the most famous goddess of the 
Chinese Empire, "The Goddess That Has Pity on the World," 
was sent by Father Frazer from Ning-po. In life she was a virgin 
who sacrificed her arms that medicine might be made from them 
for her parents. Heaven, believing in compound interest, com- 
pensated her with an ample supply of arms, to wit, one thou- 
sand, which must have been something of an embarrassment of 
riches. Her invocation is enormously widespread in China, and 
the childless, the wicked, the good — all hope to receive from her 
the object of their petitions. Two good copies of the tablet called 
"the Eight Signs," one from Chu-san, show the superstitious puz- 
zle which is foimd over nearly every door in China to ward off 
evil spirits. The face of a tiger, which would do credit to a 
futurist artist, dominates the picture, and he must be most effi- 
cacious, for his fiery eyes and sharp fangs would strike terror 
into something of far greater address than a boneless wraith. 

Whether the Chmaman be a Buddhist or a Taoist, he is first 
of all an ancestor worshipper, and this cult may be called the 
real religion of the Celestial Kingdom. The museum boasts sev* 
•ral ancestor tablets (ihais)^ small slabs of meUl, stone or wood. 



!8a Treasures that Grow not Old [Nov., 

upon each of which is written the name of an ancestor of the 
owner. The well-to-do have special temples erected to contain 
them, but the poor have, if not a room, at least a comer, dedi- 
cated to their special worship, which takes place with great cere- 
mony several times a year. This ancestor worship was the main 
stumbling-block of the early missionaries, some, notably the 
famous Jesuit Ricci, even seeing the advisability of allowing it in 
a mild form. It was finally prohibited by a Papal bull in 1742, 
with the consequent defection of large numbers of influential 
converts. 

But the Chinese section of the Museum of the Missions can 
show Christian curios as well as pagan. The native children are 
taught embroidery by the Sisters, and some exquisite samples of 
die work of the pupils of the Sisters of Charity at Ning-po — slip- 
pers, scissor-holders, mats, etc. — ^are shown for our admiration. 
Father Montanar, formerly a missionary in Kwang-tong and 
foimder of the Chinese Catholic mission in New York, has sent 
as one of his contributions two tiny pairs of dainty embroidered 
satin slippers, which belonged to the little daughter of one of his 
catechists. They suggest pleasant pictures of the little lady her- 
self, and one wonders whether she outgrew them or is one of 
those heroic little Christians who think no age too early to begin 
to make war upon the pomps and vanities of the world. 

That the little Christians of China can push the love of their 
religion to the borders of heroism is attested by a little statue of 
Our Lady of Lourdes, which is one of the most valued exhibits in 
the collection. It is the work of a Chinese Sister, as one may in- 
stantly infer from the face of Our Lady, who holds a dear little 
Chinese baby in her arms — the Infant Jesus. Were it not for the 
rosary at her right side, we should be inclined to doubt the 
printed label which identifies the statue. At the time of the 
Boxer uprising, when Sisters and children were being driven from 
their burning convent in the Pe-tang compound north of Pekin, 
one of the little ones remembered the statue and, at the risk of 
her life, ran back into the burning building to seek it. The 
Blessed Virgin watched over her youthful client, and child and 
statue came forth in safety, to the great relief of the Sisters. 

Other articles that repay consideration are a chalice-box 
beautifully carved by a Chinese priest; a tea-caddy of black silk 
intricately embroidered in white, made by orphans in Han-kow 



I$190 TREASURES THAT GROW NOT OLD itj 

under the care of native Sisters; and a biretta such as was worn 
by Qiinese priests for three hundred years, which will be a sur- 
prise to Americans, who are accustomed to nothing half so fine. 
It is black, heavily embroidered in gold, with two long streamers 
at the back — a most imposing a£fair, which must have made the 
wearer resemble Confucius himself. 

The piece de resistance of the Giinese section is a bronze 
statue, which is the first thing that greets the eye as the room is 
entered, and the last thing to which one turns a fascinated gaze 
upon leaving. It comes from Bo-zen, is five hundred years old, 
and is a representation of the Goddess of Reason, a female 
swathed figure about two and a half feet high, carrying between 
her folded arms a detachable stick with a tuft of horsehair fast- 
ened to it, by which her votaries of the past kept the flies from her 
divine countenance. But it is the face itself that is remarkable. 
The rounded but shrewd features seem to tell of an insight that 
began with the ages, and a glitter in the black, beady eyes dares 
the beholder to set them a problem they may not read. But, 
with the coming of the missionaries, the ancient dame's day was 
done, and she now stands a relic of a creed outworn, a testimony 
to the failure of her powers unwilling to yield supremacy to 
the light that now floods her former domain, the dazzling and 
eminently reasonable light of the Catholic Faith. 



HACBETH-A STUBT IS SIN. 

BT ALBERT B. PURDIE. 

S CAMPBELL once said there were scenes 
acbeth that he could never wish to see acted 
le stage, because, like certain passages in 
lylus, they defied representation. liiis ia 
ips very true with respect to the histrionic art, 
hut the critic might have added with profit that the play is a 
world-tragedy, acted every day and by everyone on the world- 
stage — for it is the story of a great temptation and a faU. 

To form any conclusions as to the nature of Shakespeare's 
religious beliefs is outside the scope of this article; we will con- 
tent ourselves with the observation that if he was not a profess- 
ing Catholic, his work, nevertheless, breathed Catholic teadiing, 
practice and devotion. This is especially true of Macbeth. As 
the dramatist made Holinshed his historical source, so he almost 
seems to have referred to St. Thomas Aquinas for his philosophy. 
He takes the stem truths set forth by the Angelic Doctor, and 
clothes them with flesh and blood; he verifies them in the arena 
of life; they are warm and alive in the characters that move 
in the cycle of his play, and they remain, perduring and im- 
mutable, after the strife of human lives is quieted and man and 
woman have returned to elemental dust. St. Thomas and Shake- 
speare are statement and illustration of the same truths, and if 
we would appreciate the one, it is not well to ignore the other. 

Coleridge has indeed expressed the opinion that "the gen- 
eral idea is all that can be required from the poet — not a 
scholastic logical consistency in aU the parts." But our pur- 
pose is to show that in the tragedy of MadteA, " Scholastic 
logical consistency " is to be found, that the play is indeed a 
complete study in sin, and lends itself to an analysis, whidi 
corresponds in a remarkable way to the treatment of the same 
subject by the greatest of Christian philosophers. 

The theme broadly divides itself into three parts: 
(I) The Temptation to Sin. Acts Ml, Sc. I. Summ. L 
Ilae. Q. 75-84. 



I9I9.» MACBETH: A STUDY IN SIN 185 

(II) The Sin. Act II., Q. 71. 

(III) The Consequences of Sin. Acts II-V, Q. 85-87. 

I. The Temptation to Sin. 

St. Thomas, following St. Augustine, defines sin as that 
which is said, done or desired contrary to the eternal law, which 
is nothing else than the Divine Will regulating the natural order 
and forbidding any interference in that order. Every created 
being, by fulfilling the purpose of its existence and acting in 
accordance with the end to which it was ordained by Cod, is 
playing its appointed part in the Creator's great scheme. An 
act of rebellion means not only suicide to the agent (since it 
deserts its proper sphere of activity) but is a tendency to sub- 
vert the order to which it naturally belongs, and above all con- 
stitutes an ofi'ence against Cod, Who is the Upkeeper and Con- 
server of the universe. Among beings in this world sin is 
properly attributed only to man, who, although necessarily de- 
termined to happiness as an end, is able in virtue of his power 
of free-will to seek that happiness in other good than Cod, Whom 
nevertheless his right reason infallibly dictates is the ultimate 
object of his happiness. Man reaches his end by the observance 
of acts, and into these acts enters the twofold element of rea- 
son and free-vrill. The function of the reason is limited to the 
infallible judgment on the goodness or badness of an act; it is 
left to the will to determine on its performance or omission, 
and so primarily to the will we must attribute evil acts, and the 
resultant moral perversion of a human nature. 

An evilly-inclined will {malitia voluntatis) is thus the prime 
interior cause of sin {causa sufficiens complens peccatum est 
solo voluntas); but there are two exterior causes of great mo- 
ment, namely man and demonic agencies, which by suggestion, 
persuasion and temptation influence the will to become interiorly 
false to itself. 

Shakespeare approached his study in sin as a dramatist no 
less than a philosopher, and so with tremendous effect he opens 
his play with the introduction of the preternatural exterior cause 
of sin. The first scene may indeed be regarded as declaring 
the existence of the powers of evil with whom "fair is foul and 
foul is fair.'' They make their appearance in an arid waste 
— a prelude of contrast to the sphere of strained activity in 



1 86 MACBRTH: A STUDY tN SiN [Not.. 

which they are soon to play their part The arid waste is their 
natural abode; they enter the habitation of human beings only 
by invitation. When there arise the foundations of a possible 
home within the human breast, they are at once at the side oi 
the builder, who is perhaps fool enough to parley with them, 
and weary not in their importunities till the roof is closed over 
their heads. 

Sin is indeed, as Monsignor Benson remarks, ^the chang- 
ing of an ideal. The change was already at work in Macbeth, 
when in company with Banquo, while thundery rack was driven 
over the blasted heath, darkening the serene blue of heaven, he 
was confronted by the malignant spirits, whom his inner trad- 
ing with evil had implicitly convoked. 

First WUchr--A\\ hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis! 
Second WUch—K\\ hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Cawdor! 
Third Witch--K\\ hail, Macbeth! that shall be king hereafter! 

and as they are about to disappear, Macbeth is awakened from 
the thoughts that obsess his mind: 

Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more: 
By Sinel's death I know I am thane of Glamis 
But how of Cawdor? The thane of Cawdor lives 
A prosperous gentleman; and to be king 
Stands not within the prospect of belief 
No more than to be Cawdor. Say from whence 
You owe this strange intelligence? 

But deaf to exact questioning, they vanish like bubbles into the 

air. 

"The devil,'* says St. Thomas, "tempts by exploring the 
inner condition of a man, diat he may work on that vicious pro- 
pensity to which a man is more prone. Though he cannot abso- 
lutely turn the will, he can in a way work a change in the baser 
powers, and though he does not force the vrill, nevertheless he 
inclines it." The "witches" seized on Macbeth's growing pas- 
sion and nurtured it by their pretended prophecies. When we 
remember the nature of demonic knowledge, we easily perceive 
that every trace of the miraculous or even of the power of fore- 
telling the actual future, peels off from their utterances. These 
spirits prey on the intellects and imaginations of men, and ow- 
ing to their peculiar relation to time and place, can convey the 

ICMMlitttOlvcft, D- 134. 



If 190 MACBETH: A STUDY IN S/N iSy 

knowledge drawn from one mind to the mind of another by 
means of transmission more express than those employed by men. 
This explains the ^'prophecy" that Macbeth should be thane of 
Cawdor; the collation of the thaneship had in fact been already 
decreed by Duncan. That knowledge on the part of the evil 
spirits was a useful handle; they are expert connoisseurs in the 
workings of the human reason and will: building on the effect 
which they knew the true information they had given would have 
on their victim, and seeing that it would serve to heighten his 
feverish ambition, they went a step further, and foretold what 
they infallibly knew Macbeth's perverted nature would eventu- 
ally press into fact 

Banquo whose reason was less disturbed at once realized 
the possibility of deceit. But in Macbeth, function was 
smothered in surmise, and *^the swelling act of the imperial 
theme'' so overcame him, that he refrained from a reasonable 
estimate of his suspicions. 

This supematnral soliciting 
Cannot be ill; cannot be good: if ill, 
Why hath it given me earnest of success, 
Cotnmendng in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor: 
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion 
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, 
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, 
Against the use of nature? 

And so the fortress of his soul was yielding — ^not through ex- 
ternal compulsion, be it noted, but because the traitor within 
the gates was raising the portcullis to the enemy, and the enemy 
did not fail to seize the advantage. 

A second exterior cause of sin, says St. Thomas, is homo, 
which Shakespeare introduces in the person of Lady Macbeth. 
She has been called the Qytemnestra of English tragedy, and 
is in truth the woman of a wild and remorseless determination 
which carried her rough-shod over all the dictates of right 
reason, and ^^screwed to the sticking-place" the courage of her 
husband, whose will was not yet utterly divorced from reason. 
Lady Macbeth knew her husband's dominant weakness better 
than himself. This is perhaps a feminine prerogative: it was 
manifested in the garden of Eden, and is exercised the world 
over today. 



iSS MACBETH: A STUDY IN SiN [Not., 

Imiy Jfac6«tA'— -Glamifl thou art, and Gtwdor; and flhalt be 
What thou art promised; yet I do fear thy nature; 
It is too full o* the milk of human kindness 
To catch the nearest way; thou wouldst be great; 
Art not without ambition, but without 
The illness should attend it; what thou wouldst hi^ly, 
That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false, 
And yet wouldst wrongly win; thou'ldst have, great Glamis, 
That which cries 'Thus must thou do, if thou have it; 
And that which rather thou dost fear to do 
Than wishest to be undone." Hie thee hither. 
That I may pour my spirits in thine ear, 
And chastise with the valour of my tongue 
All that impedes thee from the golden round. 
Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem 
To have thee crowned withal. 
{Enter a Messenger) 

What is your tidings? 
Messenger — ^The king comes here to-night 

The castle of Inverness, where ^^the air nimbly and sweetly 
recommends itselT' and "heaven's breath swells wooingly," 
where all is sense-repose and peace, is now the stronghold of a 
woman's fierce volitional activity. 

Lady Macbeth stifled the cry of reason, and makes outcast 
her very conscience, that naturale judicatorium of human beings, 
in which sure sentence is passed on the morality of acts. She 
flings defiant arms to Heaven, and not only unsexes but de- 
humanizes herself. And this monster is to precipitate the ruin 
of a falling man. On the first meeting of husband and wife, 
the subject is referred to only in general terms: 

Macbeth: My dearest love, 

Duncan comes here to-night. 
Lady Macbeth: And when goes hence? 

Macbeth: To-morrow, as he purposes. 
Lady Macbeth: never 

Shall sun that morrow see! 

But in Macbeth conscience makes one last appeal, even if on 
ignoble scores. He saw the possibility of eternal punishment 
{reatus poenae aetemalis)^ and what grieved him more deeply, 
the punishment which would dog him for the rest of his mortal 
days (poena concomitans) — ^'Ve still have judgment here." Had 
the sinner paused a moment and weighed fully these considera- 
tions, there might have been hope; but he curtly dismissed them. 



I9I9-] MACBETH: A STUDY IN S/A iSf 

and weakly posited two last motives of excuse, more debased 
because more personal — ^his kinship to the virtuous and generous 
Duncan, and his own present reputation. 

Genuine desire to withdraw had now deserted Macbeth. It 
is a common phenomenon that the weaker sharer in a tempta- 
tion will often lodge a slight objection, which he himself is 
afraid to look fully in the face, and over which he is content 
to be dragged by the stronger. Macbeth's little resistance was 
only to prove his wife's strength, and this purpose it fully 

achieved. She thus attacks him — 

Was the hope drunk 
Wherein you dress'd yourself? hath it slept since? 
And wakes it now, to look so green and pale 
At what it did so freely? From this time 
Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard 
To be the same in thine own act and valor 
As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that 
Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, 
And live a coward in thine own esteem. 
Letting "I dare not" wait upon **I would," 
Like the poor cat i' the adage? 

Macbeth: Prithee, peace: 

I dare do all that may become a man 
Who dares do more is none. 

Lady Macbeth: What beast was*t then. 

That made you break this enterprise to me? 
When you durst do it, then you were a man; 
And, to be more than what you were, you would 
Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place 
Did then adhere, and yet you would make both: 
They have made themselves, and that their fitness now 
Does unmake you. I have given suck and know 
How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me: 
I would i^ile it was smiling in my face 
Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums, 
And dash'd the brains out, had I so sworn as you 
Have done to this. 

This terrible determination of a fierce woman steeled the man's 
nerv6 to action. 

The first act in this drama of sin is concluded. A human 
will has been assailed; a human will has been broken: the devil 
with his pomps and the world with its allurements have played 
their part in a tremendous fall. Macbeth is a man undone. 
He stands at the very Rubicon of crime — his wife by his side 
supporting him. 



igo MACBETH: A STUDY IN SiN [Nov. 

II. The Sm. 

Consummatio peccati est in opere. Night lies fast and 
heavy about Inverness castle, and only the dismal shriek of the 
owl, ^^the fatal bellman,'' at times disturbs the quiet. The man 
of sin ere he enters the presence-chamber is walking in the 
shadowy court, and there he encounters once more the power 
of good. Past midnight, and Banquo, the happy genius of his 
days, confronts him with latest tokens of the King's good-will 
and pleasure: but it is too late — ^this final grace is refused, and 
the royal kiss is given to one irretrievably pledged to treachery. 
The last ray of light spends itself in the darkness, and the 
shadows have utterly closed round the soul of Macbeth. Dis- 
ordered and distraught, he waits the near moment when he shall 
be called to fill the perfect measure of his sin. His will and 
word are insurgents against the law of Cod {concupUum et dic- 
tum contra legem aetemam); it only remains to do. But the 
deed undone already tortures him, and his imagination deals 
a first avenging blow: 

Is this a dagger which I see before me, 

The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. 

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 

• ••••••• 

And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, 
Which was not so before. There's no such thing: 
It is the bloody business which informs 
Thus to mine eyes. 

This grim hallucination was the last interior protest against the 
sin, but Macbeth bore up against the shock, his heated passions 
suffering no cold breath, and the signal bell found him ready. 
Duncan's blood seals his finished compact with the devil: the 
bond uniting him to Cod is broken; the eternal law is injured, 
the sinner has signed his ultimatum. The shadow of eternal 
unrest begins to creep over the soul of Macbeth, and to lie 
heavy over his mortal days. The prospect of sleeplessness in 
this world and in the next is evident to him in all its horror: 

Methought I heard a voice cry ^^Sleep no more! 
Macbeth does murder sleep"— the innocent sleep, 
Sleep that knits up the raveU'd sleave of care. 
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath. 
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course. 



I9I9-] MACBETH: A STUDY IN SiN ic,l 

Chief nourisher in life's feast — 
Still it cried '^Sleep no more!'* to all the house 
^'Glamis hath murdered sleep, and therefore Cawdor 
Shall sleep no more: Macbeth shall sleep no more!'' 

Terrible forebodement! the mocking bruit of an unavailing 

Requiescat troubling the poor soul in the long reaches of the 

life to come. 

Duncan is in his grave: 
After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well, 

but ^^Macbeth shall sleep no more.'' 

III. The Consequences of Sin. 

The first, general effect of sin, says St. Thomas, is the 
corruptio naturae. Man is the subject of a threefold natural 
good — the intrinsic principles of his nature by which he is 
constituted a rational being, the natural tendency to the per- 
formance of virtuous acts, and lastly, the gratuitous gift of or- 
iginal justice or rightness. The first of these goods is immune 
from the vitiating influence of sin, for no morally bad act can 
make us less rational, less than men: the last of these goods, the 
donum originalis justUiaef whereby the baser powers were abso- 
lutely subject to the control of the reason of man, was lost to the 
human race in the sin of Adam, and the dire effects of his fall 
are the heritage of all creatures. It is to the second good, 
namely, the natural tendency to virtue, to which St. Thomas re- 
fers, when he says that the first general effect of sin is the 
corruption of our nature. We are placed on the road of life 
with our eyes turned Godward, but we are free to go forward 
or to turn in the other direction: a step either way makes the 
next step easier, and the third step easier still, until at last we 
find ourselves journeymen to the goal of good or of evil. 

The last three acts of the play exemplify this in the moral 
state of Macbeth, who stands to suffer this huge consequence 
of his act, diat his hold on good grows more infirm (^%ings bad 
begun," he says, "make strong themselves by ill," IIL, 2), whilst 
he has habituated himself to evil, that he has irritated the tores 
which original sin brought to his nature — sores that render his 
reason hesitant in action, his will in arms against good, his 
whole self prone to conmiit wrong and burning with a gro¥ring 
passion* 



iga MACBETH: A STUDY IN SiN (Nov. 

But besides thus sapping his moral forces, he is in a state 
of guilt {culpa) J incurred by his changed relation to God, from 
whom he has deliberately turned — ^an offence which must re- 
main imputed to him till he makes sufficient satisfaction; and 
this guilt* viewed in relation to the subject is in the nature of a 
macula or stain, which, says St. Thomas, **debitum decorem ab 
animo aufertJ*^ As in the case of material things, a bright ob- 
ject may lose its brilliance after coming in contact with another 
object, so in the world of the spirit, the soul loses its splendor 
when it comes in contact with the baser good to which it cleaves 
inordinately. Once illumined by the light of God's grace and 
the flashing torch of its own reason, it has preferred to tread 
in the byways of darkness, with the result that its white purity 
is stained and its pristine lustre tarnished. It is not merely the 
blood on their hands that frightens Macbeth and his wife, but 
the cold shadow cast inwardly upon their souls: 

I am in blood 
Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more 
Returning were as tedious as go o'er. 

Lady Macbeth felt the same burden of guilt, was conscious 
of the indelible stain, but restrained giving it expression till at 
last, too long pent up, it burst involimtarily from her lips: 

Out, damned spot! out, I say! . . . What will these hands 
ne'er be clean? . . . 

These are the first eff'ects of sin on the disposition of the 
human soul, and it remains to consider with St. Thomas and 
Shakespeare the more particular and more important conse- 
quence, which goes by the name of punishment {de poena 
peccati). St. Thomas says that if a thing rises in rebellion 
against the order to which it is properly subject, the consequence 
is that it will be suppressed by that order and by the govern- 
ing power of that order. Now the sinner rebels against an 
order — the highest order conceivable, whose governing power 
is God: the result is that he must be suppressed by that order, 
and this suppression is known as punishment. The obligation 
which a man owes to the economy to which he belongs and 
against which he offends has a threefold aspect, viewed firstly 
in relation to his own proper reason which he is boimd to obey, 
secondly in relation to the rights of other men, which he is bound 



I9I9-] MACBETH: A STUDY IN SiN 193 

to respect, and lastly in relation to God, whose eternal law calls 
for his whole obedience. An act of sin is rebellion against 
these three orders, and consequently incurs a triple punishment 
— from self, from men and from God. 

Macbeth's sin began interiorly with the willful disregard 
of the dictates of right reason, and so his first punishment will 
come interiorly from his inmost soul. His mind will stand to 
torture him with anxiety and insecurity, his conscience will be 
racked with remorse, and despair at last will freeze his very 
heart JussistU Dominey lU omnis inordinatus animus sibi ipsi 
sit poena. This is known as concomitant punishment {poena 
peccati concomitans) j and it pursues the sinner through hb whole 
course of crime. 

Anxiety and insecurity seized hold of Macbeth inunediately 
after the murder: 

Whence is that knocking? 
How is it with me when every noise appals me? 

Moreover, this very anxiety and insecurity, bom of sin, opens 
the way to further sin, and thus, in the terms of St. Thomas, 
sin may even be the indirect punishment of sin. Having mur- 
dered Duncan, he murders the two grooms, until at last the *^im- 
perial theme'' is consummated, and he sits a King. But peace 
is not yet: 

For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind: 

For them the gracious Duncan have I murderM; 

Put rancours in the vessel of my peace 

Only for them, and mine eternal jewel 

Given to the common enemy of man. 

To make them kings, the seed of Banquo kings! 

Rather than so, come, fate, into the list, 

And champion me to the utterance! 

And to the utterance — ^to the very extreme he will proceed. 
But fresh alarm descends upon Macbeth, for the seed of Banquo 
is saved and that means his doom. The ghost of Banquo (awful 
nemesis!) takes the place prepared for him at that ^^great feast.'' 
Macbeth breaks under the strain, he can play the part no longer, 
and the horrible sore on his mind is bared to all the world. 

St. Thomas places as one of the pimishments of sin the 
increased liability to temptation from the powers of evil, and 
so it is hardly surprising to find Macbeth at this juncture hav- 

VOL. ex. 13 



194 MACBETH: A STUDY 11^ SiN [Not., 

ing recourse to the ^Veird sisters,'' wkose pronouncements had 

been so surely verified. Macbeth has given them his "eternal 

jewel," and that was all they bargained for; they in turn set 

him in the enjoyment of the worldly good he desired: now 

they— 

by the strengdi of their illusion 
Shall drag him on to his confusion: 
He shall spurn fate, scorn death and bear 
His hopes liove wisdom, grace and fear: 
And you all know security 
Is mortals' chief est enemy. 

Children of the father of lies, they make cruel and wan- 
ton sport of their captive. Macbeth straightway damns these 
powers of evil, cuts himself loose from them, but only to drift 
faster down the strong stream of sin. Black clouds of despair, 
the severest pimishment of self on self, darken the twilight in 
which he has been walking since diat evening when with Banquo 
he paced the troubled heath. This despair is the worst element 
in concomitant punishment, the punishment which hurt human 
nature inflicts upon itself. It broke the heart of one of the sin- 
ners; it hardened the heart of the other: 

Out, out, brief candle! * 
Life's but a walldng shadow, a poor player 
That struts and fiets his hour upon the stage, 
And then is beard no more; it is a tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury. 
Signifying nothing. 

The sinner not only rebels against the order of his proper 
reason, but also against the order of human government to which 
he happens to be subject, and lastly against the whole order of 
the divine economy. Accordingly, he merits punishment from 
man and from Cod. 

Macbeth 
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above 
Put on their instruments. 

The human forces first begin to concentrate against the 
usurper after the murder of Banquo. All their eff'orts are in- 
augurated "with Him above to ratify the work" — ^in proper con- 
trast to their enemy, who initiated his career under the auspices 
of the powers below. 



I9I9-] MACBETH: A STUDY IN S/A 195 

The last phases of Macbeth's earthly punishment are swift 
and terrible. He is oppressed within and without. Yet there 
is no contrition, only bitter reproaches — 

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, 
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow. 
Raze out the written troubles of the brain, 
And with some sweet oblivious antidote 
Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff 
Which weighs upon the heart? 

No! it cannot be so. Causa complens peccatum est sola 
voluntas. Those in sin must themselves cast out the disease: 
the will freely turned to evil — it must freely return to good: 

Therein the patient 
Must minister to himself. 

But Macbeth had smothered every tendency to good and showed 
no movement to repentance. Devil-bought and God-forsaken, 
he is now no man: the close of the ^^imperial theme" leaves 
him a moral wreck — everything lost, except the mere animal 
instinct to save his life: 

They have tied me to a stake. I cannot fly, 
But, bear-like, I must fi^t the course. 

He fights and dies: the order of human government has pun- 
ished the disturber of its quiet: the brief turmoil of his life 
is ended. 

There only remains the punishment to be inflicted by God, 
and at this human speculation must stop short. Shakespeare 
pursues Macbeth no further: the application to the individual 
of the Qiristian principles of the doctrine of eternal punishment 
rests with none but God. 

Such is Shakespeare's study in sin, closely allied in treat- 
ment to that given by St. Thomas and the Catholic Church. 
Morality in the text-books is not a diff'erent thing from morality 
in real life: the former is based on the latter, and it is only 
when we are in hand-grips with the concrete that the awful 
meaning of a truth is realized. 



THE miSE VO MAN'S LANS. 

BY P. G. SHTTH. 

is not a popular word nowadays, especially 
those who would like to see the "world's 
or democracy" closed according to the oft- 
isized programme, with every nation, great 
mall, basking contentedly and prosperously 
in the sunshine of self-determination, 

A one-fourth fiery carbuncle garishly attached to a three- 
fourths glowing emerald, constituting the insular "gem of the 
sea," Ulster is the hope and pride of uncompromising fanatics 
and unrelenting political tricksters, the despair of conscientious 
statesmen and bewildered editors, the bane and alarm of the 
dove with the olive branch. It is the sorest spot on the face of 
creation, obstinately defying the efforts of all doctors and doc- 
trinaires. Even the extreme surgical operation now proposed — 
of amputating it from the main body — has only evoked a gen- 
eral chorus of condemnation. 

To most Americans, of all creeds and politics, standing 
as it does in the way of settlement of the Irish question, it may 
be truly said that the name of Ulster has become anathema. 
Yet, give that northern province its due. It is a crystallized fact 
that it has done much good in its way — that is, Irish Ulster has 
— much good not only for the test of Ireland, but for England 
and Scotland, for Europe, for America. 

To briefly enumerate, Ulster gave Ireland her celebrated 
representative parliament of Tara, the mother of all parlia- 
ments; it gave her, through St. Patrick, who there learned ihe 
manners, customs and language of the country, Christianity; it 
gave the same to Scotland and the north of England; and from 
the world-famous University of Armagh, where Alfred of 
Northumbria and other British kings were educated, it sent forth 
missionaries that gave Europe religion and science. In later 
days it gave to Ireland valiant and triimiphant armies, the last 
to yield to foreign power; and to America tens of thousands of 
brave Revolutionary soldiers, when the Irish language was as 
common as the English in the army of Washington. 



If if.l The Irish No Man's Lanm i^ 

Only at l^ng inttrrals did a wart of inyation of land- 
hungry cmigrante make the pot of Ulster seethe. Three of 
these waves were Milesian or native Irish. First it was al- 
lotted to the Irians or descendants of Ir, son of Milesius, who 
built the great fortress of Emania of the Red Branch Knights 
and ruled the province for many centuries. Next, in A. D. 
332, came the filibustering Three CoUas, of the race of Here- 
mon, son of Milesius, with a great army that swept all before it 
with slaughter, burned Emania, formed the kingdom of Oirghi- 
alla (consisting of the present coimties of Louth, Armagh, 
Monaghan and Fermanagh) and reduced the Ulster of the 
Irians to the present county of Down and the southern part of 
Antrim — ^the main location of the present friction and general 
impleasantness. The third invasion was headed by Owen and 
Connell, sons of King Niall, who colonized the districts called 
after them Tir-Owen and Tir-Connell, now Tyrone and Donegal. 
This arrangement and division, which occurred in the fourth and 
fifth centuries, held good for over 1,200 years. 

At the time of the third invasion came St. Patrick. The 
place was not new to him; he had spent many early years, not 
overpleasant ones, in Ulster. Ten miles east of Armagh is 
Lough Neagh, the largest sheet of water in the British Isles, 
and several leagues northeast of the lake rises a long bleak 
hill, in shape like an inverted dish, whence it is called Slemish, 
or Dish Mountain. On its slopes once roamed a solitary figure 
— ^young St. Patrick, tending the herds and flocks of his harsh 
master, Milcho, whose rath lay in the valley below, where winds 
the river Braid. Here St. Patrick passed the six years to which 
servitude was limited by Milesian law, developed the character 
reflected in his Confession: ^^I remained in the woods, and on 
the mountain, even before the dawn, and I was roused to prayer 
in snow and ice and rain, and I felt no injury from it, nor 
was there any slothfulness in me, as I see now, because the 
spirit was then fervent in me." 

What Croaghpatrick, with its now celebrated annual pil- 
grimage, is to Connacht, Slemish ought to be to Ulster, and more 
so, for the great apostle of Ireland spent but one Lent on the 
former mountain and six long years on the latter. 

Full thirty years after his servitude on Slemish, Patrick 
comes again into Ulster, comes bachaU or staff* in hand at the 



198 THE IRISH NO MAIL'S LAND [Not., 

head of his white-robed company of clerics, to preach the gospel 
of Christ. The territory embraced only Down and the part of 
Antrim extending north to his old place of slavery by Slemish. 
A circumscribed, contracted district is this new Ulster of the 
Irians and the Red Branch, and so the apostle finds it in more 
ways than one. Milcho, his old master, refuses to receive him. 
MacCuill employs assassins to kill him, but afterwards repents, 
is converted and becomes a saint Dubhan and Dubhaedh steal 
his horses. Saran, twenty-six years king of Little Ulster, pre- 
vents him from founding churches and is menacing and truculent 
in his opposition, declaring: ^^Wherever I find a priest I shall 
bring him under the edge of the sword.*' 

The good in local human nature triumphed, however, and 
with the aid of stanch friends and earnest converts St. Patrick 
sprinkled the pkce with small churches, built in the original 
Irish manner of wood or earth, and foimded what became in 
course of time great schools and monasteries. Coming in his 
latter days to Armagh he built a church and shrine on a site 
granted him by the chieftain Daire in what is now Scotch street 
and founded the primatial see of Ireland. Not long afterwards 
he died and his remains were deposited in Downpatrick in the 
tomb where later laid the remains of St. Bridget and St. Columb- 
kille — ^a sacred spot which the proposed mutilation of Ireland 
would confirm in cold and indifi^erent foreign keeping, like the 
Holy Sepulchre under the ward of Paynim. 

At Armagh there arose a great university whose seven 
thousand students filled the streets when the church bells rang 
at mom and eve. These included many from foreign lands, 
^^poor scholars" of the period, supplied with books free, taught 
and fed without charge. Among them was Aldfred, later King 
of the Northumbrian Saxons, who, grateful for his entertain- 
ment, wrote a poem in which he says (this felicitous translation 
is by James Clarence Mangan) : 

I also found in Armagh the splendid. 
Meekness, wisdom and prudence blended: 
Fasting as Christ has recommended, 
And noble counsellors untransc«nded. 

• 

I found in each great church moreover. 
Whether on island or on shore, 
Piety, learning, fond affection. 
Holy welcome and kind protection. 



1919-] The Irish No Man's Land 199 

I found the good lay monks and brothers 
Ever beseeching help for others, 
And in their keeping the holy word, 
Pure as it came from Jesus the Lord. 

I found in Ulster, from hill to glen. 
Hardy warriors, resolute men, 
Beauty that bloomed when youth was gone, 
And strength transmitted from sire to son. 

St. Fiech who wrote in the sixth century calls Armagh the seat 
of empire. Historians call it the capital of Ireland in tem- 
porals as well as spirituals. 

Among other fs^mous schools and monasteries that sprung 
up in the north were Bangor, founded by St. Comhgall, 
with three thousand monks; Downpatrick, which sent forth the 
famous scholar, John Duns Scotus (John of Down, the Irish- 
man); Derry, founded by St. Columbkille, who loved and 
praised it as a place of angels: 

Deny, the glory of my native isle, 

I celebrate thy praise, by nature blest; 

Antrim, of St. Mochte; Ardboe, of St. Colman; Ardstraw, 
of St. Eoghan; Devenish, in Lough Erne, with one thousand five 
hundred fratres under St. Molaisse. 

At this time the province consisted of the territories of 
Oriel, Tirowen, Tirconnell, Ulster or Uladh and (in the north- 
east comer), Dalriada. For a thousand years, except on rare 
occasions of sudden hostile incursions, these divisions were main- 
tained and the freedom and integrity of the country vigilantly 
and vigorously defended. When, in A. D. 634, Congal, King of 
Ulster, played the dangerous game, which afterwards proved so 
deadly in the south of importing an army of foreigners to 
help him in his ambitions, the national forces annihilated both 
Ulidians and invaders in the great six-day battle of Moira, near 
Lough Neagh, and for a long time afterwards that intermittent 
volcano caused little trouble for the rest of Ireland. 

In the ninth century came the marauding Danes and Nors- 
men and found the clans unprepared to oppose them. They sur- 
prised and plundered Bangor and ruthlessly slew nine hundred 
of its monks. They stormed Arma^, put to the sword about 
one thousand monks, students and citizens, and marched away 
with great spoils. Many seaboard towns and abbeys they plun- 



200 THE IRISH No MAN'S LAND [Nov., 

dered. But they made no settlement save a transient one some- 
where near where St. Patrick landed on Loch Cuan, whose name 
they changed to Strang-fiord, meaning the strong inlet of the sea, 
from the tidal currents at the inlet, now Strangford Lough. They 
also made the old name Uladh into Ulster, the place of Ula, 
adding the Norse ster^ meaning "place," as in Leinster and 
Munster. 

In 1004 Armagh had a visit from the Norsemen's most 
formidable opponent and Ireland's greatest monarch, the illus- 
trious Brian Bom, who took from his neck his gold chain, weigh- 
ing twenty ounces, and left it for alms on the high altar. Ten 
years afterwards, following his death on that memorable Good 
Friday after his decisive victory at Clontarf, his body was laid 
in a stone coi&n on the north side of the same altar; and here 
was also interred the remains of Brian's successor. King Malachy. 

An experiment was made to imite Church and State; to tax 
the five provinces of Ireland for the regular payment of the pri- 
mate. It worked badly; attracted by the prospect of wealth, as 
told by St. Bernard of Clairvaux, eight laymen in succession sacri- 
legiously assumed the title of Archbishop of Armagh and seized 
upon the revenues. This gross abuse was abolished through the 
efforts of Archbishop St. Celsus, who died in 1129, and Archbishop 
St. Malachy O'Moore, who died in 1148. 

Little Ulster was ever the weak spot of the north. It was there 
the Anglo-NoYman invaders first broke in under gigantic Sir John 
de Courcy, built castles and made settlements, turned the native 
monks out of their monasteries and put English monks in their 
places, and out of land spoil and plunder built magnificent abbeys 
in which no "mere Irishman" was allowed to make his religious 
profession. This was the spirit of superiority, of racial prejudice, 
for of course there was then no sectarian trouble, no Orangemen. 
De Courcy's wife, Lady Africa, daughter of the king of Man, built 
magnificent Gray Abbey. This baron of heroic mold, after holding 
his own or other people's in Ulster for twenty-seven years, died 
poor in France. For a deed of valor performed before the king 
he received the privilege, passed on to his successors, the Lords 
Kinsale, of keeping the head covered in the presence of royalty. 
"His lordship may have the right to wear his hat before royalty," 
said Queen Victoria, when she noticed Lord Kinsale exercising his 
privilege, "but he might take it off in the presence of a lady." 



19I9*] The Irish No Man's Land joi 

Carrickfergus Castle was the chief stronghold of the English 
in Ulster, and most tenaciously they stuck to it. In 1315, hard 
pressed by hunger and besieged by Edward Bruce, brother of 
King Robert of Scotland, when trying to make himself king of Ire- 
land, they killed and devoured thirty Scots, their prisoners, before 
they would consent to surrender. Cannibalism, starvation and 
murder made fetid atmosphere in some of these grim Ulster castles. 
Walter de Burgo, called Earl of Ulster, under age but married and 
vindictive, starved his kinsman Walter to death in the Green Castle 
of Irishowen; for this the dead man's sister. Gyle, had the boy earl 
assassinated by his squires while crossing a ford near Belfast one 
Sunday morning saying his beads on his way to church at Carrick- 
fergus. On account of which three himdred murder conspirators 
were followed and put to death; the earPs uncle was tied in a sack 
and drowned in a lake down in the County Mayo ; the earl's widow 
fled to England with her infant daughter, who afterwards mar- 
ried one of the royal family, and the empty title Earl of Ulster 
became vested in the English Crown. 

The Bissets fled from Scotland in consequence of murder, and 
settled in the Nine Glens of Antrim. The MacQuillans, Welsh, 
built the island stron^old of Dunluce, the finest in Ireland, on 
the picturesque northern coast. Later came the MacDonnell High- 
landers in their dark green plaids and deerskin footgear, whence 
their name. Redshanks, seized Dunluce and made a settlement. 
Their captain, the famous Sorley Boy, the Yellow-haired, drove the 
English from Carrickfergus, captured and made the constable, 
Walter Floddy, pay ransom, dismissing him one night after supper 
with the assurance "plainly that Englishmen have no right in 
Ireland." Sorley Boy's son James cau^t Sir John Chichester, 
Governor of Carrickfergus, and cut off his head. 

The leading family of Ulster, whose chiefs were inaugurated 
in the stone chair of Tullahoge, in Tyrone, were the O'Neills, with 
the O'Donnells a close second. The southern border was guarded 
by the O'Hanlons, standard bearers of Ulster; east of them lay the 
MacMahons of Monaghan, one of whose chiefs, Brian, in Dyak 
notion of domestic decoration, spiked the heads of Sassenach in- 
vaders on the palings of his garden near Carrickmacross ; and east- 
ward still the Maguires of Fermanagh, whose chief, when asked 
to admit an English sheriff, inquired what would be the fine for 
killing him, so he might have the money ready. South of all lay 



202 Thb Irish No man's Land [Nov., 

the plucky little principality of East BrefFny, now County Caven, 
of the Clan O'Reilly, descended from Brian, King of Connacht, to 
which province Cavao originally belonged, people who maintained 
their own army, administered their own laws and even coined their 
own money. 

The chiefs of die Irians, in the present Down and Antrim, 
were Magennis, MacCaitan, MacCeough, MacDunlevy and 
O'Gowan. As frontier septs, ever confronted by the bristling fort- 
resses and encroaching hosts of the enemy, they had to bear the 
brunt of the trouble and the conflict, and so wasted away. 

The Clan O'Neill well maintained its independence. Under 
Shane the Proud numerous English families moved with his per- 
mission into Tyrone in the belief diat they would have more peace 
and security there than in the Pale, nor were they disappointed. 
It was in Shane's time the MacDonnells settled in Antrim. He 
made war on them and slaughtered many, dien visited them in 
peace, and they slew him. His head was sent to be spiked on 
Dublin Castle; his cairn, in the Glynnes of Antrim, scene of patri- 
smmands a grand panorama of coast and inland 

erce and hrilliimt resistance made by the northern 
[nen, headed by Hugh O'Neill and Red Hu^ 
It the forces of Queen Elizabeth. Their crowning 
jf the Yellow Ford, August 15, 1798. The dis- 
nined the Irish cause. Artificial famine — ever a 
reapon in Ireland — strewed Ulster with emaciated 
le news concealed from him that his old enemy 
dead, O'Neill went to Mellifont Abbey and sur- 
24, 1603, one of the terms of the treaty being free 
latholic religion for himself and his foUowers. 
-ards, warned of a deadly government plot against 
rritories, O'Neill and Rory O'Donnell, respective 
and Tirconnell, fled overseas, leaving their unfor- 
nd people to the mercy of the stranger. 
»st invitingly abandoned and unprotected, the vast 
;, whose fertile interior had never been violated 
ire in transient raid, naturally attracted the covet- 
nost avaricious of men, James Stuart, degenerate 
»n of Scots and first oveiking of England and 
romptly seized upon th* district from shore to 



1919O Thr Irish No Man's Land 303 

shore, divided it up into shires or counties and these again into 
baronies and offered lands to whoso would buy, with a brand new 
title of nobility. 

The Ulster Irians' emblems, the lion on a green field and the 
red hand, are probably the most ancient armorial bearings in 
Europe. The red hand was assumed, probably as opima spolia, 
by the O'Neills when they seized upon Tyrone. The dexter or 
right hand appears on the silver seal of Hugh O'NeiU, King of 
Ulster, who died in 1364, described by the Four Masters as "the 
best man of the Irish in his time.'' The poet John Savage describes 
the ancient heraldic device as waving over the army of the famous 
Shane O'Neill the Proud, 

Who raised aloft the Bloody Hand until it hid the sun. 
And shed such glory on Tyrone as chief had never done. 

When James seized upon Ulster he also stole the red hand, 
whose antique honor far outdated and outclassed the arms of his 
•wn house of Stuart or Stewart (originally Sty-ward, or "tender of 
swine"), and he sold that ancient Milesian emblem, in conjunction 
with the newly invented title of baronet and a large grant of the 
plundered land, while it lasted, to all who gave him $50,000 and 
engaged to erect a strong castle thereon, with bawn or enclosure, 
each baronet to have in a canton or inescutcheon on his shield the 
red hand (in a field argent a hand gules), "being the arms of the 
ancient kings of Ulster." There was a fair response, netting him 
over a million dollars. 

Since then the red hand in canton or in escutcheon on the 
shield of Sir Tom, Sir Dick or Sir Harry is a sign that his is not a 
title won by ancestral merit or exploit, but sordidly purchased with 
money. Now, in final and ironic abuse and degradation of the red 
hand of ancient Ulster royalty, it is seen plentifully in the streets 
of Belfast, on the distinctive buttons worn by Orangemen, with the 
legend of most dubious import, "We stand for God and Ulster." 
"To what strange uses do we turn, Horatio!" 

On January 28, 1609, "conceiving the citizens of London to 
be the ablest body to undertake the establishment of a Protestant 
colony in the forfeited territory," James had a grant made out of 
the county of Coleraine, now Derry, and the towns of Derry and 
Coleraine, to twelve chief companies of London, consisting of 
mercers, grocers, drapers, fishmongers, on condition they should 



204 The Irish No Man's LA^D (Nov.. 

spend a million dollars in the work of plantation, and soon hosts of 
cockney faces from the Thames appeared along the Foyle and 
Bann. The Derry settlers made the name Londonderry, and they 
took as their city seal that of London, to which was later added, 
in memory of the celebrated siege, when the grandson of this same 
King James in vain knocked for admission, the device of a castle, 
with Death sitting at the gate. 

Thirty thousand acres of the confiscated land were given to 
Trinity College, Dublin, in aid of its efforts and services in turn- 
ing young Irishmen into Englishmen and Catholics into Protestants. 

Now appears on the scene the infamous Arthur Chichester of 
Devonshire, Lord Deputy of Ireland, thief from his youth — as a 
student expelled from Oxford for larceny — ^bigot by choice and 
scoundrel by nature, of physiognomy so repulsive and petrifying 
that, as Father Meehan, the historian, remarks, ^^one is inclined to 
wonder that he ever sat to a painter." With him was associated 
the merciless Scotch prelate, Andrew Knox of Raphoe. Ignoring 
the Treaty of Mellifont, signed only about a year before, which 
guaranteed the Ulster Catholics the free practice of their religion, 
the pair started a furious Scotch Inquisition, to drive native chief- 
tains into revolt and afford excuse for taking their lives and what 
portions of their ancient estates were still left them. Mock trials 
were held and savage sentences pronounced of hanging, drawing 
and quartering. Among those sacrificed to the restless avarice of 
Chichester was the- gallant Felim MacDevitt, hero of the Eliza- 
bethan wars, he who in single combat slew the fiery Captain Martin, 
"though locked up in steel," at Sligo; he now saw his entrails 
burnt before him at Lifford, September 27, 1608. With him suf- 
fered his intrepid chaplain. Rev. John O'Cahan. Alexander Mac- 
Suarley, son of the celebrated Sorley Boy MacDonnell, Brian and 
Art O'Neill, Rory and Geoffrey O'Cahan, Patrick O'Moore, and 
with them the priests Lewis O'Laverty and Conatus O'Keenan, all 
suffered together in 1615, one and all refusing to their latest breath 
to save their lives by abandoning their Faith. 

Knox incited the only too willing Government to expel all 
priests, on penalty of death, from the country. The law was 
passed in 1611. Anyone found concealing a priest or nun for- 
feited his lands. Catholics were forbidden to educate their chil- 
dren at home or abroad, and they were commanded under pain of 
fine or imprisonment to attend Protestant services on Sunday. 



1919O The Irish No Mai^s Land aos 

To confirm the wholesale plunder of Ulster lands, and spe- 
cially to secure his o¥m share of it, Chichester summoned the so- 
called Parliament of Ireland, which had not met for twenty-eight 
years. The Catholics happened to be in the majority, but he over- 
came this by creating forty new seats, and his creatures carried all 
before them. Some Catholic members weakly acquiesced in the 
fraud perpetrated; not only that but Sir John Everard of Tip- 
perary, who for his faith had lost his position as Chief Justice of 
Ireland, brought in a bill supported by all his servile fellow Cath- 
olic M. P.'s, most of whom, like himself, were of English descent, 
for the attainder of the Earls of Tyrone and Tirconnell and their 
adherents! 

This infamy evoked the censure and warning of the illustrious 
exile — ^tall, red-haired, vigilant, efficient — ^Florence Conroy, Arch- 
bishop of Tuam, founder of the Irish College of Louvain. Writing 
from Valladolid, March 1, 1615, to one of those same M. P.'s, he 
says: '^Do you doubt that it is sinful to rob men not convicted of 
any crime of their property? Were not these noblemen pardoned 
by the king? And if they, either to avoid calumnious suspicion 
or to practice their religion more freely, retired from the country, 
is that a crime either proved or notorious? Moreover, most of 
the Catholics of that territory (Ulster) must soon, at least in a few 
generations, be perverted to error, and their example and numbers 
will spread heresy throughout the other provinces." 

Archbishop Conroy died in Madrid in 1629. In 1654 his 
remains were transferred to Louvain, where they were interred at 
the ri^t of the high altar in the church of the Irish Franciscans and 
a becoming monument placed over them. His tomb now lies deep 
under dust and debris as the result of the tremendous vandalic 
bombardment of a few years ago; but the truth of his remarkable 
prophecy is seen in the changed creed, politics and even names 
of a large, vexed and vexing element of the population of Ulster. 
Deprived of the ministrations of their own soggarths and 
given the alternative of any creed but the ancient one, numbers of 
Ulster Catholics succumbed after a generation or two, as fore- 
told by "Fra Florentinus," and reluctantly abandoned their chil- 
dren to the proselytizer. And with the change of creed came, 
sometimes compulsory, sometimes in shame or snobbishness, a 
change of name. Thus MacShane, a branch of the O'Neills, mean- 
ing son of John (O'Neill), became Johnson and Jackson; MacEoin 



306 THB IRISH No MAN'S LAND [Nov., 

sprung from Eoin or Owen O'Neill, Owens (the prefix Mac being 
abandoned for the finals, each indicating ^^son''); MacHugh 
Hughes; MacRory, Rogers; O'Gowan, Smith and Smyth; O'Cahan 
Kane; O'Gnimh, Agnew; MacDunleavy, Dunlop; O'BroUaghan 
Bradley; Magennis, Guinness; MacCarrghanma, Carson; O'Maol 
geimrich, Montgomery; MacSweeney, Sunny; MacThomas, Thomp 
son; MacRobert, Robertson; MacCaghwell, Campbell and Cald 
well; O'Maolmichil, Mitchel. 

Some descendants of these, now in America, through associa- 
tion mistakenly caU themselves ^^Scotch-Irish,'' although their 
ancestors never saw Scotland. King James' colonists included 
many Lowlanders, and Scotch of the border clans, such as the Arm- 
strongs, Hays, Hamiltons, Dixons, Grahams, Scotts; but they were 
in the main of a Gaelic, Celtic, Irish stock, returned after centuries 
of absence. As the late President McKinley, then Governor of 
Ohio, himself of Ulster blood, told the Scotch-Irish at their annual 
meeting at Springfield, May, 1893 : "Scot though the Ulsterman is 
proud to call himself, yet he is a retransplanted Celt" 

Like the Janissaries of Turkey, Christians taken young and 
moslemized, the posterity of the Ulsterites who were forced to 
change creed and surname, became, as was intended, the most 
ferocious of anti-Catholics. Of such were the fierce Johnston of 
Ballykilbeg, and the "ranting, roaring Kane," who threatened to 
kick the queen's crown into the river Boyne, and of such are Sir 
Edward Carson, the Orange leader, and the Guinness brothers. 
Lords Iveagh and Ardillaun, called the "porter peers," their great 
fortunes, now used against their native land, having been made in 
Ireland on Dublin stout. 

In contrast to the seceders comes the long list, for beatifica- 
tion, of Ulster's martyrs for the Faith, as passed upon by the Sacred 
Congregation of Rites and confirmed by Pope Benedict, dated Feb- 
ruary 12, 1915. Among these are Archbishop Richard Creagh of 
Armagh, done to death in London Tower; Archbishop Edmund 
Magauran of Armagh, slain while administering to the wounded; 
Bishop Redmond O'Galla^er of Derry, murdered by English 
troops on the roadside; Bishop Conor O'Devany of Down and Con- 
nor, aged eighty, hanged, drawn and quartered; Edmund Dungan, 
Bishop of Down and Connor; Heber MacMahon, Bishop of Clog- 
her, hanged at Enniskillen; Rev. P. MacFergus and thirty-two of 
his brethren of Derry Dominican convent, massacred; Prior John 



I9T9-] ^ Ballad of dying 207 

O'Flaverty, G)leraine convent, thrown into the river and stoned to 
death by the Cromwellians, 1656; Rev. James O'Reilly of same 
convent, flogged to death; Rev. Bernard O'Carolan, ears cut off, 
hftnged; Rev. Thaddeus O'Boyle of Donegal, and Rev. Patrick 
Brady of Monaghan, beheaded. And so on through the ghastly, 
dreadful, glorious ordeal of suffering and triumph, which placed 
on the fair brow of Ulster a martyr's crovm of many rubies. 

In face of such a record the anti-Irish clamor of the alien ele- 
ment sinks to a vague and inarticulate murmur, the plaint of 
dreaded religious intolerance loses itself in laughter, the hollow 
glare of sectarian bigotry dies out like an expiring ember. Across 
the No Man's Land of Ireland the hostile forces still perfunctorily 
confront each other, but a roseate mom of good will is glowing 
over both the hosts, wholesome with the spirit of liberty, fraterni- 
zation and peace. 



A BALLAD OF DTINO. 

BT FRANKLIN C. KETES. 

Red and gold is the sunset lying 

Hot on the breast of the passing day, 
Red and gold are the sad leaves flying. 

Earth has forgotten the joy of May, 
Golden red are the embers dying, 
Soon they will shiver in ashes gray! 

Red and gold are the colors of dying, 
(White is the color of death they say) . 

Rise my soul for the night time cometh. 
Reap thy harvest of red and gold, 

Precious wheat of the sowing groweth 
Crimson poppies are bright and bold, — 

Scarlet sin in the darkness gloweth 
Godly deeds to the light unfold. 

Swift my soul in the midnight flying 

Bear thy burden of colors gay, 
Hear a voice to thy tears replying, — 

Christ will comfort thee on thy way, — 
*Tho' thy sins be of scarlet dying 
They shall be white as the snow today!** 
Red and gold are the colors of dying, 
(White is the color of death they say) . 



THOMAS OT LONBOir. 

BY HORACE H. HAGAN. 

IT may well be doubted if Englisb history affords an- 
other narrative quite as extraordinary as the career 
of the saint and hero known to his generation as 
Thomas of London and to us more familiarly as 
'Diomas k Becket. Legend, it is true, has embroid- 
ered his life with many a fascinating fiction. But stripped of all 
such charming inventions, the cold facts spell a story of unsur* 
passed interest. 

The father of the future martyr was one Gilbert Becket, who, 
though sprung from a knightly house of Normandy, had become a 
merchant first in Rouen and later in London. His mother was 
Matilda, a burgher woman of Caen. He was bom on December 21, 
1118, and received his schooling partly at Merton Priory, Surrey, 
and partly in Paris. At the age of twenty-two he returned from the 
latter city to London and, after several minor employments, en- 
tered the household of Archbishop Theobald of Canterbury. Here 
his keen vision and resolute character soon made themselves felt 
and he became Theobald's favorite counselor. He was largely 
responsible for the settlement of the disputed succession to the 
English crown whereby Stephen retained the throne during his 
lifetime, and Henry Plantagenet, known to us as Henry H, suc- 
ceeded him. It was upon his urgent advice that the Archbishop 
refused to crown Prince Eustace, Stephen's son. It was but natural, 
therefore, that Henry's accession should be to him the harbinger 
of splendid honors. In 1155, at the age of thirty-seven years, we 
find him filling the great office of chancellor and counted as 
Henry's beloved friend and companion There is something quite 
captivating about the Thomas of those days just as there is some- 
thing very awe-inspiring about the Hiomas of the future. We are 
charmed by his magnificence, his gayety, his chivalric courage. 

Nor was he less skillful at diplomacy. In 1160 he negotiated 
an eminently satisfactory peace between Henry and Louis of 
I'rance. Still later he won over the English barons to Henry's pet 
project of having, during his lifetime, a formal recognition of his 
eldest son as his successor. And, then, in 1162, came the great. 



19 19] THOMAS OF London 209 

turning point in his career. The See of Canterbury became vacant. 
Not only was the Archbishop of Canterbury the primate of the 
English Church, but he was one of the most notable prelates in 
Christendom. Probably the principal source of his power was the 
fact that the common people regarded him as their special cham- 
pion, the strongest barrier that stood between them and the tyranny 
of the croYm and the nobility. Very likely, it was because of this 
that Henry determined to have one of his close friends made Arch- 
bishop. Henry was a great ruler. He had some sterling qualities. 
But, with scarcely an exception, Europe has never seen a monarch 
who was more essentially a despot by disposition. 

The newly-discovered civil law was just then beginning to 
permeate the intellectual life of Europe. It was a law which 
exalted the prince. Everjrwhere on the continent there was appar- 
ent a decided eiFort to subordinate clergy, people and nobility to 
the king. In Germany and Italy this idea found its leader in 
Frederick Barbarossa and its sturdiest opponent in Pope Alex- 
ander III, backed by the free cities of the Lombard league. In 
France it was later to triimiph in the person of Philip the Fair. 
Henry, as the Count of Anjou, the Duke of Normandy, and in the 
right of his wife the Lord of Aquitaine and other broad domains, 
was a great continental ruler. The despotic principle inculcated by 
the exponents of the civil law was intensely congenial to him. It 
was his aim to introduce it into England, an aim which met final 
defeat when his son, John, many years later, was forced by the 
barons of England, with Archbishop Stephen Langton of Canter- 
bury at their head, to yield his assent to Magna Charta. The first 
great step necessary to accomplish Henry's design was to make 
the Archbishop of Canterbury subservient to the throne. In fact, the 
Archbishop of Canterbury, historic champion, as he was, of the 
people and the lower nobility, cut altogether too great a figure in 
Henry's realm to suit him. He was resolved to trim him down, to 
make him a mere creature of the Crown. Who could better fill 
this requirement than his favorite, his companion, his clear-headed 
adviser, the Chancellor Thomas? In vain Thomas scouted the sug- 
gestion and pointed to his rich robes and smilingly remarked that 
they were overfine for an archbishop. Futilely, he pleaded that his 
acceptance of the office would inevitably destroy Henry's friend- 
ship. The King would listen to no argument, would allow no 
obstacle to impede his impetuous will. Thomas was only a deacon. 

VOL. Ot. 14 



J 10 Thomas OF London [Nov., 

He had never been ordained priest. Nevertheless he was elected 
Archbishop, received Holy Orders from the Bishop of Rochester 
on one day and was consecrated by the Bishop of Winchester on 
the next. It was a scene remarkable even in an age replete with 
wonders. 

But the greater wonder was to follow. At the time of Thomas' 
consecration one of the bishops had remarked that Henry had at 
last wrought a miracle, since he had changed a soldier into a priest, 
a layman into an archbishop. This sardonic fling, however, was 
fated to have a literal fulfillment. Thomas the Arch-deacon had 
been noted for his magnificence; but his morals had been blameless. 
He was never Henry's companion in his vices. Still, it was a far 
cry from the gorgeously arrayed Qiancellor with his splendid 
train of knights and pages, his costly banquets, his martial exer- 
cises, his whole-hearted merriment, to the ideal Archbishop of 
Canterbury, the worthy successor of an Augustine, a Dunstan and 
an Anselm. The world watched with interest, tinctured, no doubt, 
with amusement, the course of the new metropolitan. If, however, 
it expected surprises, it was not to be disappointed. Thomas the 
Archbishop was a man transformed. The marvelous precedent of 
Ambrose was eclipsed. His glittering retinue of knights and cour- 
tiers was dismissed; his rich robes were discarded; his one time 
vivacious countenance became sobered and serious; he surrounded 
himself with pious clerics; his fare, once so prodigal, became 
frugal; his nights were spent in prayer; he waited upon the poor 
and washed their feet; his door was never closed; the humblest citi- 
zen had no difficulty in gaining either his ear or his assistance; his 
alms-giving was unexampled in England ; his devotion to the duties 
of his high post was assiduous and unflagging. If he had been an 
ideal Chancellor, he was now an ideal Archbishop. 

But this gain was not purchased without a loss. Henry was 
first amazed, then disconcerted. No doubt some old enemy of the 
Chancellor's whispered in the royal ear that the new Archbishop 
was not sincere. But if insincere, why? There could be but one 
answer. The Archbishop wished to set himself up against the 
King, to have the common people look to him and not to Henry 
as their friend and protector. Then came Thomas' resignation as 
Chancellor. The King had desired him to be both Archbishop and 
Chancellor, convinced that he would sacrifice the interests of his 
spiritual to that of his secular dignity. Now that scheme was shat- 



1 9 1 9-1 THOMAS OF LONDON % 1 1 

tered and the vexing question raised: Did the Archbishop's resig- 
nation imply that there was an irreconcilable conflict between 
Church and State? As yet, however, the King was not entirely 
alienated. But his too loosely chained suspicions had slipped their 
leash. Then came an incident which brought the late Chancellor 
and his sovereign into a direct clash. Henry's undertakings were 
many, his wars almost incessant. Consequently, he usually was in 
need of money, fle was, moreover, a bom centralizer. These two 
motives lead him to look favorably upon a suggestion that a certain 
"aid," which the sheriffs customarily received from the people of 
their shires, be transferred to the crown. This project was 
broached at a council held at Woodstock. It met with the deter- 
mined opposition of the Archbishop, who pitched his case on two 
grounds: first, that the sheriffs were entitled to the money, since it 
was donated by the people in appreciation of their services; and 
secondly, that the enrollment of the sums so derived among the 
King's dues would create a written record, making their payment 
binding on all future generations. "Thomas," says one authority, 
"thus appears to have stood forth as the champion of justice, first 
in behalf of the sheriffs and secondly in behalf of the whole EngUsh 
people." Another, and yet more notable writer, is even more ex- 
plicit. "In the first case," he says, "of any opposition to the King's 
will in the matter of taxation, which is recorded in our history, the 
opposition was made and apparently with entire success by Thomas 
Becket." 

The King's rising irritation was transformed into rage by the 
Archbishop's attempt to reclaim certain alienated property of his 
see, by his prohibition of an uncanonical marriage of Henry's 
brother, William, and lastly by the excommunication, without no- 
tice to him, of one of the tenants m capite of the crown. Then, 
of a sudden, there loomed up the vexing question of the criminal 
jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical courts. That this was the cause of 
the final break between the King and the Archbishop we cannot 
agree; whether or not it was the occasion is a different proposition. 
From the Norman conquest down to the reign of Henry VIII, there 
is apparent in English history on the part of the ruling forces 
a desire, and sometimes a determination, to create a national church 
that would be the willing hand-maiden of the civil power. The 
murder of Becket prevented Henry II from practically accomplish- 
ing this design, and that same crime acted as a powerful deterrent 



aia Thomas OF London [Nov., 

on his successors. At this time, however, Henry was resolved to 
carry out his plan. To do so he had to reduce the bishops and 
clergy to subserviency, as Henry VIII did later, and the demands 
he made upon them were the tools selected to carry out his project. 
The point where the clergy were the most vulnerable was the crim- 
inal jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical courts. That Henry chose to 
provoke a quarrel on this issue proves that he was a shrewd general, 
not that he was a disinterested monarch intent only on establishing 
even-handed justice in his realm. At the very time he was fulmi- 
nating against the ecclesiastical courts, he and the nobility were 
rigidly upholding and generously adding to a system of forest laws 
whose injustice and favoritism are almost unique in legal history. 
In any event the conflict was not long in commencing. Seizing 
upon a peculiarly atrocious and revolting crime of a cleric, which 
to all appearances was leniently dealt with, Henry summoned the 
Primate and the English hierarchy to Westminster. Here he de- 
manded that they show their adherence to what he called ^^the 
ancient customs of the realm.'' What these customs were the 
monarch did not deign to disclose and the bishops did not have 
imagination enough to conjecture. Desiring to conciliate the King 
the Archbishop gave his assent, but added the qualifying phrase, 
"saving my order." This, of course, largely destroyed the efficacy 
of the consent from Henry's standpoint. In a fit of passion he 
dismissed Thomas and the bishops. Soon, however, they were sum- 
moned to Clarendon. Every effort was now made to break down 
the Archbishop's determination. All the bishops, save one, were 
ready to announce their adherence. They begged Thomas to avert 
the King's wrath from him and from them by a tardy acquiescence. 
Other voices were added to theirs. It is even probable that a 
spurious verbal message from the Pope, advising compliance, was 
poured into the Archbishop's ear. In an unguarded moment, he 
withdrew his opposition. Then, and only then, were what the King 
styled the "ancient customs of the realm" produced. Their perusal 
was followed by amazement and consternation. Because of an 
unreasoning anti-Papal bias, modem historians ordinarily com- 
mend the "sixteen constitutions of Clarendon," as these supposed 
customs are termed. Nevertheless, some of them were opposed to 
common honesty, others to genuine freedom, and nearly all of 
them to what, up to then, had been the genius of the English Church. 
The statute that provided that the revenues of all vacant bishoprics 



I9I9 ] J'HOMAS OF LONDON ai3 

and abbeys should go to the Kmg was the invention of one of the 
most wicked of English monarchs, William Rufus, and was the 
cause of the greatest scandals of his reign. It can be defended 
neither on principle nor policy. The statute that forbade the ordi- 
pation of any villain without the consent of his lord was a dired 
blow at democracy. In those days the Qiurch was the only door 
that welcomed the man of lowly origin. Through it Gerbert and 
Hildebrand, both sprung from the bosom of the people, reached 
the Papal throne. This ordinance was designed to close this single 
door. Its presence among the ^^Constitutions of Clarendon'' was 
alone sufficient to justify the most unbending resistance on the part 
of one who was ever the people's friend; and, as Freeman has 
pointed out, the assertion that it passed unnoticed at the time is 
erroneous. With but one or two exceptions, the remaining consti- 
tutions, if put into force, would have reduced the English Church 
to absolute dependence on the crown. It would have retained no 
resemblance to die Church of Wilfred and very little to the Church 
of Lanf ranc and Anselm. 

It is open to doubt whether Thomas, inmiediately upon read- 
ing the Constitutions, retracted his verbal promise or whether he 
formally assented to them by affixing his seal to die document. But 
of Thomas' remorse and decisive repudiation of the Constitutions 
as soon as he reached Canterbury diere is no question. He inter- 
dicted and suspended himself. He burst forth into the most vehe- 
ment self-reproaches. He underwent the most severe penances. He 
left nothing undone both to express his horror of his momentary 
lapse and his reprobation of the obnoxious constitutions. 

The fury of the King now hardened into a stem resolution to 
ruin the defiant Primate. The course he took was essentially mean 
and ungenerous and has found no apologist. He determined to 
beggar Thomas. Through his control of the civil power he had a 
series of fines, on trumped up charges, inflicted upon the Arch- 
bishop. The first three fines, though unjust, Thomas promptly paid. 
Then came the staggering demand that he should instantly turn 
over to the King forty-four thousand marks, which Henry claimed 
were monies that had come into his hands as Chancellor and of 
which no accounting had been made. The Archbishop, although 
taken by surprise, instantly called attention to the fact that before 
his consecration he had been solemnly released from all such obli- 
gations by the royal authority. The King brushed the defence aside. 



314 THOMAS OF LONDON [Not., 

Thomas then begged for a few days' grace during which he might 
consult his fellow bishops. Knowing that they were, with but one 
or two exceptions, his creatures, Henry graciously consented. The 
bishops begged Thomas to resign. One or two, more bold, openly 
reviled and insulted him. But neither their entreaties nor their 
taunts affected him. He knew he was fighting for the liberties of 
the Church. He resolved to take a bold course. 

When the fateful day arrived for him -to return once more 
to Northhampton, all the bishops came and begged him to submit 
His answer was to forbid them to take any part in the proceedings 
against him. Then in full episcopal robes, his mitre on his head 
and his archiepiscopal cross in his hand, he set out for the castle. 
But, although the people thronged around him, he had no friend at 
court. He was left alone in the cold audience hall while in another 
room the council debated his fate. Soon the Bishop of Exeter, hast- 
ening in terror from the Council Chamber, begged him to depart, 
saying that the King had threatened with death any man who spoke 
in his favor. **Flee, then," was the calm and biting response, **thou 
canst not understand the things that are of God." Next Hilary of 
Chichester railed at him and demanded that he resign. Contemp- 
tuous silence was his only answer. The wily Roger of York, 
Thomas' most unscrupulous opponent, withdrew from the castle 
after it was certain that the Primate would be condemned. Not 
long after this departure the door of the audience chamber swung 
open and the Earl of Leicester, backed by a train of knights and 
some of the bishops, demanded that he listen to his condemnation. 
This was the moment for which Thomas had been waiting. Rising 
majestically to his feet, he interrupted the Earl, boldly and firmly 
denied the jurisdiction of the Council, solemnly forbade the bishops 
to give any judgment against him, and gave notice of his appeal to 
the Pope. He then started to sweep from the hall. Some voice 
cried out: "Traitor." Whereupon die Archbishop fiercely turned 
round and exclaimed that were he still a knight his sword would 
prove the falsity of the slander. Then, completely master of the 
situation, he gained the outside of the castle, where he was ac- 
claimed by the vast concourse of the people. This was one of 
the supreme heroic moments of Thomas' life. Nobly had he re- 
deemed himself. 

But neither popular approval nor the momentary discomfiture 
of his opponents blinded Thomas to the fact that his situation was 



1919.] Thomas OF London 215 

perilous in the extreme. Consequently, he determined to escape 
to the continent and to make a personal appeal to the Pope and 
to the clergy and laity of Qiristendom. So that very evening he 
disguised himself and hastened in the direction of Sandwich. Here 
he flung himself on a vessel bound for Flanders and, almost before 
his enemies appreciated what had happened, was in safety. A fort- 
night later he set out for Soissons, where he was welcomed, with 
the greatest reverence and honor, by King Louis of France. At 
the head of an imposing train he next sought the Pope at Sens. 
Alexander was engaged in a death grapple with Frederick Bar- 
barossa and was an exile from Rome and Italy. It is needless to 
observe that he had no desire to force Henry into an alliance with 
the Emperor. On the other hand, the most casual inspection of 
the Constitutions of Clarendon revealed that they were impossible 
of sanction by the Roman Pontiff. The Pope's lack of enthusiasm 
for the Archbishop and his cause has not escaped censure; indeed, 
even in that day it was cause of bitter comment from Thomas, the 
King of France and zealous churchmen everywhere. It would prob- 
ably be a just judgment to say that Alexander acted not as a hero 
but as a statesman. Thomas, of course, as Mr. Freeman has pointed 
out, was essentially a hero. 

But at least the Pope received him with honor. He refused to 
accept his resignation. He condemned the Constitutions. Thomas, 
however, was to retire to the Cistercian abbey of Pontigny. But the 
Archbishop could not be shelved. The clergy generally, and even 
the people, understood too well that he was the champion of the 
liberties of the Church. The moral position of the Archbishop was 
soon strengthened by an indefensible and atrocious act of tyranny 
on Henry's part. He suddenly, without any justification whatever, 
banished from England not only all the Archbishop's relatives, but 
many of his friends and retainers. These victims, to the number 
of several hundred, were enjoined to report personally to the Arch- 
bishop at Pontigny that they might lacerate his heart and drain his 
scanty purse. 

The rising indignation of Thomas was certainly not checked 
by what Lingard rightly styles a "refinement of vengeance." Find- 
ing his letters of remonstrance treated with contempt, he prepared 
to excommunicate Henry and his principal adherents. But upon 
hearing that the King was ill, he postponed his action against him 
— a tenderness that has remained without comment in the writings 



216 Thomas ob London LNov., 

of those who have overwhekned him with such epithets as hard- 
hearted, unchristian, inflexible, ungenerous. He did not stay his 
arm, however, as to the remainder of his principal foes. Their 
appeals for protection lashed Henry to madness. He threatened to 
expel every Cistercian from his domains if Pontigny still remained 
Thomas' shelter. To relieve his hosts from this threatened disaster 
the Archbishop took up his residence at Sens. Here he received 
the intensely mortifying intelligence that the Pope had so far 
yielded to Henry's importunities as to suspend his sentences and 
had, moreover, appointed two legates to investigate the controversy. 
One of these legates, Vivian, after repeated interviews with Henry, 
reported: ^^Never did I know a man to be such a liar." 

Nevertheless, the Roman policy was all for compromise; and 
Henry himself grew more and more fearful of the threatened inter- 
dict. Desirous of intimidating Alexander, he opened negotiations 
with the Emperor's Anti-Pope and even dispatched emissaries to 
Germany to complete a bargain. But here, he soon discovered, he 
had overreached himself. The hitherto submissive English bishops 
firmly refused to follow his lead. The nobles murmured. The 
people were outraged. Henry was forced to throw over the pro- 
jected German alliance. His dickering with the Anti-Pope, how- 
ever, had aroused Alexander's indignation far more than his ill 
treatment of Thomas, and Henry, alarmed, was forced to take steps 
looking to a reconciliation with the Archbishop. Wearily the nego- 
tiations dragged along, sometimes apparently on the point of suc- 
cess, usually to all appearances hopeless. At last, in January, 
1169, a temporary reconciliation of Henry and the King of France 
led to a personal conference of the two monarchs and the Arch- 
bishop at Montmirail. Henry insisted on a recognition of the Con- 
stitutions. Louis was guilty of the inconsistency of urging com- 
plaisance. But Thomas, in Freeman's graphic phrase, withstood 
the face of the two Kings and rode back to Sens cursed by Henry, 
renounced by Louis, but acclaimed by every honest heart. 

Then Henry made another false move. It had long been his 
determination to have his eldest son crowned King of England dur- 
ing his lifetime. In this manner he expected to avoid any chance 
of a disputed succession. The right to crown the King was the 
most cherished and the most splendid prerogative of the Archbishop 
of Canterbury. It was a matter of doubt in the minds of many 
whether there could be a legitimate sovereign unless he received 



1919] Thomas OF London 217 

bis crown from the hands of the primate. Strange as the whole 
question may seem to us, it was a vital issue in a day when the 
inability of the great mass of the people to read and write had 
forced them to depend slavishly on visible ceremonies for even 
their most important rights. Thomas realized the powerful weapon 
that he possessed in his exclusive privilege to crown the King. The 
Pope was resolved to uphold him in this and warned the English 
bishops to respect the right of the See of Canterbury. Nevertheless, 
Henry, after the failure at Montmirail, could brook no further 
delay and persuaded the Archbishop of York to anoint and crown 
his son. 

By this time Alexander's position had materially changed for 
the better. He condemned the Archbishop of York and the bishops 
who assisted him and gave Thomas letters suspending them from 
their episcopal functions. Henry realized that the struggle, so long 
adroitly avoided, was at last inevitable unless a reconciliation was 
had. Moreover, his situation was not bettered by the fact that the 
King of France was once more his declared foe and had invaded 
Normandy. Under these circumstances he bowed to necessity and 
sought an interview with the Archbishop at Freitville. Henry's 
conduct on this occasion is rightly the subject of controversy. Per- 
ceiving the Archbishop approaching, he spurred forward, saluted 
him with every sign of friendliness and begged for a renewal of 
their ancient affection! Later, he threatened to visit the severest 
justice on those who had created dissension between them, a promise 
which caused the ^^proud and hard-hearted Archbishop" to throw 
himself from his horse and, with tears streaming down his face, 
to cast himself at Henry's feet. It was agreed that Thomas should 
be restored to his See and that proper amends should be made for 
the injury done to him and to it by the crowning of the young King 
by Roger of York. In return Thomas promised Henry love, honor 
and service. The Constitutions were not mentioned. At the part- 
ing it was understood that Henry would soon send for him. 

Months elapsed and Henry sent no word. It was only when 
it seemed that Thomas was on the point of throwing the whole ar- 
rangement overboard and launching the interdict that he yielded 
and restored the archiepiscopal lands. It was understood that the 
Kmg was to furnish the Archbishop with the money for his journey 
to Canterbury. But time again dragged by and no money was 
forthcoming. Finally, in desperation, the exile borrowed the nee- 



a 1 S THOMAS OF LONDON [Not , 

essary funds from the Archbishop of Rouen and set forth on his 
tragic homecoming. In spite, however, of all the wrongs and vexa- 
tions which he had endured, he did not quit the soil of France until 
he had written to Henry that moving epistle, ending with those 
noble words: **Whatever may befall me or mine, may the blessing 
of God rest on you and your children." 

In December, 1170, six years after his flight to the continent, 
the Archbishop entered his city of Canterbury. The rejoicing of 
the people knew no restraints. But his old enemies were as active 
as ever. The young King refused to see him. The three bishops, 
who had officiated at the crowning and to whom Thomas had dis- 
patched the papal letters of suspension, had at once betaken them- 
selves to Henry's court on the continent and had denounced the 
Archbishop in unmeasured terms. One of them, or some close 
adviser, supplemented their complaints with the solemn assurance 
that neither Henry nor his kingdom would know peace so long as 
Thomas lived. These words had the most extraordinary effect 
on the monarch. He burst forth into the most terrible excoriation 
of the Archbishop and finally let fall those pregnant words, which 
bitterly deplored that he was surrounded by sluggards, not one of 
whom would deliver him from this "base-bom priest." 

Four knights there were, Hugh de Moreville, Reginald Fitz- 
urse, William de Tracy and Richard le Bret or Brito, who gave this 
exclamation a literal interpretation. Silently they departed from 
the court and sailed for the English coast. They reached Saltwood 
Castle, wrongfully withheld from Thomas by De Broc, on Decem- 
ber 28th. Their host strengthened their purpose by the tidings that 
on Christmas the Archbishop had courageously excommunicated 
him for his many misdeeds. On that same day there had fallen 
from Thomas' lips those prophetic words: "One martyr. Saint 
Alfege, you have already; another, if God will, you will have 
soon." Late in the afternoon of December 29th an attendant an- 
nounced to the Archbishop that four knights from the King wished 
to see him. He ordered them to be ushered into his presence and 
instantly recognized De Moreville, Fitzurse and Tracy, all of whom 
had sworn fealty to him when he was Chancellor, a fact of which 
he soon reminded them. The interview commenced calmly, but 
the knights were not long in taking a high tone which struck fire 
from the Archbishop. When, finally, they menaced him, he sprang 
from the couch on which he was sitting and cried : "You threaten me 



I9I90 THOMAS OF LONDON 2 If 

in vain; were all the swords in England hanging over my head, you 
could not terrify me from my obedience to God, and my Lord the 
Pope* Once I gave way. I returned to my obedience to the Pope, 
and will nevermore desert it" 

The knights retired and armed themselves. The Archbishop 
refused to listen to the pleas of his followers that he escape. ^*I 
am prepared to die,'' he answered, and again, ^^Let God's will be 
done." The monks, who were present, urged him to take refuge in 
the cathedral, but he would not hear of it until the vesper diant 
reached his ears. He then rose and said that now he would go to 
the cathedral, as it was his duty to be there. His followers would 
have barred and barricaded the cathedral doors, but he solenmly 
forbade them, saying that the church must not be turned into a 
castle. At last there was. heard close at hand the clang of arms 
and the heavy tread of armored men. Terrified, all of the Arch- 
bishop's followers except three — ^Robert, his old instructor, Wil- 
liam Fitzstephen, and Edward Grim — sought safety in flight. The 
knights rushed into the church with swords and axes in their hands. 
One of them cried out: ^^ Where is Thomas Becket, traitor to the 
King?" Silence was the only answer, but then came the question 
from Fitzurse: ^^Where is the Archbishop?" Instantly Thomas 
turned and replied: ^^Reginald, here I am — ^no traitor, but Arch- 
bishop and priest of God ; what do you wish?" He then descended 
to the transept and fearlessly faced his foes. They demanded the 
absolution of the bishops. He refused to yield to their threats, right- 
ly asserting that the Pope alone had authority in the matter. They 
told him that he must die, only to be met with the reply: ^^I am 
ready to die for God and the Church; but I warn you, I curse you 
in the name of God if you do not let my men escape." Fitzurse 
reached out his hand and gripped his shoulder, exclaiming that he 
was their prisoner and seeking to drag him out of the church. The 
old-time martial strength awakened from its repose and the Arch- 
bishop easily disengaged himself from the unfriendly grasp. Nor 
could their combined efforts move him from his post, and Tracy, 
seeking to pinion him, was flung down on the pavement. Then 
Fitzurse approached with drawn sword and struck at his head, but 
merely dashed off his cap. Exclaiming ^To God and the blessed 
Mary, to the patron saints of this church, and to St. Denys, I com- 
mend myself and the Church's cause," the Archbishop bowed his 
head, clasped his hands and awaited the fatal stroke. The first 



a2o Thomas of London [Not., 

blow was intercepted by the faithful Grim, the only attendant who 
now remained by him. At the' second blow Thomas cried out: 
"Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.*' The third stroke beat 
him to his knees and he turned to the altar and murmured in a low 
tone, caught by the faithful Grim: "For the name of Jesus and for 
the defence of the Qiurch I am ready to embrace death." He then 
fell flat upon his face and received from the hand of Brito a mighty 
blow which separated the crown of his head from the skull and 
scattered his brains over the cathedral floor. 

Their bloody mission completed, the murderers rushed from 
the church, and the night descending in fearful darkness brought 
with it a great storm of thunder and rain. But the fury of the ele- 
ments could not prevent the people nor the monks from gathering 
in great numbers in the desecrated church. Popular voice at once 
burst forth into the cry. Saint Thomas, an enthusiasm soon con- 
firmed by miracles. 

When the news of the murder reached Henry he was thrown 
into a state of the deepest consternation and grief. He dispatched 
trusted envoys to the Pope to protest his innocence and to offer his 
submission to any test. Later, at a Council at the castle of Gorram, 
he met the Papal legates, swore on the Gospels that he had not 
wished or ordered the Archbishop's murder, renounced the Con- 
stitutions of Clarendon, swore adhesion to the Pope and restored 
the property of the See of Canterbury. Twelve years later, when 
his sons had rebelled against him and he was encompassed on all 
sided by treason and misfortune, he resolved to have recourse to his 
old Chancellor. Dressed in the garb of a penitent and with bare 
feet he approached the holy tomb and remained long in prayer, 
with tears streaming down his countenance. He then submitted to 
a public scourging and, after a night spent in prayer and fasting, 
departed. On the very day Henry left Canterbury the King of 
Scotland, who had invaded England, was defeated and taken pris- 
oner, and the fleet with which his rebellious sons had set out from 
Flanders was driven back. So, in the judgment of the monarch 
and his contemporaries, did the martyr reward Henry's penitence. 



1.^1 



iICAL VIEW OF MIRACLESJ 




BY SIR BERTRAM WINDLE, M. D., F. R. S. 

CURIOUS little incident, throwing a light upon an 
even more curious form of mentality, was made pub- 
lic some months ago by a Catholic journal published 
in London* This paper, which was interested in a 
movement to send soldiers in France for a short 
visit to Lourdes, had arranged for a lecture to be delivered on the 
happenings there by one thoroughly familiar with them and for 
the chair to be taken by a very distinguished medical man. Think- 
ing that the address might be of interest to other members of that 
profession, an advertisement was sent to that old and respectable 
organ of the medical profession. The Lancet, calling attention to 
the occasion. 

To the astonishment of those who sent it, admission was re- 
fused to the announcement on the grounds — as stated by the man- 
ager — ^ihat "the medical profession does not believe in miracles." 
In the first place it may be doubted, without any disrespect to 
that gentleman, whether the manager had any special claim to 
speak for the medical profession, and in the next it may be sug- 
gested, with complete confidence, that it would be quite possible to 
enumerate quite a list of medical men of good standing in their 
profession who do believe in miracles. Finally, it can be asserted 
boldly that, though perhaps comparatively few in number, there 
are cases of sudden cures which elude the explanations of those 
who utterly refuse to give credit to the hypothesis of miracle. Is 
there any excuse for the attitude of such? Only one plea can be 
put in for them, and that is ignorance — ^the kind of ignorance 
which Dr. Johnson pleaded as his excuse for wrongly defining some 
part of the anatomy of a horse. If that is an excuse, such persons 
may have the benefit of it, but is it really an excuse? Is it really 
pardonable for any man pretending to be guided by scientific con- 
siderations to place himself in the position of first making a state- 
ment and then having to admit that he had not previously taken 
the trouble to examine the evidence? 

I Mrmam Mtdkatn ito Mitads pw It Dodrar U Btc : Piuto. l»lf. 



22a A Medical View of Miracles [Nov., 

Anyone who acted on these principles in a scientific matter 
would find it very hard to regain his credit with his scientific 
brethren; is it only in matters where religion is concerned that 
slip-shod methods of this kind are permissible? It may be con- 
venient to consider this question of miraculous cures once more 
and in the light of the most recent evidence, and, as the writer of 
these lines has had a medical education and is the holder of a 
medical degree, he may at least claim to be in a position to estimate 
the character of the evidence medicine would require to satisfy 
itself on a point of this kind. To clear the way let us throw over- 
board certain preliminary and foolish objections to our views 
which are commonly made. 

Number One — "Oh, you are prepared to believe anything!" 
This is a common and most foolish remark. It is made by those 
who are wholly ignorant of the kind of evidence required before 
it can be acknowledged that a miracle has occurred. Something 
may be learned by what is to follow of the kind of evidence which 
can be put forward. It cannot but appear to be very strong. Let 
those who read it and have open minds remember that, strong as 
it is, it has not, so far as we know, as yet passed the bar of ecclesi- 
astical investigation. Number Two — "These things don't hap- 
pen!" Well, unfortunately for that argument, they do and with 
such publicity as to render this remark quite out of court. Num- 
ber Three — "It is all *faked' by the priests!" This vulgar argu- 
ment, once made use of by decent but mistaken persons, now be- 
longs entirely to the Maria Monk School; it has been abandoned 
by all persons worthy of the slightest consideration and need not 
detain us. Number Four — "No doubt they happen, but they all 
have a nervous foundation and can be explained on the great hys- 
teria principle" — ^which, by the way, is used to cover much igno- 
rance in medical circles. As a sufficient answer, we shall study 
some cases which this kind of explanation cannot possibly cover. 
But to it may be added this pregnant fact, almost, if not quite, 
unknown to medical men, that a Pope was, perhaps, the very first 
to emphasize the importance of discounting cures into which any 
kind of nervous element entered. In the middle of the eighteenth 
century (from 1747-1751) when, it may be justly said, medical 
men were densely ignorant of nervous conditions, Benedict XIV 
issued his writings on the Beatification of the Servants of God in 
which he deals with the matter in a way that could not be bettered 



1919] A Medical View of miracles 123 

today. Speaking of so-called miracles in hysterical persons, he 
says that it is very difficult to show that such cures are miraculous, 
and adds that ^^if sometimes the postulators of causes of Beatifica- 
tion have tried to establish such, I have never seen them succeed.'* 
Number Five — ^The last invented explanation: "Oh, it is all sug- 
gestion!" No one wants to minimize the potency of suggestion, 
but two remarks may be made under this heading. First, sugges- 
tion can only act through the nervous system, and we are proposing 
to limit ourselves here to cases in which the nervous system can 
be left out of count. Secondly, we may ask with Hilaire Belloc in 
his preface to Jorgensen's little book on Lourdes: "If what happens 
at Lourdes is the result of self-suggestion, why cannot men, though 
exceptionally, yet in similar great numbers, suggest themselves into 
health in Pimlico*or the Isle of Man?" 

I propose, as I have said, to consider a very few cases. They 
will suffice to prove my thesis, for if we once show that miraculous 
occurrences do take place at Lourdes, or elsewhere, then each case 
brought forward becomes one for separate investigation and judg- 
ment. With regard to these cases I shall claim that one of three 
things must be true: (1) Medical diagnosis, i. e., the recognition of 
individual diseases, is utterly untrustworthy, or (2) Medical 
teachers are ignorant of the fundamental facts of their science, or 
(3) Miracles do occur, and I will begin with a case which I have 
myself quoted elsewhere.^ It has been dealt with often by others, 
but has never been controverted nor, to my knowledge, even shaken. 
It is consequently worthy of the closest attention. A negative an- 
swer to the question, "Was it a Miracle?" can only be made on the 
lines of the extraordinary statement of a German writer in a Berlin 
paper in 1902 : **The cure of Pierre de Rudder cannot be true, be- 
cause it would be a slap in the face for all the laws of biology and 
pathology." 

This statement is about as scientific and as convincing as Zola's 
utterance: "I don't believe in miracles; even if all the sick in 
Lourdes were cured in one moment, I would not believe in them!" 

De Rudder was a Belgian woodcutter on whose left leg a tree 
fell in 1867, fracturing both bones. He was attended by a medical 
man, but no union of the fragments took place. Matters seemed so 
hopeless and, indeed, from the medical point of view, were so 
hopeless that an amputation with a subsequent artificial limb was 
advised. 

* Sm TIWTGtardI ffuf SfltoiM,- ehtpter M MIndep. 



334 ^ MEDICAL VIEW OF MIRACLES [Nov., 

The patient refused to consent, and for eight years continued 
to drag himself about with an ununited compound fracture, that is, 
a fracture which communicates with the open air. From this, neces- 
sarily at a time when antiseptics were practically unknown, there 
was a constant and very offensive discharge. Moreover, as time 
went on, the ends of the bones gradually died and rotted until 
there was an interval between them amounting to three centimetres, 
or something more than an inch. De Rudder could twist his leg 
round with his own hands so that the toes pointed backwards and 
the heel forwards. 

In December, 1874, one of the doctors interested in his case 
saw and examined his leg and found it in the condition described 
above. In the following January (1875) another medical man 
who knew his case well saw him, again advised amputation and 
was again refused. From that time until the day after the cure, 
he was not seen by any medical man, and the suggestion has been 
made that during that time a spcmtaneous cure had taken place; 
the occurrence at Oostacker being a mere "fake" for the bene- 
fit of the Qiurch. Fortunately, as I have said, the condition was 
not one which only a medical man could diagnose; anyone could 
detect what was wrong, and there were plenty of persons to testify 
to his condition up to a few moments before the cure happened. 

On the 2d, 4th and 6th of April, 1875, no less than six per- 
sons, friends of de Rudder, charitably helped him to dress his 
unfortunate leg, and testified to all the revolting conditions above 
mentioned. On the 7th de Rudder went by train to Oostacker, 
where there was a sort of shrine of Our Lady of Lourdes. To reach 
the shrine from the railway station he had to make use of an 
omnibus, and a curious proof of his condition is afforded by 
the fact that the conductor of that vehicle grumbled very much, 
as indeed well he might, that de Rudder's imperfectly bandaged 
limb had allowed a quantity of discharge to escape on the floor 
to its damage and its conductor's annoyance. De Rudder came 
to the shrine; sat down on a seat, tired out with his journey; we 
may assume that he said a prayer or two, but we are not told 
so. However that may be, he suddenly experienced a shock; felt 
that he was cured; stood upright; knelt down; rose up again and 
was able to walk without crutches or any other assistance to the 
omnibus. On the next two days he was examined by the two 
medical men who had previously seen him and who testified that 
his leg was perfectly strong and sound. He lived for twenty-diree 



19^9] ^ MEDICAL VIEW OF MIRACLES 225 

years after this, pursuing his avocation as a laboring man, and 
died at the age of seventy-five, of pneumonia* 

What had happened? Let us first consider what happens in 
ordinary cases of fracture when all goes well. The ends of the 
bones which are in a freshly broken condition become united by 
what is known as callus, that is, fresh bone grows and unites the 
two broken ends; a kind of permanent splice is formed; the bone 
is as strong as ever. But evidence of what has happened will al- 
ways be present in the bone, easily detected in the dried specimen 
by the trained eye. 

In the case of an unhealed compound fracture, the ends of 
the bone would not be fresh and before they could be got to unite 
it would be necessary either surgically to "freshen" them or that 
some natural process should produce a similar effect. Any surgeon 
will admit that the union of bones which have a gap between 
them of an inch and which have been suppurating for eight years 
is a thing which, with or without surgical interference, is almost 
impossible. The proof of this is the repeated advice to amputate. 
How is this new bone formed? From a lime salt which exists in 
small quantities in the blood and which is slowly supplied to the 
uniting bones. In fact, it takes three or more months for bones 
to knit firmly even under favorable conditions. It is estimated 
that at any one moment there is less than one and a half grammes, 
that is, about twenty grains, of this lime salt in the blood. Now 
in our case it was sudden; the whole thing seems to have been 
over in a moment; the work of three months — even in a normal 
and recent case — done in thirty seconds. That must strike any- 
one as wonderful. But the mechanism is absolutely' baffling to 
the physiologist on any other explanation than that of miracle. 

To build up the amount of bone which had to be built up 
to fill the gap between the ends of the bones — ^for there was no 
shortening of the limb; the entire gap was filled up — it is esti- 
mated that five grammes (i. e., about seventy-five grains) of the 
lime salt in question would be required. At any one time there 
is about one-third of this amount in the blood; where did the re- 
maining two-thirds suddenly come from? To this inquiry there 
seems to be no answer possible on physical lines. Until there is, 
and there seems to be but little prospect of any answer, we may 
diallenge our opponents, who deny the possibility of miracle. 



226 A Medical View of Miracles [Nov., 

to offer us any reasonable explanation of the sudden union and 
of the sudden supply of material necessary for that purpose. 

Now let us apply our three explanations to this case. Can 
the diagnosis have been wrong? Wholly impossible in this in- 
stance. Were the bones really united? After de Rudder's death 
the bones were removed, photographed and deposited in a mu- 
seum ; there is no sort of doubt that the bones represented to have 
been his have suffered fracture and undergone reunion. Is there 
any possibility of such a sudden cure taking place under normal 
circumstances? None whatever unless all our medical knowledge 
is mere illusion. Therefore, either all the evidence carefully piled 
up and investigated in relation to this case, which — ^let it ever be 
remembered — is not one of the Middle Ages, but, so to speak, 
of yesterday, is a carefully conceived and frigid lie, or the oc- 
currence is one so wonderful that — ^with all due submission to 
any future decision of the regular tribunals of the Qiurch — it is 
certainly legitimate for the lay Catholic to look upon it as a 
miracle. 

I have dealt at considerable length with this case, in the first 
place because it admirably exemplifies many points which I have 
been anxious to bring out and then because it has been considered 
by so many writers; has been before the public so very prominently 
without, so far as I am aware, any real doubt having been thrown 
on the circumstances attending it. The other cases which I shall 
iselect are less well known; may be briefly described; and all ex- 
hibit the same leading features — suddenness of cure and apparent 
impossibility of accounting for it. 

Varicose veins are an affliction which all have heard of and 
most people, at some time or another, have seen. They are un- 
fortunately very common; can be cured in early stages and in 
certain cases by operation, but when of long establishment are 
generally and properly regarded as quite incurable. Yet in the 
case of a priest, aged nearly sixty, who had suffered from this 
ailment in a most aggravated form for nearly twenty-five years, 
there followed a complete cure after his first bath at Lourdes. 
It could hardly have been a cure of suggestion, since the sufferer 
went unwillingly, without the slightest hope or expectation of a 
cure and solely in obedience to his Archbishop's orders. Besides 
it is impossible to suppose that suggestion could produce any ef- 
fect in a case of this kind. Not to be too technical, the first thing 



I9I».] A MEDICAL VIEW OF MIRACLES 127 

ivhidi occurs in this ailment is an inflammation of the walls of the 
veins hy which they lose their flexibility. They become enor- 
mously dilated and tortuous, appearing like huge knots of worms. 
They lose the valves which normally assist in the circulation, and 
in the later stages ulceration of a serious character and most in- 
tractable appears. To all these various miseries this patient was 
a victim. Yet he was cured and instantaneously. 

He was seen by doctors, who declared that the condition was 
incurable just before he went to Lourdes; he was seen again im- 
mediately after his return and found to be in perfect health and 
with no signs of varicose veins; he was again seen seven years 
after his cure — there had been no relapse. What had happened? 
The thickened coats of the veins had resumed their normal con- 
dition; the elongations had disappeared — ^a most wonderful thing 
— and perhaps most extraordinary of all, the valves had been 
restored to their normal places. That these things could have 
taken place at all by natural means-— even under medical treat- 
ment — ^is a thing which no surgeon would credit. Not even would 
he allow that it might occur after a long and slow recovery, for 
the tendency of this ailment is to go from bad to worse. Not 
certainly could he be persuaded that it could take place in a single 
moment 

The next case is one in which suggestion can find no place, 
for the patient was a child of two years old, bom with congenital 
club feet, the daughter of a Catholic doctor. He and his wife 
were naturally much distressed at the condition of their baby. 
As a medical man he very naturally and properly made his first 
appeal to the resources of his profession. The child, at the age 
of fifteen months, was operated on by a specialist, who performed 
tenotomy in each leg. The operation did little if any good and 
the use of apparatus was equally ineff'ectual. The doctor and his 
wife took the child to Lourdes. After the third bath the child 
walked perfectly, naturally; that is, as a normal child of two 
years old would walk. In this case, which was followed through- 
out by the father, himself a medical man, there were two remark- 
able features: the cure of the club feet and the inmiediate restora- 
tion to full strength of the muscles of the thighs and legs which 
had been seriously atrophied by disuse, but which were normal in 
appearance and function after the cure. 

Cancer of the tongue is known to be a very deadly 



338 A MEDICAL VIEW OF MIRACLES [Nov., 

particularly when it recurs. Doctor Le Bee narrates a case and 
gives photographs where cancer had shown itself and an operation 
bad been undergone. The disease recurred as it so often does. 
A second operation was advised but refused. The glands in the 
neck became affected — the inevitable sequel in such cases. The 
patient tried to get to Lourdes, but could find no place in the 
train; made a novena; bathed her tongue with Lourdes water and 
was completely and instantaneously cured, the infected glands 
becoming normal at the same time. Eight years later no recur- 
rence had taken place. To a medical man comment on such 
a case is needless; he must admit that the cure is of a kind unknown 
to surgical science. 

So, too, widi another woman afflicted with serious and long- 
standing lupus which had caused perforation of the cheek and 
soft palate. She had been under constant medical advice for 
some ten years. She was seen eleven days before she went to 
Lourdes by a medical man who gave a certificate as to her con- 
dition. Her state was deplorable for, owing to the perforations, 
she could not eat unless the hole in her cheek was plugged with 
cotton wool. It is perhaps hardly necessary to say that every 
form of treatment, including die actual cautery had been tried, 
nor need any medical man be reminded of the horribly otfensive 
nature of the discharge and other conditions connected with such 
a case. She was accompanied to HiOurdes by a nun who dressed 
her cheek continually and on the morning of her visit to the well, 
i^en the hole was large enough to permit a finger to be passed 
through it, Tliree hours after the last dressing at which no change 
was noticed, and at the end of one of the processions which take 
place daily, the chedc and die palate were found to be completely 
healed, all the perforations, so cdivious in the morning, having 
disappeared. Five days after her return home she was seen by 
the same doctor as before her departure who certified to the extra- 

— j; J : '=-able change in her condition. 

istmctive. The case was so well known and 
ition that it formed the subject of discussions 
sty of Metz where the woman lived. Many 
sed, it appears, but the most curious was that 
o urged that a certain treatment must have 
ring the journey and that by the aid of this 
could have been cured in twelve days. There 



I9I9-] ^ Medical View of Miracles 229 

is not the slightest evidence that any treatment other than dress- 
ing had been applied. Indeed, both the patient and the nun de- 
nied anything of the kind. But the most curious fact is that the 
woman had actually been attended and comparatively recently 
by this very Dr. MuUer — one of the many doctors she had tried. 
If he knew that there was a treatment which would cure her in 
twelve days, why, it may fairly be asked, did he not make use of 
it and cure her without the trouble of going to Lourdes? The ex- 
cuse really proves the impossibility of explaining the case on or- 
dinary medical lines. 

Other cases could be quoted; let these suffice. What are the 
main things to be noted about them? In the first place there is 
not one of them which presents the smallest difficulty in the way 
of diagnosis. Fracture of both bones of the leg; varicose veins; 
club feet; cancer of the tongue; lupus — if any student at his 
final examination for medical degrees failed to diagnose any one 
of these he would most certainly and most properly be rejected. 
There is one small loophole in the lupus case, but we need not 
trouble about it, since the doctor who was the author of the sug- 
gestion never thought of it until after his patient had been cured 
at Lourdes. There is, moreover, no evidence whatever for the 
alternative explanation. In the second place, the pathology and 
history of such cases are perfectly well known; they are as fa- 
miliar to medical men as his daily beat is to a postman. They 
are all amongst the most common of the ills of humanity and it 
is almost inconceivable that anything much more is to be learned 
about any of them — ^anything, that is, which could help us to 
account for the method by which they have all been cured. 
Thirdly, there is not one of them in which, by any kind of special 
pleading even, the influence of the nervous system or of a hyster- 
ical condition can possibly be invoked. 

Lastly, and as a corollary to this, imless everything which 
we have learned about medicine is a delusion, there is not the most 
remote chance that any one of these patients can have suggested 
themselves into a cure. The baby did not know what was happen- 
ing and, if it had, will any one argue that distorted feet can be 
put right and new muscular fibres suddenly produced by sug- 
gestion? Or again, can suggestion suddenly produce an enormous 
superabundance of lime salts in the blood and suddenly unite 



aso A Medical View of Miracles [Not., 

by them fragments of bone which hare been smidered for years? 
To ask the question is to answer it 

The Qiurch has not, we understand, pronounced any of these 
cases to be miracles and we shall not attempt to do so. But surely 
we may ask, whatever they are, are they not very proper mat- 
ters for medical discussion? And is it not just and proper that 
we should ask those who refuse to believe that miracles can happen, 
to be good enough to throw some light on the mechanism of cure 
in these and other like cases. 

Before concluding, special emphasis must be laid upon one 
point which has been alluded to in all these cases and that is the 
suddenness of the cure. In many of the cases the patient states 
that he or she felt a sudden shock, or a great pain, oi; a feeling 
as if hot irons were being applied, and the cure is found to have 
been effected. Doctor Le Bee calls especial attention to this Time 
Factor to which I had myself directed attention in my book al- 
ready mentioned. Such a method of cure, or rather, perhaps, 
such a history of cure, is quite unknown to medical science in cases 
of this kind. 

It is quite what one would expect in cases of a hysterical na- 
ture, and, by the way, let it be parenthetically said that whilst 
the cure — ^permanent of course — of a hysterical condition may 
not be a miracle, it is none the less a very special grace to the 
patient and still more to her uphappy family. But the cases with 
which we are concerned are of long standing and involve profound 
— one would suppose irreversible — changes in the tissues. If such 
cases could get well by natural means, which it is almost if not 
quite impossible to imagine, it is incredible that such changes as 
must take place could do so with absolute suddenness and com- 
pleteness. 

Those who deny that God works miracles even today, or even 
that there is a God at all, may reasonably be invited to throw 
some light upon the mechanism of these cures and especially on 
the suddenness and completeness which they exhibit. There is 
only one alternative: to call them lies! No one familiar with 
the facts can advance that argimient It may be left to those who 
nowadays alone make use of it, the less educated and less repu- 
table of our opponents. 




THE PROBLEM OF BIG BUSINESS 

BY LEO N. MURRAY. 

|F all men were equal in their equipment for life; 
were angels and Adam had not fallen — ^there would 
altruists, and if none were self-seekers — or if men 
or by the lack of any training; if all men were 
if all men were imbiased by a particular training 
be little ground for economic debate. 

But the fact that the foregoing conditions are not realized, 
no one will deny. And the fact that there is a deal of economic 
debate, no one can deny. 

The old story of the three men viewing a field (it might as 
easily have been thirty-three) is in point. One was a geologist, 
and the field spelled itself into his mentality in geological terms. 
Another was a farmer, and the field meant sowing and cultivation 
and reaping to him. The third might have been a real estate man, 
and, naturally, his concern would have been with different factor- 
possibilities than those of his friends. And so on and on. All 
were agreed, however, that the field in question was useful. The 
question of "how" and "why" was the parting of the roads. 

This oft-told legend is not without application to an impor- 
tant question of to-day. The field is large-scale productive indus- 
try — ^Big Business. The geologist and the farmer and the real- 
estate man have their counterparts in the Socialist, the Capitalist, 
and the Cooperationist. They are agreed on one point: the field 
is useful. From that point on they disagree. Let us see in what 
different lights each of the three views the field, and then whether 
any of the three is entirely right or entirely wrong, or whether 
they are all more or less right or wrong. 

Few will seriously question the utility of Big Business. The 
concentration of highly expert management in a particular field; 
the resultant efficiency and the economy of production costs made 
possible by this concentration; the large-scale production and 
standardizing of product which is corollary to it — are sufficiently 
obvious to the everyday observer. The, at least, potential utility 
of Big Business is undeniable. Moreover, Big Business is neces- 
sary for a nation that would keep step with its economic rivals. 



asa THB PROBLEM OF BIG BUSINESS [Nov., 

Usefulness and necessity postulate at least potential good. 
Yet experience has shown that Big Business, just because it is 
big, has big potentialities for evil, too. There is an argument 
contra as well as an argument prOj neither entirely unreasonable. 
For to counterbalance the good of economy in production, large- 
scale production and standard product, efficient management and 
specialized division of labor, there are the only too familiar evils 
of ^'pitiless persecution" of the small competitor, exorbitant 
monopoly and combination prices, squeezing of small stockholders 
for the illegitimate enrichment of '^malefactors of great wealth" 
and a dozen other things. And these evils flow from the same 
source as the afore-mentioned good. 

In view of this, various groups of thinkers theorize on Big 
Business and propose and advocate ways and means to handle this 
industrial device, which, in spite of its enormous advantages, has 
proved its potentiality for evil by actualizing it, acting in far too 
many instances with an emphasis on its consciousness of brute 
size and a lack of emphasis on its moral responsibility. These 
ways, means and theories are matters worthy of our consideration. 

The Socialist theory, most radical of all, would cure by kill- 
ing. (By the Socialist, we mean the Marxian, or so-called ortho- 
dox). True, he would not admit that he was killing; he would 
say he merely advocates state ownership and control of all pro- 
duction and products. But whatever his intent, the Socialist would 
kill Big Business in its understood sense. For the state-ownership 
scheme of the Socialist would destroy all incentive for expert 
managerial production, and could guarantee no better than a man- 
agement of production by a ^'chosen-by-lot managerial medio- 
crity." As the efficient managerial factor which Socialism would 
eliminate is one of the primary reasons for Big Business, it fol- 
lows that, in practice, the Socialist theory would kill Big Business. 

The Socialist is wrong in his logic. He talks of the right 
of labor to the whole product (deducting merely the actual value 
of the replacement of the capital instruments involved). But he 
does not tell us how economic determinism and moral rights, 
which are at opposite poles, can be maintained in the same para- 
graph. This observation is not new; it is none the less true and 
relevant. 

The Socialist is wrong, again, in his economic theory (whidi 
is the basis for his desired socializing of tbe means of production) ; 



I9I9) 2r/w Problem of big business 233 

for he denies the right (again!) of Big Business to a return on its 
capital and he denies it on the ground of "no title.'* He lays 
down the principle that labor is the sole determinant of value — and 
does not prove it He concludes from his principle that the whole 
product belongs to the laborer, but does not tell where the laborer 
gets his title to possession of the material on which he labors. 
Nor does he recognize what every sane economist knows, and any 
thinking observer will admit, that scarcity and utility are the 
factors that make for value, and not labor in any primary sense. 
(I may labor for forty years on a machine for producing perpetual 
motion, but will the machine have any value? Very probably 
not!) 

Again, the Socialist errs by dreaming of his Mirage State 
and arguing from that Utopian consideration to the consequent 
necessity of destroying Big Business as at present understood. But 
he forgets that his Mirage State, even in its ideal fulfillment, would 
be but a nationalized or internationalized aggregation of mediocri- 
ties, in serfdom to an oligarchy of Lenines and Trotzkys, or to a 
mob-control of soldiers' and sailors' and workingmen's commit- 
tees. His Mirage State, now holding the reins in Russia, has 
beautifully vindicated the criticisms of Catholic philosophy on his 
system. 

So much for the radical Socialist theory of how to deal with 
Big Business. It is a theory drawn from poisoned wells which 
Would kill and not cure the most important industrial device of 
our times. Big Business — and worse yet — it would also kill' the 
whole Christian social order. But we may be wasting time shoot- 
ing at a straw man. It dbes not seem likely that Socialism will be 
seriously considered by the normal sane man in the future. The 
Russian Reds have painted a flaming warning on Northern Europe. 
It will be difficult, if not impossible, to conceal the ghastliness of 
that warning. 

A second solution of the Big Business problem is the solu- 
tion of the Cooperationists. This theory is devoid of tainted radi- 
calism and deserves serious consideration. It argues, fairly 
enough, that the existence of a minority class, constantly increas- 
ing its wealth by receipt of "workless income" in the shape of re- 
turns on its capital, is economically and socially an unhealthy 
condition. It aims at a more socially and economically expedient 
and less socially dangerous distribution of the national income to 



234 TtfE Problem of big Business [Nov., 

05 manyy instead of to as few, individuals as possible. It would 
obviate the danger of a constantly more marked stratification of 
society into hostile classes: of employer and employee — capitalist 
and labor. It involves no programme of dispossession and con- 
fiscation, but would substitute a cooperative society of workers and 
managers for a cooperative society of owners and managers. 

Now certain observations are in order. Our concern here 
is with Big Business, by which term, from common parlance, is 
meant large industrial enterprises engaged in production. Conse- 
quently, we are not dealing with cooperative credit societies or 
cooperative agricultural societies or small-scale cooperative pro- 
ductive societies or even cooperative mercantile societies. Each 
of these forms of cooperation has much to make it worth a trial 
(and, indeed, each has been tried with good measure of success 
in many cases), for each makes for a more widespread distribu- 
tion of the national income, and any conomic action in that di- 
rection not involving an over-great loss of eflficiency and economy 
is largely desirable. But these are not the concern of this article. 
Nor can we touch here the morality of interest or fair profits. 
At least the presumptions are with the morality of these institu- 
tions; that they are morally good is here taken for granted. 

These limitations understood, we return to cooperation as a 
solution of the Big Business problem. Cooperation may take two 
major forms which must be considered separately (in reference 
to productive enterprise always). First, there is what is called 
the* "perfect form*' of cooperation. The essence of this, accord- 
ing to Professor Taussig, consists "in getting rid of the managing 
employer" — or from the converse view, according to Dr. Ryan, 
"the perfect form occurs when all the workers engaged in the 
common concern own all the share capital, control the entire 
management, and receive the whole of the wages, profits and in- 



terest." 



There is little question that such a system would be ideal, 
granted its practicability. It would have every advantage and 
none of the disadvantages of the Socialist scheme; it would make 
for a wide distribution of the national income and a more equi- 
table and imiversal standard of living; it would furnish individual 
incentive and protect the rights of private property, for, as Dr. 
Ryan points out so well, it is not a system of collective owner- 



19 19.) THE PROBLEM OF BIG BUSINESS %%^ 

ship, but a system of immediate private oumership and control of 
a definite amount of specific capital. 

But ideal though the system seems to be, its practicability in 
the particular matter with which we are now concerned, is quite 
another thing. Big Business, precisely because it is big, needs 
precisely the efficient managing employer that Perfect Coopera- 
tion aims to avoid. For only such a manager, it would seem, and 
only with the incentive of profit to himself, would or could make 
Big Business maintain its present efficiency — and efficiency is the 
particular reason for Big Business. True, as Dr. Ryan points 
out, directive talent of the altruistic type may be developed in 
time, but from the present outlook it would seem that that time 
is very far distant. Again, Big Business requires big capital. 
This is another objection to cooperation-ism in this field; not in- 
superable, of course, for a cooperative society "acorn," like a 
captain of industry "acorn," may become an "oak." But it will 
be long in growing since the shoots are not yet even visible. 
Professor Carver is right when he says that capital is the limit- 
ing factor in the present industrial situation and without it Big 
Business is impossible. 

It may be added also that unless cooperative production were 
universal, it would tend to reestablish the very system it purports 
to avoid: the employer and wage system. Experience shows that 
a cooperationist society tends to become a closed corporation, once 
it is in full swing. "Perfect cooperation, therefore, does not ofiFer 
an adequate solution of the Big Business problem — ^though its 
future possibilities in certain limited fields of production may not 
be denied. 

There is, however, a second form of cooperation, popularly 
known as the co-partnership form. Co-partnership exists when 
some or all of the employees of a concern own stock in the busi- 
ness of the concern which employs them, and not only own stock 
but participate directly in the management of the concern. A third 
element, profit sharing, is usually considered an integral element 
of this form of cooperation. 

The most notable experiment in this line, according to Dr. 
Ryan, is that of the Metropolitan Gas Co. of London. "Practic- 
ally all the company's six thousand employees are now among 
its stockholders," says Dr. Ryan. "Although their combined 
holdings are only about one twenty-eighth of the total, they are 



336 THE PROBLBM OF BTG BUSINESS [Nov., 

empowered to select two of the ten members of the board of di- 
rectors/' What may prove to be an even more notable experi- 
ment in this line has recently attracted much attention in our own 
country. The Sears-Roebuck Co. of Qiicago, employing between 
thirty and forty thousand, has gone in for a co-partnership scheme 
which involves stock ownership and profit-sharing, but which, in 
the information of the present writer, does not include direct em- 
ployee participation in the company's management, although cer- 
tainly a degree of management participation is involved in the 
very fact of stock ownership. More than ten per cent, of the total 
issue of common stock of the Sears-Roebuck Co. is already owned 
by the employees and, as the particular co-partnership scheme in 
use involves a progressive acquirement of stock by the employees, 
it will probably not be long before the employees of this concern 
will have a very substantial part even in the direct managerial 
end of the business. Just at present, however, the emphasis in 
the Sears-Roebuck case seems to be on the profit-sharing phase 
of co-partnership. It is not yet a strictly co-partnership enter- 
prise. 

Not that the profit-sharing phase of co-partnership is not im- 
portant. It is important and is often used alone, without the 
other elements of the co-partnership device. It is described by 
Gide as a system by which ^'profits, instead of falling exclusively 
to him (the employer), are divided according to some system of 
sharing between the employer and employees, the workmen thus 
receiving an addition to their regular wages, if the enterprise has 
been successful." A more satisfactory definition is quoted from 
Schloss by Dr. Ryan. Profit-sharing is said to be "the system 
under which ... a substantial and known share of the profits 
of a business belongs to the workers in it, not by right of any 
shares they may hold or for any other title, but simply by right 
of the labor they have contributed to make the profit" A con- 
crete expression of this device is had in what is called the Ryan- 
Callahan plan, which has considerable vogue in the Middle West, 
and is best exemplified by the Louisville Varnish Co. of Ken- 
tucky, which pioneered the device. Profits are divided into two 
equal parts. One part is divided among the owners, the other 
among the employiees. This is certainly a large-visioned policy, 
and its local successes have been most marked, due in part prob- 
ably to the generosity of the division. 



^919] THE PROBLEM OF BiG BUSINESS 337 

One thing is sure, the advantages of the co-partnership scheme 
(as inclusive of profit sharing) for solving the problem of Big 
Business are very great. Co-partnership takes some of the sting 
out of the "universal absenteeism of ownership." It gives a 
greater number a share in the annual national income from the 
productive processes. It is an incentive to each individual em- 
ployee. It is socially advantageous, as it tends to close up the 
unfortunate class-gap between employee and employer. More- 
over, it makes for stability of labor, for when a laborer receives 
a fair wage and a division, however small, of the profits earned, 
and when, in addition, he has a voice in the actual management, 
the inevitable result is loyalty to and interest in the industrial unit 
to which he is attached. 

True, like everything else human, even this comparatively 
ideal thing is open to objection. For some it does not go far 
enough; for others, it goes too far. It is claimed that the profit- 
sharing phase of the co-partnership plan will lessen the incen- 
tive of the entrepreneur-owner. This has not been the experi- 
ence in Louisville. Says President Callahan of the Louisville Var- 
nish Co.: "This system has proved to be of the greatest satisfac- 
tion to everybody concerned. It brought about a character of 
service that before the war enabled us to develop a business that 
was outstripping all competitors, and in the final analysis the 
owners, although they got only half the returns of the business, 
realized more on their money invested than the owners of com- 
petitors did. And the reason was that every man had an interest, 
an individual, personal interest, in everything going on." 

The example of this company is not discouraging to manager- 
owners. And there seems to be no valid reason why this "no 
incentive" objection should be so often advanced. For the per- 
centage of profits that go to the employee will not be the whole 
loaf by any means; nor should it be. Moreover, what the manager- 
owner loses in this regard, he gains tenfold in increased indi- 
dividual responsibility and eagerness for maximum productivity 
on the part of each employee, and in rendering stable his own 
position as capitalist and the position of other capitalists; for, 
given no mitigation of the present order of a constantly fattening 
and numerically decreasing capitalistic minority, the danger of 
social revolution is no mere fantasy of the imagination. 

Another argument against the profit-sharing phase of co-part- 



238 The problem of Big business [Nov., 

nership is on the score of fairness. If the employee is to share 
the profits, he should share the losses. This looks like a serious 
objection. It is a real difficulty, although not necessarily alarm- 
ing; for Big Business, as we know it, seldom would frighten a 
worker from accepting a proposition of profit-sharing and loss- 
sharing. Furthermore, it is always understood that the proportion 
of gross profits which goes for a sinking-fund against risk or some 
similar contrivance will not be included in the percentage of net 
profit distribution made to the employees. 

A third objection is made by Professor Walker: "Suspicions 
are likely to arise regarding the employer's good faith in declar- 
ing the amount subject to distribution, unless the workmen or a 
committee of them are to be allowed such access to the employer's 
books and accounts," which access he goes on to take for granted, 
"few business men would willingly accede." For reasons given 
above, and by reason of a publicity-law, to be argued for later, 
also because strict co-partnership, providing employee participa- 
tion in the management, will safeguard this danger to its profit- 
sharing phase, one may take exception to Professor Walker's 
qualification. 

This second form of cooperation, then, appears practicable 
and has advantages to recommend it to far-sighted business men 
Even in its partitive exemplification in profit-sharing, it is good 
In its complete form of stock ownership and managerial participa 
tion by employees plus profit-sharing, it gives the greatest promise 
Both forms have been given a trial and considerable impetus lo 
cally during the present war. It is to be hoped that strict co 
partnership will become the universal rule; for it is, as Dr. Ryan 
puts it, "a partial solvent" of the problem of capitalism in gen- 
eral, and particularly of the problem of Big Business productive 
enterprises. 

Up to this point our concern has been with the Socialist- 
Radical theory and the Cooperation theories. There remains the 
capitalist position, or as it is called in economics, the theory of 
Individualism. The individualist is strictly conservative. He is 
against any change in the present order. He is for allowing the 
individual unlimited rein and imlimited possibilities (not, of 
course, illegal or immoral) for development of industry and the 
acquiring of wealth. He bases his stand on the claim that any 
limitation on the ri^t of acquiring will deprive society of great 



I9I9-] thb Problem of big Business 239 

leaders, great captains of industry, great inventors, because it will 
deprive them of stimulus or incentive. 

The individualist is right and he is wrong. Great incentives 
and great stimuli are necessary to secure the development of 
great industrial talent. But a general modification of numerical 
unlimitedness is not necessarily a deprivation of necessary incen- 
tives or stimuli. A poor inventor does not cease his efforts to pro- 
duce his masterpiece because he knows that he must share the 
profits of his ingenuity with those who risk their capital on it. 
So too with a captain of industry. It is not absolutely necessary 
for incentive that his numerical financial possibilities be absolutely 
unlimited. 

Besides, some modifications of Individualism do seem im- 
perative. That Individualism must have an important place in 
any proper solution of the Big Business problem is granted, but it 
must be a restrained Individualism. Its unrestrained form has 
led to the serious social-economic evils, already mentioned, of 
pushing small competitors to the wall by illegal methods such as 
rate discrimination; a]i)itrarily limiting the supply of a com- 
modity and thus forcing exorbitant monopoly prices on the con- 
sumer. But, worst of all, partly as an effect of the foregoing, 
partly as a cause. Big Business is largely responsible for the 
economically bad and dangerous situation of enormous concentra- 
tion of wealth in a small capitalistic group. This fact makes limi- 
tations and restrictions on it imperative. 

There is no intention here of denying private property rights 
nor the presumptions in favor of the morality of interest and 
profits in the present order. But these rights must be restricted in 
the interest of the common rights of every man. The first right 
in the distribution of the economic goods of a national income is 
the right of each individual in the nation to a decent livelihood 
for himself and for his progeny. That right stands higher than 
any canon of capitalism or right of private property. And that 
right Big Business has not respected in its manipulations and star- 
chamber methods. Big Business must be taught to respect that 
right. 

What Professor Devas advised for the reformation of joint 
stock companies thirty years ago is applicable to Big Business. 
^^Let us,** he says, ^^compel publicity of all prices, all charges, all 
payments, so that discrimination may be checked; let local or cen- 



240 The Problem of Big Business • [Nov.. 

tral authorities have a voice in the settling of price-lists and fo]i)id 
sudden, great and uncalled-for changes of prices.'* This is good 
advice, but it does not go far enough to meet present and more 
acute economic evils. A further programme is necessary, and it 
is here embodied in certain reconunendations taken from the first 
reconstruction pamphlet of the National Catholic War G)uncil, viz: 

( 1 ) "Labor ought gradually to receive greater representation 
in the ^industriaP part of the business management — the control of 
processes and machinery; nature of product; engagement and dis- 
missal of employees, hours of work; rates of pay, bonuses, etc., 
welfare work; shop discipline; relations with trade unions. This 
would vastly improve relations between the employees and em- 
ployers and increase the efficiency and productiveness of each 
establishment.'' 

The Catholic reconstructionists recommend also: 

(2) 'The prevention of monopolistic control of commodities. 

(3) "Adequate government regulation of such public monop- 
olies as will remain under private operation. 

(4) "Heavy taxation of incomes, excess profits and inheri- 
tances." 

Add to this excellent programme government price-fixing, 
where competition breaks down, universal employer's liability for 
accident to employees, and a minimum-wage law, and you have a 
fairly comprehensive program which will allow capitalists a just 
place in the sun without crowding out a nation of workmen from 
the beneficent rays of the same celestial body. 

To return to our analogy: The field is certainly useful. Of 
the three men viewing it, one is certainly wrong, while neither of 
the other two is exclusively right. The view of the stickler for 
"perfect cooperation" seems impracticable and the view of the 
stickler for individualism rampant is unreasonable. Once again, 
the via media is the thing. The true solution of the Big Business 
problem, it seems safe to say, lies in the secondary form of cooper- 
ation-ism (including profit-sharing) and in the legal limitation of 
capitalism's potentialities for evil, with the simultaneous safe- 
guarding of its potentialities for good. 



AN UKCANONIZED SAINT 



BY IIARY FOSTER. 



XV 




|ONY, tired for the moment of Assisi, had packed his 
bag and set off for a short, solitary tour. He had not 
intended to be away more than ten days, but that 
time had lengthened into nearly three weeks before 
he showed his round, sunburned face again at the 
hotel door. At dinner the friends chatted about the traveler's ex- 
periences, and afterwards, as they were having their coffee in the 
cool hall, Standish surprised the younger man by the wonderful 
flow of uninteresting conversation that he kept up. It was only 
when Tony suggested that it was now time for them to leave Assisi 
that his friend's glib talk ceased for a while. 

Later on, when everyone had ostensibly gone to bed, Mark 
tapped at Bland's door. Tony had not yet thought of beginning to 
undress. He was carefully arranging films of the photographs he 
had taken on his little tour, consulting a notebook as he did so, 
and numbering each roll before sending it away to be developed. 
He just looked up and nodded as the artist entered the room, and 
continued his work. 

Mark went to the open window. The moon had risen and was 
casting a strange white light upon the misty plain, and creating 
vague, fanciful shadows in the small garden beneath the window. 
Neither spoke for some moments, Mark's silence a contrast to the 
garrulous chatter he had indulged in downstairs. Suddenly he 
turned half round from the window and, plunging his hands deep 
in his pockets, he blurted out with evident difficulty: 

*Tony, old boy, I'm going to be a Catholic." 

Bland nearly let kodak and films roll on to the floor when he 
received this astounding intelligence. He made some sort of in- 
articulate murmur, and looked expectantly at his friend. 

"I've had rather a wretched time since you went away," 

VQt. ex. 16 



243 AN UNCANONIZRD SAINT [Nov., 

Standish continued, turning back to the window. **I felt so restless 
and moody. At nights I could not sleep, or, if I did, my rest was 
broken with strange dreams — dreams which I could not remember 
when I awoke, but which left me with a curious, worn-out sensation, 
as though I had been working very hard or using my brain in some 
de^ study. When I sat in the vineyards I was unhappy, for it 
seemed as if things were not right. Something great and good 
seemed to hang before me, something I wanted greatly, though I 
knew not what it was, something which I could not reach. Then 
there was that compelling power always urging, urging me forward 
I knew not where. So strong was it sometimes that I would jump 
to my feet feeling that I was being bodily compelled to rise.'' 

He paused for a moment, under the influence of a strong emo- 
tion, and then continued: 

^'I had made acquaintance with an old priest in the olive 
groves, a man who interested me strangely; and this place with 
its marvelous atmosphere seemed to hold a spell over me. I began 
to wonder, in the midst of all these strange sensations, to wonder 
about this God in Whom young and old, simple and intellectual, 
believe. When I asked some idle questions of the padre, his answers 
were brief. It was as though he replied unwillingly; he would not 
advertise his wares, so to speak. He said no more than courtesy re- 
quired, and I — I felt out of it, somehow. Something seemed to 
prevent me from acquiring the knowledge I sought, and, as is 
always the way, the less I could discover the more anxious I grew 
to know more. My old friend said a few things which impressed 
me and, Tony, I began to realize that there must be something 
higher in life than mere pleasurable existence; that there are others 
in the world besides myself, and that I am not so awfully impor- 



tant." 



He paused again. Tony had ceased his occupation, but he 
still remained near the table where lay his photographic appliances. 

**But I didn't want to give in," went on Standish slowly, 
^'though I was attracted, and for a day or two I avoided the old 
man. But it was no use — I had to seek him again. All my strange 
fancies redoubled, I had no peace; ever did I feel pushed onwards. 
I hated the idea of seeking instruction. I hate it still. Yet I feel 
I must, I must become a Catholic I don't know why. I don't want 
to, yet I must It's — it's indescribable." 

"I don't think it's quite straight of the old chap to force you 



I9»9-] AN UNCANOmZRD SAINT 343 

to join his religion," remarked Tony after a little silence, putting 
his pencil in his mouth, as his pipe was not handy. 

**But that is what he has not done," interrupted Mark. "He 
has almost discouraged me; curiously enougli, he has put me off 
again and again. No, it is something within me that made me ask 
him to instruct me. I can't understand it; I feel I am doing right. 
What we call our conscience tells me so, but it is sadly against the 
grain, old boy. Yet I must do it for peace sake." 

Tony whistled. "Hypnotism," he observed briefly. 

"I wish I could think so. But hypnotism in these days, and 
with me! No," he added with much hesitation, "it seems as if, as 
if — someone were wishing very much that I should do this." 

The two friends were silent for a long time. It was not Tony's 
way to offer comments on any confidences. 

"I shall want to stay on here a bit," Mark said at length in 
his natural tones, as he prepared to seek his own room, "but do as 
you like. Bland; do not feel tied to me. I feel Fm treating you 
rather badly, old man, but you must forgive me. I'm not myself." 

Tony inwardly agreed with the latter sentiment. That Mark 
should humble himself to the doctrines and beliefs of any church 
was something so extraordinary that Bland shook an incredulous 
head. Certainly Standish was not himself. And as for those feel- 
ings and promptings of which the artist had spoken, they were quite 
above Tony's head to fancy. So that gentleman betook himself to 
bed, to dream practical dreams about his own practical life. 

That there was a wonderful charm about Don Benedetto no 
one could deny, Mark least of all. If the old priest could be enter- 
taining on other subjects, he could be doubly so upon that nearest 
to his heart. Mark soon found that no matter how difficult he felt 
it to break the ice anew each day, he was held spellbound by the 
time his instruction was over. Gradually he was carried away by 
the beauty and depth of religion, and grew rapt in his new task. 
Very soon a soft love for what he was learning crept into his soul. 
He was an intelligent pupil and learned quickly, and when he was 
called upon to accept what, a few short months ago he would have 
laughed at, he could only humble himself in silent wonder. 

"I think someone must be praying very earnestly for you," 
the priest remarked one day, taking a large pinch of snuff and scat* 
tering most of it upon Mark's well-brushed coat. Then he remem- 
bered the young man's story, and added with an easy familiarity: 



344 Af^ UNCANONIZED SAINT (Noir^ 



^^Doobtless it is little Caterina. Our Italian girls are faithful and 
they love the good God/' 

"She must have forgotten me long ago,*' Mark replied. But 
the idea pleased him. 

The time of his instruction was drawing to a close and he was 
conscious of a feeling of peace and rest. The old urging feeling 
had gone, and all he desired was to quickly embrace the Faith 
which he was beginning to love with a fervor he had not known 
before. He began to imderstand Caterina's love for him and, as 
God gradually became to him what He was to her, he realized how 
right she had been in giving up her lover. 

Just before he was received into the Qiurch, he wrote to Tony, 
who had again set off on a wander: 

I am pegging away hard at my studies, and I expect to be received 
very soon. I know you'll wish me joy on the occasion, even though 
you may not agree with me. But I have a proposal to make to you 
of which I am sure you will approve. Will you meet me in Siena 
and be with me for a certain event which I earnestly hope will take 
place there after I have left Assisi a Catholic? In other words, I 
am going to seek Caterina and, if she will have me, we shall be 
married. 

By the way, I heard from Mrs. Langf ord, such a nice, kind letter, 
saying that you had told her about me. She congratulated me 
heartily, and added that she had always known that this would hap- 
pen. I must write and tell her what I hope to do in Siena. I think 
it will please her romantic heart, won^t it? As soon as I can I will 
fix up dates. Meanwhile, do keep yourself fairly free, like a 
good chap. . . . 

Old Don Benedetto led his new child out of the chapel him- 
self, a few days later. He took a very noisy pinch of snuff as they 
stood together at the foot of the path, watched by a group of peas- 
ants who were talking excitedly among themselves of the scene 
they had just witnessed in the church. The old priest remarked 
that he was sorry that his work was over, and he looked rather 
wistfully at Standish. He shook his white head slowly when Mark 
promised to return with his wife. 

"I am getting old," he said. "I hope God will soon call m« 
home." 

His erstwhile pupil took an earnest and grateful farewell of 
him, feeling, as he turned his back upon the little hamlet, that he 



«f I*') . An Uncanonizrd Saint 145 

had bidden goodbye to a real friend. He felt happy, yet gravely 
80. His great dream was accomplished, but life lay before him to 
be faced, and it could never be die same as hitherto. New respon- 
sibilities confronted him, and more would be expected of him. He 
even thought soberly of his coming meeting with Caterina, and he 
recollected that it was now two years since he had seen her. But the 
idea that she was not waiting for him still, never entered his mind. 

Bland met his friend at the station at Siena next day with 
rather a glum face. He had never expected that Mark would really 
become a Catholic, and it seemed to him to set a barrier between 
them, so that he did not quite know how he should be received. 
But as they drove up the steep street to the hotel where Bland 
already occupied rooms they chatted merrily enough. 

Mark, with a sense of friendliness which Tony greatly appre- 
ciated, forbore to seek Caterina the first day and gave himself up 
wholly to his chum's society. But Tony felt that Mark was lost 
to him in more ways than one. 

XVI. 

When Mark went out next morning his footsteps turned at 
«ice in the direction of the southern part of the city. But as he 
entered the familiar streets they faltered. He could not make up 
his mind to go down the Via Benincasa, and he paced the streets 
nearby undecidedly. 

If he should chance to meet her here before other eyes, what 
should he do? How receive her? Once he thought of going back 
to the hotel until evening. But the days were at their longest and 
darkness did not fall till late, and in the cool evenings people 
would be sitting at their doorsteps. Perhaps it would be better to 
venture down the familiar streets now, and enter the little chapel. 
She might be there. 

He paced irresolutely between the tall houses, looking at his 
watch occasionally, and glancing round, half -fearing, half -longing 
to see the familiar figure. Hitherto he had not given a thought 
as to how they should meet again, and the place of their encounter 
had not occurred to him until he stood within a stone's throw of 
her dwelling. Just before noon he turned resolutely down the 
street which led to the steep Via Benincasa, recollecting that once 
the Ave Maria rang out the chapel would be closed. 



346 AN UNCANONIZBD SAINT (Nov., 

Of course the usual tribe of small boys and girls greeted him 
at the head of the street, offering themselves as guides. Mark 
smiled. Caterina must have formed one of such a crowd some 
ten or twelve years ago. But he told them that he knew his way, 
and shook his head to the demands for **franco-bolli/* 

He looked down the street almost timidly. But only a few 
old women sat at their doors, and one or two little boys played in 
the gutters. The little church was open and he entered slowly. At 
first, from the glare without, there seemed to be a profound dark- 
ness within, but as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom he turned 
them eagerly to her old comer. But there was no upright figure 
standing there, no upturned face, no earnest eyes fixed upon the 
tabernacle door. He seemed to be quite alone. Then the swinging 
lamp caught his eye, and with that sense of novelty which still 
attended his every act of devotion, he sank upon one knee, making 
the unfamiliar sign of the Cross. 

A rustle and a few indistinguiahable words greeted his ears 
and he turned quickly. His eyes, now used to the sombre light, 
descried something in the old comer, something half-leaning 
against a wooden seat. His pulses throbbed wildly as he rose and 
went towards it. He heard a torrent of words poured forth in a 
well-remembered tone, he saw a pair of hands clasped, and earnest 
eyes upturned in prayer. Then he imprisoned the figure in his 



arms. 



Oh, Caterina, my darling, I have come back to you,'' he 
cried in a low voice, and he felt her head drooping against his 
breast. 

**I did not expect to see you,'* she whispered, kissing his hand, 
^^but you are a Catholic now; I saw you kneel. I expected that 
God is good.'' 

^'Yes, Caterina, I am a Catholic now," he said softly, *'and 
I have come bade to you." 

She tumed to the altar. **Ah, dear God," she sighed. 

Mark poured out his eager love into her listening ears, and 
she smiled wistfully as he spoke. But he felt her hands thin and 
hot in his clasp and he tumed her face towards the dim light and 
peered at it anxiously. 

"You have been ill, my Caterina," he exclaimed. "Have you 
pined and drooped for me? What a bmte I have been!" 

She did not reply, but her lips quivered and her brown eyes 



*9>9] AN UNCANONIZBD SAINT 247 

filled with tears. But she smiled again as he whispered eagerly to 
her, telling her that illness would have no part in her life now that 
he had returned to loye and care for her. Then she wept quietly, 
so softly that he did not know that she was weeping until her warm 
tears fell upon his hands. 

"Are you not happy, Caterina?*' he asked tenderly. "Are you 
not glad that I have returned?'* 

"Ah, so pleased, so grateful,*' she murmured brokenly. 

"Do you love me still, my darling, as you loved me two years 
ago?" 

For answer she clung closer to him, but her tears continued, 
and he regarded her with anxiety, they fell so hopelessly. 

"You will marry me, won't you, Caterina, now that I am of 
your Faith? I think it was your prayers that brought me to it. 
For these past months I have felt urged, as it were, to the Qiurch. 
At first sadly against my will, but I could get no rest until I had 
inquired into the truth. Then, as the beauties of our Faith were 
unfolded to my listless gaze, I grew to love them and to love 
our God." 

She listened eagerly, with her eyes fixed on his face and her 
lips parted. 

"When will you marry me?" he persisted, as he finished his 
story, marveling at her strange, tearful silence. * 

"I am ill," she replied gently, and shook her head. "I am 
very ill. They say I will not live." 

"But I will make you live. You have fretted your life away 
since I spoiled your happiness. Now I shall make amends to you 
a hundredfold. I will live for you and make you love your life." 

"Oh, I do love it," she sobbed. 

*Then we shall be married at once," he assured her eagerly. 
"I will have you cured and made well and strong." 

But she shook her head again. "I cannot marry. They say 
I am dying, and I think I am." 

"But you will grow strong again, my love, with care," he in- 
sisted. "See, together we will pray and ask God to give you 
strength and health." 

"No," she cried, "we cannot pray for that." 

"But surely we may ask Him for anything?" he inquired 
humbly. "May we not ask Him for all we want?" 

"Yes, but not for that, not for that. I cannot — ^ 



248 AN UNCANONIZRD SAINT [Nov., 

He turned to her gravely. ^^Caterina, what do you mean? 
Don't you want to live?" 

She clung to him, sobbingly, as he paused. 

"What is it, chUd?" he asked softly. "You are ill, my dear- 
est, and it makes you fearful about yourself. But God can give 
you back your health.'' 

She bowed her head. 

"Then let us ask Him now, together, for this favor," he said 
gently. 

But she drooped silently before him. 

"Caterina, what have you done? What is it that makes you 
hide from me? Do you think the good God wants you? Is that 
why you will not pray for your recovery?" He bent over her, and 
just caught the words she murmured hesitatingly: 

"I know He wants me." 

Mark did not speak at once. He was puzzled. But she re- 
peated her words more firmly and met his eyes bravely. 

"How can you know?" he asked in bewilderment "What 
have you done, Caterina. Oh! what have you done?" 

"Don't be angry with me," she whispered. "Oh, Mark, you 
must understand. I felt I had to do it, just as you felt you had 
to believe. It was sadly against my will, too, and more than ever 
it is hard now, bitterly hard." She paused, and he waited anxiously. 

"Tell me," he whispered encouragingly. 

She bent her head so low that he had to stoop to hear her fal- 
tering words : 

"I prayed for you so hard," she murmured, "but it seemed 
as if the dear God and His holy Mother would not listen to me. 
At first I thought it was not true that you did not believe; I was 
sure you would come back to me, and I asked the Madonna to 
send you quickly. But you didn't come. Then I found out that 
there really were people in the big world, like you, who did not 
love God or believe in him; some, too, yes, some who scoffed at 
Him. And Don Filippo told me Aat I must pray very earnestly 
for them. I did, but you never came. I told the dear Mother of 
God that if only she would make you a Catholic and send you back 
to me, we would be so good. We would give all our little children 
in a special manner to her. But she didn't answer. Afterwards, I 
thought that perhaps God would let you see His truth but that He 
might not will that you should return to me. Then I was not gen- 



I9I9*] ^N UNCAIiONIZED SAINT 349 

erous. I could not give you to Him without wanting you for my- 
self, too, but after a little I gave in and left it all in His hands. 
After this last Qiristmas I began to feel restless and unhappy, as 
if the good God was going to ask me to give Him something really 
precious. I was frightened. I foimd it hard to pray. But at last 
I knew what He was asking for.** 

She paused for a long time. 

"He asked me to oflFer my life for your soul." She continued 
more slowly: "Since I did so, I have felt that He has taken my 
little offering, and I felt that you were being drawn nearer and 
nearer the truth. I seemed to be drawing you with my own hands. 
At the same time I felt ill and weak and I grew no better. They 
tell me I will never get well, and I know it.*' 

Mark had buried his face in his hands as she spoke, and he 
did not move even when she laid a little hand upon his head in a 
mute caress. She waited patiently, the tears drying on her sad face, 
her lips moving as she prayed for strength for them both and 
uttered words of gratitude, too, for the joy that had come to her in 
answer to her prayers. At length he raised his head. 

"Caterina," he said, "will you come to our old meeting place 
under the cypresses this evening? We could talk there, and I 
diould like to think over everything before I see you again. Can 
you walk so far?'* he added quickly. 

"Oh, yes," she responded. "I could walk there. I can walk 
a little, though I get easily tired. They do not understand my ill- 
ness; they call it a decline." She smiled a little, but Mark winced. 

"I shall wait for you in the old place," he said quietly, and 
as he assisted her to rise he felt how frail she was. "You are sure 
you can walk so far?" he repeated with tender solicitude. She 
nodded cheerfully. 

"Anywhere to meet you," she whispered. 

He kissed her forehead, and they knelt together for an in- 
stant's prayer. 

He drew back the fastenings of the now locked door, and she 
closed it after him, smiling lovingly as she did so. Then he passed 
into the warmth without. But though the sun shone, and the chil- 
dren laughed, there was no sunshine or music in his heart. Towards 
the bottom of the street he met an old woman slowly toiling up- 
wards. He fancied he remembered the weather-beaten old coun- 
tenance and paused hesitatingly before her. 



448 AN UNC^^' j^^^ 

•^' ^^f^r^^ welled up into her 

*^ . i*/> '> ^ifw A^' '"i! 'SewiU not be with us 
"ii^s^/l^sdJed^f-.^^j^bersloyfly from 



^y^ the 
long- * 



'•^ '"Jnodiff^" ^' rrtte A«*« **■*" '*®'^ mother died. 

-^ ^/Swft^ ^.'^^i.r Ae, too, is gone and she Uves with 
^Z'^i^'^ '^'''t, with me long." The old woman shook 

^iKiti'*^?"'^ in Ms pocket. 

Msrk ptf t "' . ^y could buy for her to make her strong 
**jg ^^\^^ **See, if I give you some money, won't you 
^ ^'^\t^'cine for her?" The woman shook her head again, 
*^y *^ wistfuUy at the coins. 

**' •«>UL si/?nore, the good God wants her," she said with the 
iwtjisni of her class and race. 

**ff^t take the money," urged the artist, "and put it to any 
vou like; get her any comforts you can, and yourself, too." 
^ He hurried away, without waiting to hear her thanks and 

prayers- 

[to be continued.] 



flew JSooks^ 

THE AWAKENING OF ASIA- By H. M. Hyndman. New York: Boni 

&Liveright. $2.00. 

The relations between Europe and Asia, according to tlie author, can 
be compared to two great tides — ^the tide of Asiatic invasion that swept 
over Europe for a thousand years; and the tide of commercial conquest 
that has swept from Europe into Asia. These two vast movements he 
sketches in resume, and then proceeds to greater detail on the result of 
the commercial invasion of Asia and its future consequences. 

The book was withheld from publication for two years by the censor; 
the time was neither ripe nor propitious for such a frank discussion of 
Far East subjects. Today it is essential. Therein lies the service of this 
admirable study. Frankly an advocate of Asia for the Asiatics, Mr. 
Hyndman sums up each one of the big problems with deadly accuracy — 
the dramatic development of Japan from feudalism to capitalism in the 
short space of a century; Japan's amazing industrial growth and her 
spread of influence in Korea, Manchuria and northern Qiina; the awaken- 
ing of the Chinese, the real background of the Boxer troubles and the 
hideous opium traflb: which will ever remain a blot on England's history; 
the case of misrule and the diplomacy of carpet-baggers in India, with 
the present inevitable struggle for Indian freedom. These subjects are 
vitally important to the world's peace and progress. They are not matters 
that can be laid aside casually; they grow with the days and become more 
and more formidable. Of all the Christian powers, the United States 
alone seems to have exercised the simple principles of honor in dealing 
with China, althou^ of late, and in dealing with other Asiatic problems, 
she seems to have fallen into the ways of the European nations. In short, 
Europe's treatment of Asia is nothing to be proud of; Asia has had — and 
still has — good grounds for rising up to slay Europeans. 

In the long list of evils it is difficult to pick out the worst, but cer- 
tainly the most glaring was England's opium traffic. The author assures 
us that gradually the traffic is being decreased. Recent reports from the 
Far East, however, show Japan using England's effective weapon — she is 
planting poppy in Korea and Shantung today! 

The author sees only one solution for the Indian problem — to give 
the natives gradual but assured freedom, to readjust the abominable 
finances of that great country — ^in other words, to withdraw from India 
and permit the Indians to work out their own salvation. 

We can no longer speak of these Asiatic peoples as backward and 
heathen; we have an entirely different set of circumstances to deal with 
than those that presented themselves in the Far East ten or twenty years 
ago. The East has awakened. The yellow peril has become yellow im- 
provement The ebb is approaching — and it is time for the tide to begin 
to flow back again. 



352 IfBiw BOOKS [Not., 

ALBANIA, PAST AND PRESENT. By Constantine A. Chckrcri. New 

York: The Macmillan Co. $2.25. 

The national problem of Albania is not local or individual, but an 
int^ral part of the whole Balkan problem. She stands today a land 
desolate and ravaged by many years of war and under the military occu- 
pation of Italy, France, England, Serbia and Greece. For three thousand 
years the Albanian people have been subjected to the severest tests of 
massacre and pillage and political double-dealing. Today their national 
spirit is as keen as ever. They dream of a strong and neutral Albanian 
state in the midst of the Balkans, which would relieve the tension between 
Italy, Serbia and Greece, and be the beginning of a real Balkan Confed- 
eracy. This is a country that Bismarck said ^'is not worth the bones of 
one Pomeranian soldier,*' the same which England, Russia, France and 
Italy made a sovereign state in 1912 and handed over to an unknown Ger- 
man Prince, William of Wied. Today Albania calls out for her sovereign 
rights — and the basis for those rights are written down in Mr. Chekrezi*s 
volume. 

Although Albania has been ^'the foundling among nations,'' the liter- 
ature in English concerning her past and present is generally scattered in 
fugitive magazine articles. This represents the first serious attempt to 
give an adequate, consequential picture of the country. It is written by 
an Albanian whose education was finished in the United States, and who 
writes with a valuable perspective on both the past and the present. The 
picture he shows is of a land of great natural resources and sturdy, indus- 
trious people, constantly being invaded or infiltrated by contiguous powers 
— Greece on the soutii, Serbia on the north. 

Such a succinct statement of Albania cannot help but quicken interest 
in a great problem that lies before the nations today. In these pages we 
have the past and the present. Is the future to be written in the sufferings 
of a people? 

THE PLACE OF AGRICULTURE IN RECONSTRUCTION. By James 
B. Mormon. New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. $2.00 net. 
As the Assistant Secretary of the Federal Farm Loan Board and 
the author of Principles of Rural Credit and Principles of Social Progress^ 
the author brings to his subject a knowledge that is intimate and extensive. 
He outlines the labor problem arising on the return of peace, and 
shows the attempts that are being made by Great Britain, France, Canada 
and the United States to quiet industrial unrest by making farming at- 
tractive to the returned soldiers. 

In an orderly way, he takes up the proposed plans for land settle- 
ments in the various countries and then analyzes them, showing the 
merits and deficiencies in the diflferent schemes. Mr. Mormon is to be 
commended for his industry in obtaining the very useful data which he 
places before the reader. However, one is not inclined to agree with 
him in his contention that in the United States the labor problem is acute 
because of the lack of opportimities for employment. 



I9I9-] ifS^ BOOKS 853 

But he speaks truly when he shovrs that the tmdency in labor move- 
ments in the United States is toward the cities. As a consequence the 
farms are being depopulated. The results are and will continue to be 
far-reaching and serious in their effects. The matter is one of large di- 
mensions, and can be solved only by wise l^islation bom of close 
study. Mr. Mormon has made a strong plea for a really progressive, 
constructive programme regarding agriculture, and by it has contributed 
a worthy service toward a better adjustment of our post-war labor con- 
ditions. 

FATHER TOM. By Peter P. McLoughlin. New York: G. P. Putnam's 

Sons. 12.50 net. 

In this volume the life and lectures of the late Rev. Thomas P. Mc- 
Loughlin have been set forth in a very pleasing manner. It is written with 
the affection and personal interest of a brother. In large measure the 
writer has drawn his material from the letters and diaries and published 
articles of the priest, thus adding the autobiographical feature to the 
chronicle of a life's work. No one who has read the book can fail to 
share in the large affection which follows one who lives and teaches God's 
love and law. And this "Father Tom" did in a singularly effective way. 
To many readers, not less interesting than the biography itself will be the 
ten lectures which form the second part of the volume, for the most part 
on topics relating to music. The last, "Melodies of Mother Church," is a 
choice discourse that displays a charming scholarship. 

WHY WE FAIL AS CHRISTIANS. By Robert Hunter. New York: The 

Macmillan Co. $1.60. 

In the first part of his book Mr. Hunter takes up the later career of 
Count Tolstoy, and asserts that his endeavors to carry out his conception 
of Christian duty were unsuccessful because he insisted upon the indi- 
vidualistic instead of the communistic interpretation. Mr. Hunter en- 
deavors to prove that in giving up wealth, the demands of family, and 
die privileges of his social status and in becoming one with the peasants 
even to the extent of toiling in the fields, Tolstoy was following the 
teachings of Christ. What he demands of the world today is to carry on 
where Tolstoy faltered and make communism a universal fact. Only 
thus, he insists, can we fulfill the precepts of the New Testament, and 
only thus can we escape the cataclysm which is inevitable if the present 
economic situation is permitted to continue. 

Mr. Hunter obviously writes from a profound personal conviction. 
His book, however, leaves three big difficulties unanswered: first, his in- 
sistence that only in communism can the precepts of Christ be fulfilled is 
based upon a false interpretation of Christ's teachings; second, how is 
universal communism as a practical matter to be effected; third, will com- 
munism justify Mr. Hunter's claims for it and insure the happiness and 
eontentment of mankind? One cannot help feeling that the industrial 
progranmie outlined by the American Catholic bishops offers a solution 



354 tfEW Books [Nov., 

eminently more somidy more practical, and more certain of fulfilling a 
noble end than the communism advocated by Mr. Hunter. 

His book, however* will not have been written in vain if it helps to 
make men realize that industrial unrest can be settled only when the rich 
display toward the poor the Qiristian characteristics of sympathy, gen- 
erosity, and justice. 

• 
THEODORE ROOSEVELT. A Verse Sequence in Sonnets and Quator- 

zains. By Russell J. Wilbur. With an Introduction by William Hard. 

Boston: Houghton MiflUn G>. $1.00 net 

The present collection of sonnets and ^'fourteeners,'' the fruit of 
Father Wilbur's long and deep admiration for his subject, is a character- 
sketch in verse of Theodore Roosevelt. Most of the pieces appeared, 
just before Colonel Roosevelt's death, in The New Republic^ where they 
attracted attention both as the work of a priest and on their own account 
It is a composite portrait, which attempts in a series of sharp, vivid 
flashes a presentation of the manifold traits that went to make up a pe-. 
culiarly complex personality — ^in its less admirable as well as in its 
really noble phases. This entire acceptance of the facts gives the book 
its merit as biography, and as biography it has unusual excellence. 

Looking at the poems purely as literature we are obliged to give a 
much more qualified approval. They are, like their subject, vigorous 
and downright rather than subtle and fine. On the score of thought and 
content the sonnets are unexceptionable — sometimes humorous and in- 
genious, often incisive and penetrating, always striking and bold; it is 
in their workmanship, their technique, that the deficiency lies, a matter 
perhaps not to be wondered at when it is considered that practically all 
of the pieces were composed in a single month. 

BOLSHEVISM. By John Spargo. New York: Harper & Brothers. $1.50 

net 

This is a scholarly treatment of a subject of absorbing interest. 
The author, who at the entry of the United States into the war was too 
true an American to remain allied with the Socialist Party, has pre- 
sented a comprehensive study of an outgrowth that is new in name but 
old in reality — the cruel dictatorship of an unscrupulous minority. Mr. 
Spargo knows the men he speaks of, and has been in intimate touch with 
internal conditions in Russia. He therefore speaks with the authority 
bom of knowledge, and patently without prejudice. His condemnation 
is that bom of the mind and die inelasticity of logic Because he is 
logical he has reached his present conclusion as to those Americans who 
inexplicably look with favor upon Bolshevism. 

Mr. Spargo opens his volume with a historic resume of the social 
and economic conditions in Russia previous to the outbreak of the World 
War. He then shows the rise of the Russian people in the difi'erent revo- 
lutions which had as their purpose the overthrowing of the oppressive 
yoke of Tsarism and which culminated on March 15, 1917. From this 



1919*] Nei^ Books 255 

period on the author gives a critical survey of the transition from Bour- 
geoisie to Bolsheviki. He delineates the failure of Kerensky and at- 
tributes it primarily to the sabotage of Lenine and Trotzky and other 
Bolshevik leaders, who under the guise of proletarianism were making 
ready to seize the government by a coup dTetai. 

As a believer in Social Democracy, Mr. Spargo has taken great 
pains to show that Bolshevism is in no sense synonymous with the doc- 
trines of Marx. His philosophy is at times open to question, but his logic 
in Bolshevism is ine\dtable and praiseworthy. 

COMMON SENSE DRAWING. By Eleanor Lane. New York: Krone 

Brothers. $3.00. 

The teacher called upon to teach art work will find this a very valu- 
able addition to her library of practical and helpful text-books. 

All of the material is simply and clearly planned, so that the teacher 
will be able to present the lesson to the class in the natural sequence of 
normal development and interest. 

The book is profusely and splendidly illustrated, beginning with 
lessons suitable for pupils from the first grade and graduated through 
the eighth grade. The one question which mi^t arise is whether or not 
the lessons are too far advanced for some of the pupils in the grades 
for which it is intended. 

This book particularly emphasizes the teaching of lettering and 
perspective and is a very practical and valuable contribution to this phase 
of art teaching. 

THE CONFESSIONS OF A BROWNING LOVER. By John Walker 
Powell. New York: The Abingdon Press. $1.00 net. 
There is something challenging about the author of The Ring and 
the Book that invites battle. And battle there is. Browning clubs. 
Browning symposiums. Browning fellowships — the gentleman must be 
attacked in mass formation, terrible in its ardor for the fray. And the 
reason? Browning's was the sublest intellect in poetry since the days 
when men created worlds anew about the cheer of the Mermaid Tavern. 
Mr. Powell's book is one word more in an unending bibliography of 
volumes about Browning's message. 

It has its merits, its platitudes, and its prejudices peculiar to the 
author's theology. At times it is nebulous, though not in a Sordello 
fashion; at times it is merely impressionistic; at times it is too busied 
in making, if not much ado about nodiing, at any rate much ado about 
the obvious. It is not a minutely scholarly work, but then it does not pre- 
tend to be one. In a word, die book is a personal interpretation of 
Browning's genius, with an especial stress on the poet's artistic gifts and 
his concepts of philosophy and theology. While all of Mr. Powell's 
readers will not agree with him in all of his own theological ideas, there 
is much in the book that will be stimulating to them and worthy of their 
praise. As it chances, the preface and the last chapter are the sanest and 



856 Nmh^ Books [Nov., 

the most inspiring sections of the volume. And one of the most far- 
reaching results of this book and of other books on the subject will be 
to make us renew an acquaintance with the best the poet has to offer 
us. Browning is not always a joyous companion or a safe guide; but 
he is one of the ten or twelve worth-while poets in EInglish literature. 

THE HILLS OF DESIRE. By Richard Aumerle Maher. New York: The 

Macmillan G>. $1.50. 

The author of The Shepherd of the North has given us here a love 
story that begins with marriage, instead of moving toward it as a climax. 
The tale is worked out in soenes that vary widely, ranging from an old» 
erstwhile fashionable section of New York to the open country, traversed 
in a gypsy van, and crossing the seas to France, where the topmost peak 
of the hills of desire is reached under the tragic conditions of a military 
hospital set on fire by German shells. It is a journey of the spirit 
as well as the body; many misunderstandings and heartburnings are ex- 
perienced before our heroine, now a Red Cross nurse, finds her wounded 
soldier-husband and drags him from the flames^ saving his life at the 
risk of her own, to be rewarded by complete reunion, with all that was 
dark cleared away. 

Though the novel b somewhat Joosely constructed, thus lacking much 
of the gripping quality the author is so well able to impart, it has many 
moments of strong and beautiful appeal that preserve continuity of in- 
terest. 

CYNTHIA. By Leonard Merrick. With an Introduction by Maurice 

Hewlett New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. $1.75. 

Save in a few exceptions Leonard Merrick has been set down as 
a novelist's novelist. Until the recently issued limited edition of his 
works he cannot be said to have commanded popularity, with the excep- 
tion, of course, of The Man Who Understood Women and Conrad in 
Quest of His Youth. During the past few months, however, he has be- 
come a steady seller. This change of a whimsical popularity naturally 
piques one's curiosity. Are general readers improving their standards? 
Have they arrived at Merrick's plane? 

Here is Cynthia, for example. It is the tale of a young novelist 
who marries the daughter of a prosaic man of commerce, and is not very 
successful. He contends with the misunderstanding of his people, pov- 
erty; he yields to the temptation of ''easy money;" he writes books for 
popular authors — and in turn becomes popular. The story swings from 
London to Paris to London. It is full of discouragements and futile 
strivings and failures. These, doubtless, make up the events of every 
b^inning author's life, and in that the tale is nothing unusual. But where 
it does differ from the hosts of other stories on similar themes is in the 
character of Cynthia Kent, wife of the young novelist, and in the finish 
of style and characterization for which Leonard Merrick is justly famous. 

The book, in reality, is a study in the growth of a young girl's 



I9I9-] Nsw Books 257 

soul under the hard circumstances of being an author's wife. It is a 
novelist's novel from the viewpoint of the novelist's wife. Merrick's pen 
has a facile way of sketching in women, of giving them life and being 
and tenderness and charm. Cynthia is one of his most successful women. 
You are glad to have met her. She is very distinct. She is very real 
Real women characters are what make a good novel. Perhaps we have 
come to appreciate this fact. Perhaps that is why Leonard Merrick's 
popularity is experiencing a remarkable return. 

FIFTY YEARS OF EUROPE, 1870-1919. By Charles Downer Hazen. 

New York: Henry Holt & Co. 

Professor Charles D. Hazen of Columbia, the author of an excellent 
text on Europe since 1815 and of a war book, Alsace-Lorraine under 
German Rule^ has written an authoritative manual of European history 
since 1870, which should be of inestimable value to students in under- 
standing the remote and precipitating causes of the Great War. Such a 
volume would have received a hearty welcome in the days of die S.A.T.C., 
when college instructors were attempting to instruct student-soldiers in 
the War Aims course. In a text of this kind aside from sifting an immense 
amount of detail, selecting the really important, and compressing into 
small space a world of material, the great difficulty is in attaining coher- 
ence and unity. This Dr. Hazen has accomplished by elaborating the 
thesb that: ^There was a certain tragic unity to that intervening period 
between the Franco-Prussian War and the World War, the shadow of the 
former, the dread of the latter hovering over the minds of men, full of 
menace, inspiring a recurrent sense of uneasiness and alarm." 

The nationalization of Italy and Germany under the blood and iron 
policy of the Houses of Savoy and of HohenzoUem is followed by an 
account of the War of 1870 with its disastrous results and abominable 
Treaty of Frankfort. The third chapter is given over to the German 
Empire, its constitution, working government, the Kulturkampf, Bismarck 
and the Socialists, social reforms, and the formation of the dual alliance. 
The Germans are characterized as a people of great qualities, but endowed 
with so little political talent that they were submissive under an autocratic 
military system. 

With Bismarck, the author is out of sympathy save in his attack 
against the Church and the teaching orders. The same moderate anti- 
clerical bias is noticeable in the following chapter, 'Trance under Third 
Republic," in his description of the Dreyfus case and the separation of 
Church and State by the persecuting and confiscatory acts commencing 
with the Law of 1901. However, a decided attempt is made to deal fairly 
with the papal question in the consideration of Italy since 1870. The 
account of Great Britain and Ireland is especially good, and the treatmoit 
of the Irish question is eminently fair. Short chapters deal with Austro- 
Hungary, the British Colonies, the Partition of Africa, the small sovereign 
states, the Balkans, Russia, the Far East and the Balkan Wars. In the 
last hundred pages the World War is viewed in the conventional way of 

VOL. ex. 17 



258 New BOOKS [Nov., 

a lay lecturer who has drawn from a considerable wealth of material. 
While naturally such an account can neither be scientifically accurate 
nor detached, it is doubtful if a better outline of the war is available in 
brief form. A bibliography and several additional maps would make 
the book much more serviceable for student or reader. 

MY ITALIAN YEAR. By Joseph Collins. New York: Charles Scrib- 

ner's Sons. $2.50 net. 

Certainly there are parts of this book that fall within the meaning 
and purpose of the well-known list of things ''that never would be missed.'' 
Some of the author's reflections on the religious side of Italian life are 
among them. He observes, quite correctly, that there is religion among 
the people. But it troubles him, inordinately, we think, that the Italian 
peasant does not inquire into the validity or righteousness of the Church's 
teaching. He is troubled, too, about Benedict XV's neutrality during the 
war. Although he is an enthusiast about Italy, and for the most part has 
good words to say about the land and the people, he can scarcely lay 
claim to being an authority on Italian problems. 

THE FOUR ROADS. By Sheila Kaye-Smith. New York: George H. 

Doran Co. $1.50 net. 

In these days there are novels and again novels, but the reader 
will wander far before he will discover a more exquisitely told story 
than this of a Sussex farming family and their reactions to the war. We 
say ''exquisitely told story" advisedly, since the style qua style is nearly 
beyond praise — simple, lucid, supple, delicately and yet firmly phrased, 
brimming over with the light and sound and scent and color of an 
English countryside. Moreover, it is marked by a rare restraint proper 
to the real artist. For example, this is the way in which in two sentences 
the author not so much announces as suggests the death of Tom Beatup 
in battle in France, sentences by the way which seem almost worthy to 
stand beside Thackeray's on Waterloo and the death of George Osborne. 
After describing the round of daily tasks of Tom's young wife in her 
Sussex home, the novelist gives us a peaceful picture of her as she lies 
asleep. "She lay very still — nearly as still as Tom was lying in the 
light of the moon. . . . But not quite so still, for the stillness of the 
living is never so perfect, so untroubled as the stillness of the dead." 
Merely that, nothing more. 

The characters of the story are most human and are sharply and 
clearly delineated. In the person of Mr. Sumption, the poverty-stricken 
minister of the squalid little congregation of the Calvinistic Bethel, the 
author achieves a real triumph. This ex-blacksmith with his large 
and noble nature, preaching his terrible doctrine of fire and brimstone 
and the last Judgment, stands out in heroic proportions, and the scene 
where, under the stress of the news of the execution of his son as a de- 
serter in France, he falters in his belief in predestination, is presented 
with a masterly and poignant art. 



1919-1 NJSW BOOKS 259 

The jacket of the book describes the author as a realist, but there 
is in her work nothing of the morbid, the mean, or the debased, which 
we have come to associate with that word. Rather this story of humble 
lives is characterized by a fine simplicity, wide tolerance, and a mag- 
nanimous outlook. And the style, which is the adequate medium for its 
subject, is a pure delight. From end to end of the book there is not a 
single weak or slovenly sentence. 



THE DAY OF GLORY. By Dorothy Canfield. New York: Henry Holt 

& Co. $1.00 net. 

With this collection of stories and sketches we are disposed to find 
the unusual fault that the content is too brief. These scenes of France 
during the war are written with such strength and delicacy, and in a tone 
so exquisitely, understandingly sympathetic, that they attain individuality 
notwithstanding the vast bulk of the literature of which they form a 
part. Only one of them is not directly concerned with the war, a visit 
to Lourdes. This is told in a manner to win for the non-Catholic author 
the appreciative thanks of all Catholics. She does not find it neces- 
sary to tell us what she thinks of the stupendous act of faith she wit- 
nesses, but in a lovely spirit of tenderness and compassion tells us what 
she sees. No miracle is vouchsafed on this occasion to strengthen hope 
and relieve the ineffable pathos she records. This fact, however, is 
gained only by inference, since she does not mention it, so wholly free 
is her narrative from the least shadow of depreciation; nor does she fail 
to tell, at length, of the great night procession in the pouring rain, with 
candles, and shouting hynms of praise, of the pilgrims whose faith bids 
them rejoice in the Lord always, even when the longed-for answer to pe- 
tition is withheld. 

SOCIAL STUDIES OF THE WAR. By Elmer T. Clark. New York: 

George H. Doran Co. $1.50 net. 

If one takes Dr. Clark's book seriously, he cannot but come to the 
conclusion that its author is a bigot who, because of his peculiar point 
of view, does not know the truth, or worse, knows it and willfully mis- 
represents it 

In his first chapter, ^^Immorality in Europe During the War," sup- 
posedly personal observations, he startles by extravagance of statement. 
But whatever inclination there may be to believe him is totally destroyed 
by the chapters on "What Does Ireland Intend?" **The Roots of the 
Irish Questions," and especially *The Pope and the War." 

When Dr. Clark leaves the semi-political and takes up the purely 
religious, as he claims he is qualified to do, he becomes absolutely ridic- 
ulous. One cannot bear with patience such statements as the following: 
"Yet the greatest opportunity in the realm of religion today is possessed 
by the Roman Catholic Church — and so it seems plain, that if Rome 
would consent to make the adaptations demanded by the spirit of the 



26o NSW Books [Nov., 

age, she would come into a new influence. These adaptations would have 
to run the entire course of her life . . . That action would have to be 
accompanied by a radical change of heart and attitude toward the en- 
tire question of scholarship, and especially as it affects the Bible and the 
doctrines of the Church. This would mean the overthrow of the authority 
of the Church in matters of dogma, the upsetting of the entire range of 
traditions which are unsupported, the opening of the minds of all people 
to whatever light may be in the world, and the b^inning of a new edu- 
cational method among them." And this is only one of many! 

It is impossible to review satisfactorily a volume containing so many 
misstatements and breathing the spirit of narrow New England Protes- 
tantism. 



THAT ARCH LIAR, FROUDE." By Ernest R. Hull, SJ. New York: 

P. J. Kenedy & Sons. 35 cents. 

Between June 29th and August 7th, 1918, the Times of India (Bom- 
bay) carried on a controversy on the Church of Rome in relation to the 
Anti-Conscription Policy of the Bishops in Ireland. Father Hull in the 
pages of the Examiner commented on the discussion, and refuted every 
statement that maligned the Catholic Church. He has arranged these 
articles in pamphlet form, not only to show up the unfairness of the 
average Protestant controversialist, but *Ho teach the modem newspaper 
a lesson of greater caution and reserve in the future." 

The brochure defends the Anti-Conscription manifests of the Irish 
Bishops, shows the absurdity of the English No-Popery campaign that 
followed it, answers a dozen or more objections on the Armada, the claims 
of Pope Gregory VII, the massacre of St. Bartholomew, etc., and gives 
testimony after testimony from non-Catholic sources of the utter unre- 
liability and dishonesty of Froude as an historian. 



DANGEROUS DAYS. By Mary Roberts Reinhart New York: George 

H. Doran Co. $1.60 net 

Mrs. Reinhart has given us a novel of social conditions in this coun- 
try immediately preceding and during the war. It is an extensive study, 
including the menace of the alien enemy plottings in the industrial world, 
as well as the selfish inertia and frivolity of gay, fashionable circles, 
with the gradual awakening of some of its units to patriotic duty and 
sacrifice. Though unnecessarily long, it is readable; the characters are 
recognizable types and the various complications and side-issues well 
knit together. It lacks any feature unique or striking enough to project 
it from the mass of products from this thoroughly worked field, but iso- 
lated, is eligible as a fair transcript of contemporary American life and 
thought. This is unfortunately true of the finale, obviously presented as 
being beyond cavil, wherein the elopement of Clayton Spencer's faithless 
wife enables the husband to find married happiness with another woman, 
under the sanctions of propriety and convention. 



1919.] New Books a6i 

MR. DOOLEY ON MAKING A WILL AND OTHER NECESSARY EVILS. 

New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. $1.35. 

It is difficult to write a review of anything said by Mr. Dooley. All 
one can do regarding any fresh remarks by the old philosopher is to say 
that the new book is just more of Mr. Dooley. And in this volume there 
is a whole lot. He philosophizes on so many sundry and diverse sub- 
jects that one wonders from what Pierian Spring this homely speaker 
has drank, so keen is his insight into human nature, so penetrating his 
logic and his humorous sarcasm so engaging in its etchings of man's 
frailties. We may differ as to the cure of our ills, social and economic, 
but of this we can be sure, that if there were more Mr. Dooleys, and 
more extensive application of his philosophy of life, we should soon see 
our troubles disappear proportionately. 

We do not recommend the reading of Mr. Dooley. We insist upon it. 

THEIR MUTUAL CHILD. By Pelham Grenville Wodehouse. New York: 

Boni & Liveright $1.60 net. 

Readers in search of diversion will find it in this contribution from 
Mr. Wodehouse, who seldom disappoints in this respect. The humor 
of the earlier portion is so exuberant as to verge upon farce, causing 
misgivings as to the possibility of keeping it up successfully to the end 
of a book of goodly proportions. After a time, however, the author un- 
expectedly turns on a current of seriousness and we find ourselves follow- 
ing the marital troubles of Kirk and Ruth Winfield. Much of their diffi- 
culty, as well as their final reconciliation, is centred in their small son, a 
delightful infant, whose upbringing along lines of the most advanced 
method of white-tiled, sterilized sanitation is a source of deep dissatisfac- 
tion to his father. The wit the author brings to play upon this subject 
is keenly edged with satire. 

Mr. Wodehouse does not permit himself to exaggerate beyond plausi- 
bility; his treatment is satisfactory, even in the graver phases. These 
are sufficient to give the book reason and substance, but not to affect its 
character as entertainment of the lighter sort. Most of the content is 
genuinely funny; and all of it is clean. 

THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW. By A. Conan Doyle. New York: 

George H. Doran Co. $1.50. 

Eighteen or nineteen years ago when Raffles Haw first saw the light 
of print, Conan Doyle was in the heyday of his reputation as the creator 
of Sherlock Holmes. Today it is refreshing to turn again to these pages. 
For the story of Raffles Haw, which being extravagantly mysterious, is a 
big and powerful yam. The evil that inmiense wealth can bring — that 
is the basis of the story; its action and mystery, however, is concerned 
irith how the character makes and spends his billions. 

In the same volume are two characteristic Sherlock Holmes yams 
—•The Red-Headed League" and "The Boscombe Valley Mystery," the 
former having all the fine flavor of romantic detection that brought Doyle 



263 New Books \ Not , 

his repute and popularity. Now that he has gone in for Spiritism, 
one has to be thankful that he left us this delightful heritage. His earlier 
work is by far the best and has the most claim for permanence. 

THE LIFE OF THE PARTY. By Irvin S. Cobb. New York: George H. 

Doran Co. 60 cents net 

The life of the party was Mr. Algernon Leary, the well-known law- 
yer, who attended the festival — ^a child-party for grown-ups — clad in pink 
rompers, to represent himself at the age of four. How, after he had 
made his adieus at three o'clock of a cold winter's morning, he lost suc- 
cessively his taxicab, his overcoat, his money, his way in Old Green- 
wich Village, and his reputation as a respectable citizen, is told in a 
series of Cobbesque complications. Finally, a fugitive from cold, fright- 
ened landladies and outraged policemen, the desperado in pink rompers 
breaks through a friend's transom and ends his triumphant evening in a 
total collapse. 

COMPLETED TALES OF MY KNIGHTS AND LADIES. By Beatrice 
Chase. (Olive Katherine Parr.) New York: Longmans, Green & 
Co. $1.75 net. 

Miss Parr tells us, in her prefacing note, that WhUe Knights on 
Dartmoor and T€des of My Knights and Ladies are recalled from cir- 
culation, and this present volume is to be considered "the permanent hand- 
book of the Crusade." The said Crusade was, it will be remembered, or- 
ganized by the author, with the cooperation of Mr. John Oxenham, for 
the spiritual defence of the fighters in the Great War from their most 
formidable enemy, the social evil. The end of the war has ended the 
work which it brought into being. This history of the movement con- 
tains, in condensed form, the essential substance of the two earlier books, 
with some additional material, bringing the story to a close, in which the 
author bids farewell to her knights and proclaims the Crusade as emin- 
ently successful. The record is now published in durable, attractive bind- 
ing, making it a companion for her former Dartmoor books. 

THE CHRISTIAN MONARCH. By Rev. William Couch. New York: 

Longmans, Green & Co. $1.00 net. 

We sympathize with the author of this little brochure, in his pro- 
test against the modernistic spirit of the "Life and Liberty" movement 
in the Church of England, which is being fostered by men of the type 
of Dr. William Temple. Such men, he says, see "no finality even in the 
Creeds of the Catholic Church — ^no conclusiveness in the *faith once de- 
livered to the saints.' They seem to confuse the revelation of God with 
man's appreciation of it." 

Again we agree with this zealous high Churchman in his denuncia- 
tion of the attempt to democratize the Kingdom of God contrary to the 
will and institution of its divine Founder, Jesus Christ. 

But how pitifully weak is his attempt to prove the divine character 



19190 ^ElV BOOKS 263 

of ^the Protestant Church, by law established/' He may deplore the 
modernism of the present Bishop of Hereford, and object to the English 
Parliament passing a marriage law against the Church's wish, but by 
what authority does he condenm them both? Only by the right of 
private judgment which the Broadchurchman and the Erastian claim to 
follow with equal right. There is only one solution — the acceptance of 
the papal claims. The Pope is the only guarantee of the Church's free- 
dom from the anarchy of heresy and schism. 

MOMENTS WITH THE CONSOLING CHRIST. By the Rev. John 
Dillon, LL.D. New York: Schwartz, Kirwin & Fauss. 75 cents. 
In this little volume the prayers of The Imitation of Christ are ar- 
ranged for prayer and converse with Our Lord as Our Teacher, Refuge, 
Rest, Strength, Hope, Light, Mercy, etc. As the Bishop of Newark observes 
in the preface, for five centuries men and women have gathered courage 
and comfort from the thoughts of Thomas a Kempis. So personal is the 
message his writings convey that, open them where you will, the passage 
that first meets the eye will seem a personal message to each individual 
soul. 

BAKER'S BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY OF MUSICIANS. Revised 
and enlarged by Alfred Remy, M. A. New York: G. Schirmer Co. 
Doctor Theodore Baker's Biographical Dictionary has been the com- 
panion of musicians and music-lovers for the past nineteen years. Mr. 
Alfred Remy has done a great service to music students in revising and 
enlarging the scope of the work and bringing it up to the present day. 
He has increased the size of the original work by adding some two thou- 
sand biographies of the famous musicians of later times. He has covered 
many phases heretofore unthought of with unusual thoroughness. The 
matter of pronunciation is especially taken care of without going too 
deeply into the subject of phonetics. The preservation of Dr. Baker's 
original idea in apportioning the space to the composers and aligning 
the necessary facts without overestimating or underestimating the position 
of the composers is the most notable feature of the work. In the difficult 
matter of appraising biographical material the compilers of this useful 
work have shown fairness, discretion and discernment No doubt there 
are some omissions, but this is inevitable in a list of six thousand names. 
It is an invaluable work for classes of History of Music. 

THE NEW EARTH. A prophetic vision. By Henry Hadlcy- Words by 
Louise Ayres Gamett. Boston: Oliver Ditson Co. $1.00. 
This is one of the new American musical compositions of which we 
may well be proud. The emotional and spiritual content of the text is 
inspired by the rebirth of our world through pain and sacrifice. The poem 
breathes throughout lofty thought and an appealing sincerity. The verse 
is strong of rhythm and vivid in imagery, and of exceptional beauty and 
power. Mrs. Gamett has divided her poem into five parts, under such 



264 New Books \ Not. , 

headings as: "Sword of Deliverance," '^Comrades of the Cross," "The 
Unconquerable," *The New Vision of Peace," *The Song of the Marching 
Men." Mr. Hadley in setting the text to music has followed in matter 
and mood the emotional contrasts of the verses, avoiding over-elaboration 
in favor of a large simplicity and a clarity of utterance. The opening is 
strong and truly majestic. The strongly dramatic opening chorus, the 
appealing Agnus Dei for alto solo, the exquisite "Lullaby" for women's 
voices, the superb march movement for chorus at the very end of the work, 
deserve special comment. The last number is built upon a virile march 
theme, used with striking effect through the entire cantata. The brevity 
of the work gives the strength of concentration, and the music is inspira- 
ional for both soloists and chorus. 

THE DREAM OF MARY. A Morality. Music by Horatio Parker. 

New York: H. W. Gray Co. 

This beautiful cantata is both simple and sublime. The play, of 
which the "Morality" forms a part, depicts "the childhood of a saint." 
Its beauty and innocence of any but a pure melodic appeal gives it a 
decided religious flavor. 

Solo voices and adult chorus are required for the proper rendition of 
the cantata, besides a children's chorus and organ accompaniment. The 
text as a whole provides a superb framework, upon which the composer 
has spun his colorful tonal tapestry. The work is inspired, beautifully 
written, the union of text and music being a marvel of true interpretation, 
in keeping with the spirit of the play. It is an effective piece of writing 
and the themes themselves are quite simple, well within the ability of the 
pupils of academies and members of church sodalities. The music is of 
dignified and melodious appeal. It deserves more than ordinary favor, 
and cannot fail to create an excellent impression if competently inter- 
preted. It is a most appropriate presentation for the sacred seasons of 
the year, such as Advent or Lent. 

THE WILL OF SONG. A Dramatic Service of Community Singing. 

Devised in Cooperation with Harry Bamhart by Percy Mackaye. 

New York: Boni & Liveright. 70 cents. 

Mr. Mackaye has become rather widely known in the last decade or so 
for his masques, pageants, civic rituals, and similar productions. The 
present work, which was put together in cooperation with Mr. Harry 
Barnhart, a director of communal singing, is marked by a certain innova- 
tion which the authors look upon as having very important consequences 
in this particular field. This is the invention of the so-called Group 
Person owing to the necessity the authors felt for evolving communal, 
and not simply individual. Dramatis Personae for communal drama. 
This composite Group Person is a choral unit which symbolizes such 
ideas as Love, Joy, Liberty, and Brotherhood, and is enacted by the 
audience itself under the leadership of a few outstanding symbolic figures 
such as Will, Soul of Earth, Spring, Play, Song, and Imagination. Like 



I9I9-] iVlffFP BOOKS 265 

most modem efforts at symbolism the ideas of the present production 
are rather hazy and indefinite, and the literary appeal of the whole is 
very slight But a much more impressive effect would probably be wrought 
by an actual performance. 

A PRIMER OF OLD TESTAMENT HISTORY. By Rev. Francis 
Gigot, D. D. New York: The Paulist Press. 60 cents. 
This work offers to Catholic youth a much needed text-book of Bible 
history. The author is well known in Biblical literature. The Primer 
is a wonderfully complete and connected narrative of the Old Testament. 
The chronology of the Douay version of the Bible is followed throughout; 
debated questions are carefully avoided and the story of the Old Testa- 
ment is told in clear and concise language especially, suited for children's 
developing minds. A special merit of the work lies in the illustrations that 
are calculated to make the work concrete and easy to understand. The 
dates set at the head of various chapters give the reader an orderly pros- 
pectus of the sequence of events described in the work. References to the 
books of the Old Testament placed at the beginning of the chapters will 
encourage the youthful reader to peruse the books of the Bible, and to 
become more thoroughly acquainted with the Sacred Scriptures. The dic- 
tion of the Primer will gain in smoothness on future revisions; the high 
merit of the work will soon make new editions necessary. 

LYRA ANGELICA. Motets in honor of the Blessed Sacrament and 
the Blessed Virgin Mary. Written for two or three equal voices with 
organ accompaniment. New York: J. Fischer & Bro. Score, 80 cents; 
voice parts, 60 cents. 

This is a beautiful example of smoothly melodious, tunefully devout 
Church melodies. Nine are written for two equal voices and three for 
three equal voices, either male or female. Six of the number are Bene- 
diction Hynms, five hymns in honor of the Blessed Virgin, and a Veni 
Creator Spiriius. All of the motets are simple, combining originality 
and worth of musical thought with exceptional musical skill in the effec- 
tiveness of the harmonies. It is an ideal collection for a small male choir, 
and especially adapted for chapel exercises in convents and academies. 
The themes are quite simple, the harmonies dignified, the text and notes 
happily blended. The accompaniment is very melodious and admirably 
suited to the voice parts, the beauty of which it serves to bring out 

A COLLECTION of stories entitled True Stories for First Communi- 
cants, told by a Sister of Notre Dame (St Louis: B. Herder Co. 90 
cents), contains many stories of the childhood of the Saints calculated 
to inspire faith and arouse piety. Among them those of Tarcisus, Genuna 
Galgani, Jean Baptiste Vianney and Blessed Julie are especially to be 
commended. 

But, while all things are possible with God, and faith may remove 
mountains, stories of miraculous occurrences far removed from the normal 



266 New Books [Nov., 

experience of the child are of doubtful pedagogical value in laying the 
bases of faith and piety. On this score we take exception to some of the 
stories included in this little volume. If true, they should be accom- 
panied by full names and dates. Otherwise they are valueless. 

The illustrations are done by W. Pippett; it goes without saying that 
they are charming. 

CATECHISM NOTES COMPILED TO ASSIST TEACHERS (Dublin: 
Brown & Nolan, 30 cents), are clear, simple, and to the point. They 
are based on the Maynooth Catechism, follow its order, in some parts page 
by page, but will be found exceedingly useful in conjunction with any 
Catechism of Christian Doctrine. Simple explanations of words and 
phrases are given, though these are meant as aids, not substitutes for the 
words of the teacher. . 

The notes furnish a reliable framework for instruction. An appen- 
dix, containing explanations of the chief prayers used by Catholics, of 
the feasts and fasts, the central devotions, vestments and the Prophecies 
of the Messiah, will prove helpful also to converts and adult Catholics 
seeking short explanations on such points. 

BIBLE STORIES FOR CHILDREN! BY A CATHOLIC TEACHER 
(New York: Schwartz, Kirwin & Fauss, 50 cents), contains twenty-five 
stories of the Old Testament History, from Creation to the Machabees, and 
about forty stories of the Life of Christ adapted to children from ten to 
twelve years of age. 

The lessons of the events are very simply and naturally pointed out, 
but not dwelt upon; that is left to the teacher. Altogether this little volume 
forms an extremely welcome addition to this branch of literature for 
juveniles. We trust it will meet with the cordial reception it deserves. 

THE VICTORY OF THE GARDENS, a pageant in four episodes, writ- 
ten for the United States School Garden Army, by K A. Murphy, is 
suitable for presentation by a very large number of children of all school 
ages from primary to high.achool. Exact stage directions for scenes and 
costumes are given. For the music such airs are indicated as will be 
found suitable, not only to the rhythm but also to the spirit of the various 
parts. Mother Earth gives of her bounty and the pageant ends with the in- 
vocation of the "God of All Nature,*' a harvest hymn. 

A CHARMING volume of selected Tales frdm Hans Andersen^ with 
illustrations, comes from the preds of J. B. Lippincott Co., Philadel- 
phia. It forms one of the Children's. Classics (sixty cents), so attractive 
for gift books. 

THE full text of the Treaty of Peace with Germany is provided in the 
September publication of the American Association for International 
ConcUiation (407 West 117th St, New York City) . 



1919*] i\r^Fr Books 167 

PLANT PRODUCTION, by Ransom A. Moore and Charles P. Halligan, 
B. S. (New York: American Book Co.) 9 presents to teachers and stu- 
dents, or to all classes of farmers and horticulturists, clear, practical in- 
formation and guidance as to crops, fruits, gardens, trees (ornamental as 
well as useful), landscape gardening and, in fact, every branch of in- 
struction for all who cultivate the soil for profit or pleasure. Ample illus- 
trations add to the value and interest of the book. 

TRANSACTIONS OF THE ILLINOIS STATE HISTORICAL SOCIETY 
FOR THE YEAR 1918 is an interesting issue for all concerned with 
the history of the State, as the centennial meeting of the society was held 
in April of that year. 

THE CHATTERJEE'S PICTURE ALBUMS, a series of five paper-bound 
albums containing sixteen really beautiful color reproductions of the 
works of Oriental artists, are published in Calcutta at the Modern Review 
Office. Price, two rupees each. 

BACH FOR BEGINNERS IN ORGAN PLAYING, edited and compiled 
by Edwin Shippen Barnes ($1.50), will interest young organists who 
are pursuing serious work on the pipe organ, as it is the first practical 
work of its kind for beginners on the pipe organ. A wealth of Bach litera- 
ture in its simpler form is supplied to the beginner by this collection. Mr. 
Barnes in his 'Toreword" says: *'The intention in preparing this volume 
has been to provide, in an easy and accessible form and in a logical se- 
quence, the very easiest organ compositions of Johann Sebastian Bach." 
The arrangement of the volume is admirable. The compiler has carefully 
provided directions for phrasing, fingering, and metronomic guidance, 
thus afiTording every possible aid for an exact performance of the easier 
works of the great contrapuntist. 

A VISION OF MUSIC, by H. M. Gilbert (New York: H. W. Gray Co., 
jrjL25 cents), is unquestionably novel and interesting. The poem is one 
of the most beautiful of Father Faber, and the music, so effectively set to 
the poem, is of exceptional melodic and harmonic beauty, displaying origi- 
nality and power. All the varying moods of the lyric are strictly con- 
formed to, the rich melodic material weaving itself into a richly colorful 
tapestry of sound. It is essentially religious, yet it will be found attractive 
for secular choruses as well as church choirs. 

THE story of the old-time troubadour, who turned from the world, en- 
tered a monastery and later, as Bishop of Toulouse, cooperated with 
Saint Dominic and Simon de Montfort in putting down the Albigenses, 
will be told in dramatic style in Mr. Thomas Walsh's latest book of poems, 
Don Folquet, which the John Lane Company announce among their Fall 
publications. This tale, full of literary and controversial contrasts, marks 
the first introduction into English literature of the grim Folquet or Foulc- 
ques of Marseilles. 



268 New Books [Nov., 

FOREIGN PUBLICATIONS. 

Aux EtatS'Unis, a French reader for b^inners, by Adolphe de Mont- 
bert (New York: Allyn & Bacon, $1.20), is a companion volume to the 
author's La Belle France, which it may follow or precede. 

Its chief interest for the student is its portrayal of how American cus- 
toms strike a Frenchman visiting the United States for the first time. A 
second interest is found in the colloquial character of the work and its 
Gallic flavor. 

Pedagogically the book meets the need of a first and second-year 
French reader. It consists of vivid narrative and idiomatic conversation 
supplemented by notes and a questionnaire. The illustrations and the map 
furnish additional material for conversation. The vocabulary contains all 
the forms found in the text. Aux Etats-UrUs and La Belle France are the 
result of a frank and earnest efi'ort to strengthen the bonds between the 
two great Republics by giving the American youth a grasp of the practical, 
everyday colloquial France, an understanding of the French land, lan- 
guage, and point of view, a sympathy for the French attitude of mind 
and an appreciation of the admir^le French qualities of head and heart. 
The work is attractively printed. 

Dominicales, by Eugene Duplessy, directeur de '^La Repose" (Paris: 
Pierre Tequi) , is the first of a three-volume "Sermonaire." It extends from 
Advent to the Feast of St. Joseph. The author, who is well known by Cat- 
echists and Apologists, wishes to preach the Gospel, instruct the faithful, 
defend religion, to reach the different audiences that a parish priest has 
most frequently before him, to be an aid to his confreres, not a substitute. 
He has truly realized his desire. His work will be of the greatest service to 
priests, and will also make agreeable reading for the faithful. 

Gabriel Beauchesne presents the third volume in Canon Louis Prunel's 
Cours Superieur de Religion: Les Mysteres, This volume is devoted to the 
mysteries of the Trinity, the Incarnation, and the Redemption, with an 
appendix on the Blessed Virgin Mary. With rare felicity, M. Prunel 
attains the object which he proposes for his course: to give in exact terms 
the substance of doctrinal teaching upon each of the articles of Christian 
Dogma without omitting any important question and, on the other hand, 
to make his work intelligible for people in the world, by avoiding detailed 
developments and purely technical problems. The exposition is solid, and 
always clear; controverted questions are summed up in a most satisfactory 
manner, without taking part in any of the quarrels between Catholic 
Schools. The Course has already rendered great service to many believers 
who wish to be instructed, and to unbelievers seeking light 

Santa Rita, a sacred drama by F. Aurelio Palmieri, O. S. A. (Florence, 
1919) , deals with the death of St. Rita's sons, her entrance into the con- 
vent, some of the miracles performed by her as an Augustinian Nun, and 
ends with her saintly death. The characters are well drawn. The drama 
gives evidence of unusual ability and should become, if translated into 
English, very popular as a play for academies. 



IRecent iSvents. 



Some notion of the chaotic conditions in Russia 
Russia. may be given when it is stated that during the 

past month in European Russia alone (i. e., leav- 
ing out of account the movement of Kolchak's forces in Siberia) , no less 
than nine military operations have been on foot. These may be sum- 
marized as follows: 1. German-Russian forces drive the Letts back and 
capture Riga; 2. British and French warships in Riga Harbor clear for 
action; 3. Two divisions of Esthonian troops thrown against the^German- 
Russian forces; 4. Russo-Esthonian troops under General Yudenitch on 
the front southwest of Petrograd advance, cutting that city's rail com- 
munication with Pskov, and even, so latest reports state, capturing the 
suburbs of Petrograd; 5. Counter-revolution against the Bolsheviki re- 
ported in progress in Petrograd; 6. Martial law declared in Moscow; 7. 
General Denikin continues advance on Moscow from the south; 8. General 
Petlura, leader of the anti-Bolshevik Ukrainian army, declares war on Gen- 
eral Denikin; 9. The Polish army makes further advance, capturing 
Dvinsk. 

The salient feature of the situation is that though the various forces 
operating against the Bolsheviks are many, they are each acting from 
different motives and in several instances are mutually hostile among 
themselves. In some cases the reasons are clear. The German-Russian- 
Lettish imbroglio, for example, seems to have arisen as follows: Colonel 
Avaloff-Bermondt, conmiander of an anti-Bolshevik force operating near 
Riga, the Letvian capital, sought permission of the Lettish Government 
for the passage of his troops to the Russian frontiers. The Letvian author- 
ities, fearful that their autonomy and independence of Russia would be 
thus endangered, refused this permission, whereupon Colonel Avaloff- 
Bermondt entered into an alliance with the German troops under General 
Von der Goltz and advanced against Riga. He has proclaimed Courland 
and Mitau as belonging to the Russian General Government and has as- 
sumed the title of Governor-General. Severe fighting has taken place 
between the Russo-German forces and Lettish troops reenf orced by Estho- 
nians. With the aid of tanks, aeroplanes and gas the Russo-Germans broke 
through the Lettish lines west of Riga, and their advanced guard entered 
and occupied Riga itself. Later reports state that the Letts have repulsed 
further attacks with sanguinary losses to the enemy. British warships 
have become involved in the fighting, having been fired upon by Russo- 
German forces, and an unconfirmed report declares a British force has 
been landed in or near the city. 



^^o Recent events inov., 

Offers of an armistice made by Colonel Avaloff-Bermondt have been 
rejected by the Lettish Government. Troops are being mobilized every- 
where in Livonia and the neighborhood of Riga preparatory to the struggle 
against the invaders. Various rumors as to the Russo-German alliance are 
in circulation. The French version is that the anti-Bolshevik are Russians 
first, and Germanophiles or friends of the Allies afterwards. According 
to this version the Nationalist Russians in the west, failing to get the sup- 
port they sought from the Allies, became busy with an appeal to the Pan- 
Germans, with whose help they set up a new *^West Russian" Government, 
whose banner the Pan-German and reactionary army of Von der Goltz 
forthwith adopted as useful camouflage. The Von der Goltz movement 
is considered primarily anti-Bolshevist in character, though it has in the 
background the ambition to resurrect German influence in the Balkans. 

The two most important military moves of the month have been the 
advance of General Yudenitch on Petrograd and that of General Denikin 
in the south on Moscow. General Yudenitch's northwest army, which is 
composed of Russians, Letts, Esthonians, and Lithuanians, has been attack- 
ing Petrograd on a line from Pskov through Riga to the Gulf of Finland. 
A late report states that Kronstadt, the Petrograd citadel, has surrendered, 
but thb has not yet been confirmed. It is known, however, that a general 
advance on Petrograd has been effected by the anti-Bolshevist army, in 
which thousands of prisoners have been taken, and heavy gains made 
on the entire front. Gatchina, which is considered the strongest position 
this side of Petrograd, has been captured by the Yudenitch forces, and 
the early fall of Petrograd is looked upon as a practical certainty. This 
news is supported further by reports of serious fighting in Petrograd be- 
tween adherents and opponents of the Soviet regime. The ^'counter revo- 
lutionaries" are reported to have taken possession of several important 
buildings and Government institutions. Competent observers are of the 
opinion, however, that the Bolsheviki are still powerful and that the forces 
of the Soviet Government will put up a stout resistance before they are 
overcome. It is believed that the Yudenitch advance came as a complete 
surprise to them. Not expecting an action on the northwestern front, they 
were bending all their energies to dealing with Denikin in the south. 

General Denikin's advance against Moscow, the Soviet capital, has 
reached Ore, an important railroad centre two hundred and thirty-eight 
miles south of Moscow. Two batteries of artillery, thousands of pris- 
oners and great quantities of material have fallen into his hands. Denikin 
is pressing his attack on a two-hundred-mile front, advancing northwest 
steadily and systematically on parallel lines of railway. The most impor- 
tant result of his progress is that he now has behind him vast and rich 
tracts of Russian territory. It is clear that his progress against the prin- 
cipal Bolshevist army has compelled the Soviet Government to reduce 
their strength in other theatres, thus enabling the Russian northwestern 
army under Yudenitch and Kolchak's Siberian forces to make considerable 
advances. 



ISI90 RECENT EVENTS 271 

Large quantities of war material have been supplied by the Allies 
to the White armies under Denikin, and it is upon this assistance from 
the Allies that Denikin's series of successes has largely depended. The 
French General, Mangin, whose recall to Paris from command of the 
Eighth Army was recently announced, has been instructed to proceed to 
South Russia and join General Denikin. He is to be accompanied by 
Basil Maklokoff, Russian Ambassador in Paris, their mission being to 
coordinate the policy of the anti-Bolshevist Governments. General Hol- 
man of the British Army has been with Denikin. for several months, super- 
intending the delivery of uniforms, tanks, aeroplanes, and other equipment 
furnished to the Southern Russian army by Great Britain on behalf of 
the Allies. 

A disquieting feature of Denikin's situation is the declaration of war 
upon him by General Simon Petlura, the Ukrainian military leader. Vio- 
lent fighting has been reported between the two forces. The attitude of 
Denikin's troops has long been hostile towards the Ukrainians, whom they 
regard as traitors to Russia since they made peace with Austria and Ger- 
many even before the Bolshevists, thus preparing the way for the peace of 
Brest-Litovsk. For a time the Ukrainian forces and those under Denikin 
effected a junction in their common effort against the Bolshevists, but 
recently the Ukrainian troops withdrew, leaving a gap between them and 
Denikin's troops through which the remainder of the Bol^evist force 
which had been driven out of Odessa are working their way northward. 
The Ukrainians are reported to have attacked the volunteer army under 
Denikin north of Odessa. 

With regard to the Poles, Denikin's army considers them as allies, 
and negotiations are in progress to establish permanent contact between 
them. To all appearances, Denikin is firmly established in Kiev, the 
Ukrainian capital. The Bol^evists have been counter-attacking heavily 
with reenforcements drawn from the eastern front, but these attacks have 
been repulsed, and Denikin is again taking the offensive. His left, how- 
ever, is exposed to an attack from either Bolshevists or Ukrainians, and. a 
junction with the Poles would greatly strengthen this position. 

From Admiral Kolchak's front comes a report of a Bolshevist retreat 
along the whole line, which is considered more than a mere strategic trans- 
fer of troops to the south against Denikin. The advance of the Siberian 
army under Kolchak since the resumption of his offensive on September 
1st, has been carried out with few reverses to a distance averaging seventy- 
five miles along the whole front. The advance of several portions of the 
lines has been made against serious resistance and counter attacks. Volun- 
tary enlistment among the refugees behind the Kolchak lines has been 
stimulated by the offer of bonuses and of subsistence for the families 
of volunteers, and it is now proceeding faster than the men can be 
equipped. Fifteen thousand volunteers were enrolled in September. 

Late in September reports were persistent that Kolchak had handed 
over the chief direction of the All-Russian Govemmept to Denikin and 



a72 Recent Events [Nov., 

subordinated himself to that chief, but this has since proved false. 
Kolchak is still the titular leader and as such has issued a proclamation 
calling for an assembly of the Zemstovs of the All-Russian territory to be 
held at the end of October. 

The Von der Goltz adventure in Courland and 
Germany. the Baltic states still continues to be the outstand- 

ing feature of the German situation. There has 
been constant interchange of notes on the subject between the Supreme 
Council of the Allies at Paris and the German authorities at Berlin. Early 
in the month Germany delivered to General Dupont, commander of the 
Interallied Mission at Berlin, a memorandum declaring that it had recalled 
General Von der Goltz, had stopped pay, supplies and munitions to the 
German troops there, and was doing everything possible to bring about the 
withdrawal of the German soldiers. General von Eberhadt has been ap- 
pointed in place of General Von der Goltz to take charge of the evacua- 
tion. The memorandum insisted that Germany had exhausted its means 
of coercion, and requested the appointment of an allied commission to 
visit the Baltic provinces and verify this fact According to Swiss advices, 
the German Government further issued a proclamation to the German 
troops exhorting them to withdraw from Russian territory in order to 
avert the blockade of Germany and other military measures threatened by 
the Supeme Council. 

The German reply to the Allied note demanding withdrawal was con- 
sidered unsatisfactory by the Supreme Council, and Marshal Foch was in- 
structed to draw up a new note. Diplomats and military men of all the 
Allied and Associated Powers are agreed that the troops under General 
Von der Goltz are a menace to Entente interests as they are now operating 
and should be withdrawn. But there is a great difference of opinion as to 
the best means of effecting their disarmament and disbandment A con- 
siderable number of Von der Goltz's troops are for the most part men 
whose properties have been ruined by the War, and they have sought the 
Baltic provinces as a pioneer country where they could re-establish their 
fortunes. Many of them are Germans who were expelled from Alsace- 
Lorraine, and there are numerous sea-faring men without prospect of 
employment, because Germany lacks a navy and merchant marine. Con- 
sequently they are foot-loose, desperate and eager for any adventure and 
ready to follow any bold leader. In the opinion of experienced Entente 
officers who have recently been in the Baltic territory the Berlin Govern- 
ment unquestionably has lost control over the Baltic troops, which arc 
estimated as anywhere from 50,000 to 200,000 men. 

As a result of the attack on Riga by the combined forces of Russians 
under Colonel Avaloff-Bermondt, and Germans under Von der Goltz, de- 
mands were made on the German Government that German ships on the 
Baltic be recalled to their home ports and that all others be forbidden 
to leave. The Allied and Associated Governments have engaged them- 



1919] Recent events 273 

selves to help the German Goyemment get German troops out of the 
Baltic provinces. A portion have already been withdrawn under stringent 
orders from Berlin, and Von der Goltz himself is reported to have urged 
upon his troops the necessity of withdrawing to save Germany from a 
renewal of the blockade. 

The German Government's position is difficult to describe. Technic- 
ally it is faultless. It has addressed proper orders to the troops and for- 
bidden supplies to be sent them, but plotting is still carried on with Berlin 
for its centre. South German troops still go adventuring into the Baltic 
regions, and the Government is rather colorless in its declarations. 

Marshal Foch's latest note declares that full responsibility for the 
Baltic situation rests upon the German Government, and that the coercive 
measures now in force will not be lifted until the German troops with- 
draw behind their own border. The Allies possess the power of advanc- 
ing from the Rhine to occupy Frankfort and Mannheim and, in addition, 
British and French warships are in the vicinity of Riga. Foch's note 
accuses the German Government of double-dealing in the Baltic situation, 
but leaves a way open for further diplomatic correspondence. The note 
does^ot appear to deal with the immediate situation growing out of the 
German attack upon Riga, but refers to the German offensive as a violation 
of the armistice, and objects to the formation in Courland of a German- 
Russian Government. 

A further peculiar complication in the Allied-German interchange of 
notes on the Baltic situation is afforded by recent invitations from the 
Entente that Germany join in the blockade of Soviet Russia. This apparent 
contradiction in Allied councils is due to the fact that the Supreme Coun- 
cil ever since last July has been considering movements to stamp out 
Bolshevism and that this has just found issue. The Foch note, on the 
other hand, is the result of considerations of a much more recent and 
pressing problem — the continued presence and activity of the German 
forces in the Baltic. The indications are that the German reply to the 
suggested plan against Sovietism will neither be an unconditional refusal 
nor an indication of assent It is said that Germany will suggest the in- 
stallation of an international commission to deliberate on the proposition. 
Meanwhile the official answer to the invitation will be deferred until the 
Government has had an opportunity to consult the Scandinavian and other 
neutral Governments. 

In a recent address to the National Assembly, Chancellor Bauer, dis- 
cussing the future status of the German army, explained that full reduc- 
tion of the army would be impossible until the Peace Treaty came into 
force, but announced that two months after ratification of the Treaty 
the army would be definitely reduced to 200,000. He also said that, owing 
to the amount of business before the National Assembly, new elections 
would be impossible before spring. A bill providing for Economic Coun- 
cils was being rapidly prepared, th^ Chancellor announced, in the hope 
that they would be able to begin operations with the New Year. He said 

VOL.*C]Llt9 



274 RECENT Events [Noy,, 

the aim was to establish an obligatory Arbitration Court to settle trade dis- 
putes and thereby limit strikes to the utmost. 

The German authorities have begun the evacuation of the first and 
second zones in Schleswig complying with the Peace Treaty conditions. 
Thd International Commission is preparing the arrangements for the ple- 
biscite to decide whether the regions involved shall remain German or join 
Denmark, and is making plans for the adminbtration of the districts. 



The French press expresses surprise and regret at 
France. the action of the Supreme Council in inviting 

Germany to join in the blockade of Bolshevik 
Russia. Among the possible consequences forecast by the commentators 
is that it will afford Germany, in her negotiations with the Russians, an 
opportunity to say that Germany alone is able to lift Russia out of the 
wreck. It is also asked whether this note b not likely to neutralize the 
effect of Marshal Foch's ultimatum regarding the Baltic. Some writers 
even predict that Germany will use the Council's invitation as a ground 
for claiming equal treatment and immediate admission to the League of 
Nations. 

The text of the note inviting Germany to participate in the blockade 
of Soviet Russia shows that Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Holland, Finland, 
Spain, Switzerland, Mexico, Chile, Argentina, Colombia, and Venezuela 
also have been invited to initiate measures to prevent their nationals from 
engaging in any trade with Bolshevist Russia. The measures recommended 
are: (1) Refusal of permission to sail to every ship bound for a Russian 
Bolshevist port, and the closing of all ports to ships from Bolshevist 
ports. (2) Similar regulations to be adopted with regard to all goods 
destined for Russia by any other route. (3) Refusal of passports to all 
persons to or from Bolshevist Russia. (4) Measures to be taken to hinder 
the banks from granting credit to commercial undertakings in Bolshevist 
Russia. (5) Refusal by the various Governments to permit its nationals 
any facilities of intercourse with Bolshevist Russia, whether by post or 
wireless telegraphy. The preamble of the note declares that the open 
enmity of the Bolsheviki is directed against all Governments and that pro- 
grammes of international evolution, circulated by the Bolsheviki, consti- 
tute a grave danger to the national security of all the powers. As every 
increase in the capacity of the Bolsheviki for resistance increases this 
danger, it would be desirable for all nations wishing peace and the re- 
establishment of social order to unite in resisting Bolshevist government 

The formal ratification of the Peace Treaty with Germany has been 
indefinitely postponed. The decision not to complete the formal ratifica- 
tion of the Treaty at this timie was due chiefly to the inability of the three 
ratifying powers on the Entente side to make the necessary preparations to 
carry out provisions of the Treaty which must be attended to within a brief 
time after the actual ratification* Moreover, the delay in formal ratifica- 



1 9 1 9.] Recent Events 



375 



tion seems due also to the desire to have the United States participate in 
all the steps for the enforcement of the Treaty with Germany. American 
delegates to the Peace Conference are of opinion that the Conference will 
adjourn December 1st at the latest. They expect that the final action of the 
American Senate will be known by November 15th, and they calculate 
that a fortnight will then be sufficient to clean up the rest of the work of the 
Conference. Reports are also current in Peace Conference circles that 
the Conference may be replaced by a council of ambassadors presided 
over by M. Pichon, the French foreign minister, with Marshal Foch as 
his adviser. 

While official announcement of the ending of the state of war has not 
yet been made, it is provided that the promulgation of the ratification of 
the Peace Treaty will be considered the date for the cessation of hostilities. 
The French Senate has ratified the Peace Treaty and also the Franco- 
American and Franco-British Defence Treaties. President Poincare has 
signed a decree of general demobilization effective upon "the cessation 
of hostilities." 

General rejoicing by the press over the ending of the censorship 
marked the return of a state of peace to France. Military control, not only 
of the press, but of all public measures for the control of movements of 
travelers across the frontiers as well as within France; the supervision of 
ports, restrictions on importations and other matters which have been in 
the hands of army officers have now passed to the civil authorities. The 
right of requisitioning is terminated, and the military authorities have also 
lost jurisdiction over certain crimes and misdemeanors, no longer having 
the right to search private property. 

The election of a successor to President Poincare b now only three 
months distant, yet Parliamentary elections to choose members of the 
Senate and Chamber of Deputies must first be held, as these, in joint ses- 
sion at Versailles in January, must elect the tenth President of the Re- 
public. 

Results of the coming election are regarded as more obscure than any 
since the fall of the Empire in 1870. This is all the more true because of 
the death of 500,000 voters in the War, the coming of age of an equal 
number of new voters, and the anticipated modification of party lines by 
new issues resulting from the War and reconstruction. As an example of 
this last, the coming election will be the first since 1870 in which the Re- 
public will not be attacked by Royalists or Imperialists. Imperialists have 
virtually disappeared, and the Royalists have abandoned their demand for 
the return of the Duke of Orleans to become King of France. 

Conservatives who were not Royalists, but strong Catholics, and had 
kept up the fight against the anti-clerical tendencies of the Republic, have 
announced that they finally accept the separation of Church and State and 
merely coimt upon an unprejudiced execution of the law. This has made 
possible the n^otiations now under way for an alliance of all parties 
except the extreme Socialists in certain departments, including that of the 



a76 Recent Events [Nov., 

Seine, which embraces Paris, the object being the union of all political 
forces in France opposed to the Bolsheviki and the extremely radical trend. 

Fiume throughout the month since our last notes 
Italy. were written has continued to be the salient fea- 

ture in the news from Italy, but it is easy to ex- 
aggerate the importance of the controversy. The Italian Premier and 
Government have continued to show a firm front of opposition to d'Annun- 
zio and hb followers, and signs are not lacking that within the next 
month a solution, on the basis of compromise, will be found to this vexed 
question. What the nature of that compromise will probably be, and the 
chief incidents in the situation during the month, are indicated below. 

At first the method adopted by the Italian Government to bring the 
Fiume rebels to terms was blockade and starvation, but at the beginning of 
October the Government issued orders to lift the blockade, and Italian 
authorities in the vicinity of Fiume received instructions to allow mail and 
foodstuffs to pass into the city. The decision was taken after the Govern- 
ment had examined and discussed a protest from the Fiume National 
Council. The military blockade, however, against the soldiers and civilians 
entering the city was continued. 

An incident that threatened further complication of the Italian situ- 
ation was the landing of American sailors on the lower Dalmatian coast 
late in September, who seized Trau, previously occupied by irregular 
Italian soldiers operating in sympathy with d*Annunzio. The landing of 
the American forces was at the request of the Supreme Council 
at Paris, in which the Italian Government has representation. Under the 
Allied agreement Italy was in control, by the Treaty of London, of that 
part of the Dalmatian coast extending down the east coast to Port Planca, 
but not so far as Trau. Later, a second landing of American marines was 
made at Spalato, ten miles further down the coast from Trau, to prevent 
outbreaks between Italians and Jugo-Slavs. The adjoining coastal regions 
are being patrolled by Italian, British, and French forces in addition to 
the Americans. 

As the latest effort at solution of the Fiume imbroglio, Foreign Min- 
ister Tittoni has made the following proposal: He asks only the annexation 
to Italy of the district of Volosca, lying between Fiume and Trieste, in 
order to establish again a boundary between the enlarged Kingdom of 
Italy and the proposed buffer state, Fiume. Signer Tittoni further asks 
that the Island of Lagosta be added to the other Dalmatian Islands assigned 
to Italy under the original division of these blands between Italy and Jugo- 
slavia. His project, besides making Zara, the capital of Dalmatia, a free 
city, provides that it be* represented diplomatically by Italy. 

This proposal by the Italian Government has found many adherents 
both in Italy and in the other countries. It seems to be favored even by 
d'Annunzio himself, who, according to late dispatches, has sent a message 
to Premier Clemenoeau requesting him to take the initiative in securing 



I9»9.] RECENT EVENTS 2Tj 

from the Allied Governments a declaration making Fimne a free port He 
has also drafted a manifesto inviting Serbians and Italians to recognize 
mutual national rights. Altogether the prospects are good for an early 
solution of the Fiume difficulty. 

The other principal event of the month in Italian politics was the 
ratification of the German and Austrian Peace Treaties by royal decree, 
Italy being thus the first Allied power to complete ratification of the 
Treaty with Germany, and the first to take steps towards approval of the 
Austrian pact. The Italian action in ratifying the German Treaty by decree 
— a power vested in the King, when a Treaty does not affect a frontier 
alteration — ^is expected to assure the speedy bringing into effect of the 
document signed at Versailles, June 28th. The Treaty stipulates that it 
shall become effective when three powers besides Germany have ratified it, 
and official notice of their action has been deposited. Besides the Italian 
ratification, both houses of the British Parliament have now ratified the 
Document, and also the French Chamber of Deputies and French Senate. 

October 22, igip. 



A special note sent out by the publishers of " The Catholic World '' 
to its subscribers on October j6th, informed them that the November issue would 
appear much later than the usual date of publication. The delay uku due 
to no fault of the publishers : but to a ivalk-out of the pressmen of the local 
unions of New York City in protest against their ottm IrUemational Union. 
The latter itfould not sanction a strike by the Local Unions and believed that 
all Local Unions ought to abide by the contract which through the IrUemational 
they had made wiA the employing printers. 

All requests for a compromise have met wiA a deaf ear from the Local 
Unions and up to date they have refused to call off the walk-out. 

Our readers will note that the type dress of the present issue is not the 
same as usual, but this also was uruxvoidable. Moreover, the extraordinary 
difficulties encountered in publishing have no doubt resulted in typographical 
errors ond imperfections in printing. 

We regret the delay in publication, but we wish to assure our readers 
that all the work done on this issue of '' The Catholic World ^* as upon its 
other issues have been Union labor. 

If the present conditions continue to prevail the publication of succeeding 
issues will probably be late also, for which lue ask the patience and forebcitr'' 
once of our subscribers. 



With Our Readers. 

AFTER pursuing a course of murder, pillage and satanic cruelty, the 
Russian Bolshevist leaders have abandoned their so-called principles 
of Soviet rule. Communism in land is abandoned; differential wage is re- 
established — ^men who work better get more pay; also those who direct 
enterprises are not only permitted but actually invited to receive very 
large salaries. The same leaders protest now that they will protect indi- 
vidual ownership and the rights of the individual to the fruits of his labor. 
It remains to be seen, as Mr. Herbert Hoover recently stated, whether 
we will learn by the lesson given in Russia and Hungary or whether we 
will be plunged into the same abyss and, after sorrows and disaster, pain- 
fully reconstruct that which we now have. 






BOLSHEVISM must be warded off, not only that the new democracies 
of the world may grow, but that our own democracy may live. And if 
America fails, democracy throughout the world will die. In the recent 
War America made a great and heroic sacrifice. The spirit of unity, of 
generosity, of unselfishness that led her to fight for a principle, will have 
to be maintained if the fruits of the victory are not to be lost. 

Many have interpreted the victory as a long-sought opportunity to 
get for themselves more of this world's goods. They have reduced it to 
an ignoble scramble for material wealth. During the War labor, mechani- 
cal manual labor, had the world and society at its mercy, and knew it. 
Capitalists, no doubt, benefited by the war; labor benefited equally, if 

not more. 

« « « « 

LABOR has always maintained that its claims were just: founded upon 
the necessity of a living wage. It claimed and won the sympathy of 
the multitude because capital was in the seats of power and influence. 
Capital could outrage the moral law and there was none to bring it to 
task. Labor would never descend to the despicable, immoral deeds and 
practices of capital. It would never enter into combines that would merci- 
lessly throttle the small competitor; it would never wantonly destroy pro- 
ducts to increase cost by diminishing supply. It would never amass capital ; 
indeed, capital and all connected with it was the object of its scorn and 
hate. Clothed in self-righteousness, labor appealed to the public and 
won the public's approval. 



UNQUESTIONABLY organized labor is not only the friend, but has 
been and is the saviour of the laboring man. Without it his cause 
is dead; without its power capitalism would never have been brought to 



1919] With Our Readers 279 

do him justice. Mr. Gary put himself in a hopelessly bad position re- 
cently when he said he would not negotiate with the representatives of the 
men who worked in the steel plants. The men have a right to be heard; 
they have a right to organize. But the same eternal moral law governs 
capitalist, labor organization and individual laboring man alike — ^indeed 
every man or group of men. The laboring man has no more right to be 
dishonest than any other man; nor have the labor organizations such a 
right The laboring man, if he is receiving a just, living wage, has no 
right to hold up industry; no right to play the highwayman and declare: 
"More money or I won't work.'* He has industry and society by the 
throat. He can strangle both if he wishes, but he has no right to do so. 
The laboring man has no right to break his contract, so long as his 
contract does no serious injustice. The laboring man has no right to 
destroy his product in order to raise its price. The labor organization has 
no right to amass such capital as will enable it to carry on warfare against 
those who have no capital, and thus win out. 



IT is a great and far-reaching question, in which one may balance the 
long, untold wickedness and unscrupulous inhumanity of capital against 
the laboring man. But it is certainly true that whoever violates the moral 
law of God loses in the end. The laboring man profited most by the War; 
he is profiting most now. He does not hesitate individually and through 
his union to demand and to obtain the highest wages that he can. His day 
is here, and he must get all he can. It is not a question of justice, but of 
opportunism. But opportunity does not constitute moral right. Money 
makes no man happier, wiser or better. If all the wealth of the United 
States were distributed equally among all its citizens they would be no 
better off than they are today. A nation that measures its soul by gold 
has gone a long way towards infamous decay. Alas, that it must be 
said that this is the attitude of the laboring man and the labor union today. 
There are those among the leaders who are trying to save the situation, 
who see the deep chasm ahead, but their efforts are often futile. A radical, 
disintegrating spirit is driving toward destruction. Labor today commits 
the very sin that roused its righteous indignation against capitalism. It 
has learned all* too well from the master it affected to despise. It com- 
plained of the capitalist who destroyed five hundred pianos to increase the 
price of pianos. But it will ask for a five-hour day and for forty-four 
hours a week and a higher wage. 



LABOR once charged capitalism with being "soulless." Undoubtedly 
some strikes today are justifiable. Wherever inhuman and unjust 
conditions exist, men may and should strike if other means fail. But 
men who have "gone out"on strikes where no unjust conditions exist 
will tell you frankly that morality. Christian teaching have nothing to 



a8o With Our Readers [Nov.. 

do with the case: that they want shorter hours and higher pay — and if 
they can get it, they would be fools to let the opportunity slip. Justice 
they have never stopped to consider. Or, if it troubles them, they brush 
it aside, saying they must follow the majority: that they belong to the 
Union and must stand with it or be blacklisted. They must follow 
whether its demands are just or unjust. Could anything be more '*soul- 
less" than thb? 



IN the present situation, the dignity of Labor is fast evaporating. The 
personal relations of the employer to the employee are getting quite 
beyond the control of both. The homely virtue of justice, of giving 
just payment for a wage received, has gone by the board. It does hot 
trouble the conscience of the working man. The individual is merged 
in a great movement; he has lost his identity; hb personality; his Chris- 
tian worth as a man. He is a small, unimportant wheel in a great ma- 
chine. Personal morality, personal responsibility, personal worth are 
superseded by the law of might and of force. Labor with its new and 
untold power, in its turn, will crush everything in its path to greater 
might and greater force. 

In the great sacrifices of this country, attendant upon reconstruction 
and readjustment. Labor has not shown itself heroic. On the contrary, 
it grows more and more selfish every day. Multiplied strikes have 
caused a deficiency of production in this country which it is estimated 
amounts to ten millions a day. Mr. Hoover stated recently that the most 
startling economic phenomenon in Europe was its demoralized industrial 
production. 

Labor knows the result; knows the consequences. In all fairness 
it may be asked: Is Labor bearing its fair share of sacrifice here for the 
rehabilitation of our country? 



IT is permissible for any man to repudiate his former radical views; 
but those who sponsor them cannot repudiate the ultimate responsi- 
bility for every act generated by them. Theorists, orators, philosophers 
are often far from int^iding that their pronouncements should be logic- 
ally reduced to action. When their readers and followers so reduce them, 
they are even surprised. Mr. Foster, a labor leader of today, wrote 
some time ago that the enemies of capitalism wer6 ^^o more careful to 
select weapons that were 'fair/ 'just* or 'civilized* than is a householder 
attacked in the night by a burglar. . . . With him the end justifies the 
means. Whether his tactics be 'illegal' or 'moral* or not does not con- 
cern him, so long as they are effective.** 

It is highly improbable that Foster has really repudiated his radical 
views. And it is morally certain that they have affected and influenced 
thousands of working men. His attitude before the Senate Investigating 



1919] With Our Readers aSt 

Committee was shifting: he explained his statement ^that scabs ought 
to be ruthlessly exterminated/' by saying that he meant they ought "to 
be educated.*' He stated that no consideration of "legality" or "religion," 
"patriotism," "honor," "duty," should 'stand in the way of "effective tac- 
tics" — although he added that all of these terms are relative terms. And 
he still advocates "race suicide." 

These, he maintained, were his personal views and had nothing to do 
with the strike he had organized. But it is surely not comforting to think 
of his present position and power, when we remember that neither pub- 
licly nor by writing has he ever repudiated the views he took such pains 
to disseminate when he was a Syndicalist and an Industrial Worker of 
the World. 

Is it not more likely that such men have entered the American Federa- 
tion of Labor to turn it to their own radical, unprincipled purposes — 
to socialize, as John Fitzpatrick put it, "the basic industries of the United 

States?" 

• • « • 

THE war has shown what is the fate in time of even the greatest phy- 
sical force nation in the world. Any organization that follows its 
leadership, any organization that does not build on justice and right will 
go the same road of failure and of defeat The pity of it is that the 
road is always strewn with desolation and ruin and death. 



THE failure of President Wilson's Industrial Conference is lamentable 
and significant. The President performed a real service to social 
justice and peace, or attempted to do so, when he acted. He endeavored 
to bring together a body of men who are experienced in industrial life 
and to gain through their good offices some insight into the larger poli- 
cies in industrial directions, which will fit into the newer social life 
whose formation we are now preparing. The attempt failed. The labor 
group withdrew and renewed the sense of confusion of which the country 

is conscious. 

• • • « 

CONFLICT always narrows vision and intensifies activity. The indus- 
trial conflict has developed two conflicting codes of justice, those 
of employer and imion which are at variance in principle and policy. 
Property rights and authority, based on ownership or control of capital, 
are in conflict with human rights as these are defined by labor. There 
is, however, a vast section of the industrial world wherein we find rela- 
tive peace and satisfactory adjustment of differences. The full force of 
actual and latent differences is brought out by the well-known issues 
that came to expression in the breakdown of the Industrial Conference. 

Peace must come as it usually comes in complex situations through 
compromise in policy, restoration of mutual trust and the grasp of wider 
views of social welfare in which party interests must take a subordinate 



282 With Our Readers [Noy., 

place. There is scarcely a doubt that employers reconcile their own dif- 
ferences in this way and labor unions no less. 



AT this moment in our history, and in the history of the world, there 
is supreme need of a patriotism which breeds toleration, patience 
and mutual confidence. Our national intelligence is challenged quite as 
much as our common good will. The latter we can control by adequate 
moral force and worthy motives. Our intelligence is limited, rather our 
understanding of relations, rights and the drift of social forces. Good- 
will can accomplish wonderful things when there is universal confusion. 
A world wrenched out of its harmony does not promote clear thinking, 
much as we need it. If increased production b a crying need now, we 
have not yet found the way to insure it. Perhaps a study of the spirit 
and methods of The Truce of God during and after the eleventh century 
might help us to recover the Peace of God in which the way to social 
justice might be found. 



IN the welter of industrial conflict which b the aftermath of war; 
when might still battles against right to sway classes and men, the 
ovation to Cardinal Mercier, as ''one whose name has fired the heart and 
imagination of America as almost none other in this war," is deeply sig- 
nificant. The universal acclaim of the spiritual ringing through every 
utterance of press and people reveals the secret altar where men wor- 
ship, the leadership men crave. Justice and Charity must triumph. 
America will be true to the basic ideals of her being. Men still worship 
and follow Christ after they have crucified Him. 



A PRACTICAL world is skeptical. It requires the test; it seeks for 
proof. ''Because," said the spokesman of the Protestant Episcopal 
Convention to the Cardinal, "we see in your career something of the 
print of the nails do we greet and honor you as a great shepherd and a 
great Christian leader." The world's testimony to "moral strength" 
that is "not an abstraction: the strength of men and women willing to en- 
dure and to suffer — to die rather than be dbhonored," was voiced by ex- 
Justice Charles £. Hughes at the Merchants' Association of New York 
City. When "strength needed a voice;" "justice needed a voice;" "hu- 
manity needed a voice;" "religion needed a voice," Cardinal Mercier 
spoke. "The gims of the Huns could silence Antwerp, but they could not 
silence Mercier. Physical force can meet and overthrow physical force, 
but physical force cannot meet and overthrow spiritual force, deriving 
its constant sustenance from faith in an ever-living God." Mercier "mobil- 
ized" the spiritual resources of mankind. Hb victory b "priceless be- 
cause it has reenforced our confidence in the eternal verities." Cardinal 
Mercier demonstrated, so said the presiding officer, Mr. Breed, that "the 



I9I9-] With Our Readers 283 

surest guide for men and nations in the hour of peril b a simple faith 
in a righteous God." 

^Through all the trouble and terror, I never once doubted God's 
justice*' — ^''I had a duty to fulfill; I fulfilled my duty," are the Cardinal's 
simple summaries. 



THE ^'shining light for all time" of "lofty example" in spiritual stan- 
dards, is the motif running through die addresses of the Bar As- 
sociation of New York, met to pay homage to "so brave a champion of 
right and justice." "No soldier, no statesman, has so intimately spent 
our imagination," is its estimate, '^e followed him, his deeds, his 
ministrations; we heard his voice across the sea, and we believed what 
he said and we knew what he said was true." He seized the opportunities 
for service of his great position "with a power and devotion as nearly 
supernatural as human power and devotion can attain." His power was 
that of "a holy man, clothed with the power of the Spirit," his victory 
in what seemed "an unequal contest" was that of "the holy man sustained 
by the mighty forces of religion and morality." 

In his letter of regret that he could not participate in the Bar As- 
sociation's tribute to this great exponent of the moral bases and philoso- 
phy of law, Mr. Elihu Root, the great jurist and leader of the American 
Bar, said, "Cardinal Mercier gave voice to the conscience, the humanity 
and the sense of justice of Christian civilization. He was the embodiment 
of moral power standing alone and imdefended. His clear and fearless 
appeals for the right against foul wrong stirred the better instincts of 
men the world over, and by the compelling force of a great example 
lifted them up to the level of sacrifice and daring. 

'The underlying truths of the moral world are the same in all re- 
lations. They are the same in the religion of which he is a Minister, 
in the moral philosophy of which he has been so long a teacher, and in 
the foundations of the jurisprudence which this Association seeks to make 
a living force in the administration of the law among a free, self-govern- 
ing people. 

"By membership in this Association, Cardinal Mercier would but 
join himself to a group of his brethren co-workers with him in the same 
great cause; and how proud we should all be if upon our rolls we might 
be associated with his revered and ever-to-be-remembered name." 

"I do not express any personal opinion; I express the Christian doc- 
trine on right," Cardinal Mercier truly said. But as a Venezuelan writer 
has aptly put it: "Ideas cannot be effective motors except among the 
great, spiritual and generous." 



THE impersonation of Christian teaching. That is what America sees 
in Mercier. "You are for us a symbol of that which men live by 
and die for, the motto of Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, 'Honor above all,' " 



284 With Our Readers [Nov., 

was the word of the President of Princeton. Colombia University's Presi- 
dent hailed him as ^Vorthy Prince of the Church and a Captain of the 
hmnan spirit.** ^'Cardinal Mercier in the hands of the enemy, overborne 
but never overawed, a guiding star of his own people, became a star of 
hope to all the world. He was a saviour of America and of mankind," 
stated the Chancellor of New York University, and in conferring the 
degree of Doctor of Letters, he addressed him as ^Prince of the Ancient 
Church of your fathers and moral leader of many faiths, prophet of free- 
dom who have confirmed men and nations in the truth that maketh men 
free, teacher and philosopher who in the face of war has made of letters 
a very sword of the spirit." 

This **sword of the spirit" the Cardinal wielded in time of direst 
stress in behalf of ^serenity" as **our expression of defiance to our op- 
pressors, our daily act of patriotism. The homage of Belgium to the wis- 
dom, the goodness, the justice and the mercy of God." Truly, as he has 
said elsewhere: "Only a man with some virtue is capable of an act of 
virtue. What is really virtue is the perseverance in the first decision." 

Cardinal Mercier, Cardinal O'Connell has said, "stood for conscience 
at a moment when the world seemed to have lost its bearings, and pointed 
to the law of God as a fixed star in the heavens." 



IN his many happy utterances and introductions incident upon the 
entertainment of Cardinal Mercier, the Archbishop of New York has 
pointed to the relation of this great Christian to Christ. He calls him 
the "faithful shepherd of the world," and his country "the Bethlehem of 
a newer liberty," and asseverates his faith in man's great amen to the 
standards of God, by calling him "this man beloved of God and men." 

'The Communion of Saints:" the union of souls in God, in mutual 
sympathy and forbearance, is the doctrine the Cardinal sees exemplified 
in every tribute laid at his feet. He rejoices in the increase of faith in 
that "Communion of Saints" which the war has brought He makes of 
it, as it truly is in the great economy of God, the basis of a united coun- 
try and a united world. He accentuates "self-abnegation" as "one of the 
factors" of victory. 

At the Chamber of Commerce in New York he pleaded for united 
hearts and combined efforts "for the welfare of the great principles of 
life, justice, love of humanity and love of religion as the basis of moral 
and social order." At Harvard, as in his own educational work at Lou- 
vain, he stressed the obligation "to work for the formation of moral per- 
sonality to serve the social order." 

"We are brethren in Christian faith," he told the Protestant Episco- 
pal Convention. "We are at this moment to unite our efforts to show the 
world that our brotherly feeling is only a corollary of the Fatherhood of 
God." 

In his every utterance we find the same constructive charity of Christ 
as sent his priests forth ready to dare danger and death: "My dear, I 



i9«9] With Our Readers 285 

have done my duty; go and see if you will do yours,** which challenges 
the quick response: "We are ready to obey. We wanted only to know 
your mind.*' This intrepid defender of right is tender to the tempted. 
He pleads for practical help, practical sympathy to stem the insidious 
temptations of Bolshevism in his own land; he points the way, in charity 
to the oppressed, to draw the serpent's sting; by example he teaches how 
evil may be overcome by good. 



CARDINAL MERCIER has caught the very soul of America in his es- 
timate: The "spirit of spontaneity and initiative . . . brought finally 
under a common discipline and a realization of a perfect force of law. 
You have, more than any other nation, I think, the feeling of your own 
responsibility. • • . You accept willingly the discipline of law. . . You 
have that respect for authority, because it is authority, combined with a 
deep sense of responsibility, • • . embodied in this unique republic. . . • 
You have the feeling of moral and social order supported by your own 
personal responsibility." 

America's tribute to Cardinal Mercier is an evidence of her ideals, 
of her willingness to follow spiritual leadership that deals not in abstrac- 
tions, of her assent to Catholic principles when vitalized in action. The 
saints of God will ever be leaders of men. 



AS we went to press last month a momentous meeting of the American 
Catholic Hierarchy was in progress in Washington, D. C, at the 
Catholic University of America. Never since the Third Plenary Council 
of Baltimore in 1884 has such a gathering of the spiritual leaders of the 
Catholic Church in America been convened. Space was annihilated, per- 
sonal obligations were laid aside that this great body might come together 
for common counsel and common action. The most remote dioceses, even 
to Porto Rico, were represented among the ninety-two archbbhops and 
bbhops who assembled in Divinity Hall for the impressive opening cere- 
monies of the First Annual Meeting of the American Catholic Hierarchy. 
His Eminence, Cardinal Gibbons, presided, the only prelate now living of 
those who assisted at the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore. 



THIS is the day of organization. The motto of our great Republic: 
"United We Stand," holds good for every force within its border. 
The problems that confront the Church in America: the issues fraught with 
eternal values for souls, are not peculiar to this diocese or that — they are 
universal. Never was there greater need for Catholicity in principles. 
Catholicity in action, than today, when, as our Holy Father has said: 
"the whole structure of human society is in danger, and all civic charity, 
swept by storms of envious hate, seems likely to shrivel up and disappear." 
The American Hierarchy recognized that "the indispensable method of 



1 



286 WITH Our Readers [Nov. 

our time is organized action and a common plan of campaign," hence their 
meeting and its consequences — a new proof, if proof were needed, of how 
truly the great organism of the Church lives and functions in time. 



THE important outcome of the meeting is the establishment of the Na- 
tional Catholic Welfare Council for the religious, educational and 
social well-being of the Catholic Church in the United States. To this 
end Catholic publicity will be promoted, recognized agencies engaged in 
foreign and home missions will be assisted, and the public interests of the 
Church in this country systematically supervised. The permanent Boards 
established indicate the scope of the activities to be coordinated: Educa- 
tion, Social Work, Press and Literature, Lay Societies, Home and Foreign 
Missions. 

It may readily be seen what a wonderful power for encouragement 
and standardization these Boards will prove to Catholic activities now in 
being and also fruitful of others still to be. 



AS the entire Hierarchy, which forms the personnel of the Council, can 
only meet annually, an Administrative Committee, composed of three 
Archbishops and four Bishops, will be its executive organ. The chair- 
men of Boards will be drawn from this Committee, thus keeping every 
activity under the immediate guidance and protection of the episcopate. 
Both clerics and laymen toiling in the varied fields of Catholic endeavor 
will be afforded thus the assurance and stimulus of direct ecclesiastical 

sanction. 

« « « « 

THE full import of the step, taken so advisedly in this hour of recon- 
struction by the American Hierarchy, may not be estimated as yet, 
but the vast possibilities it portends for a closer union of hearts and hands 
in rendering effective Catholic principles and methods cannot be exagger- 
ated. 

The Source of both vision and light, the Spirit of God, living in the 
Church and directing these His chosen instruments, will see to it that 
vision will enlarge vision and light increase light. 



A USEFUL agency for spreading Catholic ideals is The Lecture Guild. 
This comparatively new organization has just issued a fine list of noted 
public speakers on Literature and Drama, Philosophy and Religion, Travel, 
Music and Art, Science, History, Sociology and Current Topics. It fur- 
ther holds in reserve **an ofiSce list of prominent Catholics who may be 
called on for special occasions." The Guild offers its services to Catholic 
schools, clubs, parishes and other bodies to arrange programmes of lec- 
tures, engage lecturers and in every way save them "time, worry and cor- 
respondence." 



\ 



1919] With Our kEADERS 287 

In this crucial period of readjustment it is scarcely necessary to ac- 
centuate the value of an organization whose purpose is to make avail- 
able correct Catholic opinion. 

The Advisory Board of the Lecture Guild counts among its members 
the editors of America^ The Cathouc World, The Rosary Magazine^ 
The National Catholic War Council Bulletin^ the Assistant Editor of the 
Catholic Encyclopedia^ the Hon. Maurice Francis Egan, Miss Clare Cogan 
and Mrs. Joyce Kilmer. 

The Secretary, Miss Blanche Dillon, may be addressed at the office 
of The Lecture Guilds 7 East 42nd Street, New York, or interviewed on 
Mondays and Fridays, between 10 A. M. and 5 P. M. 

The Lecture Guild would be happy to add to its lists the names of 
well-recommended Catholic lecturers from any part of the country. 



w 



E take pleasure in calling the attention of our readers to the second 
intercollegiate historical competition announced by the United States 
Catholic Historical Society. The competition is open to all undergraduate 
students of Catholic universities, colleges and seminaries. The conditions 
to be fulfilled by all competitors are as follows: 

1. An essay on ^'Catholic Day," March 25, 1634, the distinctively 
Catholic anniversary of the United States. 

2. The essay should show painstaking historical research, with refer- 
ences to primary and secondary historical sources, and should be accurate 
and impartial in estimating historical values. The style should be simple, 
direct, and clear. 

3. Every contestant must be certified by the faculty as a student in 
course, of the institution to which affiliation is claimed. 

4. The manuscript must be typewritten, must contain no fewer than 
2,500 words and may not exceed 5,000 words. It must be received at the 
office of the United States Catholic Historical Society, 346 Convent Avenue, 
New York, before January, 1920. 



BOOKS RECEIVED. 

Georob H. Doran Co., New York : 

Barbara of Baltimore, By K. H. Taylor. $1.50 net. Bulldog Carney, By W. A. 
Fraser. $1.50 net. Lovt Laughs Last, By S. G. Tallentyre. $1.75 net. Joan at 
Halfway, By G. McLeod Rogers. $1.50 net. The Book of a Naturalist, By W. H. 
HuasOD. $3.50 net. Tho League of the Scarlet Ftmpemel. By Baroneis Orciy. 
$160 net. The Crime, By the author of "I Accuse" Vols. 3 and 4. $9 50 each 
net. TVIe Tower oj London, By Maj -Gen. Sir G. Younghusband, K.C.M.G. $4.00 
net. ^^ Open Sesame r^ and Other Stories, By Mrs. B. Reynolds. $1.50 net. David 
Blaine and the Blue Door, By £. F. Benson. $2.00. 

Bkmziofr BROTHfeRS, New York : 

St, Joan of Arc, By Rev. D. Lynch, S.J. $3.50 net. Eunice, By J. C. Clarke. $1.75 
net. Held in the Everglades, By H. S. Spalding, S.J. $1.25. The Finding of Tony. 
By M T. Wagfcanum. $1.35 net. Out to Win, by Rev. J. P. Conroy, S.J. $1.35 
net. The Awurican Priest, By Rev. G. T. Schmidt. $1 35 net. 

Charles Scribmbr's Sous, New York: 

Dtctionary of the Apostolic Church, Edited by J. Hastings, D.D. Vol. II. 

D. Appleton & Co., New York ; 

French Ways and Their Meaning. By E. Wharton. $1.50 net. Small Things. By 
M. Deland. $1 35 net. 

BoNi & Liver IGHT, New York : 

Iron City. By M. H. Hedges. $1.75 net. 
Columbia University Press, New York: 

Vergit and the English Poets. By Elisabeth Nitchie. 

American Book Co., New York : 

A School History of the Great War. By A. McKinley, Ph.D., C. A. Coulomb, Ph.D., 
and A. J. Gerson, Ph.D. 

Allyn & Bacon, New York : 

Model English. Book III. By F. P. Donnelly, S.J. $i.30. 
Thb Amfrican Press, New York: 

The Irish Issue, By William J. M. A. Maloney, M.D. 10 cents. Pamphlet. 
The Devin Adair Co., New York : 

The New Blach Magic, By J. G. Raupert, K.S.G. $3.00 net. 

Thomas Y. Crowvll Co , New York: 

The Maid of Orleans, By M. S. C. Smith. Punishment and Reformation. By F. H. 
Wines, I^L.D. $3.50 net. 

The Century Press, New York : 

Whalls America 9 By Edward A. Ross. 

The Four Seas Co , Boston : 

Anglophobia, By J. G. Cook. $1.35 net. My Rose and Other Poems. By E. MacLeod. 
$1.35 net. 

Boston School of Political Economy, Boston : 

Bolshevism : Its Cure, By D. Goldstein and M. M. Avery. $1.50. 

Yale University Press, New Haven : 

The Chronicles of America, Edited by Dr. A. Johnson. 50 vols. $3.50 per vol. by the 
set. A Subject-Index to the Poems of Edmund Spencer^ By C. H. Whitman, Ph.D. 
$3.50. Sweden's Laureate. Translated by C. H. Stork. $1.35. 

J. B. LiPPiNCOTT Co , Philadelphia : 

Lost Wtth Lieutenant Pike, By E. L. Sabin. $1 35 net. A Chtld^s Garden of Verses, 
By K. L Stevenson. $1.50 net. The Little Lame Prince, By Miss Mulock. $1.50 
net. Larkspur, By J. D. Abbott. $1.35. 

Rev John J. Phklan, Toledo, Ohio: 

Pool^ Billiards^ and Bowling Alleys as a Phase of ComnurcialiMed Amusements in Toledo^ 
Ohio, By Rer. J. J Phelan, M. A. $1.50. 

Australian Catholic Truth Society, Melbourne: 

Zeal for Souls, By Father Saint-Jure, S.J. The Sources of a National Spirit, By 
Rev. D. G. Purton, M.A. Pamphlet. 

Bloud & Gay, Paris : 

Le Bon Combat, Par Abb« E. Griselle. La Guerre et la Vie de PEspret, Par M. 
Legendre. 

Pierre T£qui, Paris : 

Consignee Catholiques, Par Monsignor Tissier. 3 fr. 50. Le Plus Parfait. Par A. 
Piny, 3/r. 50. 

Examiner Press, Bombay : 

The Spanish Armada. By E. R. Hull, S. J. 8 annas. 



DECEMBER 1919 



THE 



^atholie ^orld 

American Family Life in Fiction Maurice Francis Egan 289 

The Armenian Crisis Walter George Smith 305 

The Return of the Magi Geoffrey Bliss, SJ. 317 

The Chesterbelloc Theodore Maynard 319 

A Theorist of the Russian Revolution 

F. Aurelio Palmieri, O.SA., Ph.D. 331 



Chnslmas in the Rio Grande Country 


Margaret B. Downing 


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The First Christinas 


Caroline Giltinan 


354 


Capitalism and Christian Democracy 


Anthony J. Beck 


355 


An TTncanonized Saint 


Mary Foster 


365 


French-Canadian Poets and Poetry 


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373 


The Road to Connaught 


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THE 



^atholie^opld 

Vol. ex. DECEMBER, 1919 No. 657 




AMERICAN FAMILY LIFE IN FICTION. 

BY MAURICE FRANCIS EGAK. 

T is a platitude to say that the novel in English 
became, after the advent of Jane Austen and the 
successes of Thackeray and DickensandTrollope, 
an important indicator of the currents of social 
life. Jane Austen, writing early in the nineteenth 
century, protests against the scorn with which the novel was 
treated by those who wanted to be considered ^^superior," and 
she was right. Miss Edgeworth followed in her footsteps and 
the novel of family life in England was created. 

Until Dickens made his appearance, there still remained 
a strong prejudice against the novel, which included the 
romance; in fact, until Miss Austen practically created a new 
type or until Sir Walter Scott by his method defined what a 
romance exactly was, there had been some confusion, and the 
bad reputation of the licentious French romans still lingered 
about every work of fiction. 

Richardson, who spoke the language of the English middle- 
classes of his time, had already written Clarissa and Miss 
Burney had produced her famous Evelina. Both Richardson 
and Miss Burney appealed to the woman ; Fielding and Smol- 
lett and Sterne wrote for the man; but it must be admitted that 
the coarse plain-speaking of these three was innocence itself 
compared to the ultra-pruriency and the constant digging for 
vile worms around the roots of life that characterize the more 

Copyright 1919 The Missionabt Socibtt op St. Paul tbs Apoitlb 

nc THB Statb of Nbw Yo«k. 
19 



290 AMERICAN FAMILY LIFE IN FICTION [Dec. 

modern school of English novels. Violet Meynell escapes this, 
though she is of the new school; but Compton MacKenzie and 
Cannan and, of late, Bennett are examples of a decadence in 
morals and a morbid sensuality which would have excited the 
honest indignation of Sterne and Fielding. 

U Mr. Galsworthy's latest novel is a picture of the real 
Young England of the present time, the War has not improved 
it; and we know that before the War the most read of the 
English novelists gave the impression that English society 
deserved all the denunciation which Father Vaughan cast 
upon it. 

With very few exceptions, the French novelists devote 
themselves to the consideration of sex relations. It is true that 
no novel can adequately represent life without going into the 
consideration of sex; and the French have this excuse, that 
nature in their vocabulary represents a very different thing 
from what it did with the English; again, French novels were 
never written for the family as a family. Mr. Somerset Maug* 
ham's The Moon and Sixpence, which the author tells us is in- 
tended for family reading, would have been placed on the index 
of any French family. Halevy once, in an access of parental 
affection, declared that he would write a novel which his 
daughters could read, and he produced the Abbe Constantin; 
Zola, too, in a burst of sentiment, published one which he 
thought might be put beside the "prayer book of a young girl;" 
and Balzac never intended that even Eugenie Grandet should 
be read aloud before the maternal hearth. The modern English 
novehsts have no such reserve, though I am happy to say that, 
so far, our Americans, as a rule, preserve a decent reticence. 
It must be admitted that the mother who did not permit her 
daughters to read Adam Bede and David Copperfield because 
of the episodes of Hattie and of Steerforth, would be looked on 
with amazement now; times have changed; whether for better 
or worse, it is hard to say; but the point of view of what may 
be said in print or in speech has been very much broadened. In 
Europe, there is a plain distinction between coarseness and 
immorality, even between impurity and indecency, though they 
are very close together, and these distinctions are being made 
more apparent in our country. 

Running over the titles of the novels before me and the 
names of the authors, I am struck with the fact that Christian- 



1919.] AMERICAN FAMILY LIFE IN FICTION 291 

ity, as a spiritual and active force in family life, does not seem 
to have the place it had twenty-five years ago. Another thing, 
if Miss Yonge, whose novels are very much underrated, has no 
successor in England, the author of The House of Yorke^ whose 
novels have been too easily forgotten, has no representative 
among us Americans. Christian Reed might claim this place, 
perhaps, if her novels were not pictures of an ideal life, rather 
than of our life as it exists. For some reason or other, the 
writer of Catholic novels in the United States seems to have dis- 
appeared. There was much more activity in this line in the 
days of J. V. Huntington and Mrs. Sadlier. The name of Richard 
Aumerle Maher occasionally appears; but the whole field of 
readable fiction seems to have been given over to writers of 
no particular religious convictions. 

It must be remembered that the author of today reflects 
the tone of society much more than of his own special idiosyn- 
crasies; and we may take the books before us, choosing them 
simply because they present phases of family life in our coun- 
try, as indicating the trend of the social attitude. 

Here are two late novels — The Moon and Sixpence and 
The Gay-Dombeys. The Gay-Dombeys is by Sir Harry Johns- 
ton. It is a continuation of the lives of the descendants of the 
personages in Dickens' Dombey and Son. It is ornamented 
with an enthusiastic preface by Mr. H. G. Wells, in which Mr. 
Wells gives us to understand that Sir Harry Johnston's knowl- 
edge of life — ^which the old-fashioned novelist would call 
"high-life" — is greater than Mrs. Ward's and his pictures of 
life more real. When we turn to the book itself, we discover 
that Sir Harry Johnston's idea of the reality of things is to 
drag in "sex" whenever he has an opportunity, or whenever he 
can make an opportunity. And his disadvantages in compari- 
son with Dickens or Mrs. Humphrey Ward are glaring — even 
if only the quality of decent reticence were to be considered. 
Pierce Egan's Tom and Jerry is without doubt the literary pred- 
ecessor of The Pickwick Papers, but, when we observe how 
greatly Dickens improved on the work of the delineator of 
London's sporting society in the time of George IV., one won- 
ders why Sir Harry Johnston has failed so utterly in improv- 
ing on the work of his illustrious predecessor. The critics as a 
rule give Dickens too little credit for good taste. Between him 
and Sir Harry Johnston, it may not be a question of morality; it 



292 AMERICAN FAMILY LIFE IN FICTION [Dec 

is certainly a question of taste, with the odds entirely in favor 
of the elder writer. According to Sir Harry, Victorian morals 
were not much better than those which Mr. John Galsworthy 
paints as characteristic of Young England during the War; 
but they were covered with a thick veneer of silence. 

The books of the American novelists are not run into the 
same mold as those of their English brethren, and the most of 
them are well written. The *l)est sellers'* in the United States 
are, as a rule, exceptions to this latter statement. Fannie 
Hurst, for instance, who makes a specialty of pictures of family 
life in cities among what are called the "'conmion people,** 
uses words as they come; her style is excessively tense when it 
is not very near to the ordinary colloquy of the people she de- 
picts. For instance, in "A Petal on the Current,'* from Humor- 
esque, she says : The girls made foray into a little side pocket 
of the bedroom for changing of shoes, whitening of noses, and 
various curlicue preambles.** And again: 

The milky-fleshed, not highly sensitized, pinkly clean crea- 
ture of an innocence born mostly of ignorance and slow per- 
ceptions, who that morning had risen sweet from eleven 
hours of unrestless sleep beside a mother whose bed she had 
never missed to share, suddenly here in slatternliness, a 
draggled night bird caught in the aviary of a night court, lips 
a deep vermilion scar of rouge, hair out of scallop and drag- 
ging at the pins, the too ready laugh dashing itself against 
what must be owned a hiccough. Something congenital, and 
sleeping subcutaneously beneath the surface of her, had 
scratched through. She was herself, strangely italicized. 

This is a dash of color, splashed on the canvas, not quite 
in the manner of Henry James, but certainly effective. 

Edna Ferber, the author of Dawn O'Hara, and Fannie 
Hurst are the principal exponents of Jewish family life in this 
country; Miss Hursfs studies are made in the large cities; Miss ' 
Ferber*s in small western towns. Miss Ferber is the finer 
author — ^less melodramatic, less intense than Miss Hurst, more 
carefully trained as a writer; but both have great sympathy 
with the sinners, while showing the blackness of the sin and 
placing their figures always against the corrective background 
of an ideal of family life. Miss Hurst's pictures of Jewish life 
have been, so far, confined, as in the very striking and interest- 
ing Humoresque, to one class of society — that is, to the newly- 



1919.] AMERICAN FAMILY LIFE IN FICTION 293 

arrived poor Jewish emigrants and their descendants. Miss 
Hurst is wise enough to be realistic, but not too realistic; she 
claims the inalienable right of an artist to choose her subjects 
and to group them as effectively as she will. Her "salesladies** 
in the department stores are types — at least she persuades us 
to believe that they are types. The elder people have traditions 
of virtue, not, it is true, unmaterialistic, but comfortably bour- 
geosie. If they read the Talmud or the Old Testament, they 
are not deeply affected by its mysticism. There is no relation- 
ship between Miss Fannie Hurst or Miss Edna Ferber with 
Sydney Luska*s Yoke of the Thora, and his other novels of 
Jewish life in New York, which were never "best sellers.*' 

When "Sydney Luska** assumed his real name, Henry 
Harland, and wrote The CardinaFs Snuff Box and My Friend 
ProsperOj the brilliancy of his performance made us almost 
forget his earlier work; but the deep religious feeling of the 
Jews in Sydney Luska*s novel hardly exists in the short stories 
of Fannie Hurst or in the novels of Edna Ferber. 

Miss Ferber*s Fannie Herself, gives a picture of a Jewish 
widow treading her way through the "alien com** of a typical 
western town. The Jewish widow pays no attention to the 
rules of "kosher;** her most trusted friend is a Catholic priest; 
her daughter Fannie is free to read any of the Gentile literature 
that pleases her, and she at once takes the books of Zola from 
the public library, without fear, and without reproach from her 
mother. One can imagine how the new school of English nov- 
elists would have Fletcherized this incident, until it was chewed 
interminably; but Fannie and her mother take it simply as an 
ordinary matter. It shows the very liberal tendencies of the 
Jewish f amUy of which Fannie's mother was a type. 

There is in these stories of Miss Ferber*s a race back- 
ground, but a very faintly tinted religious background, and 
there is no compulsion, spiritual or social, brought on the 
Jews of this western town to take any religion seriously. It 
seems evident that, while the modern Jewish conventions tend 
toward making morality something more than a social con- 
vention, the beginning of wisdom, so far as the fear of God is 
concerned, is now not very actual. Both in the stories of Fan- 
nie Hurst and Edna Ferber the quality that tends toward the 
betterment of life, is the love of comfort and peace to be found 
in the contentment which only family life can give. 



1 



294 AMERICAN FAMILY UFE IN FICTION [Dec. 

A marriage for love, in which perhaps a Ford car and a 
house with sleeping porches are included, is the minimum for 
which these clever, hard-working and energetic Jews strive. 
The superiority which Miss Hiu^t and Miss Ferber have over 
their English contemporaries is that they not only know the 
life they describe, but they never seem to be superciliously 
superior to it, and they have a good moral balance. 

Isaac Goldstein, who has grown comfortably well off by 
manufacturing cheap "pants," may not have been immaculate 
in his youth; his code of morality excuses this in the eyes of his 
male friends, but, when he becomes a husband and a father, 
his point of view changes, and neither Miss Hurst or iMiss Fer- 
ber will condone any other than decent conduct on the score 
of temptation. In fact, their Jews have a great respect for the 
Ten Commandments, the Synagogue still exists for them as a 
race institution rather than as a religious one; but it is evident 
that the rectitude and righteousness of the Jew depends very 
largely on his remembrance of the Synagogue and the tradi- 
tions of his father. 

The young Jews of these skillful writers are very advanced; 
they are Americanized; they smoke, they eat oysters and pay 
no attention to "kosher,** except when the elder people are 
about; Judaism to them is a rather indefinite Deism; they have 
great race self -consciousness, but no pride of race. In all these 
pictures of family life where the questions of conmiercial ad- 
vancement, of very commonplace comforts and meretricious 
luxuries come constantly into conversation, there is no sign of 
the necessity of religion as a rule of life or as a motive of self- 
sacrifice. The fathers and mothers are unselfish and generous 
and kind because they are fathers and mothers, and because the 
old Jewish father and mother look on children and the welfare 
of children as most pleasing to Jehovah; but they see their 
progeny adopting the ways of the Gentiles without very bitter 
qualms. They will not have mixed marriages. If Barney 
O'Neill, the eminent buyer for Goldstein & Company, takes 
Rachel, the saleslady in the linen department, out to lunch- 
eon or pays her any other attention which shows possible inten- 
tion, her father and mother are up in arms at once. Such a 
marriage, no matter how important Barney's position may be 
(and the value of positions in trade is eagerly discussed by the 
youngest Jewish boy or girl), would mean unutterable disgrace. 



1919.] AMERICAN FAMILY LIFE IN FICTION 295 

Then would the Jewish father and mother, who hoped that 
Rachel would have had a wedding reception in a quasi-fash- 
ionable hall, cast ashes on their heads and their garments, and 
fly to the Rabbi for such consolation as he could give or such 
prayers against the horrible event as he could utter. The 
younger Jews retain the same objection against mixed mar- 
riages, but it seems to be through a fear of exciting the indig- 
nation of their parents or of cutting themselves off from 
friends and neighbors of their own race that keeps this alive. 

Miss Fannie Hurst has discovered the type of the haughty 
''saleslady" or the scornful cloak model whose business it is to 
appear as fashionable as possible, but who in her heart longs 
only for domestic life, with mission furniture or Louis Quat- 
orze or whatever is the mode, a husband who is a good pro- 
vider, and a certain number of children. At the heart of these 
novels, which evidently contain a great amount of truth, occa- 
sionally enameled with touches of romance, there is the admis- 
sion that the life of a contented family is the highest possible 
object to which human nature can attain. 

Miss Hurst, in Every Soul Hath Its Song, an earlier collec- 
tion of stories than Humoresque, touches in the ''Sob Sister" on 
the theme which has made "The Lady of the Camellias" the 
subject typical of the romantic treatment of a very terrible 
and common episode of life; but the lesson of the story is not 
that chastity in itself is valuable, but that the **fille de joie" — a 
joyless creature, after all is said — ^f ails in her duty as a woman 
to the family. The most scrupulous reader will not need to 
blush at the presentment of the lost woman in the person of 
Mae Munro. Mr. Max Zincas, the "Armand" of the story, is not 
prettily decked with the colors of romance as Alexander 
Dumas, with his meretricious unreality, adorns the admirer of 
"Marguerite Gautier." In Miss Hurst's stories, as in all the 
American fiction in this group, the vice from which St. Mary 
Magdalen was rescued by the Cleansing Grace is not tinged 
with iridescent colors. In fact, the typical American author is 
still so clear-eyed in his views of the permanence of the family, 
that he is only beginning to condone that custom of our coun- 
try, divorce. Miss Hurst is frankly, but never coarsely, vulgar 
— that is, she makes no pretence of standing apart from the 
very vulgar people she describes, and this is a sign of the sin- 
cerity of her art and the fine quality of her work. Her style is 



296 AMERICAN FAMILY UFE IN FICTION [Dec. 

as colorful as a circus poster, but who would read Miss Hurst 
if she attempted to analyze >Mrs. Meyerburg, in *'In Memoriam/* 
after the manner of Henry James or with the academic exact- 
ness of Mrs. Wilfrid Ward? Miss Edna Ferber has a wider 
sympathy than Miss Hurst, greater humor. 

Mrs. Norris — ^Kathleen Norris — is an admirer of Miss 
Hurst's work and this is a feather in Miss Hurst's hat — a big 
plume, for Kathleen Norris speaks to an enormous audience, 
with no uncertain voice, when the essentials of morality are 
concerned. She has a keen eye for character, and all her 
novels concern themselves with social conditions that are not 
exotic. Mother was the first, and the leit motif of the rest. 
More sophisticated than the most ^'eminent" of the women ""best 
sellers," Mrs. Gene Stratton-Porter, with a greater knowledge 
of life, more charm of style, Mrs. Norris holds a high place in 
the hearts of readers who like to find themselves in safe hands. 
Mrs. Norris supplies, too, a religious background; her people 
may not be pratiquant, to use a French word, but she makes 
sure that there is somewhere a moral clock of standard time 
not entirely out of view. 

The Story of Julia Page is diffusive, but it is a very im- 
portant novel of contemporary life. The prim little girl who 
comes home from a mixed school in the afternoon, does not tell 
all the things she has heard and seen during the hours spent 
among children of all kinds — ^many of whom are cherubic 
only in appearance; and the prim little girl may give the im- 
pression to those who have forgotten their childhood, that all 
h^ life is prim and ignorant of evil. This is the attitude which 
readers of the school of prudery take on the manifestations 
of actual life in literature; but the most scrupulous of this 
school ought not to object to The Story of Julia Page. Mr. 
Arnold Bennet, Mr. Wells, Mr. Cannan and others would never 
have written in this way of Julia Page, the repentant : 

But no outside influence ever could bring home to her the 
realization of the shadow on her life as forcibly as did her 
own inner musings, the testimony of her own soul. If she 
had but been innocent, how easy to bear Jim's scorn and the 
scorn of the whole world! It was the bitter knowledge that 
she had taken her life in her own hands nearly twenty years 
ago, and wrecked it more surely than if she had torn out her 
own eyes, that made her heart sick within her now. She, 



1919.] AMERICAN FAMILY LIFE IN FICTION 297 

who loved dignity, who loved purity, who loved strength, 
must carry to her grave the knowledge of her own detestable 
weakness. She must instruct her daughter, guarding the blue 
eyes and the active mind from even the knowledge of life's 
rough side; she must hold the highest standard of purity be- 
fore her son, knowing, as he knew, that far back at her life's 
beginning, there were those few hideous weeks that, in the 
eyes of the world, could utterly undo the work of twenty 
strong and steadfast years! She must be silent when she 
longed to cry aloud; she must train herself to cry aloud at 
the thing she had been. And she must silently endure the 
terrible fact that her husband knew, and that he would never 
forget. Over and over again, her spirit shrank at some new 
evidence of the fact that, with all his love for her, his admira- 
tion, his loyalty, there was a reservation in her husband's 
heart, a conviction — of which he was not perhaps conscious 
himself — that Julia was not quite as other women. 

She had confessed her sin and received absolution; she 
had not deceived the man she had married — ^but that exquisite 
thing — ^not a negative thing — ^her purity, had been sullied. 
How foolish she would seem in the eyes of the "moderns'* who 
people the scenes of Mr. John Galsworthy's novels! It was 
Renan, I think, who said of his scheme of life : "Sin? We efface 
it!" In fact, it is only with the American novelists that those 
sins which strike at the foundation of the family seem to be 
vitally bad. And, with some of them, the evil lies in the sense 
of loss of something fine rather than the breaking of an im- 
mutable law. 

In many clever novels, one is irritated by the needless 
suffering inflicted on the heroes or the heroines by the lack of 
knowledge of moral matters which three words with the most 
simple-minded of parish priests would settle. Mrs. Norris does 
not irritate us in this way. One reason is that she does not 
raise questions of casuistry which she cannot answer. Right 
and wrong are plain white and black to her; she has no sym- 
pathy with the sin, though she has pity for the sinner; and she 
has some warrant for this, for Dante, whom Raphael placed 
among the Doctors of the Church without rebuke, sang with 
tears in his voice of the fall of Francesca. And, then, with most 
of her people, there is the appeal to faith and the practices 
which follow the Faith, whether blurred for a time or not. In 



298 AMERICAN FAMILY LIFE IN FICTION [Dec. 

Josslyn's Wife, by no means so good a story as that of Julia 
Page, the lesson lies in these words : 

**You must forget all about it," she said. "You never did 
anything to deserve a prison experience — ^it was a horrible 
mistake." 

"It was a mistake from a human standpoint," Gibbs con- 
ceded thoughtfully, "but I don't know about my record in a 
higher tribunal. I wonder how many of the fellows serving 
life terms now ever had an angel for a mother, and a saint for 
a wife, clothes and friends and warm food from the hour they 
were born, always money to buy prestige and service and 
preference — ! Ellen, if I had my life over again, do you know 
what I think it would be? According to the principle that 
until every other man had it, I didn't want it, and until every 
other child had it, I didn't want my son to have it — ^whatever 
it was, travel, clothes, education, toys, everything." 

"I suppose that's loving your neighbor as yourself," added 
Ellen's thoughtful voice. 

It is unusual to find an American writer who puts the 
lesson quite in that way, and none yet have been found to 
show that the men and women who do this perfectly are not 
the men and women with families, but those men and women, 
following the mystic voice of St. Paul, who deny themselves 
that the poor little child may learn or that the rich child may 
be taught that the things of the spirit are above all. Mrs. Norris' 
one theme is the preservation of the family; nothing could be 
better described than the youth of Julia Page and the circum- 
stances which helped to mold it. The character of her mother, 
the self-indulgent, the ill-regulated Emeline, is worth consider- 
ation by all students of the evils that undermine family life in 
our country, which no laws will change, and which no general 
spread of "book-learning** will affect. She resented the coming 
of her baby. She was wedded to the frivolous amusements of 
the moderately poor in cities. "By the time Julia was weaned, 
Emeline had found :he wrapper habit; she had also slipped 
back to the old viewpoint; they were poor people, and the poor 
couldn't afford to do things decently, to live comfortably.** 

The coming of the little child did not draw this mother to 
the contemplation of the divine Mother; she did not look up, 
but down. The realism of these first chapters is a lesson in 
the right kind of realism. In addition to the loss of the spirit- 



1919.] AMERICAN FAMILY LIFE IN FICTION 299 

ual in life, the incapable mother makes the possession of things 
the real test of living; to be poor, in the conventional sense, is 
to be doomed. 

If the example of the courage of the people of the South 
after the Civil War taught us anything, it was that families 
might be poor and still keep their ''gentleness" as a proud 
possession. They might live on corn pone, sweeten their coffee 
with molasses, do without the old luxuries of the dinner table, 
and yet preserve what they could of its ritual. This tenacity of 
belief in the value of what is called ''gentleness*' is one of those 
qualities, which, outside of religion, adds much to the stability 
of the family life. The Hebrews believed in it when they pre- 
served their pedigrees; when an American family gains or 
conserves this quality, its course must be upward. 

Probably no two authors can be more different in their 
points of view, apparently in their experience, than Edith 
Wharton and Booth Tarkington. Whatever might be said of 
an exaggeration here and there in Mrs. Wharton's novel. 
House of Mirth, it is true to the section of society which she 
depicted — a section of society which was only temporarily 
diverted from its pursuits by the necessities of the War. It is 
almost as negligent of the real claims of the family as those 
patricians, under the later Csesars, who considered it the duty 
of the stupid proletarian to have children. But in Mr. Booth 
Tarkington's The Turmoil and The Magnificent Ambersons, 
we find few exaggerations. It is the society — or, rather, one 
stratum of it — ^in the Middle West, to the life. U Amelia Dob- 
bin in Thackeray's Vanity Fair is true, then the very interest- 
ing but foolish mother in The Magnificent Ambersons is as true 
to life. But it is not Isabel or her son, George, that makes the 
real interest of this novel — ^it is not what they do, but what 
their environment induces them to do; they are the slaves of 
circumstances and things, and Mr. Tarkington, in regard for 
truth, could not make them otherwise. In the case of Isabel, 
her motherhood is everything, but there is little of the spiritual 
in it; she is as selfish as she is unconsciously destructive — ^but 
very charming withal. There is no background of the super- 
natural in these stories; in fact, if one spoke of the supernat- 
ural to any of Mr. Tarkington's real characters, the more intel- 
ligent — ^none of them is more than merely intelligent — ^would 
think of the vagaries of Sir Conan Doyle or Sir Oliver Lodge. 



300 AMERICAN FAMILY LIFE IN FICTION [Dec. 

Apart from the delicious humor of Mr. Tarkington's books 
about boys, in which class one may include his latest, Ramsey 
Milholland, his novels are seriously sincere and graphic; he is 
Henri Bordeaux, lacking the logic or the system of philosophy 
without which no Frenchman can write. He proves one thesis 
— that a family can not be built upon mere possessions in these 
modern times when the truth still prevails that the spirit is 
more than the letter. 

The Cricket, by Marjorie Benton Cook, is a study of the 
effects of the criminal selfishness of a fashionable mother on a 
child of good instincts and unusual cleverness. The keynote 
is struck in the opening conversation between two opulent 
persons in society — Wally Bryce and his wife. 

"Look here, Wally, don't begin on that mother stuff. I 
didn't want her any more than you did, and we were fools 
to have her. That may be abnormal, unnatural and ail the 
rest of it, but it's the truth, and there are lots of other women 
just like me. You can't lump us any more than you can lump 
men. We don't all of us have the maternal instinct, not by 
a long shot." 

"Don't talk that way. Max," says the husband; "it's not 
nice." 

"There you go. It's all right for you not to want a child, 
but it is indecent in me. That's a man-made idea, and it 
won't work any more. Lots of us don't find motherhood 
either satisfying or interesting, and we're getting courage 
enough to say so." 

"The less you say about it, the better," counseled Wally. 



The father finds the luckless child, Isabel, thrust upon 
him I he is lazily affectionate; the responsibility alternately 
amuses and bores him; he is the **homme moyen sensuel;" and 
Isabel brings herself up very blunderingly. How she does it is 
well told. Her position is so typical, that it is worth studying 
as an example of a social tendency. 

The hero of The Road to Understanding, by Miss Eleanor 
H. Porter, came of a family too elegant for words; he has a 
touch of that social haughtiness that causes the heroine of A 
Daughter of the Land, by Mrs. Gene Stratton-Porter, to refuse 
an admirable man, who talks well, and is very much her 
superior, because he is unable to write a letter expressive of 
his real qualities. The story is one of the conflict of social 



1919.] AMERICAN FAMILY LIFE IN FICTION 801 

**classes'' in a new city. There is a Denby Mansion and a proud 
Denby father, who has made money. There is the opulent 
son of the type of George Amberson, but more foolish. Burke 
Denby falls in love with a nurse maid« the daughter of a grocer, 
who had spoiled her, too. The grocer, dying, had unexpectedly 
left her to earn her own living. The difference in their social 
position is indicated by the tone of their conversation. No- 
body in the Denby family dreams that Burke, with his '^culture 
and traditions,*' can ally himself with the beautiful nurse of his 
Aunt Emma's children. Burke shows Helen Burnett the view 
from the top of the hill. 



"^A 

€€ 



My, ain't this real pretty?" exclaimed the girl. 

The young man scarcely heard the words, else he would 
have frowned unconsciously at the "real pretty." He was 
looking at her lovely, glorified face. 

"I thought you'd like it," he breathed. 

"I know another just as fine. We'll go there next." 

A shadow like a cloud crossed her face. 

"But I have so little time!" 

The cloud leaped to his face now, and became thunderous. 

"Shucks! I forgot What a nuisance!" 



The purist who says "shucks" is shocked when the lady of 
his thoughts says "swell;" but he marries Helen; the father, a 
type of the unreasonable parent who gives his child everything 
he wants, and at last refuses him what he wants most of all, 
disinherits the son and the wife who says "swell!" Nowhere, 
except in our country, could two young people be so utterly 
unprepared for the realities of life; and nowhere, except in our 
country, would the case be looked on as usual; yet it is usual. 
Mr. Denby has an arrogant and selfish affection for his "cub" — 
and nothing more. Among his newly-discovered traditions, 
there is no feeling of duty towards the essentials of the family. 

Mrs. Gene Stratton-Porter, who divides with Mr. Harold 
Bell Wright the quality of the first of "the best sellers," hews 
her figures out of life. She fancies that her philosophy of life is 
"sunshiny." She tries to "let a little sunshine in" at every mo- 
ment, opportune or inopportune, but she succeeds in gathering 
together a group of the most disagreeable persons, to make a 
chorus for her heroine, Kate Bates, "a daughter of the land." 
No Norman peasants could be willing to sacrifice more for the 



302 AMERICAN FAMILY UFE IN FICTION [Dec. 

land than these people. Kate's burning desire for education is 
a desire common to her class, a desire which the farmer's 
daughter cherishes more than the farmer's son. 

It is a pity that our Crovernment, which is doing so much 
for agriculture, does not study more carefully the actual 
needs of the farmer and his wife and children on the far-off 
farms. If he is selfish, if the land obsesses him, if he is inclined 
to make his kin slaves to the land, his hands seem to be against 
every other man, because he has not learned the value of co- 
operation. The family, as Mrs. Stratton-Porter depicts it, has 
no real solidarity; things are everything. There is no spiritual 
life; it would be a relief to find in this book a downright villain 
who had any conception of his relation to God. But, though 
purists will be shocked at Mrs. Stratton-Porter's English of 
the people, her work is sincere and it, therefore, rings true. 
People who buy her books do so for that reason, and because 
her aspirations are theirs. 

In The Homestead, by Zephine Humphrey, we have an- 
other novel of country life — ^New England life this time. Miss 
Humphrey writes well. She knows the heart of the American 
woman, chained to things. Barbara, with the weight of the 
^'homestead" on her soul, turns to dreams of Italy, to splendors 
beyond her gray horizon. She is, like all the persons in nearly 
all the novels before us, of a religion that does not satisfy the 
longings of the heart, that contents neither the desire for 
beauty, nor makes beauty actual as a part of Ireligion fused 
with everyday life. Barbara begins to be saved when ^^the 
thing" to which she is chained disappears — this book could 
have been written only by an American of insight and per- 
ception of spiritual values. 

Charles Norris, the author of Salt, has made a keen, re- 
lentless exposition of the life of a young American, who drifts. 
He has the instincts on which are founded good character and 
high principles; he is the elemental man in a civilization in 
which the influence of Christianity remains, but from which 
belief in its dogmas has vanished. He is a young pagan, but 
not an evil young pagan. He can be saved to society only by 
a good woman — to the family, which is the foundation, he is 
instinctively drawn; but, though he has had the education of 
the moderately rich, nobody has taught him anything essential. 
In business, he is dishonest, because everybody about him is 



1919.] AMERICAN FAMILY LIFE IN FICTION 303 

conventionally dishonest; he is astonished to find that men 
who steal in an apparently respectable way, have no sympathy 
with him when he is found out. He gropes, to find how he can 
make the spirit dominate the appeal of mere things; a Catho- 
lic young man, on whom the kindly light shines, were he a 
mere newsboy or the son of a Senator, could not have escaped 
the guidance lacking in the life of this young pagan. The 
eternal womanhood saves Griffith Adams — or, rather, is the 
beginning of his salvation. Should he marry Margaret? It 
meant riches for his son; or Rosa, who means motherhood and 
the simple virtues of the family life. He decides for Rosa — by 
instinct, by a yearning for the love of the family. Salt is realis- 
tic; but, unhappily, true to a life which is around us. It has 
gone beyond the sixth edition, because of its unhappy truth 
and of the lesson it carries. 

My Antonia, accented in the Bohemian way on the first 
syllable, is a picture of a corner of our life quite new. Miss 
Willa Gather, in depicting it, shows a quality that almost 
deserves to be called genius. Antonia ought to have a place 
among the great heroines in fiction; or, rather, a place among 
the great characters which the great writers of fiction have 
created. The scene is laid in the Nebraska prairies; the story 
is that of a Bohemian family. Antonia has the spiritual back- 
ground of faith; it helps to save her in the end — that and the 
belief, which is a part of hope, that she may do her ^^bif in the 
life of the world as a wife and mother. Miss Gather has pro- 
duced a masterpiece, which, if printed in France, could not 
have escaped the notice of the Academy. The glimpse of the 
character of Antonia's husband, born in Prague, is very happy. 
And Ambroch's opinion of his brother, Leo, the erratic : 

"That's like him," Ambroch said to the visitor. "He's a 
crazy kid. Maybe he's sorry to have you go, and maybe he's 
jealous. He's jealous of everybody mother makes a fuss over, 
even the priest." 

Here, in My Antonia, too, is the tyranny of things, from 
which the world, in a blind way, is trying to escape : and the 
answer in it, as in all these stories from life, is the love of the 
family. In The See-Saw, by Sophie Kerr, it is the same theme. 
iZlarleth is the irresponsible man, the product, too, of our civil- 
ization — ^"I thought I could do anything and get away with it. 



304 AMERICAN FAMILY UFE IN FICTION [Dec. 

and then every way I turned I got whacked" he says, after he 
has divorced his wife, Marcia. And — 

Across the chasm of the lonely, unsatisfied years, the 
heartache, the humiliation, Marcia Crossey looked at her 
husband, and felt something of the unbreakable tie between 
them. She knew that for all his repentance he was as he had 
been before — ^that he would hurt her again, in a thousand 
ways, in their life together, and that she would never be 
strong enough and fine enough to make him over, or shield 
herself from the painful difficulties of his faults and her 
inadequacies. Yet above and beyond this was the demand 
that might not be denied, the demand marriage makes upon 
two who are really married, that concession, adjustment, 
endurance, shall not be shrunk from nor denied, but lived 
fully, and so subordinated and forgotten, in the greater thing, 
which is true love, tried and understanding. 

There is no question, then, that, at the basis of our civil- 
ization, the old idea of the value of the family exists unaltered. 
Whatever Mr. Shaw's real principles are — and nobody has yet 
discovered the convictions of this Celtic Puck — ^his opinions 
about the home and the family are looked on here as bits of 
brilliant and amusing comedy. These novels so far as their 
testimony goes, show that the Protestant churches, in our 
country, have become negligible as factors in the moral life 
of the average man. How far Catholics in this country are 
affected by the prevailing, very amiable paganism, I cannot 
tell. There are no novels, written for Catholics, which give us 
a clue — those of Mrs. Norris seem to show that, even among the 
self-indulgent and indifferent, the Church restrains. This is, 
however, certain — that the conscious and spiritually regulated 
^ucation of the heart and mind and character, on which the 
foundation of the f avily must be founded, seems to occupy no 
given place at all. 



/ 




THE ARMENIAN CRISIS. 

BY WALTER GEORGE SMITH. 

Editom'8 Note. — The writer of this article, who is a Pliiladelphla lawyer, and 
former President of the American Bar Association, was a member of the American 
Commission for the Relief of the Near East, and spent much time In Constantinople 
carrying on the work of the Conunlsslon. What he says of the Caucasus Is based 
on his own personal obsenration and notes taken during a tour of that country In 
the spring of 1919. 

|ONG before the unspeakable tragedy of the World 
War riveted the attention of mankind upon the 
struggle of Christian civilization for continued 
existence, the cruel and systematic persecution 
of the Armenians by their overlords, the Turks, 
was continually appealing to its conscience. There are few 
more remarkable instances of strength of racial character than 
that of this long-suffering people. Their fate now hangs in 
the balance. Whether they are to survive or to join the long 
list of other nations destroyed by the unreasoning fanaticism 
of the Musselman hordes, depends upon the outcome of the 
effort to call to their aid the forces of civilization in order to 
give them the right to live unmolested in their own land. 
Since the capture of Constantinople, in 1453, seated the Turks 
in firm possession of Western Asia and the Balkan Peninsula, 
Armenia has been but a geographical expression. A once 
powerful nation was scattered and downtrodden, until by the 
last estimate, it amounted, in 1914, to not more than three and 
one-half million people. 

A glance at the map will show the ancient home of the 
Armenians to be the mountainous region southeast of the 
Black Sea, and extending in a parallelogram eastward almost 
to the Caspian Sea and south to the Mediterranean and to the 
border of Syria. The Biblical designation is Ararat. In Roman 
times there was the Greater and the Lesser Armenia, the for- 
mer being the country now spoken of as the Caucasus, the lat- 
ter a portion of Asia Minor. At an early date Cilicia became a 
part of Armenia. In modern times this country was partitioned 
between Turkey, Persia and Russia. Since the War of 1914, 
one of the provinces extending from Batoum on the Black Sea 

to Baku on the Caspian seceded from Russia, and received 
^9iL, OL, ao 



306 THE ARMENIAN CRISIS [Dec. 

recognition from the Powers as the Republic of Georgia. 
Southwardly from Georgia the territory as far as the Taurus 
Mountains possesses a compact Armenian population of per- 
haps 1,500,000 people, who have set up a provisional republic 
not yet recognized by the Powers. Still further south and on 
the other side of the mountains, are the Armenian vilayets of 
Turkey, Van, Sivas, Erzeroum, Diabeker, and Adana. They, 
with Aleppo and Bagdad, have been largely depopulated of 
the former Armenian residents. Their political future, with 
that of the remainder of the Turkish Empire, has not yet been 
determined. 

The Armenians are Indo-European in their origin. Their 
history goes back to centuries before the Christian era. They 
are mentioned in Strabo, Herodotus and Xenophon. The 
Armenian plateau covering about 120,000 square miles, 
formed part of the Roman and Byzantine Empires. It is trav- 
ersed by mountain ranges with lofty peaks reaching high 
above the level of perpetual snow, the most notable being Ara- 
rat. Among these mountains the Tigris, the Euphrates and the 
Araxes Rivers takes their rise. Among the many lakes, Sevanga 
and Van are the larger. The climate is very hot in summer 
and cold in winter. There are but two seasons: winter from 
October to May, summer from May to October. Most of the 
inhabited portions are from five thousand to eight thousand 
feet above sea level. Grapes grow in the Lake Van country, 
while other products are wheat, barley, tobacco, cotton and 
hemp. The country is, however, more pastoral than agricul- 
tural. The Armenians claim a majority of the permanent in- 
habitants of the plateau. Though statistics are unreliable, the 
Kurds, Turks and other races separately are in a minority, 
though collectively they may exceed the Armenians. It is said 
that in Russia and Persia with Armenia, are 2,100,000 Armen- 
ians; in the Turkish vilayets that 200,000 survive, and of the 
refugees from Turkish Armenia in the Caucasus are 500,000 
more; in Syria, Mesopotamia, Cilicia, Konia are 250,000, mak- 
ing a total of 3,050,000, to whom should be added 200,000 in 
the Northern Caucasus, 300,000 in Constantinople, Smyrna 
and other parts of Turkey, 300,000 in Europe, Egypt and Amer- 
ica, giving a total of 3,850,000. 

Christianity penetrated into Armenia in the third century 
and was well established in the foiu*th. St. Greogry the Illu- 



1919.] THE ARMENIAN CRISIS 307 

minator was the first Metropolitan. Legends tell of the teach- 
ings of the apostles, SS. Bartholomew and Thaddeus. The 
Annenian Church was represented at the Council of Nicsea. 
The decrees of the Council of Chalcedon were rejected, how- 
ever, and since the fifth century the Armenian Church, with 
intervals of union, has been a separate ecclesiastical body, dif- 
fering from Western Christianity on the doctrine of the Trin- 

ity. 

Literature has had a well-marked development in Ar- 
menia from early times, and notwithstanding the conquests by 
Persia and Turkey, it has never ceased to exist. The early 
Christian theological writings are valuable, and date from the 
invention of the national alphabet in the fifth century. They 
translated the Bible and produced valuable controversial and 
historical works. In the latter half of the eleventh century the 
last king of Armenia succumbed to the Sejukian Turks. Sub- 
sequently those who fled into Cilicia and aided the crusaders 
were rewarded by being given an independent kingdom which 
survived until 1375, when it was overcome by the Mame- 
lukes.* 

It is said that before the recent massacres there were forty 
to fifty thousand Protestants, sixty to seventy thousand Catho- 
lics, and the remainder of the Armenian population belonged 
to the Gregorian, the national church. The massacres and de- 
portations have reduced the total number of Armenians by 
probably 1,000,000 souls. These massacres following so closely 
upon those of 1894-1896, under Abdul Hamid, have entailed 
a loss of population since the Treaty of Berlin in 1878, of not 
less than 2,000,000. 

The ultimate responsibility of these tragedies rests upon 
the inept statesmanship of Ehigland in 1852 and 1878. Russia, 
whose domination would have at least given peace and pro- 
tection to the Armenians, was opposed by England and France 
in the Crimean War and then held at San Stephano. The 
unhappy Armenians were again relegated to the mercies of the 
Turk, notwithstanding the bitter knowledge of Turkish faith- 
lessness. 

A carefully devised propaganda, even in our own day, and 
with the knowledge of the frightful crimes of 1915 and their 
direful consequences, fresh in our minds, seeks to rob the 

^Ciatholte Enegelopmdim "Armenia.** Chambers Encgelopmditu ** Armenia." 



308 THE ARMENIAN CRISIS [Dec, 

Armenians of sympathy and assistance on the ground that they 
are after all an ignoble race who suck the life blood from the 
simple Turks, rousing their fury and justifying, or at least 
extenuating, assassination. It is the same old plea that seeks 
to expose the ''pogroms*' against the Russian and Polish Jews. 
It is baseless. 

Armenians are not exclusively, nor predominately, given 
to mercantile pursuits, but on the contrary eighty-five per cent 
are devoted to agriculture and the smaller crafts. While they 
show an aptitude for commerce which has made them success- 
ful wherever they are protected, and have been noted as doc- 
tors, lawyers, engineers and chemists, they are proficient as 
well in their skill in handicrafts. The fact is they are the lead- 
ing people of energy and natural endowments in the Near East, 
and their success wherever attained has been the result of in- 
dustry, thrift and temperance — ^virtues unknown to their Turk- 
ish oppressors. 

The cause of their persecution is not far to seek. It lies 
in the peculiar character of the Turk, his incapacity for intel- 
ligent political rule and the stringent requirements of his re- 
ligion. Unable by his natural constitution to advance beyond 
the elementary principles of civilization, thus lacking the effort 
necessary for successful agriculture, he has remained century 
after century essentially unchanged from the pastoral nomads 
of Central Asia from whom he descends. A brave fighter and 
susceptible of a certain chivalry as a warrior, he is utterly 
without constructive ability or steady application to any of 
the arts of peace. For four and a half centuries he has camped 
in Asia Minor and some of the fairest lands of Europe. He 
found great cities, with teeming villages and well-watered 
farming land, capable of subsisting a dense population, and 
now where it is not a desert marked by the magnificent ruins 
of civilization, it is but a pasture for the sheep and cattle which 
form his main possessions. The Turkish peasant is content 
with the scantiest farming and lives in poverty, ambitionless 
and lethargic. 

He is not without amiable qualities. He is kind to the 
poor of his own race and is fond of children. He takes good 
care of his animals and has a love for flowers. Coming with 
baskets of vegetables to sell in an Oriental market, he will deck 
them and sometimes himself with blossoms. In the higher 



1919.] THE ARMENIAN CRISIS 309 

ranks of society he is gracious, hospitable and generous. Indi- 
vidual instances of real kindness which he is sure to meet, pre- 
disposes the traveler to like the Turk and to contrast with 
favor his gentle, easy manner with the keen, business-like 
methods of the Armenian or Greek with whom he may have 
dealings. On the other hand, the educated Turk is a master 
in the diplomatic art as understood in the Orient, and too often 
practiced in the Occident. He has for generations maintained 
his domination in Eiu*ope by playing off the interests of each 
of the Powers against the other. With unerring appreciation 
of the modern mercantile instinct, he has practiced with im- 
punity his tyranny over his Christian subjects, relying upon 
the melancholy truth that commercial advantage has invari- 
ably overcome the compassion for human life and suffering. 
Even now he is watching with a hope, based upon past experi- 
ence, that the clash of interests will leave him at least some 
measure of political power, although he knows he stands be- 
fore the world bankrupt morally and financially, with his 
hands stained by the blood of myriads of his Christian sub- 
jects. 

Opinions may differ as to the natural capacity of the Turk 
for civilization, but certain it is that the religion he professes, 
so long as it is an integral and separate part of his political 
system, is an absolute bar to his continued rule over popula- 
tions of a different faith. In theory and in practice Mohammed- 
anism permits but scanty toleration of a different faith under 
the rule of the Sultan. The head of the State and the com- 
mander of the faithful are the same individual. Absolute 
obedience is laid upon the conscience of the true believer to 
execute the orders of his civil superior, who is at the same time 
the representative of his faith. He cannot embrace any other 
religion without conmutting a capital crime against the Turk- 
ish state, therefore conversion to Christianity under existing 
conditions of the Turk is impossible. He believes that he for- 
feits paradise by disobedience, while he is sure to obtain it by 
performance of religious duty whatever it may be, even the 
cold-blooded murder of a friend or neighbor who is a Chris- 
tian or other **infldel.'* 

That there are exceptions does not change the rule. When 
the three adventurers, Talaat, Djemal and Enver, with the 
party of the Young Turks behind them, ruled the Empire in 



310 THE ARMENIAN CRISIS [Dec. 

the name of the Sultan» they knew the fanaticism of the people 
and, believing that Germany would win in the Great War, 
deliberately planned the complete extinction of the Armenian 
race. We have seen with what alacrity the officials, with a 
few honorable exceptions, sprang to their work. We are told 
by Lord Robert Cecil' that in the autumn of 1914 a Congress 
of Ottoman Armenians was offered autonomy if it would 
actively assist Turkey in the War, and when this was refused, 
though the Congress promised that individual Armenians 
would obey the laws as Ottoman subjects, the massacres im- 
mediately began and were carried out until seven hundred 
thousand or more than two-thirds of the entire Ottoman Ar- 
menian population was killed. The Turks are jealous of the 
Armenians' superior capacity. For this reason, as also because 
of their Christian faith, they consider them enemies. 

Furthermore, the Young Turks believed it unsafe for the 
future of Mohammedanism to have a large and virile people 
rising to power who could not be trusted as friendly to their 
alliance with Germany. How far the plan for massacre and 
deportation was known to Germany, has been revealed by 
Mr. Morgenthau in the story of his Ambassadorship in Con- 
stantinople, and more directly by Dr. Johan Von Lepsius in 
the collection of documents published recently in Berlin with 
the authority of the new German Ministry. It is therein shown 
conclusively that the Central Powers through their diplomatic 
and military officers were able to follow step by step the hor- 
rible events of 1915, and could have stopped them at any time* 
It was part of their policy they should go on. To attain a com- 
plete Musselman Turkey was the plan of the former Christian 
Empires, and their own conduct in Belgium, in France and in 
Italy shows that they would have no inconvenient sympathy 
with the victims of the plans of the Young Turks. 

But, it may be asked, how could a brave people, even 
though numerically inferior, submit to slaughter without some 
show of resistance? The fact is, that wherever they had not 
been deprived of their arms, which was the case in the greater 
part of Turkey, they did fight bravely and effectively. The 
Turkish authorities made long and careful preparations be- 
fore issuing orders for the massacres and deportations. At 
first they conscripted the Armenians of military age into their 

* Report of the Philadelphia Commission on Armenian Relief, p. 19. 



1919.] THE ARMENIAN CRISIS 311 

army, then they segregated them and deprived them of their 
weapons, and when they were thus at their mercy, orders for 
massacre and deportation were issued. In Russian Armenia, 
however, the young men organized volunteer forces, and Gen- 
eral Andranik bore the brunt of the heaviest fighting in the 
Caucasus campaign. After the Russian army broke down they 
took over that front, and for five months delayed the advance 
of the Turks. Besides this service to the Allies, there were Ar- 
menian soldiers serving in their forces in Syria and in the 
British, French and American armies on the field. The Ar- 
menians have suffered in this War more cruelly than any 
other people, and established a right by actual service to the 
benevolent protection of the Allied Powers, to whose cause 
they have been steadfast from the beginning. 

In their brief before the Peace Conference, their represen- 
tatives have truthfully said: 

The misfortune of the Armenian people is, that in conse- 
quence of Turkish tyranny during the last quarter of a cen- 
tury, the civilized peoples of the West see in them nothing 
but a persecuted Christian people to arouse their pity and 
the need of their help. It is not pity, but respect, which such 
a n tion fond of their liberty and work deserve. A nation 
which has so much endured and so much resisted. 

The people who for thirty centuries, from long before the 
time when Xenophon spoke of them, have lived in those high 
plateaus as the Armenian people; the people which play the 
part which history and geography assign to them; which 
have in their annals recorded what they have done; which 
have set their right to their territory; who have after each 
devastation, built and rebuilt, and rebuilt; which have 
thought and produced; that people is in every case the Ar- 
menian people. 

One hundred years ago seven graduates of Amherst Col- 
lege, of the Congregationalist faith, began the foundations of 
the American Missions in Turkey. They have made thousands 
of proselytes to their faith, though the Armenian is as a rule 
tenacious of his own Church ; but in addition they have reillu- 
mined the ambition of the youth for education and self-de- 
velopment. When the War broke out there were stations at 
many points of Turkish Armenia and Syria where schools, 
hospitals, and relief work were carried on under the care of 



312 THE ARMENIAN CRISIS [Dec. 

American missionaries, especially Congregationalists and 
Presbyterians. These stations are representative of years of 
effort and millions of investment. They have sent many Ar- 
menian young men and women to America, where they gradu- 
ated in medicine and technical science, from our colleges and 
universities. 

The Catholic missions, under French influences, have been 
successful especially in Syria. Large Catholic dioceses have 
grown up also at Trebizond, Angora and elsewhere. What is 
the situation today? The Armenian population of six vilayets 
of Van, Bitlis, Diarbeker, Sivas, Adana and Erzeroum, in other 
words almost all of Turkish Armenia has been depleted of its 
Christian occupants by massacre, deportation and flight. The 
Catholics of Trebizond and Angora have been almost com- 
pletely exterminated. In Syria the stations are surrounded by 
wretched survivors of the deportations, and kept alive by sup- 
plies furnished from America. 

When the American friends of Armenia were informed of 
the persecutions, they forthwith formed the American Com- 
mittee for Armenian and Syrian Relief, now merged into the 
Near East Relief, and took energetic means to save the rem- 
nant of the people. The sympathy of the American public 
found expression in subscriptions from all parts of the Union, 
while the Federal Government, through its Army and Navy 
Department, gave the free use of transports, and authorized 
the expenditure of large sums of money through the food ad- 
ministration of Herbert Hoover. Not less than $30,000,000 
have been expended during the past four years in this work 
of charity, while thousands of men and women in America 
have given their services as collectors and hundreds in Tur- 
key as nurses, teachers and ministrants in every way possible. 
Notwithstanding this untiring effort to put into practice the 
Christian law of human brotherhood, the calamity has been 
too great for any organization adequately to meet. The terri- 
tory of Russian Armenia was already war worn and desolate 
when the hordes of refugees poured over the mountains and 
entered Erivan, Alexandropol, Igdeir, and passed along the 
railway lines to Tiflis in Georgia. It was the winter season, the 
reserve stores of provisions had been largely destroyed by the 
Turkish armies, and famine ensued in its most appalling as- 
pect. As late as March 29, 1919, Dr. John H. T. Main, an 



1919.] THE ARMENIAN CRISIS 313 

American Relief Commissioner in charge of the work in the 
Caucasus, reported: 

I have been studying the refugee concentration points 
along the former boundary line between Russian and Turk- 
ish Armenia. Alexandropol, a large centre, and Etchmiatzin, 
a small one, are typical. In the one are sixty-eight thousand 
refugees by actual census at our bread and soup kitchens. In 
the other there are seven thousand. Refugees have streamed 
into these places, hoping to find it possible to cross the border 
into their former homes in Turkish Armenia, near Kars. 
Concentration at these two points, without food or clothing 
and after a winter of exile in the Caucasus and beyond, has 
produced a condition of horror unprecedented among the 
atrocities of the Great War. On the streets of Alexandropol 
on the day of my arrival, one hundred and ninety corpses 
were picked up. This is far below the average per day. One- 
seventh of the refugees are dying each month. At Etchmiat- 
zin I looked for a time at a refugee burial. Seven bodies were 
thrown indiscriminately into a square pit as carrion, and 
covered with earth without any suggestion of care or pity. 
As I looked at the workmen, I saw a hand protruding from 
the loose earth — ^it was a woman's hand and seemed to be 
stretched out in mute appeal. To me this hand reaching 
upward from the horrible pit, symbolized starving Armenia. 
The workmen told me that the seven in this pit were the first 
load of thirty-five to be brought out from the village that 
morning. The car had gone back for another load. 

The refugees dare not go forward. They halt on the border- 
land of their home. The Turk, the Kurd and the Tartar have 
taken possession of their land and will hold it by force of 
arms. A line almost like a battle line from the Black Sea 
region where is located the Southwestern Republic with 
Kars as its capital, to the Caspian Sea where Baku is the 
capital of the Azerweijan Republic, together with a line of 
Turks, Kurds and Tartars between these two extremes, holds 
the refugees where they are. The total number is more than 
three hundred and thirty thousand. To this must be added 
the local inhabitants, also suffering from indescribable hard- 
ships. The Allied forces on the Turkish side are not in suf- 
ficient numbers to dominate the situation. The only solution 
is a considerable number of troops to be used as a policing 
force, supplied by a mandatory power. Many Armenian 
soldiers would be available for such service. • . • 



S14 THE ARMENIAN CRISIS [Dec. 

At this last moment can Christian civilization do some- 
thing to restore and help? . . . Should our Government 
delay in reaching out a helping hand to this suffering people? 
The question of political expediency ought to be forgotten in 
the presence of this world catastrophe. These people look to 
America. Our Government is under moral obligation to 
respond. 

The magnitude of the relief work assumed by the Near 
East Relief may be partially realized from the fact that it has 
undertaken the care, entire or partial, of more than forty thou- 
sand orphans in the Caucasus alone, in addition to many sta- 
tions at Syria, Anatolia, Mesopotamia, and one in Palestine. 
The crucial point is the Caucasus. There is but one line of 
railway extending through this region. It runs from Batoum 
on the Black Sea to Baku on the Caspian. From Tiflis a branch 
extends southwards to Kars, to Erivan and Alexandropol, and 
southeastward into Persia. On this over-burdened line, with 
trains guarded by detachments of British troops, it has been 
hitherto possible to transport five thousand tons of flour per 
month into the afflicted region. 

During the past summer, a reorganization of the relief 
work was arranged, after consultation in Paris, between Near 
East representatives and Herbert Hoover, which met approval 
by the Peace Conference and resulted in sending Colonel Wm. 
N. Haskell of the U. S. Army as High Commissioner, with dip- 
lomatic authority to the Allied Powers to take over the entire 
direction of relief work in the Caucasus. Since then. Major 
General John G. Harbord, Chief -of-staflf of General Pershing, 
has gone out to make report to the United States Government, 
accompanied by a large staff of competent army officers. The 
prospect of ultimate success of plans for permanently repatri- 
ating the refugees, was marred at this point by announcement 
by the British Cabinet of its intention to withdraw its soldiers 
from the region they had been policing since the spring. This 
was the signal for the massing of Kurdish, Tartar and Turkish 
troops on the borders of the Armenian Republic, and the 
recommencement of ruthless massacre. After strong appeals 
to public opinion in England and America, the British Cabinet, 
without rescinding its orders, suspended their execution. 

The situation remains critical in the extreme. On all sides 
it is admitted that without strong military guards, the work of 



1919.] THE ARMENIAN CRISIS 315 

relief must cease. The Greorgian Republic is unfriendly to the 
Armenians. The railroad runs through the Georgian territory 
for more than half of its length. It is certain the trains would 
be stopped and starvation would do the work planned by the 
Young Turks, without the aid of the knives and guns of their 
armed enemies. All that has been accomplished would come 
to naught. The flame of fanaticism would be lighted through- 
out Tiu*key, and it is to be feared that the refugees to the 
southward would be certain victims. It must be borne in mind 
that except in Mesopotamia and Palestine, where the British 
are in possession, and Smyrna, where the Greeks have lately 
landed, along the coast of Syria, the same officials who exe- 
cuted the orders of the Young Tiu*ks are in control of the Em- 
pire in Asia. Constantinople is strongly held by the Allied 
Powers, but the machinery of government remains under the 
Sultan. With or without his connivance. Young Tiu*kish lead- 
ers wield power throughout the interior. They were not dis- 
armed at the close of the War. They have gathered in a new 
harvest, they are desperate and determined. Enver Bey is in 
the Caucasus and a Congress of Young Turks is in session at 
Erzeroum. For 1,000,000 or more Armenian victims, not more 
than one half of their assassins have been punished by death. 
The Allies will find the situation more difficult to deal with 
than ever, should the British Cabinet persist in its extraordi- 
nary determination to knock the one prop from under the 
trembling cause of the Armenians in the Caucasus. 

When, in the spring of 1453, Mahomet the Conquerer laid 
siege to Constantinople, the Christian powers of Europe, not- 
withstanding the appeal of the Pope, stood idly until the gal- 
lant Emperor Constantine and his few thousands of brave 
defenders were overwhelmed. In consequence, the fairest 
city in the world, the Oriental bulwark of Christian civilization, 
the treasure house of antiquity, fell; and with it the cause of 
Christ in Asia. It took two hundred years of war to save 
Europe from a similar fate. The Musselman power has de- 
cayed during the intervening years because of his inherent in- 
capacity for civilized life. In our day a choice is offered to 
Europe and America to light again the torch of faith and hope 
in the cradle lands of our religion and our civilization. The 
old passions of selfishness and national aggrandizement, 
joined to great exhaustion of military power, checked the 



316 THE ARMENIAN CRISIS [Dec. 

nobler sentiments of humanity among the Italians, French and 
English. The first two peoples care little or nothing for the 
Armenians; the English are almost overwhelmed by their bur- 
dens, foreign and domestic. 

Is there not a clear duty resting upon the people of the 
United States to give active and direct military and financial 
aid to Armenia? It will not be for long, for the chances are 
that in a few years they will repay every dollar expended for 
their relief. They are the most virile people of the East — one 
of the most virile in the world today. Even amidst the hor- 
rors of massacre and starvation they tiun with eagerness to 
every opportunity for education and self-help. Shall we refuse 
to do for them what we have already so well done for the 
Philippines? Can we do so and escape the condemnation 
which fell upon the Levite who passed the other way rather 
than succor the traveler who had fallen among thieves? Our 
democracy is the hope of the world. It is a treasure we dare 
not lay up in a napkin. A policy of selfish withdrawal from 
responsibility by us, the most powerful among the family of 
nations, who have come unscathed out of the World War as 
compared with our Allies, will bring self-reproach and the 
condemnation of posterity. 

There are now pending before the Senate Committee on 
Foreign AfTairs, bills to authorize the President to send Ameri- 
can troops to keep order in the Caucasus pending the deter- 
mination of the political status of Armenia. It is probable 
that the British Government is awaiting the outcome of these 
bills. Should these or similar legislation be rejected and the 
British give up their ward, the Armenian question will be for- 
ever settled by the extinction of the race in their historic land. 
It is unbelievable that such a sequel should follow the century 
of effort made for this people by the Western world. Just 
as Greece, from a simple, poverty-stricken people, has arisen 
to be a powerful and enlightened kingdom in less than one 
hundred years, so Armenia, if she receive but reasonable pro- 
tection, will take her place as the leader of a new civilization 
in the Orient. 



THE RETURN OF THE MA6L 

BY GEOFFREY BUSS, S.J. 

''The first was Melchoir, old and pale» with long hair and beard. 
He offered gold to the Lord. The second was Gaspar, young, beard- 
less, and of a ruddy complexion: he brought incense, an offering 
proper to God. The third, Balthazar, was a Moor, with a long beard : 
he offered myrrh, which signified that the Son of Man must die." — 
Venerable Bede. 

Caspar. — My Lord Melchior, old and wise! 
Pardon me that I surmise 
Hidden secrets in thine eyes. 

Melchior. — No longer will I hold apart 

The thing that burns within my heart 

For after we had found at last 

(All doubts and fears, all falterings past). 

The Child we came so far to seek. 

Nursed by that Mother Maiden-meek, 

And 3ielding to the Might afar 

That called us forth, that lit the star. 

Fell down, and bowed our foreheads low. 

Then stood again our gifts to show, — 

Ah, then while one brief moment sped 

I saw upon the Infant's head 

A golden crown of Kinghood stand, 

A sceptre in His little hand; 

The while His Mother as a Queen 

Shone out in robe of silver sheen. 

And like an echoed trumpet-call 

This word the heavens above let fall: 

O principes attollite 

Portas Regi Glorisel 

Balthazar. — I thank thee, Melchior, for thy words dispel 
A lingering fear. Now let Prince Caspar tell 
If no glad sight for his young eyes befell. 

Caspar. — Melchior! as I came to thee. 
Came the vision unto me: 
For when I had looked again 
Where before the Child was lain, 



318 THE RETURN OF THE MAGI [Dec. 

Only blinding splendor shone 
That I might not gaze upon. 
But about me everywhere 
Hung great angels, tranced in prayer. 
And a starry shimmer pale 
Hovered o'er the Mother's veil. 
Then I heard a voice repeat 
In lov^ accents dread and sv^eet 
Words of mystic import three: 
Hodie Te genuL 

Melchior. — Only the snowy-hearted may 
Such wonders see. Balthazar, say! 
Was any vision thine this day? 

Balthazar. — O dearly loved! for every pain and awe 

I scarce may tell the strange sad thing I saw 

There was no change at first; that Mother mild 

Sat silent still, and nursed the Holy Child. 

But sudden, while I watched the picture sweet, 

I saw the baby hands, the tiny feet. 

All gashed and torn, with red wounds gaping wide; 

And one deep furrow marred His tender side. 

Then o'er Him bent His Mother, with a look 

That tore my heart; and all my spirit shook; 

And as mine eyes grew dim with grief and fear. 

The Child Himself spake tenderly and clear: 

Ego si exaltatus fuero. 

Omnia ad Meipsum traxero. 

Melchior. — Take heart! I saw Him crowned a King! 

Caspar. — I saw angels worshipping! 

Balthazar. — ^Yes, Princes: in the midmost of my grief 

God spake to me, and gave my heart relief. 

Full many a soul, like us, from East to West 

On tired wing shall come to make its nest 

In these same Wounds: and there find perfect rest. 



THE CHESTERBELLOC. 



BY THEODORE MAYNARD. 




II. 

The Philosophers. 

|HERE is a very real difficulty which arises in con- 
sidering the philosophy of the Chesterbelloc, 
and it is this — that Belloc, though he cannot help 
introducing philosophy into practically eveiy 
page he writes, has not definitely set himself to 
explain his philosophy. About many subjects he has written 
with a wealth of minute detail. He is prepared to elaborate an 
historical or political or economic thesis, but the larger theory 
upon which they rest can only be inferred from the fact that 
Belloc is a Catholic and from the casual remarks he makes. 
The reason, I suppose, is that to his mind the Faith is as much 
to be taken for granted as the twelve-times-table. While Gil- 
bert Chesterton, who has come from circles where every sort 
of skepticism has had its fling, will put himself to the trouble 
of explaining the most elementary points of Catholicism, 
Hilaire Belloc, secure in his own creed, having known nothing 
but that creed from childhood and being unable to understand 
any other system of thought than lucid Catholicism or lucid 
agnosticism, passes by every vagary of modernism in con- 
temptuous silence; or if he breaks his silence (as frequently 
happens) it is only to have the fun of insulting the heretic, 
never to gain the merit of converting him. Hilaire Belloc is 
always speaking or singing about the Faith; he never conde- 
scends to argue about it. He will praise the Chiu*ch as loudly 
as you like; he hardly thinks it worth his while to prove the 
Creed. His attitude seems to be that if a man is a Catholic, 
well; if he is not a Catholic, so much the worse for him, but 
that is his own affair. 

Chesterton on this, as on so many points, offers a strong 
contrast to his friend. He is expansive and sympathetic where 
Belloc is expansive and scornful. His interest in even the in- 
sanest heresy is as deep as Belloc's indifference to it. The 
Chesterbelloc unites in accepting the historic belief of Christ- 



320 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Dec. 

endom, but there is a striking difference in the method of ac- 
ceptance. Where Belloc, with his orderly Latin mind, reaches 
it along the road of hard logic, Chesterton jumps to it by intu- 
ition. The one man is a mystic, the other a rationalist, who 
knows the history of our world and has seen the Roman 
Church succeed to the Roman Empire as the director of civil- 
ization. For this and for a hundred other quite plain reasons 
he is a Catholic; but his greatest reason is that apart from the 
doctrines of the Church there is no other philosophy capable 
of convincing his reason. He holds the Faith after having 
eliminated everything else, and is a Catholic because there is 
nothing left for him to be. 

Belief that grew of all beliefs 

A moment back was blown; 
And belief that stood on unbelief 

Stood up iron and alone — 

So Mr. Chesterton said of Mark in his Ballad of the White 
Horse, and the verse fits tMr. Belloc like a glove. This spirit 
is an explanation of the uproarious pugnacity and offensive 
geniality of the man who wrote: "We are Europe; we are a 
great people. The Faith is not an accident among us, nor an 
imposition, nor a garment : it is bone of our bone and flesh of 
our flesh : it is a philosophy made by and making ourselves.*' 
If, as he is never tired of declaring, the Catholic Church makes 
men, it follows as a corollary that anyone who wishes to be a 
man ought to join the Catholic Chiu*ch. There he leaves the 
matter. 

Though Belloc, as we have seen, does not concern himself 
with the deepest philosophy except in passing, there is a great 
deal of philosophy in his work that will have to be considered. 
He may be described as dealing with the same subject in its 
secondary aspect where Chesterton deals with it in its primary 
aspects. He is terrestrial; G. K. C. is celestial. He speaks of 
the fruit of Faith, while G. K. C. speaks more particularly of 
its roots. It is here that we must split the Chesterbelloc in two 
in order to bring the two parts together again. Their sane 
materialism and their sane spirituality are united in a higher 
synthesis which is Christianity. 

From this point on, imtil we reach the subject of that 
cosmic philosophy so brilliantly expounded by Mr. Chesterton, 



1919.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 321 

the question to be discussed is the practical rather than the 
abstract side of the Chesterbellocian doctrine. Mr. Belloc's 
views upon reaping a field or sailing a boat, as his readers will 
have discovered, are not unconnected with the more transcen- 
dental mysticism of G. K. C. It is taken up with eating and 
drinking, with climbing mountains and fording rivers; it often 
does not appear to be philosophy at all but merely high spirits. 
As it says in The Path to Rome: "One should from time to 
time hunt animals, or at the very least shoot at a mark; one 
should always drink some kind of fermented liquor with one's 
food — and especially upon great feast days; one should go on 
the water from time to time; and one should dance on occa- 
sions; and one should sing in chorus. For all these things man 
has done since God put him in a garden and his eyes first be- 
came troubled with a soul. . . . Oh! what good philoso- 
phy this is!" 

Some over-refined people might consider that passage a 
piece of gross materialism. It is, of course, not intended as 
a complete code of conduct or a ten volume treatise of meta- 
physics. But it is admirable sense and may safely be taken, 
if not as a philosophy, then, at least, as a test of philosophy. 
Though one cannot altogether judge a man's mental health by 
the quantity of food he eats, the way in which he eats is surely 
an index to his character. Manners are a reflection of morals. 

To Hilaire Belloc, Sussex is not only the most delightful 
place in all the world but is in some way a noble symbol of the 
world. "My country," he cries, "it has been proved in the life 
of every man that though his loves are human, and therefore 
changeable, yet in proportion as he attaches them to things un- 
changeable, so they mature and broaden." Yet the sadness 
of mortality hangs even over that sacred land. His love is 
tinged with a serene melancholy. He has enjoyed the world, 
and after all his travels and experiences tells his fellows that 
one of two fates is the best that can befall a man — either to be 
a wanderer with all the bitterness of it or to remain steadfastly 
in one village until death finds him. 

Mr. Chesterton has an equal love for the pagan simplici- 
ties, but in his mouth Mr. Belloc's phrases turn somehow into 
Christian doctrine. His humor grows wilder as he grows 
more serious. Even the most casual of his miscellaneous opin- 
ions is likely suddenly to expand into an universal dogma. 

VOL. ex. 21 



3a THE CHESTEBBELLOC [Dec 

Tbe diriBe gales swing on snuJl hinges and are mored bj a 
londL Wkcn the acrmon is on simplicitT v^ bear that 'tt is 



simplfr ks^ eat caTur on impulse than gn^ie-nots on principle.* 
Mr. BeQoc vould simphr ignore prigs; Mr. Cbcsterlon over- 
wIm !■■ thcsB vith their own priggishneas. He actnaDy nukes 
thcsB fed fools simnlT becanse ther haxe not made fools of 



innunenhle pcnons with e;«-^aaaes and 
peeii ganDCfits who prar for the retnm of the Majrpole or the 
Ohncpiaa gamrs Bat then is about these people a haunting 
aitd alanniskg sDmelhing wiiich soggests that it is just pnwihlr 
thai they do not keep Christinas. It is painful to regard 
Vi-'ST^aw aatzre in sacfa a hg^t, but it seems somehow p^^TT^ht^ 
thai Mr. Gecffipe Moore does not wave his spoon and ahonl 
when the p;>dding is not ali^L It is evm possible that Mr. W. 
E. Teats nerv p^Jls cmckerv.'* 

GiSkcrt Chesl£rtc4i has an extraordinaiy knack of •'***^™g 
inslai: Jt the in^o* heart of any qu^stkoi. Spejiking in Whia£s 
ITrciSi; Wzik iik* WziHdL v:poji the f«nmist f iLllArr that dnnart 
tidij s d^LlL azwi afler havinj^ arjord lh;&t wc^oen liad to be 

iVG=rs^ is a hzzrCrt^ ans because men wn^f f cirord to hrrnmr 
is coe psrtir=Llar tradd be sjtvs: ""Wccnen were not 
kept at iKcae s coder to keep tbeaa ajotv^w; oin the contrary 
kxp: at brcoe in onAer to ketfp tbcm brxxad.^ 
I belknne i^iat this pown- of iLlIuxsiimoca possessed 
V» so hL^ a de^'s^ br GilSert Ox^itertcva is id..>e £rst and last 
fc; the qriilTj =3 ii= rf ^ii^ I ha^^ *J?^J»*r 5?^^ 
wZl prv*e tie key to aH his w^cfft — his iaiKV>eac>f . This scpcr- 
krirr ot irmcesice o'^^" experi«K">f » *isi::tir>d iy Kiiare Bel- 



jf. 



SKCL it is h» ycinc:r<ju f ^:ric:x*a to 



«^fl:iaie &0t f^rts rf exj^erifittce irtc^ Ji wvck->iH^T fi^-ttcf»iiy. 
Yet he feeis = k» bcoss thx: Jiwt J A»a j^raeraJ ci 
Uld z^AL Y — ^^'^ ^^=^ wvcd whxri: «fcA of w; iis ^^ 
before He wa« bcca i= pjr«25e.^ T^iis »ift$^ cf 
rcsuioc so be telis as. with ^r«y f rw, 

•AH itttn ^sA iZ wncfcsa are cvmc^nbs cf :>wt: wcol for 
try>:igb •m'j^ L?» carace frarac it bfre. jaiC iS^-cyi^. :hf )fn» of 
the pfedf^e v^ focipinjeit ±ie =>H=>rcy cf :» ^*i^^^i^ca: i:2s tibe 
WkinH. bit th«e axDts a dxw^ aa^ r^aC kco: :x ti>e iT« of 
wfaes to bre^ ii ooce is to be ar:ac^ iKt nn^btii and to 



Jt 



1919.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 323 



I i seem to drop the burden; and in the second and the third time 

jt' it is done, and the fourth it is done more easily .... 

f until at last there is no more need for a man or a woman to 

l: break that pledged word again and once again ; it is broken for 

£ good and for all. This is one most common way in which the 

sacred quality is lost : the way of treason. Round about such as 
[L choose this kind of relief grows a habit and an air of treason. 

\^ They betray all things at last, and even common friendship is 

- at last no longer theirs. The end of this false issue is 

fc despair.'*" 

r, Mr. Belloc has rendered honorable service with his doc- 

t trine of experience, but this doctrine, though an excellent cor- 

i rective of opinion, is obviously unable to create or inspire. It 

is a methodical but a wearisome teacher and the scholar who 
sits at its feet turns his lesson slowly. So much so that Mr. 
Belloc brilliant disciple of a dull pedagogue, often gets be- 
yond his lesson, and has to confess that things which a mystic 
like G. K. C. apprehends at once are beyond his own grasp, 
even when he accepts them upon good authority. 

An amazing gift of insight is the major part of Mr. Ches- 
terton's genius. From the time when he first began to write, 
even before his philosophy hardened and clarified into ortho- 
doxy, he appears to have been full of a wisdom older and 
wiser than the world. In The Wild Knight he was a boy in 
revolt with convention; but by the time The Defendiuit, his 
first volume of essays, was published he had become (with ex- 
traordinarily little doctrinal change) the defender of tradition. 
In his early poems he had condemned priests, but in essays 
written a couple of years later he was justifying ascetics. With 
each successive book he became nearer and nearer to the 
Catholic position, until in Orthodoxy Catholicism finds a very* 
able modem apologetic. 

Before we come to a consideration of this volume, which 
contains the explicit declaration of Mr. Chesterton's creed, it 
would be as well to make some remarks about the Chesterbel- 
locian method. Mr. Belloc according to his mood either rea- 
sons so closely that one gets tired of the argument, or sings so 
good a song to prove his point, that the listener often forgets 
the reason because of the rhyme. He will shout down a heretic 
(that is when he does not contemptuously ignore him) with a 

* On Something 



324 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Dec. 

stentorian chorus, or treat him, as he did the excited French 
anarchist he met on the Path to Rome, of whom he has writ- 
ten : *'I had no time to preach my full doctrine, but gave him 
instead a deep and misty glass of cold beer, and pledged him 
brotherhood, freedom and an equal law.** But G. K. C. argues 
interminably, using a method peculiarly his own. Perhaps I 
can best put it by saying that he hides a mace in his jester's 
bauble. Just at the point when the controversialist is split- 
ting his sides laughing at the clown's jokes he got his head 
split with the crusader's mace. Here is an example of how the 
thing works : 

"When Shaw said to some atheist *Never believe in a God 
that you cannot improve on,' the atheist (being a sound theo- 
logian) naturally replied that one should not believe in a God 
whom one could improve on; as that would show that he was 
not God. In the same style in Major Barbara the heroine ends 
by suggesting that she will serve God without personal hope, 
so that she may owe nothing to God and He owe everything to 
her. It does not seem to strike her that if God owes everything 
to her He is not God. These things affect one merely as tedious 
perversions of a phrase. It is as if you said, *I will never have 
a father unless I have begotten him.' " ' 

Always controversial, «Mr. Chesterton introduces his pug- 
nacious philosophy even into the realm of literary criticism. 
His admirable studies on Browning, Blake, Watts and Dickens 
are occupied with a great deal more than the books of the per- 
son under consideration. He wanders round his subject, on 
the sound principle that the longest way round is often the 
shortest way home, and succeeds as a result, in a way that no 
other critic that I can think of has succeeded, in flooding the 
mind of the writer with a light by which others can read. 
Chesterton's sense of the right clue to literature is after all only 
a part of his sense of the right clue to life. The same dexterity 
he has displayed in convicting Shaw of error, has enabled him 
to write those romances in which Flambeau is convicted of 
sin. As a critic Mr. Chesterton can be accurately described as 
a cosmic detective. 

Something more than a thirst for adventure (though he 
has that thirst to a high degree) has led G. K. C. to the making 
of novels, and that is, the hunger and thirst after righteous- 

> George Bernard Shaw, 



t 



1919.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 325 

nes8. Consequently all his detective stories have been philo- 
sophical, most of them have been also theological. Putting 
aside the early fantasia entitled The Napoleon of Notting Hill, 
and the later book The Flying Inn, whose point is primarily 
political, we shall find that Chesterton's remaining essays in 
fiction are all detective tales, and that they all branch out 
from one central mystical idea. In The Man Who Was Thurs- 
day, God is the Fugitive; in The Ball and the Cross (the worst 
book Mr. Chesterton ever wrote) God is the Clue; in the 
•Tather Brown" books God is the Detective; in Manaliue, the 
last of the series, God is at once the Criminal, the Detective 
and the Clue. The idea of the wildly happy optimist unravel- 
ling mysteries by the force of his simplicity was roughly 
sketched out in the book of short stories called The Club of 
Queer Trades. Innocent Smith is Basil Grant turned up again, 
and I will make the guess that the very entertaining play 
Magic was originally intended to be a Father Brown tale which 
took another form by accident. There is, however, this con- 
trast between the innocence of Father Brown and the inno- 
cence of Innocent Smith, that the one becomes deep by being 
simple and the other happy by being simple. The priest is as 
wise as a serpent precisely because he is as harmless as a dove. 
Smith is as happy as a child because he is a good child. Inno- 
cent Smith and innocent Brown are the babes and sucklings 
out of whose lips God has not only perfected praise but 
philosophy. 

As we shall see when we come to the crowning achieve- 
ment of Mr. Chesterton's career, the pivot upon which his 
faith turned was fairyland. When all the modernists had 
done then* worst with his mind, he retamed his sanity and 
saved his soul by remembering the stories his nurse had told 
him. Reason is justified of her children. From the nursery, 
fed upon logic and romance, G. K. C. came out like Jack the 
Giant Killer to attack the world and smashed in the skeptic's 
skull with a baby's rattle. 

Whether as admirers or detractors three-quarters of Mr. 
Chesterton's readers look upon him as a very amusing intellect- 
ual gymnast or as a tiresome intellectual contortionist. Very 
few understand that he is first and last and always a very pro- 
found philosopher. When so clever a man as Mr. Shane Leslie 
could actually ascribe to Mr. Chesterton Shaw's aphorism 



326 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Dec. 

that the golden rule is that there is no golden rule — ^ remark 
which G. K. C. has several times specifically attacked — one is 
struck with horror to imagine what the run and ruck of Ches- 
terton*s readers make of him! Now there is an easy form of 
paradox which was exploited by Oscar Wilde and the decad- 
ents, a trick consisting of the uniting of literary version with 
moral perversion. But the Chesterton paradox (which is 
grammatically speaking an oxymoron) is an attempt to bring 
a truth to a point to push it home. The argument is shortened, 
perhaps I should say foreshortened; the thing defended by it 
is plain. A missionary remonstrating with cannibals would 
appear highly paradoxical to them, as Chesterton has pointed 
out; but he would only appear paradoxical because cannibals 
are wrong in eating human flesh. In just the same way Ches- 
terton is paradoxical; that is he preaches doctrines which the 
modem world has long ago forgotten. For saying that twice 
two are four the drawing-rooms applaud him for his brilliance, 
with a rider to the effect that he is unpractical though original. 

Gilbert Chesterton had, in Heretics and elsewhere, dealt 
vigorously with the philosophy of other writers; but had given 
the world little more than the negative side of his own until 
Mr. G. S. Street's challenge provoked him to write Orthodoxy. 
In this amazingly clever and powerful book Mr. Chesterton 
does not really defend any new thesis: all that he does is to 
explain how he came to believe in an old one : how, after be- 
coming a pagan at twelve and a complete agnostic at sixteen, 
he came to find that the various explanations of the universe 
upon the ground of pure logic either explained too much or too 
little. **The real trouble with this world of ours is not that it is 
an unreasonable world, nor even that it is a reasonable world. 
The commonest kind of trouble is that it is nearly reasonable, 
but not quite. Life is not an illogicality; yet it is a trap for 
logicians." . . . 

"I never read a line of Christian apologetics. I read as 
little as I can of them now. It was Huxley and Herbert Spen- 
cer and Bradlaugh who brought me back to orthodox theology. 
They sowed in my mind my first wild doubts of doubt.'* 

Beginning at the right end with the doctrine of free will, 
Chesterton found that most modern arguments were argu- 
ments in a circle. They had some logic in support of them, 
but it was a maniac's narrow logic, irrefragable within its lim- 



1919.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 327 

its but unsatisfying. "He understands everything" (so he 
writes of Mr. McCabe), "and everything does not seem worth 
understanding.*' Everything was bound with the determinist's 
chain of causation, and a strict dogmatic veto was set upon 
the supernatural; for where the Christian has an elastic sys- 
tem which accepts facts with their attendant paradoxes, the 
materialist is bound to deny all that does not fit into the rig- 
idity of his creed. "The madman is not the man who has lost 
his reason. The madman is the man who has lost everything 
except his reason." 

Very soon, however, Gilbert Chesterton discovered that 
reason itself was doubted. Free thought having exhausted 
itself sought to break out again in a free-will unbalanced by 
reason. The Superman descended upon us with a transcen- 
dental doctrine of volition. The test whether a special action 
was good or bad was taken away, and action itself was made 
the end of being. Faith having failed, reason failed; reason 
having failed, morality failed — and the world was tossed about 
wildly among the blind gigantic forces, between Nietzsche and 
Tolstoy who sit down together "in the land of nothing and 
Nirvana. They are both helpless — one because he cannot 
grasp anything, and the other because he must not let go of 
anything.** Against these tendencies, opposed, but resulting in 
an equal deliquescence, the Faith preserved the sanity of men : 
"The creeds and the crusades, the hierarchies and the horrible 
persecutions were not organized, as is ignorantly said, for the 
suppression of reason. They were organized for the difficult 
defence of reason. Man, by a blind instinct, knew that if once 
things were wildly questioned, reason could be questioned first. 
The authority of priests to absolve, the authority of popes to 
define, the authority, even of inquisitors, to terrify; these were 
all only dark defences erected roimd one central authority, 
more undemonstrable, more supernatural than all — the author- 
ity of a man to think.** 

I have said that there was nothing very original in Mr. 
Chesterton's philosophy itself; but there was a striking origin- 
ality shown in the method by which he reached it, just as there 
is a striking originality shown in his expression of it. Before 
G. K. C. could find the Faith, he had to establish for his soul 
free-will and for his intellect reason. These came, so we are 
assured in all seriousness, through nothing else than fairy 



328 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Dec. 

tales. "All the terms used in the science books, *law,' *neces- 
sity,' *order,' 'tendency,' and so on, are really unintellectual, be- 
cause they assume an inner synthesis which we do not possess. 
The only words that ever satisfied me as describing Natiu*e are 
the terms used in the fairy books, *charm,' *spell,' *enchant- 
ment.' They express the arbitrariness of the fact and its mys- 
tery." 

So vivid was his sense of wonder that he could never be 
brought to believe in a clock-work universe, controlled by 
necessity. The fact that a thing had happened a thousand 
times at most should only lead us to think that its happening 
again was probable; the cool logician of fairyland knows 
better than to imagine that it must therefore happen again. 
There might even be a law of nature — ^but any law could be 
broken. The law frequently is broken; that it persists is only 
due to the continuous exercise of the divine will. "Because 
children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit 
fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and im- 
changed. They always say, *Do it again;' and the grown-up 
person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up 
people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But per- 
haps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible 
that God says every morning, 'Do it again,' to the sun; and 
every evening, *Do it again,' to the moon. It may not be auto- 
matic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God 
makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of mak- 
ing them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of in- 
fancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is 
younger than we." 

Whatever else this outlook on the world does it certainly 
keeps alive in a man the freshness of surprise; and upon such 
a willingness to admit the marvelous does good reason depend. 

The whole romance of life is contained in the ethics of 
Elfland. In all the legends it is the younger son, the despised 
and rejected of men, who comes into the kingdom. Neitzsche, 
and the coarse moderns, had gloried in making heroes strong; 
chivalry in making its heroes feeble. The thrill we have in 
beholding the weak things of the world confounding the 
mighty, is the daily refreshment of modest people. Time and 
time again Mr. Chesterton has preached that the prime neces- 
sity of joy is humility. 



1919.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 329 

There is a more intimate connection between Rome and 
romance than the mere sound and derivation of the words. 
In the case of Mr. Chesterton, Elfland saved him for Christen- 
dom, and, from this central section to the end. Orthodoxy be- 
comes gradually but definitely Catholic. Fairy tales had pre- 
pared him to accept the improbable; they also helped him to 
accept the obvious, the doctrine of original sin, and to declare 
it as the basis of all sound and joyous democracy. The fact 
that things necessarily improved of themselves as the latter 
evolutionists said, is very good reason for leaving things alone. 
It was only the man who saw that damnation was likely and 
salvation possible, who was likely either to be a revolutionist 
or to get to heaven. From men is demanded not merely 
strength enough to get on with this world, but strength enough 
to get it on. '*Can he hate it enough to change it, and yet love 
it enough to think it worth changing? Can he look up at its 
colossal good without once feeling acquiescence? Can he look 
up at its colossal evil without once feeling despair? Can he, 
in short, be at once not only a pessimist and an optimist, but a 
fanatical pessimist and a fanatical optimist? Is he enough of a 
pagan to die for the world, and enough of a Christian to die 
to it?" 

Mr. Chesterton's feet have found solid ground and he 
knows the path he is following and its end. He has found his 
creed and is able confidently to contrast it with other religions. 

"Students of popular science, like Mr. Blatchford, are al- 
ways insisting that Christianity and Buddhism are very much 
alike, especially Buddhism.*' But G. K. C, having appre- 
hended the genius of the Faith, denies with violence that the 
creeds even faintly resemble one another. The externals of 
religion are often similar: their rites may be identical; it is 
what they teach that demonstrates their vivid difference. 

'This is the intellectual abyss between Buddhism and 
Christianity; that for the Buddhist or Theosophist personality 
is the fall of man, for the Christian it is the purpose of God, 
the whole point of his cosmic idea. The world-soul of the 
Theosophists asks man to love it only in order that man may 
throw himself into it. But the divine centre of Christianity 
actually threw man out of it in order that he might love it 

^'According to Himself the Son was a sword separating 
brother and brother that they should for an seon hate each 



332 THEORIST OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION [Dec. 

of elementary schools. Fire, water, earth and gas are the 
unconscious shapers of the world. Research as to our final 
end and our earthly origin are discouraged, if not forbidden. 
Truth is declared to be beyond the reach of the human powers. 
The study of the highest ethical problems, the ceaseless efforts 
of great minds to solve the mysteries of our inner life are ridi- 
culed, as waste of time, the delirium of a starving madman 
who throws away a piece of bread or meat. Prayers are pro- 
hibited, or scorned. Priests are insulted as slave-dealers 
struggling to hold their grip on a credulous and ignorant pro- 
letariat. The beautiful hymns of the Orthodox litiu*gy have 
been replaced by scurrilous songs deriding the ""long-gowned 
priests," and "the monkish dish-lickers." The term itself of 
Orthodoxy has been deformed into that of Bezglavie, which 
means "headlessness." 

Of course, all the details of the fierce persecution of Russian 
Christianity are not available at this time. The frontiers of 
distracted Russia are closed to the curious eyes of European 
wanderers or observers. We are not able to compile the lists 
of Russian bishops, priests, monks, and faithful whose death 
has been found indispensable to the establishment of the hu- 
man brotherhood of which the anti-Christian social reformers 
talk so glibly. It is still impossible to count the churches de- 
stroyed, pillaged, or desecrated; nor is it yet possible to esti- 
mate the extent of the seizure and theft of religious vessels and 
movable goods. But the experience of the Russian Church im- 
der Bolshevik tyranny recalls the most sanguinary days of the 
Church of Christ in the early centuries of our era. 

It has been pointed out that the leaders of Russian Bol- 
shevism are Jews. It ought, however, to be made clear that its 
irreligious and political code has been framed by purely 
Russian minds. It would be unjust to say that Russian anarch- 
ism, in its attempts to sap the foimdations of doctrinal Chris- 
tianity, and to undermine the social institutions resting there- 
upon, is the intellectual product of the Jewish intelligentsiia in 
Russia. It was outlined in its minutest details by Russian 
dreamers, and philosophers, and, strangely enough, even by 
those who may rightly be regarded as among the foremost 
champions of anti-Semitism. In fact, the father of Russian 
anarchism, a religious (or more accurately, irreligious) and 
social system that differs from Bolshevism only in name, is 



1919.] THEORIST OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION 333 

Mikhail Alexandrovitch Bakunin, a genuine Russian, and a 
member of the Russian nobility. 

A notable revolutionary theorist. Prince Peter Alexieevich 
Eropotkin, once wrote that Bakunin was '"a gigantic figure, a 
man who gave up everything for the triumph of his revolution- 
ary ideal, who lived for it alone, borrowing from his concep- 
tions the purest views of life, and who became an inspiration 
to those whose lives he touched." ' Kropotkin is a panegyrist 
rather than a biographer. His gorgeous epithets are rhetori- 
cal tinsel. It may be conceded, however, that Bakunin was a 
revolutionary spirit by conviction. His life is the faithful mir- 
ror of his theories. For the sake of revolution he gave up his 
freedom, his country, his material welfare. He never retracted 
his theories. He never flinched from the extreme conclusions 
of his social and religious nihilism. In a word, he was the 
brain organizing and defining the doctrine of the Russian revo- 
lution. The Bolsheviki seized upon his spiritual and intellect- 
ual estate, and put into practice the theories formulated by 
him. He did not live to witness their destructive power, and 
the consequent downfall of Russia, a country he loved in- 
tensely, in spite of his imprecations. Perhaps the vision of his 
fatherland, broken and bleeding under the Neronian rule of his 
disciples, might have modified his views. 

Michael Bakunin was born in May, 1814, in the village of 
Priamukhino, in the district of Teriok, government of Tver. 
He was the oldest of a family of eleven children. His father, 
Alexander, had in his youth been a diplomatist, serving as at- 
tache at the Russian embassies in Naples and Florence. His 
mother belonged also to the Russian nobility, and descended 
from the historic family of Miuraviev. The first seeds of revo- 
lutionary ideas were sown in the son's heart by his father, a 
passionate admirer and disciple of the Dekabrists. 

At the age of fifteen, Bakimin entered the Artillery School 
of Petrograd, and after three years (1829-1832), was attached 
to the service of a battery in the government of Minsk. He 
witnessed the Russian military authorities' method of smother- 
ing in blood the Polish revolution. The cruelty of repression 
filled his heart with hatred and dismay. As soon as possible 
(1834) he resigned his conunission and went to Moscow where 
he devoted his time to the study of philosophy. He began, 

*A. I. Sack, The Birth of the Ruaian Demoeraeg. New York, 1918, pp. 188, 189. 






334 THEORIST OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION [Dec. 

with juvenile enthusiasm, to study the sensualism of Condillac; 
afterwards, the metaphysics of Fichte absorbed his attention. 
His first literary exertion was a Russian translation of Einige 
Vorlesungen uber die Bestimmung der Gelehrten (1836). 
Later, he plunged into the study of the Hegelian transcendent- 
alism. In 1836, he published a preface to the Russian transla- 
tion of Hegel's Ggmnasialreden. In 1840 appeared the first 
portion of an incomplete philosophical treatise.' 

He then went to Berlin, mastered German so well, and be- 
came so intimately acquainted with German literature, that he 
was able to write in German the first of his papers, which ap- 
peared in the Deutsche Jahrbiicher (October, 1842).* In this 
paper he timidly expressed the fundamental tenet of Russian 
nihilism: *The desire or pleasure of destruction is at the 
same time a desire or pleasure of creation.'' ' One may see in 
this principle a travesty of the well-known axiom of Scholas- 
tic philosophy : Corruptio unius est generatio alterius. From 
this principle of his, Bakunin necessarily derived the obliga- 
tion to overthrow all the social and religious forms of modern 
society in order to build on the debris the ideal man or social 
organization. 

The revolutionary appeals of Bakunin made him suspect 
to the Saxon Government, and he was obliged to leave Dres- 
den, and to seek refuge, first in Switzerland, then in Belgium 
and at last in Paris, where he lived until 1847. Here he met 
the two lawgivers of international Socialism, Karl Marx and 
Engels, and became acquainted also with Proudhon and 
George Sand. As in Germany, Bakunin had felicitated him- 
self on being rid of fading beliefs in the immortality of the 
soul, so in Paris, in his frequent conversations with Marx, he 
stirred the latter's enthusiasm for a political upheaval that 
would have led to victory for socialistic aims. At a much later 
period, in his autobiographical notes (1871), he said: **Marx 
was much more advanced than I was, as he remains today, not 
more advanced, but incomparably more learned than I am. I 

*Max Nettlau, Michael Bakunin. Bine biographiache Skizze, mil AuszHgen aua 
aeinen Schriften und Nachwort von Guatav Landauer, Berlin, 1901, pp. 4, 5. Lektzit 
o naxnachenii uchebnykh, Teleakop, Moskva, 1835, vol. xxix., pp. 3-57; O Filotofti, 
Otechestvennyia Zapiski, 1840. Petrograd, Ix., sect vl., 53-78. 

*Die Reaktion in Deutaehland, Bin Fragment von einem Franzoaen. Deataehe 
lahrbUchern, October, 1842, pp. 11-21. 

*Die Lust der Zerstdrung ist zugleich eine Schaffende Lust. The German term 
Luat means both "desire** and "pleasure." 



1919.] THEORIST OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION 335 

knew then nothing of political economy. I had not yet rid 
myself of metaphysical abstractions, and my Socialism was 
only instinctive. He, though younger than I, was already an 
atheist, an instructed materialist, a well-considered Socialist. 
It was just at this time that he elaborated the first foundations 
of his present system. Wesaw each other fairly often. . . . 
But there was never any frank intimacy between us. Our tem- 
perament would not suffer it. He called me a sentimental 
idealist, and he was right; I called him a vain man, perfidious 
and crafty, and I also was right." • In other notes of 1870, he 
closes the views of Marx that had influenced his mind : *'Marx 
states that all the political, religious and juridical evolutions 
in history are not the causes, but the consequences of economic 
evolutions. The remark is a fecund one, and the discovery of 
a brilliant mind. Yet Marx is not the man who revealed it. 
Others, before him, had a glimpse of it, or had expressed it 
partially. But, Marx may justly claim the honor of having 
asserted it strongly, and made it the great basis of his entire 
economic system." ' 

These quotations are evidence that in spite of his bitter 
controversies with Marx, Bakunin completed his revolutionary 
training under the leader of German Socialism. The last rem- 
nants of Slavic mysticism were burnt out by the atheism of 
Marx. From Marx, Bakunin derived the leit-motiv of his 
socialistic philosophy — the prominent, perhaps one should say, 
the exclusive rdle played by the economic motive in the shap- 
ing of the religious and political evolution and destiny of man- 
kind. 

In 1848, Bakunin returned to Germany to take part in the 
revolutionary movement in Central Europe. At the risk of his 
life, he showed his devotion to his principles. He was ar- 
rested and imprisoned in the fortress of Koenigstein January 
14, 1850; he was condemned to death, but the death sentence 
was commuted to life imprisonment. The Austrian Govern- 
ment claimed him, and after a new trial, held on May 15, 1851, 
condemned him to be hanged. A new commutation of the 
capital sentence took place, but life imprisonment was again 
imposed. He had to undergo the full measure of harshness 

6 Bertrand Russell. Proposed Roads to Freedom : Socialism, Anarchism and Sgn» 
dieallsm. New York, 1919, pp. 38, 39. 

* James Golllaume, Michael BakQmUne: notice biographique, (Euvres de Bakou^ 
nine, toI U. Paris, 1907, p. 1|< 



336 THEORIST OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION [Dec. 

characteristic of Austrian prisons. In the citadel of Olmiitz, he 
was shackled and chained to the wall. His resistance never 
yielded, and his hatred for political forms of government in- 
tensified. 

His prison torture soon terminated. The Russian Govern- 
ment claimed him, and, to use his own words, he was placed 
"at the mercy of the bear.** He was confined in the fortress of 
SS. Peter and Paul, and at the outbreak of the Crimean War 
transferred to Schliisselburg. He there endured a long mar- 
tyrdom until 1857. His health was shattered. In the loneli- 
ness of his dungeon, he tried to enliven his drooping spirit 
by dramatizing in his imagination the legend of Prometheus, 
chained to a rock on Caucasus by order of the Tsar of 
Olympus. One of his letters gives a graphic account of his 
sufferings: *'Terrible indeed is the fate of a man condemned 
to life imprisonment. His existence is one that has no ideals, 
no hopes, no purposes. Every day, at sunrise, I told myself: 
*You are becoming besotted. Tomorrow you will sink deeper 
in dullness.* This atrocious toothache will last many, many 
weeks. It will come back at least twice in a month. I did 
not sleep either by day or night. I was unable to do anything. 
Reading was even too great an effort to me. In the dead of the 
night, my heart, my loins felt the burning voice of a ghost 
whispering to my ear : Tou are a slave, you are a corpse.* Yet 
I was not disheartened. Were I a religious man, religion 
would have stirred within myself the heroic zeal of the mar- 
tyrs. But, the wish to reject all the attempts to a reconcilia- 
tion never grew weak. My soul kept alive, and burning, and 
glowing, the holy fire of revolt.*' * In 1857, Alexander II. con- 
sented to give him freedom, or, rather, to allow him to enjoy a 
circumscribed freedom in the frozen steppes of Siberia. He 
was interned at Tomsk. Here he married a Polish girl, An- 
tonia Ewiatkowska. From Tomsk, thanks to the mediation 
6f his maternal uncle, Muraviev Amoursky, governor of East- 
ttn Siberia, he went to Irkutsk (1859). Th6 resignation of 
Muraviev suggested to him a plan of escaping from his place 
bf e:itile. His attempt succeeded, and, through Japan, he 
reached San Francisco, whence, on October 15, 1861, he wrote 
to his friends Herzen and Ogarev : *The astonishing success of 

•|». A. Berllni Apo^tolp anarMiii (The AiMsUes of Anarchy). Petrograd, 1917, 
pp. 7| 9t 



1919.] THEORIST OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION 337 

the speculations of the Americans, mostly fruitful, though not 
always free from blame, commonplaceness of their material 
welfare, impervious to the throb of the human heart, and their 
national vanity, that gets pleasure at little expense, have con- 
tributed, it seems, to deprave this nation. The hard struggle, 
in which they are now entangled, will probably be helpful to 
them, inasmuch it will make them find again their lost soul." ' 
From New York he reached London on October 27, 1861. Here, 
he received the most cordial welcome from his old friends, 
Herzen and Ogarev. 

In Europe he renewed his revolutionary propaganda. As 
an ardent Slavophil, he saw in the Polish revolt of 1863, the 
first step towards the emancipation of autocratic Russia. His 
address to the "Friends of Russia, Poland and the Slavic 
World" is a fiery appeal in favor of the overthrow of the auto- 
cratic regime. He followed with enthusiasm the success of the 
Italian revolution, lived at Naples and Florence till the autumn 
of 1867, and corresponded with the pioneers of Italian unity. 
A fruit of his literary activity was the foundation of an Italian 
paper, Libertate Giustizia, that combated the revolutionary 
mysticism of Mazzini. The device of the Mazzinian party, 
Dio e popolo, provoked the bitterest gibes from the Russian 
atheist. 

While in Italy he strove to connect the scattered threads 
of the social revolutionary movement into a compact organized 
body. A group of internationalists clustered around him. It 
embraced French, Italian, Scandinavian, German and Polish 
revolutionists. The group was given the name of *The Inter- 
national Alliance of Socialistic Democracy." Bakunin himself 
drew up its programme, an open profession of religious and 
social anarchism: *The Alliance," it reads, ^Meclares itself an 
atheistic organization. It aims at the final and complete aboli- 
tion of classes, at the political, economic, and social equality 
of all individuals of both sexes; it states that the earth, the in- 
struments of production, and all capital are the collective prop- 
erty of the conmiunity, to be utilized only by the workingmen, 
viz., by their agricultural and industrial associations. It holds 
the belief that all the political states now existing and founded 
upon the principle of authority, are to be melted into them and 
with them." 

* Correpondcuiet de Michel Bdk0ttnine Lettres d Henen et A OaoMff, par lOehel 
DngomanoT. Paris, t$W, p. 123. 
▼OL. Gl. 29 



338 THEORIST OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION [Dec. 

By this programme Bakunin endeavored to alienate the 
working masses in Italy from the revolutionary mysticism of 
Mazzini. In his Riponse d'un International a Mazzini, pub- 
lished in French, in the Liberti of Brussels (August 18 and 19, 
1871) he asserted the atheistic character of the socialistic 
league." 

Bakunin's group affiliated with the International Work- 
ingmen*s Association, founded at London in 1861. The en- 
tente, however, between the extreme Socialists headed by 
Bakunin and the moderate Internationalists, led by Karl 
Marx, was short-lived. It was followed by a violent campaign 
of mutual defamation, which weakened the initial strength of 
the "Internationale." 

In 1870, Bakunin retired to Switzerland and devoted more 
time to literary work. Some of the most complete of his writ- 
ings, especially his "L'Empire knouto-Germanique et la Rivo- 
lution Sociale, a fiery invective against Teutonism, its culture 
and policy, was written at Lucerne. The struggles with Marx, 
the invitation of the Russian youth to the overthrow of Tsar- 
ism, the organization of the socialistic forces throughout 
Europe absorbed his last energies. Bereft of resources, he 
could support himself and his family only through the generos- 
ity of his brothers living in Russia, and of devoted friends. He 
died at Berne, July 1, 1876. Before his death, conversing with 
his intimate friend, Alexander Reichel, he admitted the bank- 
ruptcy of modem philosophy. "Our philosophical vagaries," 
he said, "culminate either in the conception of an intangible 
happiness, built of clouds, or in a desperate pessimism." " 

Bakunin is, so to speak, the architect of Russian anarchism. 
He traced its master lines, he laid the main foundations. This 

x« (Euvres, vol. vl. Paris, 1913, pp. 122, 123. 

^The most complete biographical source of Bakounin is the four volumes of 
Bakounin's life, written in German by Max Ncttlau: Michael Bakanin: Etne Biogra- 
phie (London, 1896-1900). This monumental work was not printed, but only multi- 
graphed to the number of fifty copies, which were sent to the most famous libraries 
of the world. See also: Mikhail A, Bakunin: biograflcheakii oeherk, in Byloe, Petro- 
grad, 1906, n. 8, pp. 228-254; Bakounlne, VhiMtotre de ma vie, Paris, 1898; A. Herzen, 
Michel Bakounine, Revue politique et littiraire, Paris, 1908, s^rle v, vol x., pp. 491- 
495; Max Nettlau, Bakunin und die rusaiehe revolutiondre Bewegung in den lahren 
1868-1873, in Arehiv ftkr die Geschichte dea Soeialiamn* und der Arbeiterbewegung, 
Leipzig, 1914, vol. v., pp. 357-422; A. A. Komllov, Molodge gody Miklaila Bakunina: 
ix istorii russkago romantizmcLt (The Youth of M. Bakunin: some pages from the 
history of Russian romanticism), Moscow, 1915; H. Seymour, Michael Bakunin: a 
{biographical aketch, London, 1888; A. J. Sack, op. eit., pp. 171-186; B. Russell, op. 
'Cit.9 pp. 32-55. S. A. Vengerov, Istoricheskii slovar russklkh piaatelei: istochniki 
(msjtorlo J>Xc\Xojxuy of Russian Writers). Petrograd, vol. 1., 1900, p. 149. 



1919.] THEORIST OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION 339 

system was constructed to rule the spiritual powers of man, 
and to regulate his social activities. On one side it protests 
against the ceaseless yearnings of the human soul towards 
the sunlit heights of mysticism; on the other, it proclaims the 
end of those civil institutions that were ever regarded as the 
bulwark of the social order. The anarchism of Bakunin is a 
virulent attack against both Church and State. God is the 
master tyrant to be interned in His fabulous Eden, and kings 
are His satellites, who follow the tyrannical policy of their 
divine leader. It is both a religious and social anarchism; it 
presents a double face to its observer. 

Alexander Herzen has justly remarked that the Slavic 
genius is rather initial than perfective. Foreign influences 
determine its development." The anarchistic philosophy of 
Bakunin is the result of his intellectual training, and his teach- 
ers have not been Russian. His mind showed a plastic recep- 
tivity to the influence of both Germany and France. The ex- 
tremes to which he developed these impressions into a system 
is perhaps indicative of his genuinely Slavic origin. Herzen 
once wrote : *^ith us, thought, knowledge, conviction, dogma 
do not remain in a state of theory and abstraction. They do 
not confine themselves within the narrowness of an academic 
session, or conceal themselves in the bookcase of a scholar, in a 
jail. The exact opposite is what takes place. They break their 
chains, and precipitately, without reaching maturity, pervade 
the public life and, as it were, with their feet bound, they jump 
over the vestibule to the extreme corner of the arena." " 

From a religious point of view, the anarchism of Bakunin 
is rooted in the Hegelian philosophy of the identity of think- 
ing and being, and may be looked upon as the final develop- 
ment of the religious conceptions of Feuerbach. A German 
writer, who professes an easily conceivable hatred against 
Bakunin, the satyrist of Teutonism, was right in asserting that 
the origin of what the Russian anarchist calls his system can 
be traced to the time of his sojourn on German soil.'" Religious 
anarchism is the extreme logical consequence of the Hegelian 
philosophy of religion. Feuerbach carried out Hegel's philo- 

^Dn diueloppement des (dies riDolutionnaires en Rusaie. Londres, 1853, p. 19. 

"Herzen, Kolokol: izbrannuia atatl (The Bell: Selected Papers). In Russian. 
Genera, 1S87, p. 719. 

^Michael Bakunin nnd der Radicalismus, Deutsche Rundschau, Berlin, 1877, 
Tol. zil., p. 232. 



340 THEORIST OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION [Dec 

sophical concepts to their logical conclusion* and in his strong 
criticism of his master, proves that the final conclusion of 
Hegelianism is unadulterated materialism. In fact, the whole 
kernel of the religious philosophy of Feuerbach may be ex- 
pressed in his famous saying that ''the personality of God is 
nothing else than the projected personality of man.*' " Feuer- 
bach, however, though not an orthodox Hegelian, in his mater- 
ialistic conception of religion, and theoretical atheism, dared 
not to apply his religious nihilism to social life.'* The task of 
working out to the fullest degree the practical consequences 
of Hegel's thought, was assumed by the leaders of German 
Socialism, by Marx and Engels. They held that atheism ought 
to be the leaven of a society delivered *f rom the idealistic frip- 
pery of religion." 

But German Socialists, in expounding the materialistic 
conceptions of social life, hesitated to advocate violence for 
the contemplated atheistic reconstruction of society. What 
it dared not undertake, Bakunin took up with the zeal of 
apostleship. He declared not only that atheism will be the 
organizing power of a reconstructed kind, but that violence 
and rebellion are the instruments of its conquests." 

According to Bakunin, philosophic idealism culminates in 
the denial of the existence of a personal God, or in the idea 
of God as an abstract and metaphysical being. The final evo- 
lution of philosophic thought marks the exaltation of matter 
and the humiliation of spirit. "Everywhere, in short, reUgious 
or philosophical idealism, the one being but the more or less 
free translation of the other, serves today as the flag of ma- 
terial, bloody, and brutal force, of shameless material exploit- 
ation; while, on the contrary, the flag of theoretical material- 
ism, the red flag of economic equality and social justice, is 
raised by the practical idealism of the oppressed and famish- 
ing masses, tending to realize the greatest liberty and the 
human right of each in the fraternity of all men on earth." " 

In the same work, God and the State, Bakunin gives vent 
to his bitter hatred against God and every form of religion. 
For him, 'The idealistic abstraction, God, is a corrosive poison, 

" D(u Wesen des Christentums, Sdmmiliche Werke, vol. vi., Stuttgart, 1903, p. 273. 
16 F. lodl, Ludwig Feuerbach, Stuttgart, 1904, pp. 3. 4. 

" See B. Bfalon, L' Internationale in La Nouuelle Reuue. Paris, vl., ann^e, toL 
zzYi., p. 753. 

^ God and the State, New York, s. d., p. 47. 



1919.] THEORIST OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION 341 



>n> 



which destroys and decomposes life, falsifies and kills it. 
Belief in God is an offspring of the root of all the absurdities 
that torment the world." Religion is the nursery of all crimes, 
the bacillus of the contagious diseases that infect the social 
body. "Christianity is precisely the religion par excellence^ be- 
cause it exhibits and manifests, to the fullest extent, the very 
nature and essence of every religious system, which is the im- 
poverishment, enslavement, and annihilation of humanity for 
the benefit of divinity.** " 

Christianity, however, is not a compact body. It ramifies 
into the great branches. Orthodoxy, Catholicism, and Protest- 
antism. The national Church of Russia does not stir the satyr- 
ical mind of Bakunin. He agrees with Herzen, that the Byzan- 
tino-Moscovite Christianity neither civilized nor emancipated 
those within its jurisdiction. 

With regard to Catholicism, Bakunin renders justice to the 
sanctity of its ideals, while scorning its priesthood. ^'What is 
there more sublime, in the ideal sense, more disinterested, 
more separate from all the interests of this earth, than the doc- 
trine of Christ preached by the Catholic Church? And what 
is there more brutally materialistic than the constant practice 
of the same Church, since the eighth century.** " All the Chris- 
tian Churches when compared with the Roman Catholic 
Church are bankrupt.*' " 

Protestantism is frankly disliked by Bakunin as the bour- 
geois religion par excellence. "It accords just as much liberty 
as is necessary to the bourgeois, and finds a way of reconciling 
celestial aspirations with the respect which terrestrial condi- 
tions demand.*' ** 

Since no form of Christianity is fitted for the social and 
moral betterment of man, the war against it, and generally 
against God, or the idea of God is a social and moral necessity. 
Man's human history is the history of his development 
by rebellion and by thought Both these weapons of his 
humanized being, are the characteristics of Satan." By Satan 
man becomes free; by God, he chains himself to slavery. 

"Perfection consists in the progressive negation of the 
primitive animality of man by the development of his human- 
ity. Man, a wild beast, cousin of the gorilla, has emerged from 

» Ibid,, p. 64. *» Ibid,, p. 22. " Ibid., p. 24. « Ibid,, p. 45. 

* (Envres, vol. i., p. 226. ** God and the State, p. 46. >• Ibid., p. 10. 



342 THEORIST OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION [Dec. 

the profound darkness of animal instinct into the light of mind» 
which explains in a wholly natural way all his past mistakes 
and partially consoles us for his present errors. He has 
emerged from animal slavery, and passing through divine 
slavery, a temporary condition between his animality and his 
humanity, he is now marching on to the conquest and realiza- 
tion of human liberty." *• 

But if irreligion is the granitic pillar of social progress, 
why do men, and especially the proletariat, prefer religious 
fetters and the divine slavery to a godless emancipation? Ac- 
cording to Bakunin, the proletariat is the victim of two great 
dark powers, the political and the sacerdotal, that is of the 
governments and the priesthood. Oppression, poverty, ignor- 
ance act as narcotics upon them.*^ 

Such were the theories of Bakunin's religious anarchism. 
They are invoked and developed to justify his scheme of social 
reforms. If religion hampers the free play of human energies, 
its abolition is a social requirement. Religious despotism, be- 
ing the stool of political tyranny, deserves to be wiped out from 
the civilized world." Theology is an anachronism. It ought to 
disappear. Its gravestone is being carved by Positivism. 
Jesus Christ must sink in His grave. "Our Christ," writes 
Bakunin, "differs from the Protestant and Christian Christ in 
this, that the latter is a personal being, ours impersonal; the 
Christian Christ, already completed in an eternal past, presents 
himself as a perfect being, while the completion and perfec- 
tion of our Christ, science, are ever in the future; which is 
equivalent to saying that they will never be realized." " The 
battle to be fought in the name of progress resolves itself, in- 
deed, into an everlasting duel between God and man. All 
priests, except of those that have been burnt by the fire of per- 
secution, have been the natural allies of all the tyrants." 

The logical consequences of the theories of Bakunin are 
that atheism and materialism express the truth." He could not 
conceive the divine omnipotence as creating a man capable of 
determining himself for good or evil. God was to him a phan- 
tom, the absolute vacuum, a metaphyi^ical abstraction, the 
moral and inmioral cause of all slaveries." By the denial of 

26 Ibid,, p. 31. 27 Ibid., p. 16. 

28 (Euvres, vol. x., p. 303. 20 God and the State, p. 34. 

^ FideTalisme, aocialisme et antithiologisme. CEuvres, vol. 1., pp. 67, 68. 
^ CEuures, vol. 111., p. 296. ^ (Euvres, vol. v., p. 321. 



1919.] THEORIST OF THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION 343 

the existence of God, Bakunin was logically forced to deny 
free will and a soul separated and separable from the body. 
The religious anarchism of Bakunin spread among Russian 
revolutionists hatred of God and His Incarnate Son. The songs 
of Russian Socialists are saturated with it. 

We need scarcely observe that all the above mentioned 
grievances against Christianity are precisely its titles of glory, 
the jewels of its crown. Christian idealism, an idealism spring- 
ing from the most perfect Man Who ever conversed with men, 
the Incarnate Son of God, has trained legions of true supermen. 
It is an idealism embodying the most sublime and beneficent 
yearnings of the human heart. The product of Christian 
idealism is that social reform to which we owe the abolition of 
slavery, the consciousness of our human dignity, the exaltation 
of woman, the end of despotism, the civilizing of barbarians, 
the defence of the weak against the strong and violent. 

Atheistic revolutionary Socialism has undergone the or- 
deal of fire. In Russia the brotherhood of anarchism has re- 
placed private property with robbery, violence, and brigan- 
dage. Men who promised to improve the social conditions 
of the working masses have reduced them to despair, to star- 
vation, to brutishness. They talk of freedom, of full respect 
for the rights of individuals. In fact, they strangle the most 
sacred liberties of their fellow-men, and murder those who 
do not accept their words as their rule of life, or dare to keep 
alive in their hearts the inextinguishable flame of the love of 
God and of faith in His divine Son. 

It has been clearly shown by the history of the revolu- 
tionary movement that material egotism is at the bottom and 
in the heart of all socialistic upheavals. And in the stern 
combat between Christian idealism and materialistic atheism, 
there shines forth in all its historical truth,' the saying of Mon- 
tesquieu : ^'Christianity, that is, the religion of suffering, sacri- 
fice, and mortification, is also the religion assuring the great- 
est human happiness on earth." 



CHRISTMAS IN THE RIO GRANDE COUNTRY. 
BY MARGARET B. DOWNING 

IENORA lives in a secluded village around which 
the footliills of a great range of the Rockies rear 
defending walls against the storms of the higher 
regions and the restlessness of the world beyond. 
Her house is square and adobe at the edge of the 
tiny city, and her land extends from the mud road magnifi- 
cently outlined on the urban map as Avenue Don Diego de 
Vargas across the hills to the river. This historic stream, the 
Rio Grande, might be considered merely lithographical at 
Seiiora's crossing, but she owns the grist-mill five miles north 
and has held immemorial water rights which add immense 
value to her ranchito. 

There are acres of apricot, plum and small sweet Mexican 
apple trees which were in full bearing before the treaty of 
Guadalupe Hidalgo was signed, and which have yielded an 
ample annual crop ever since, despite that disturbing instru- 
ment. There are acres of wheat and com, generous spaces 
given to vegetables and herbs and the corral sweeps up the 
sandy hill witli a shelter of sage and mesquite, where a burro, 
a cow, several sheep and swine, and many plump and depend- 
able fowl spend busy, noisy hours. Sefiora lives on the pro- 
duce of her land as her fathers have done for many hundred 
years before. They crossed the Rio Grande with Onate in 1598, 
and like them, she exchanges her fine flour and meal, excellent 
and sound fruit and vegetables for such staples of food and 
clothing as she may desire. She sells the surplus and divides 
her income into three equal parts; the first goes to the bank, 
the second to the church and to charity, and the third for her 
own pleasure and comfort and that of her family. And, a strong 
stake IB th« future of the Rio Grande country, Seftoras are 
multiplied ia the many villas as the Mexicaa, aid and new, 
calls the lessea- townships, which are not yet affected by the 
poison which enters the soul with steam, electricity and petrol. 
Days tread on each other's heels in Seiiora's domain utter- 
ly lacking that much heralded quality of the sand country. 



1919.] CHRISTMAS IN THE RIO GRANDE COUNTRY 345 

somnolence and silence, for the Senora goes about the house 
all morning in a perfect fury of cleaning, closely followed by 
the Indian maid, Incamacion, and in the corral the aged serv- 
itor Jose drives everything before him like a whirlwind. The 
hens and other live things of the barnyard make as much noise 
and work as industriously as though they were in New Eng- 
land. The unquenchable sunshine is here, as described in that 
popular book. Sunshine, Silence and Adobe, and there are 
miles of sun dried brick within sight, made into comfortable 
dwellings called placitas, like Senora's. 

This indomitable woman's home was built by her grand- 
father, the miller, in 1735, and it is evident that life in his days 
radiated from the kitchen and the corral, as indeed it con- 
tinues to do at the present The kitchen is on the southern end 
of the square and is sixty feet long and about forty wide, with 
a fireplace as roomy as the ordinary bed chamber. A veranda 
of equal proportions gives on the corral, and in former days 
the sheep shearers came to the placita and the Indians 
pounded the com into meal and ground the pepper into the 
fine aromatic chili powder. Senora keeps only a few sheep 
now, and the great flock is in charge of her oldest son at the 
ranch by the mill. 

Those are grand occasions when Senora overlooks her 
charges and selects the victims for the feasts of December, and 
this may be reckoned the first step in the elaborate prepara- 
tions. All of December is, in a way, a preparation for Christ- 
mas along the Rio Grande, for midway in Advent, as mi- 
carime in the longer season of penance, comes that beloved 
fiesta of the Mexican, the twelfth, the day given over to honor 
the vision of Our Lady of Guadalupe to the poor savage. In 
the mellow days when Indian summer is waning, Senora*s 
porch is decked with garlands of vivid peppers awaiting the 
time until they are dry enough for the mill, interspersed with 
glistening strings of garlic and onions. Great ollas — earthen- 
ware receptacles which, on the Rio Grande, are baskets and 
barrels combined — ^brimming over with frijoles, stand sentinel- 
like under the arches. Then comes Trinidad the head shep- 
herd, with his master Senor Amado, and they spend hours in- 
specting the small flock in the corral before finally marking 
two lambs for destruction and driving them into a waiting 
stockade. 



346 CHRISTMAS IN THE RIO GRANDE COUNTRY [Dec. 

There are chickens, turkies, ducks, and geese, even de- 
mure guinea hens and an arrogant peacock in prime condi- 
tion for the oven, though naturally the Mexicans do not often 
slay the bird of the gorgeous tail but only his wives. Those 
of Mexican blood, as their ancestors centuries ago in Spain, 
may relish all such fancy dishes as fowl on the side or for any 
inferior occasion, but on great days, such as favorite feasts 
of Our Lady and at Nativity, the mainstay of the banquet is 
the backbone of a lamb cut with about five inches of flesh on 
each side, then again chopped into pieces and simmered for 
hours over a slow fire with much garlic and chili, and herbs 
without number. To this end the lambs in the stockade re- 
ceive the tenderest attention for weeks before the holocaust, 
one for Guadalupe day, one for Christmas. Other preparations 
go forward. Although the meal, which is used daily, is ground 
at the mill, for such great fiestas as December twelfth and 
twenty-fifth, skilled Indian women come down from San Juan 
and pound corn for hours in a mammoth wooden bowl and be- 
times stir and turn the drying grapes, and the latest crops of 
prunes and apricots. 

All the zeal is not confined to the culinary department. 
Senora's grandfather, in placing the kitchen and store rooms 
in the southwest ends of the placita, left rather darkened 
spaces for living and sleeping apartments. But there is no 
room without a lamp burning before a picture or statue in the 
dim recesses where the light from the court gets small ingress 
through the tiny windows. In the salon on the north side, 
fronting on the Avenue, named for the reconquistadore, there 
is a large painting of the vision of Guadalupe, the work of an 
untrained Indian employed at the mill under its original pro- 
prietor. It is a wonderful production, but quite as worthy as 
many of the futurist and other freakish efforts. Not even in 
the desert are the skies so fearfully indigo or the sage so 
bristling and gaudy. The Holy Virgin looks ferocious, yet 
the legend of Guadalupe paints her as fair a vision and as 
tender a mother as mortals could behold. Senora, however, 
sees none of these artistic defects, nor is she aggrieved that 
the robe instead of being of celestial blue is of tropical violence 
in red, yellow and purple. 

The painting is on the wall over the wide fireplace where 
the fragrant pinon branches blaze in the evenings even through 



1919.] CHRISTMAS IN THE RIO GRANDE COUNTRY 347 

the summer, and it covers full five feet of space measured each 
way. About the halo, which is painted the deepest orange, 
Senora has arranged a row of lamps in brackets and alternate 
shades of white and blue. With the opening of December 
every twilight when her family and guests gather in the draw- 
ing-room for a cup of chocolate and some tortillas^ the hard 
brittle biscuits — a combined cake and cracker common in the 
Mexican countries — the lamps are lighted. There are at least 
six other lamps on the mantle below the picture which bmn all 
day, and Senora uses only the sweetest and purest of olive oil 
for her votive oflferings. She makes shift with poorer quality 
for her salad, reluctantly it is true, but for her lamps will have 
none but the best. 

In other rooms additional lights twinkle. Each room has 
its precious memories, naturally since one hundred and eighty- 
five years have elapsed since the good miller, Juan Ortiz, sus- 
pended from the crane in the kitchen the massive iron pot 
which had crossed the Rio Grande with Onate. A tremendous 
history has this homely vessel which Senora can recite with 
spirit; how it was buried in the orchard when the Juan Ortiz of 
his day fled with the Spanish settlers from the maddened and 
revolting pueblos of 1680 along the Rio Grande to the border. 
There they encamped on the Texas side for more than ten 
years until the reconqueror, De Vargas, led his victorious army 
back. Then Ortiz dug up his treasures and his son removed 
upward to the secluded valley, where he built his mill and laid 
the foundation of the family fortunes in the thousands of 
acres in the sheep country to which he was given title. 

But Senora's Ortizes married Ortegas and Oterminas and 
Ojedas, until her relatives have as many 0*s in their names as 
the descendants of Irish kings. They have been born and they 
have died in each of the dark chambers of the old placita, and 
the daily progress of the present chatelaine is prayerfully in- 
terrupted each morning as she makes her way through each. 
For she pauses before the light and kneels a moment, seeing 
no doubt some child struggling into life, then going forth; 
some aged relative going peacefully and thankfully to sleep; 
or the youthful and hopeful struck down in their vigor. A 
lamp bums in the great kitchen, for a young brother of the 
Senora thrown from a horse in the corral and brought in to 
breathe his last before the fire. Often the Senora pauses be- 



348 CHRISTMAS IN THE RIO GRANDE COUNTRY [Dec. 

fore the yawning fireplace, and gazing at the light takes out 
her beads and prays for a moment before continuing her 
tasks. 

In December rumors begin to grow of the plays for which 
the padre is training young men of the village, ancient miracle 
plays brought into the land by the good Franciscans. Formerly 
many were performed, and were the delight of these shut-in 
lives. Only two survive now, except in centres where archaeol- 
ogists take pains for their revival — The Vision of Our Lady of 
Guadalupe and Natividad. However, Natividad is per- 
formed on the eve of Guadalupe, and the Vision is a part of 
the routine of Christmas Eve. Senora explains that the padre 
likes it so, and she too thinks this best, for acting is only acting 
and should not come so near the fiesta, which is the real thing. 
Senor Amado on the day the lambs were selected, confided 
that in his family December 12th is kept in the most elaborate 
manner, for his mother is Guadalupe, and his youngest sister, 
who will come all the way from El Paso, is also Guadalupe, 
and she has a daughter bearing the same name, and there are 
other granddaughters and nieces and great-granddaughters, 
and great-nieces who bear the name. It was a bewildering re- 
cital. 

In the first week of December came Senora Maria Guada- 
lupe or as she is known in the United States, her mother told 
me, in her home in Denver, Mrs. Karl Adolf Webber, and her 
two daughters, all she has left under the roof tree of her five 
children. A daughter is married in El Paso, another is a nurse 
in a hospital in St. Louis, a son is in France. Senora speaks 
of all regions outside those which passed from Mexico after 
the war of the "roaring forties" as the United States, but she 
never names the political jurisdiction under which she is now 
governed. Not that she resents the change. It is only a habit 
contracted from her father, who fought against Phil Kearney. 

Such cooking, cleaning and upturning as mark the days 
immediately preceding December 12th! One of Senora*s six 
sons is an Indian agent, and he has sent her from time to time 
exquisite blankets and rugs. These are taken from cedar 
chests, aired and hung up all over the placita, until the bal- 
conies and porches look like a bit of the Grand Canal when 
the Doge went down to wed the Adriatic. Sons and daughters 
arrive from distant parts. Those with wives, daughters or 



1919.] CHRISTMAS IN THE RIO GRANDE COUNTRY 349 

daughters-in-law bearing the name of Guadalupe are domiciled 
with Senora. Others go down to the larger and more modem 
house of Senor Amado at the mill. On the afternoon of the 
eleventh all the Guadalupes, including the venerable head of 
the family, journey across the hills to the mission where an 
aged Franciscan is in residence. Twice a month only does he 
come to the village, for his is a wide parish covering half of a 
large county. 

Only the Guadalupes go to confession and to Holy Com- 
munion at the High Mass said on the morrow. Such is the 
custom, all other members of the family will attend to this 
pious duty on Sunday. It was easy to discover why, when 
Senora, looking superb in her best black silk, her mantilla 
with the longest fringe, her fan of scarlet and gold and at least 
three-quarters of a yard long, drove off with at least a dozen 
lesser Guadalupes. All the other members rushed about set- 
ting a long table in the kitchen, which was re-furbished with 
rugs and dazzling copper kettles and pans, huge tubs of ger- 
anium and cascades of ferns, and comfortable chairs from the 
living room. Every dainty conceivable was set forth, for the 
religious ceremony would last until almost noon, and the 
luncheon hour would then be at hand. 

The savory dish of lamb was filling the air with odors 
which whetted the appetite. Beautiful hothouse flowers had 
come by express from Denver and the second daughter, who 
was Maria Estifania and hence would have a great feast at 
Twelfth Night, deftly decked the table in clusters of roses and 
lent an air of enchantment to the dark recesses beyond the fire- 
place. A smaller picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe Was 
placed on an overhanging shelf. Myriads of lights twinkled all 
around, and tall wax candles were on the table ready for the 
lighting at a signal from old Jos^, who was watching the road 
from the church. 

The signal is given, the lights are lit, the dish of lamb 
steams at the head of the table, and a dozen other big dishes 
are ranged in proper order when Senora leads the procession 
into the banquet hall. Then Amado, her eldest bom, takes 
her hand and raises it to his lips and kneels before her, saying 
in rich, quivering tones : "Our Mother, bless us, on your name 
day." Everyone kneels, and the dear old lady goes from one 
to the other laying her hand in blessing on each head until she 



350 CHRISTMAS IN THE RIO GRANDE COUNTRY [Dec. 

comes to the very youngest Guadalupe, a great-grandchild of 
seven years, who this momentous morning has received the 
dear Son of her Lady patron for the first time. The white- 
haired, aged woman gathers the radiant little cherub in her 
arms, and caresses her. 

"You must bless me, my dearest little one, my Lupita, on 
the day of your First Communion and you must bless us all," 
and holding the child, she tells her to make the sign of the 
Cross and to say after her, "I bless you all, my dear ones, and 
may our dearest Lord and Our Lady of Guadalupe have us 
always in their tender care." 

The feast lasted until late afternoon, for long lines of re- 
tainers began to drop in and receive bountiful gifts from the 
table. When the banquet was finally declared over, Senora 
was borne in state to the salon where. Our Lady of Guadalupe 
smiled down from a throne resplendent with lights and flow- 
ers. Just before dark, the Archbishop called with his cure and 
the aged missioner who had been a friend of Senora*s youth. 
There had been a reception at the Convent in the mountains 
and the prelate had been celebrant. All partook most guarded- 
ly of the excellent fare set forth on a table in the drawing-room, 
for similar celebrations were going forward in dozens of other 
homes at which they must call, and the hereafter of rich, spiced 
Mexican dishes of state evidently possessed terrors. 

The Archbishop discussed amiably the miracle play of the 
Natividad which he and we and all the mountain side had seen 
the night previous. There had been some amusing anachron- 
isms, such as the shepherds putting the Evil One to flight with 
a crucifix on the night when the angels were singing Gloria in 
Excelsis Deo. The miracle plays of the Southwest were of 
lighter textiure, explained the prelate, than the average survival 
of the ages of Faith, and no critical estimate was possible. 
The people had performed them and had grown familiar with 
the parts long before critics began their destructive work. Any 
attempt to change or improve would destroy their reverent 
feelings. He had taken part in one as a boy and would be 
reluctant to cast doubt on the ability of the shepherds to fore- 
see on the night of the Holy Birth, the power which the Cross 
was to have over evil. It was a weary, happy assortment of 
Guadalupes that gathered under Our Lady's picture that night 
and recited the prayer in her honor. Then, one by one. 



1919.] CHRISTMAS IN THE RIO GRANDE COUNTRY 351 

Senora extinguished the lights which had been gleaming about 
her through ten days previous. 

For a day or two there is a lull. Then the great prepara- 
tions begin anew. Senora considers Christmas only in the light 
of a solemn, religious feast and all her gifts are in the natiure 
of charity. She has a grand dinner and the second lamb 
dressed in the traditional way — as necessary a part of the din- 
ner as the stuffed eel is in Italy. Certain fowl are divided and 
fed riotously, packages of wheat and corn are tied up, and 
little bags of dried fruit are marked and put away. Boxes of 
clothing are arranged, some sent off by the mail cart, others 
tied on the burro's back and taken over the hills. On the 
mantle under Our Lady of Guadalupe, a prominent place is 
given to St. Stephen, for he was the name saint of the Senora's 
dead brother. San Juan di Baptisto, the name par excellence in 
her family, has several shrines, all well illuminated. Good 
St. Joseph receives great honor to the joy of the old stableman 
who comes in several times a day and kneels before him 
devoutly. 

Senora tells that every Christmas Eve, for sixty years with- 
out fail, save for those interruptions which will come with the 
rearing of eleven children, she has attended the miracle play of 
'The Vision," and she tells of various actors, long since dead, 
with a gusto which recalls the boulevardier's memories of 
Booth, Irving and Rachel. *The Vision" fills all her need for 
histrionic relaxation, in fact, except for the dramas performed 
when she was at the Convent in Mexico and when her children 
and grandchildren attended various schools adjacent, she has 
seen no other plays save these simple pastorals of the padres. 
Possessing a quick mind she can repeat every line of *The 
Vision," and the actual performance is rendered more enjoy- 
able by her spirited renditions in advance. 

The poor Indian is making his way over the cactus-strewn 
waste towards the city, when he hears the voice and sees the 
vision. His delight, as expressed by the actor, was excellent, 
though he chuckled and laughed more than the red man does 
in ordinary intercourse. But as Senora severely pointed out, 
none of us have ever seen an Indian after he had seen our 
Blessed Lady. The vision commands him to go to the Arch- 
bishop and tell that it is the pleasure of the Queen of Heaven 
that a shrine be built on that spot in her honor. The words 



352 CHRISTMAS IN THE RIO GRANDE COUNTRY [Dec. 

are simple and direct, and Indian-like the bearer of the heav- 
enly mandate repeats it over and over in the selfsame tone. 
The Archbishop is haughty and is garbed in a tight micomf ort- 
able-looking cassock of a dreadful hue of purple, and his 
biretta of red is perched rather coquettishly on the side. He 
kneels through the entire play, some two hours, and reads out 
of one of the largest books imaginable. He never lifts his eyes 
when his servitor conveys the message, dismisses him with a 
frown and reads, reads, reads. The Indian, fortified by the 
thought that he advances the heavenly pleasure, refuses to 
accept the Archbishop's dismissal, insists so bravely on seeing 
him that, finally, he is scourged away. 

He goes back disconsolate and without awaiting for the 
appearance of the vision begins a loud complaint, and displays 
his bruises and stripes. Our Lady comforts him and sends him 
back, tells him he must see the Archbishop and deliver her 
message. The poor Indian is in a panic and he acts it very well, 
too. The sacristan now takes a hand and appears before the 
prelate, and in a loud voice tells him he must hear a message 
from heaven. The Archbishop seems quite skeptical that 
heaven would pass him by and select an ignorant Indian. He 
is convinced that Our Lady, if she had affairs of importance, 
would consult with him personally, all the time he reads his 
great book. The sacristan, who is uneasy and sees a shining 
in the countenance of the messenger, craves leave to produce 
him. This he does, by means of an undignified push which 
sends the poor messenger headlong into the episcopal prie- 
dieu. The Archbishop is arrested by the glowing countenance, 
but shows caution at first. He tells the Indian, if indeed he 
comes from the Queen of Heaven, he, the Archbishop, her faith- 
ful servant, asks a sign that he may know she has sent him, and 
not an evil power. Back goes the Indian, Our Lady is waiting 
for him, and merely nods to him to gather some roses which 
have miraculously begun to bloom on the cactus bushes and to 
take them to the skeptical prelate. When the Indian is admitted 
he opens his blouse to show the roses, when lo, instead of the 
mystic flowers painted on the coarse cotton fabric, is the wond* 
rous picture enshrined in the great church at Guadalupe, which 
the Archbishop began at once to erect. 

There are long waits, filled in with songs which sound 
cxoUc *The Holy City" and "Holy Night," but that lovely old 



1919.] CHRISTMAS IN THE RIO GRANDE COUNTRY 353 

hymn of the Andalusians, ""Natividad," is sung also, and most 
plaintively by a young mountaineer who has been attending 
the Christian Brothers* College. Between the waits, Senora 
sketches in some of the history of the old play, and she repeats 
what her friend the Archbishop, not the dignified visitor 
on the stage, but the courteous visitor of her name-day had 
once told her, that this is the one miracle play which is of 
American origin, that is North American, since the event 
happened in Mexico nearly four centuries ago, and that it has 
been performed continuously in the Rio Grande country, with 
few interruptions, for more than two hundred years. An added 
reason for enjoyment and the reverence which steals over the 
heart in the presence of something anointed with precious 
and holy associations. 

It may be, as critics have said, that The Vision of Our Lady 
of Guadalupe as literature, is more worthless than the sing- 
song of child rhymes, but the words have stirred the simple 
savage and the sturdy pioneer of the Rio Grande to efforts 
towards higher things, and opened a way of escape from the 
deadly influence of the desert into the mystic realms where 
heaven pities the anguish of earth and stoops to alleviate it. 

Everyone in the village, everyone from about the foothills 
and the mountains who can borrow, beg or hire a team, comes 
to the play. The old hall where it is enacted is crowded to the 
porch and beyond into the streets. Custom makes nine-thirty 
the hour, and indeed few of the homekeepers are at leisure 
before that time. Senora, and many of her daughters, grand- 
daughters and domestics have stood for long hours in the 
kitchen, through the morning and afternoon receiving Indians 
who rent her land, the families of the men employed at the 
mill and on the ranch, giving to all chocolate and tortillas. 
All went forth currying fat bundles and frequently a squirming 
live f owL 

While the glorious vision of Our Lady yet lingers on the 
homely stage, the choristers from the church begin to sing 
the Adeste Fideles, for midnight is close at hand. The entire 
community goes from the play to the church nearby, singing 
the old hymn as they plod along. The streets are cluttered, and 
Amado, who is guiding his mother, complains of the sloth of 
the council. But everyone is happy and good natured, and 
files into the church to the resounding strains of the Gloria. 

▼OL. ex. 23 



354 THE FIRST CHRISTMAS [Dec. 

The aged missioner sings a High Mass and preaches a sermon 
of generous length, first in Spanish and then in English, for 
even this peaceful valley is filling with the people from the 
United States, as Senora calls them. Three o'clock peals from 
the church tower before the last strain of the Christmas hjrnm 
invites the congregation homeward. 

The snow is falling as we come from the midnight Mass» 
spreading a misty veil over the refuse of the streets, over the 
jumbled vehicles, rude and elegant, over the concourse of peo« 
pie, and it seems clear to us all that, even so, has the mantle 
of God's love covered up all the years which have gone before, 
and that the records of our lives are made white and shining. 
The aged and toil-worn padre, fifty years amongst these of the 
simple faith, has climbed the high balustrade against the main 
entrance and greets the crowd as it pours from the church. 

""Happy Christmas, my people, for as many as have re-* 
ceived Him to them He gave power to be made the Sons of God I 
Happy Christmas, my people, sons of God, aye and His daugh- 
ters.'* 



THE FIRST CHRISTBIAS. 

BY CAROLINE GILTINAN. 

Mother of the Baby God 

Born in wondrous way. 
Now His tiny, fumbling hands 

On thy face will stray. 
One searching so thine eyes may touch 

He must not find them wet! 
Mother of the Baby God. 

For this one day — ^forget! 




CAPITALISM AND CHRISTIAN DEMOCRACY. 

BY ANTHONY J. BECK. 

APITALISM is defined by Henry Somerville as 
""the system of society in which the means of 
production, land and capital, are privately owned 
by a relatively small section of the community, 
while the majority of the people depend for 
their livelihood upon working as wage-earners for the owners 
of capital.^ Other social students see the chief characteristic 
of Capitalism in the systematic use of property for profit and 
purposes of income.' Capital dates back into the mists of an- 
tiquity to the home of the man who first undertook to use part 
of his money or property for the production of more wealth. 
But Capitalism was born after the close of the Middle Ages. 
Its principal causes were the so-called Industrial Revolution 
and the liberalistic, individualistic system of political economy 
engendered by the religious revolution of the sixteenth cen- 
tury. 

From the writings (e. g.. Opus Maius) and scientific re- 
searches of Roger Bacon, a Franciscan monk who lived in the 
thirteenth century, it appears that epoch-making inventions 
would have revolutionized commerce and industry long before 
the eighteenth century, had not the religious upheaval of the 
sixteenth century, and resulting wars, disturbed the regular 
progress of industry. Having been put off for more than a cen- 
tury, these technical triumphs coincided with the proclaiming 
of the liberalistic Manchester system of political economy. 
Charles S. Devas writes : ''From about the year 1750 as a start- 
ing point a tremendous change began, and a great part of in- 
dustry was gradually transformed, passing from the traditional 
or empirical stage to the scientific." ' In the textile industry, 
e. g., John Kay and his son, Robert, invented devices which 
doubled the productive powers of the weavers. In 1767 Har- 
greaves came to the aid of the sorely pressed spinners with his 
spinning-jenny, which enabled one man to do the work of 

1 Amerietu toI. xxl., no. 23. 

s Rey. Henry Pesch, SJ., Stimmen der Zeit, yoI. 1xxxy1.» no. X 

9 Political Beonomg, third edition, p. 77. 



356 CAPITALISM AND CHRISTIAN DEMOCRACY [Dec. 

eight Arkwright produced a still more important spimiing 
instrmnent and practically took the industry out of the hands 
of women in homes, placing it in factories. In 1785 Cartwright 
devised the power-loom, which early in the nineteenth century 
struck an equally severe blow at the domestic occupation of 
men and made weaving a machine industry. By 1800 new de- 
vices enabled the bleaching to be done thirty times as quickly 
and the printing with one per cent of the labor formerly re- 
quired. Meanwhile Eli Whitney had invented the cotton gin 
in the United States, and one of the principal materials for the 
textile industry was furnished in abundance. The growing 
need of some powerful driving force for all this machinery 
suggested the use of the steam engine in textile factories, which 
could now quit the mountain valleys and running streams to 
locate near coal fields. 

The middle of the eighteenth century saw a momentous 
change in the iron trade also. The use of coal for smelting was 
first successfully tried by Roebuck's method, while James Watt, 
who took out his first patent in 1769, harnessed steam as a mo- 
tive force. Since then there has been a wonderful triple alli- 
ance of coal, steam and iron. One discovery quickly followed 
another: the rolling mill and puddling furnace of Cort; the 
safety lamp of Humphrey-Davey; the hydro-electric machine 
of Armstrong; the Bessemer process of making steel, the Diesel 
engine, which enables ships to travel many thousands of miles 
without stopping for more oil; the electric furnace, steam tur- 
bine, automobile, typewriter, moving pictures, Marconi's wire- 
less telegraphy, Wright's aeroplane, the cyanide process, Merg- 
enthaler^s linotype, the induction motor, electric welding — ^in 
short, the almost endless list of wonderful inventions in manu- 
facture, agriculture, conununication, and transportation that 
stamp the last one hundred and fifty years as an age of machin- 
ery. The application of steam to locomotion, at sea, by Bell 
and Fulton and, on land, by Stephenson, made the whole world 
one vast market. Morse's telegraph and Bell's telephone made 
possible the almost instantaneous transmission of price lists 
and orders, thereby furnishing the necessary industrial nerves. 
The mediaeval merchants and manufacturers usually had their 
city and vicinity for a market. Their modem colleague deals 
with all the world. These changes rendereci money mobile and 
induced the Catholic Church to permit the taking of interest; 



1919.] CAPITALISM AND CHRISTIAN DEMOCRACY 357 

for now a man could easily invest his savings and, conse- 
quently, would suffer a loss if he loaned it without compensa- 
tion. 

While these material, technical, and financial changes 
were taking place an equally fundamental and far-reaching 
transformation was felt in the science and ethics of political 
economy. Adam Smith (1723-1790) is by many considered the 
••founder of the modem science of political economy.*'* His 
system was liberalistic in the extreme. It was taken in great 
part from the writings of the French Physiocrats, especially 
Quesnay and Turgot^ and prevailed during the time when 
Capitalism developed. 'The individualistic system of free 
competition," writes Father Pesch,® "has also been styled the 
'capitalistic system of free competition,' not that 'Capitalism' 
and 'individualism' are identical concepts, but because, on the 
basis of the individualistic system, the preponderance of Cap- 
ital in the organization and direction of industry and of almost 
the entire cultural life of the nations actually asserted itself 
fully." Smith and his disciple, Ricardo, and a long list of 
••classical" political economists of the Manchester school advo- 
cated economic liberalism. ••Its characteristics," says Devas, 
•*were to be irreligious and unhistorical; ... to believe 
also that unregulated relations were in general the only rational 
relations of society." Cardinal Gasquet, an eminent historian, 
points to the opposition between true Christianity and the earl- 
iest beginnings of the liberalistic system when he says of cer- 
tain ••reformers" of the sixteenth century: ••These 'new men' 
looked not so much to the •good' as to the •goods' of the Church 
and desired more the conuersio rerum than any conuersio mor- 
um. What Janssen long ago showed to be the case in Germany, 
and what Mr. PhiUipson and M. Hanotaux declare to be cer- 
tainly true of France, is hardly less clear in regard to England, 
when the matter is gone into, namely that the Reformation was 
primarily a social and economic revolution, the true meaning 
of which was in the event successfully disguised under the 
cloak of religion with the assistance of a few earnest and 
possibly honest fanatics." ^ Smith in his Wealth of Nations, 
jeers at Christianity, while John Stuart Mill's Principles of 

4 Volume Library, by Prof. Ruof, of Chicago Uniyersity. 

ft Devas, loe, cit, p. 651. 6 Idem,, p. 164. 

T Quoted by Henry Somenrille In Fortnightlg Review, vol. xxi., na 3. 



358 CAPITALISM AND CHRISTIAN DEMOCRACY [Dec. 

Political Economy, sets aside the very elements of Christian 
family life. *The classical'* or orthodox political economy, by 
being nominally separated from ethics, and presented as a 
science of tendencies only, and as hypothetical and neutral, 
could in consequence promulgate with comparative impunity 
the most unsocial and immoral doctrines.**' Smith and his 
followers championed unlimited competition. Thus Smith 
taught that unrestrained freedom of the corn trade was the 
only effectual preventive of the miseries of famine. In reality 
free trade in food may aggravate a famine by drawing supplies 
from countries and districts which are poor to those that are 
rich. Devas holds the liberalistic system responsible for the 
starvation of ten million people in India and Ireland.* While 
millions of her people were dying of hunger, India exported 
food worth millions of dollars. 

During the Christian Middle Ages man and his needs were 
the central point around which domestic industry and small- 
scale commerce revolved. Goods were produced and sold that 
the consumer might be well and abundantly supplied with 
necessaries of life, while the producer and merchant had a 
handsome living. Unrestrained striving for gain was during 
this entire period unbecoming and un-Christian, as the Thom- 
istic philosophy on political economy still ruled the minds of 
men — at least officially. While the feudal period witnessed 
unfair privileges, tryannical use of power, exploitation by 
heartless lords, and pressure exerted by guildsmen on consum- 
ers and apprentices, the age of ^^industrial liberty** brought 
starvation wages and cruel crushing of competitors. 

Unlimited competition soon resulted in the arbitrary con- 
trol of social tools by the few; in greater fluctuations in supply 
and demand; in the promotion of the gambling spirit; and in 
disastrous crises and panics. Large-scale production dominated 
by the desire for profit tends to foster misdirected manufactur- 
ing and artificially stimulated consumption. How could it be 
otherwise when a large part of the available capital is invested, 
not primarily with the thought of benefiting society and inci- 
dentally earning a good return, but with a view to the highest 
possible dividends? The immediate aim of Capitalism, says 
Father Pesch, "is the enrichment of the owner of the means of 
production and the utmost enjoyment of life on the part of the 

8 Deyas, idem,, p. 653. • Loe, dt, p. 145. 



1919.] CAPITAUSM AND CHRISTIAN DEMOCRACY 359 

capitalist families." ^® The system serves the public welfare 
only indirectly. 

Consequently the modern world did not benefit as much 
as it might have from its marvelous superiority over the medi- 
aeval and ancient world in social tools. Devas assigns two prin- 
cipal reasons for this phenomenon: (a) Many of the greatest 
inventions serve our welfare much less than appears at first 
glance; (b) heavy losses and injuries, due to the Industrial 
Revolution and other causes, have had to be compensated for 
by improved methods. For instance, millions of square miles 
of land have been turned into a desert.^^ We have witnessed 
the wholesale destruction of timber in Minnesota, Maine, 
Michigan, and Wisconsin. Exhaustive farming has resulted in 
many millions of acres of deserted farmland.^' Some years 
ago Secretary of Agriculture Wilson denounced the ^'mining"' 
style of farming at a congress of agriculturists. The pollution 
of the Great Lakes necessitated the appointment of an interna- 
tional commission to deal with the evil. According to Sir 
William Crookes careless disposal of garbage and sewage re- 
sults in an annual loss of $75,000,000 in England alone. Think 
of the waste on this score in our country! Then again the 
world's supply of many useful plants and animals has been 
squandered in great part. The seal, walrus, sea-otter, beaver, 
bison, and various kind of birds have been grieviously dimin- 
ished. Europeans introduced rabbits in Australia, thereby 
ruining thousands of acres of pasture land. There is also a 
vast production of goods known as ''cheap and nasty" which 
are really not cheap, if by cheapness we mean that the cost is 
low in comparison with the utility." 

As for modern inventions many wonderful improvements 
in the methods of production affect things not used by the 
great body of the people. Many are employed in turning out 
costly luxuries. Some of the most conspicuous technical tri- 
umphs have been achieved in the means of transportation and 
communication — ^steamships, railways, telegraphs, aeroplanes, 
etc — all admirable inventions whose chief effect is to enable 
men to live close together rather than to be better housed and 
nourished. "It is one of the ironies of history," admits Henry 
Somerville, "that after an era of unparalleled progress in ma- 

10 Loe. eiL, p. 166. ii Devas, loe. eit, p. 91. 

12 America^ yoI. x., no. 22. is Intermountain Catholic, May 1, 1913. 



360 CAPITALISM AND CHRISTIAN DEMOCRACY [Dec. 

terial civilization the main problem before the modern world 
should be the problem of poverty." ** "We are confronted," 
writes Devas, *Svith the very serious question, why after such 
a brilliant advance we are not better off, why so many are 
hard-worked, ill-clad and ill-housed, so many tens of thou- 
sands of people even in Great Britain are bowed down with 
abject poverty, and if we reckon our subject countries, so many 
tens of millions." ^^ Perhaps the most crushing indictment of 
the capitalistic system from a conservative authority are these 
words of the illustrious Pope Leo XIIL: "A small number of 
very rich men have been able to lay upon the masses of the 
poor a yoke little better than slavery itself." *• 

Nevertheless, the fact that the world did not reap as much 
gain as it might have under a well-regiilated Christian system 
from the Industrial Revolution and the discovery of new con- 
tinents and vast mineral resources, does not remove the actual 
progress made under Capitalism. Dr. John A. Ryan is of opin- 
ion that "economic conditions are better for the masses than 
they have been at any previous time." " This implies a great 
deal in view of the enormous increase in the world's popula- 
tion during the last two centuries. Capitalized wealth has, in 
the words of Archbishop Keane, created "a haven of peace and 
a home of plenty for the starving multitudes of Europe." " It 
opened the treasure house of America's vast natural resources 
many decades before a rigidly regulated feudalistic system 
would have unlocked them. If, in spite of our great natural 
wealth, we have in a comparatively short period of national 
existence acquired a teeming proletariat, this is due, not only 
to industrial oppression but also to the fact that for many dec- 
ades the United States has been the land of promise for mil- 
lions of poverty-stricken Europeans. Maurice Hillquit, the 
Socialist leader, admitted in his controversy with Dr. Ryan 
that "on the whole, life is more propitious today even to the 
masses than it was at any time in the past." " •Those who 
gave full rein to the system of free competition," observes 
Father Pesch, "can point with pride to its undeniably great 
achievements, at least in so far as no former epoch brought 

14 FoTtnightlg Review, vol. xxi., no. 3. is Idem,, p. 81. 

16 Encyclical on The Condition of Labor, 

IT Eperybody*» Magazine, November, 1913. 

18 Speech on Washington's birthday in Louisville some years ago. 

10 Series In Everybody's Magazine, 



1919.] CAPITALISM AND CHRISTIAN DEMOCRACY 361 

about in a few decades such progress in the economic produc- 
tion and distribution of goods/' *® The eminent German Jesuit 
authority on political economy f lu'ther admits that "the great 
historic vocation of capitalistic production, namely to create in 
the form of private property gigantic enterprises of the utmost 
influence, social institutions of production and distribution, 
would not have been fulfilled within the limits of the average 
citizen's wealth.*' Capitalism utilized and stimulated scien- 
tific achievements, thereby effecting a vast saving of time and 
labor. It gave the world an unprecedented and at times most 
beneficial race of men — captains of industry, merchant princes, 
money barons, great engineers, and daring empire-builders. 
**Westinghouse and Edison," observed the New York Evening 
Post on the death of the former, "illustrate to best advantage 
that organization of society which gives free scope to individual 
talent and places no limit upon the legitimate rewards it may 
reap." Prof. Thorstein Veblen takes the position that the pres- 
ent system compensates for its waste by *inaking men work 
hard and unremittingly." *^ Father Pesch notes that Schaeffle, 
one of the leading economists of modem times, considers the 
capitalistic system the relatively most perfect among the in- 
dustrial systems developed in the world's history. "A return 
to the old order," says Schaeffle, "is not desirable; it would do 
away with the advantage of capitalistic production on a na- 
tional scale, without resulting in a more equal distribution of 
wealth." ** It would evidently be impractical and absurd to 
divide our complex and costly social tools among the owners 
and workers, and production would no longer be adequate. 

However, Schaeffle believes that "capitalistic society is 
rapidly undermining its foundations . . . through an ir- 
remedial system of unrestrained industrial competition which 
tolerates no stable possession and results in excessive political 
centralization." This in turn gives birth to a movement toward 
democracy in industry such as is now making itself felt in the 
United States, Great Britain and other countries. In Britain 
the Labor Party is developing great strength at the expense of 
the old liberal parties, and in our country strong labor and 
farmer movements are getting under way and may easily con- 
verge into a new party. "Not since the development' of the 

SI Bverjfbodg'B Maoaxtne, November, 1913. so Idem., p. 165. 

ss Ban imcf Leben des ioxUiUn Koerper$, i 



362 CAPITALISM AND CHRISTIAN DEMOCRACY [Dec. 

present capitalist system after the Great Industrial Revolution," 
says a leading Catholic weekly, ^as the civilized world faced 
such a radical change as is taking place today.** The Pilot 
official organ of His Eminence, Cardinal O'Connell, predicts 
that the ''day of the wage earner strictly as such is drawing to 
a close.** ** A strong tendency has set in toward nationaliza- 
tion of certain industries, especially public utilities; toward co- 
operative societies of producers and consumers; and toward 
co-partnership, or at least joint management, by capital and 
labor. Unfortunately, the workers in some trades show an 
inclination to abuse their ascendancy by aping the autocratic 
methods employed by unscrupulous capitalists. Were this 
tendency to spread, it might give Capitalism a new lease on life 
by estranging those among the middle classes sympathizing with 
Labor. Even if Labor steers safely past the rocks of absolutist 
control and vengeful methods, our system is likely to retain 
capitalistic characteristics for many a year, as the co-partner- 
ship plan will probably not come into general vogue in the 
near future. Similarly, profit may be curtailed, but it is likely 
to remain a dominant factor in industry and commerce until 
the majority of our people, now under the influence of religious 
and economic liberalism, are imbued with the saving principles 
of Christian Democracy. The tide now setting toward de- 
mocracy in industry will result in a disastrous flood unless 
guided by levees built on the Christian social teachings of the 
Church, especially the famous encyclicals of Pope Leo XIII., 
particularly those on the Condition of Labor and on Christian 
Democracy.** In the great PontiflPs encyclicals, sajrs Prof. G. 
Toniolo, former president of the Catholic Union of Italy, *Vc 
possess a unified complex of sociological teachings, brought 
together in a system which rests against the supernatural, 
which measures up to the problems of our age, which absorb- 
ing everything, takes unto itself all that is true in modem 
Science and is proven by experience.** " 

With the introduction of Social Democracy, the worker 
would no longer be able to sell his labor power by a free con- 
tract. The omnipotent State would tell him what to do and at 
what remuneration. The capitalist of the liberal school acts 
on the fallacy that '"any contract not brought about by physi- 

98 September 13th. 

14 In L'eredtta di Leone XIIL ' . , . ^ 



1919.] CAPITAUSM AND CHRISTIAN DEMOCRACY 363 

cal force or downright deception is fair." *^ He also denies his 
employees the right to organize, basing his refusal on the 
specious argument that his recognition of a labor union would 
Infringe the liberty of his unorganized workers. A funda- 
mental of Christian Democracy is the freedom of contract, and 
that freedom "^does not consist in an abstract right but in the 
ability not to contract." ^ The worker must be in a position to 
obtain just terms, and the employer must not be coerced into 
accepting unjust conditions. Christian Democracy replaces 
**the inmioral principle of unlimited free and fair contract," 
which Dr. John A. Ryan blames in great measure for our indus- 
trial and social ills, with a contract which gives labor a living 
wage, the consumer fair prices, and the capitalist a just profit. 
Under modem conditions this freedom of contract is fre- 
quently impossible of realization without the aid of organized 
power; and Pope Leo recognized the worker's right to organize 
and to collective bargaining. 

Even modified Socialism would introduce public owner- 
ship of the means of production and distribution, placing all 
industries and vital national agencies at the mercy of a few 
politicians. In the enormous waste and outrageous mismanage- 
ment which characterized the Bolshevist regime in Hungary 
and the rule of the socialistic soldiers* and workmen's councils 
in Berlin, we have practical object lessons in such centralized 
control. Capitalism tends to place similar power over the 
most important industries into the hands of a few financiers 
and grasping captains of industry, frequently exerting a bane- 
ful influence on officials and government. Christian Democ- 
racy favors nationalization of certain public utilities which 
constitute natural monopolies and give the best service to the 
community under public management and ownership. In 
other industries it meets the exigencies of large-scale produc- 
tion and distribution by introducing cooperation and co-part- 
nership. The Social Reconstruction Programme issued by the 
National Catholic War Council leaves no doubt on this score : 
'The full possibilities of increased production will not be 
realized so long as the majority of the workers remain mere 
wage-earners. The majority must somehow become owners, 
or at least in part, of the instruments of production. They can 

Sf Dr. Ryan In The Catholic ChariHe$ Review, toI. 11.» no. 3. 
M Dr. O'Hani In America, toI. xvU^ no. 14. 



364 CAPITAUSM AND CHRISTIAN DEMOCRACY [Dec. 

be enabled to reach this stage gradually through cooperative 
productive societies and co-partnership arrangements." This 
declaration has been hailed as sensational in even some Chris- 
tian circles inclined to be over-conservative. Still as early as 
1891 Pope Leo XIII. declared that "in no other way" can a 
father provide properly for his children than "by the owner- 
ship of profitable property." *^ 

Christian Democracy spells genuine Christian Solidarism, 
because it aims at uniting all classes of the commonweath in 
a brotherhood of men respecting the fatherhood of God and 
codperating wholeheartedly and consistently for the welfare 
of the individual and of the nation. When the public welfare 
is supreme and promoted in accordance with the precepts of 
the Gospel the people truly rule and enjoy Christian Democ- 
racy, no matter whether their form of government be republi- 
can or monarchical. On the living rock of Christian Democ- 
racy and Christian Solidarism must the structure of national 
greatness be reared, if it is to endure and serve the genuine 
welfare of the people. 

27 The Condition of Labor. 







AN UNCANONIZED SAINT. 

BY MARY FOSTER. 

xvn. 

ARK dined very early, avoiding the hotel in which 
he was staying, for he did not wish to see Tony 
just yet. He ate absent-mindedly, not knowing 
what was put before hini» only urging the waiter 
to make haste. He paid his bill before the last 
course was served and hurriedly left the restaurant. But once 
outside, he slackened his steps and walked slowly to the Fonte- 
branda, thinking of the interview which lay before him, think- 
ing of all he had heard that day. The children ran after him, 
begging for stamps, but he did not observe them, so rapt was 
he in his own reflections. 

When he arrived at the trysting-place, he found he had it 
to himself. She had not yet come, and presently he began to 
wonder anxiously if he ought to have asked her to walk so 
far. But even as he was scanning the road upon which long 
level rays of the sun played, he described her figure in the dis- 
tance. She walked slowly, painfully, it seemed, but when she 
saw him she made an effort to quicken her steps. He sprang 
forward to meet her, making her put her thin little arm 
through his, and together they left the high road and wan- 
dered to the little stream and sank down beside it under the 
cypresses. 

"I must not let you stay here long," Mark said tenderly, 
as she crept close to him. *The night ait might be bad for you. 
See, Caterina, I have been thinking about everything since this 
morning, and I want you to listen to what I have to say. May 
not God have accepted your offer as He accepted Abraham's? 
May we not, then, pray for your recovery?" 

**I think not," she replied quietly. "Would you beg to be 
released from a promise? Would you ask for a present you 
had given to be returned to you? Abraham didn't. No, dear, 
dear Mark, God must have His way whatever it is. I don't 
think we should ask back what we have given Him." 



«1 



366 AN UNCANONIZED SAINT [Dec. 

'"Caterina, I think you are a saint!'* Mark exclaimed 
fondly. *lt shall be as you wish. But listen, my darling, I 
want you to marry me all the same. Won't you be my dear 
wife, even though it may be for only a short time?" 

The young girl turned a radiant face to his. 

'You would really marry me?" she whispered. 

'My precious one," he said with a new humility in his tones, 
''you would be doing me the greatest honor if you would ac- 
cept me. There is something between us which I cannot talk 
about, and I cannot describe what you are to me and how I 
revere you for all you have done." 

Caterina hid her face on his shoulder. 

"Never speak of it," she said shyly, **for it was not I who 
did it, but something which compelled me to do so. And I 
didn't like domg it." 

''Dear noble little girl!" he cried softly, and his voice 
broke. 

'This is what I think," he said after a few moments, in 
practical tones. "Let us be married very soon and let me take 
you away from here where you have suffered so much at my 
hands. We should go anywhere you wish, but I would like to 
take you to England and let one of our great doctors see you, 
so that, if it is God's will, you may be cured." 

"I would love to go with you, Mark. But ah! Italy! 
I am afraid to leave Italy." 

"Afraid, my darling? We would reach England diuring 
the summer, it would be warm then. And I would take you to 
the great sea which you have never beheld, and show you all 
the beauties of the seashore, and — ** 

"But Italy is home to me," she put in quietly. "And when 
God wants me, I should like to be at home. It feels nearer, 
somehow ..." 

"Then we'll stay here," he replied at once, "and I will get 
some clever doctor here to see you. I will do all I can for you 
and you must try your very best to live, my dearest, if God 
wiU let you. But Caterina, do not talk of leaving me. I don't 
think I can bear it. I am not yet resigned. You must pray for 
me that I may have strength and patience, my little saint 
Now," he added changing his voice, "I will make arrangements 
for our speedy marriage. Each day will seem a year until I 
can call you my wife.' 



99 



1919.] AN UNCANONIZED SAINT 367 

•*You have made me very happy, Mark, so very happy,** 
she said softly. **! think I have never been so happy in my life. 
This morning when I got up, the sun seemed brighter than 
usual, the children seemed to smile at me more sweetly, and 
dear old Monna Pica told me I looked better as we sat making 
the salad. I don't know why I felt so lighthearted. Perhaps 
deep in my heart I felt your coming. And I cannot tell you 
how grateful I am to you.** 

"Grateful to me !" he echoed rather bitterly. 

*Tes, grateful, indeed,** she insisted, *Yor you have made 
me a woman. I think also, that I am better than I would have 
been if I had never known you.** 

The sun had dipped behind Siena, and a few pale stars 
already glimmered in the sky. From the valley, sounds of 
evening rose on the still air, and belated birds chirped drows- 
ily as they settled themselves for the night. Mark and Cater- 
ina rose to their feet, and stood for a moment gazing at the 
beauties before them, and the young girl's eyes strayed towards 
the city and fixed themselves upon it with the great home love 
shining in them. Then they walked back quietly. 

Bland was expecting his friend. He had been surprised 
when the dinner hour had arrived without bringing him, but 
he reflected philosophically that a man in love is unaccount- 
able for his actions. So he himself made a hearty meal, con- 
versing with the diners at the next table to his, and, after din- 
ner, with everyone who entered the smoking-room. Then he 
strolled out to the small plot of ground behind the hotel, by 
courtesy called the "garden.** Here he found Mark. 

"Hello!** cried Tony, *T)een here for long?** 

"Not very,** Standish replied, "I strolled home leisurely.** 
He turned his face towards the light, and Tony saw that it was 
grave and sad. 

"How many more changes is my good friend going 
through?'* the younger man asked himself. *1 have never seen 
him wear that expression before.** He sat down expectantly, 
and tactfully f orebore to utter the questions which were burn- 
ing on his lips. 

**Well, Tony,** Mark said presently, •^ou will congratulate 
me, won't you?** 

'Tlather!'* exclaimed Bland, genially, ^ell me all about 
It- 



• -.-»» 



i.i. 



368 AN UNCANONIZED SAINT [Dec. 

Mark told him what was necessary — ^that there was to be 
a wedding but a very quiet one, very soon, for Caterina was 
seriously ill. But he did not say that she was said to be dying, 
nor did he relate her story. Tony would not have understood. 

**I shall write to my aunt,*' Tony announced, when he Jhad 
heard all that was to be told him. *'She will be jolly glad to 
know this.** 

*T>o,** Mark assented. "She has been a very good friend to 
me. I think I will write to her, too,** he added, for it occurred 
to him that he might tell her all. She would understand. 

XVIII. 

Mark was agreeably busy during the next few days, but his 
happiness was tinged with sadness. Caterina had suddenly 
grown much weaker. Her strength seemed to be leaving her, 
and she was obliged to spend most of her time upon an impro- 
vised couch. The neighbors collected round her, weeping; 
and when the news of her approaching marriage went round, 
they wept again, while they smiled at her happy face. 

The children stared wonderingly at the marvelous things 
that disappeared into the humble house. An invalid couch, 
an unknown curiosity to them, with di£Bculty passed through 
the narrow door, and the nameless objects which followed 
made them stare the more. And their round eyes grew 
rounder, and their little mouths tremulous, at the sight of the 
delicious fruits and other dainties that followed in the wake 
of the other wonders. Occasionally, some daring urchins 
climbed the stairs after the laden messengers and gazed 
through the open door at the familiar form lying upon the un* 
familiar couch. Monna Pica told them to run away, but 
Caterina smiled, and beckoned them forward, filled their rosy 
mouths with something they had never before tasted. The 
strange gentleman who was always there, looked kindly at 
them and spoke to them sometimes, until they began to have 
a wondering reverence for him, as the source whence all these 
good things cam*. 

But Cateriaa grew weaker, and was unable to leave fh% 
poor little room which love had so beautified. They waited 
from day to day in the hope that she might gain a Uttle 
(rtrength in order to be able to walk the few paces to the 



1919,] AN UNCANONIZED SAINT 869 

church. For hope dies hard, and each morning as he entered 
her flower-decked room, Mark fancied he saw a change for the 
better in her thin, wan face. 

•Tomorrow/* he would exclaim, joyfully. 'Tomorrow you 
will be able to go downstairs." 

But "tomorrow" came, and it was still to be "tomorrow." 

In the meantime Mrs. Langford had replied to the letter 
Mark had sent her — ^replied in her characteristically downright 
way. 

**When you get this," she wrote, *^ou may expect me in 
twelve hours. I am coming out to Siena, in the first place to 
nurse little Caterina, and in the second, to be with her at 
her wedding. I think I can help you both . . ." 

She arrived next morning, and entered the sick room, so 
different from the Mrs. Langford Mark had known in London, 
that he scarcely knew her. A marvelous womanly tenderness 
took the place of abrupt reserve, as she bent over the young 
girl. 

**My dear, Tm glad I came," she told her nephew after- 
wards as he was escorting her to her hotel. "I shall not have to 
teach that young thing our ways, rather should she teach us 
hers, for she is a little saint. But ah ! Tony, there is trouble in 
store for your friend. The poor child won't be here long. 
"And how Mark has changed," she went on. **What a fine fel- 
low he has become! He has been through the furnace, and 
has come out purified. He should be able to make a place for 
himself among the true artists of our times, for he has suffered 
— and ah ! he will suffer still more." 

The celebrated doctor whom Mark had sent from Florence 
came the day after Mrs. Langford's arrival. 

She followed him out of the room when his brief examina- 
tion was over. 

"What is it?" she asked, going straight to the point. 

"It is a consumption," he replied. "What you might call 
a decline, and the heart is very weak. But it is strange, for 
she has a splendid constitution and peasant robustness." 

"Then you think she will come through?" Mrs. Langford 
exclaimed eagerly. But he shook his head. 

Impossible," he said. ''She cannot livi long, in fact she 
may go any day. Nothimg can sav« her.'* 

"She 15 gtiJig t0 be married," Mrs. Langfwd said presently, 

VOL. tSb S4 



370 AN UNCANONIZED SAINT [Dec. 

and her tones were almost harsh. 'There is no time to be 
lost?" 

"If he still wants to marry her,** the doctor replied. He 
was used to many sorrowful sights, his profession had hard- 
ened him to view grief with equanimity, but he went out of that 
lowly dwelling with a bent head. 

Mrs. Langford reentered the sick room. Mark had re- 
turned to his seat near Caterina and the young girl looked up 
at her entrance, and taking one of the old lady's hands, 
kissed it. 

'Tell us together, signora," she begged. And Mrs. Lang- 
ford told them. 

'1 will go to the padre this evening," Mark said rising and 
bending over Caterina. ''And I shall ask him to marry us to- 



morrow." 



When the priest toiled up the narrow little stairs that even- 
ing and entered the flower decked room, he found Caterina 
alone waiting for him. 

Next morning early, her greatest Friend Whom she had so 
often visited in His humble dwelling near her home, came to 
her in the little room which loving hands had made into a 
bower of flowers for His reception, and a very simple cere- 
mony took place shortly after, when Mark and Caterina were 
made husband and wife. Besides Mrs. Langford and old 
Monna Pica, Bland was the only other wedding guest, and he 
was much moved at the quiet touching scene. 

When all was over, and congratulations had been given, 
he slipped away, feeling his presence almost a sacrilege in a 
place where Catholics knelt in prayer. 

"Mark," Caterina said softly when the day was drawing to 
a close. "Will you paint me a picture? I should so like to see 
one of your works before I — ^I leave you. Paint the dear Ma- 
donna and her little Child." 

Mark shrank back. Painting was more than ever distaste- 
ful to him; he had locked up his oils in his portmanteau, and 
the very idea of again trying to depict what he had signally 
failed in was painful to him. 

"I can't," he replied brokenly. "See, how I have failed. 
It seems I cannot paint any more." 

Caterina drew his hand from his brow. 
- ^I think you can, now," she said gently. "You must have 



1919.] AN UNCANONIZED SAINT 371 

your art when I am gone, and I think God will make you a very 
great painter some day. Try — try for me. Bring your paints 
here, and let me see you at work once more." 

XDL 

Perhaps Caterina did not realize what Mark suffered when 
once again he set up his easel and painted while she watched 
him at his task. He could not but compare the present with 
the past when she had posed for him in his studio two years 
ago, full of life and strength. He called to mind how they had 
talked together, how he had been first attracted by her sweet 
face, until he had grown to know her more intimately and to 
love her. 

Mark suffered silently. He did not tell her that all delight 
in his art seemed to have vanished. Yet she was aware that he 
worked with pain and difficulty, and she knew that it must be 
through pain and sorrow that he would find his gift once more. 
Thus the days slipped by, unmarked by any change save that 
Caterina gradually grew weaker. 

At last the painting was finished. Mark brought it to his 
wife's bedside with a new humility of manner. What could 
she, a poor girl know about art? Yet he waited anxiously for 
her decision, feeling that her judgment would decide if he 
were ever to paint again. No more would his old efforts satisfy 
him. There was something else to be sought in art, something 
higher that he wanted to reach. And if that was to be with- 
held from his grasp, he felt that he would gladly sell his paints 
and easel, and dismantle his studio. 

The canvas was small, and Mark held it before her gaze 
in silence. As she looked the tears rushed to her eyes, and she 
clasped her thin hands. 

"Oh, Markl'^ she whispered, half fearfully. •^Oh, Mark! 
how very beautiful it is I The dear Mother of God and her 
little Son! But ah! what a sad face the sweet Madonna has. 
Though she is the Mother of God, is she not thinking of all that 
is to happen to her Baby in the dim, lonely future !" 

'"You like it, Caterina?" Mark asked huskily. 

"Like it I" she echoed, softly. "Oh, Mark ! you have much 
to live for." 

One night, as Mark was keeping an uneasy watch, Caterina 



372 AN UNCANONIZED SAINT [Dec. 

stirred in her restless sleep and opened her eyes. Through the 
window, faint streaks could be seen in the sky heralding the 
approaching dawn, and a bird or two chirped lazily without. 

'l^et us watch the dawn together,'' Caterina said quietly, 
and together, they watched the pale primrose tint giving place 
to deeper coloring, and the few grey clouds roll off in the dis- 
tance. The blue vault overhead, shook off its dark night 
mantle, and smiled at the coming day. The sun rose gloriously, 
throwing out his golden darts like great stretching arms over 
the sleeping city, until he sent a shaft right through the little 
window, lighting up the sick room with a sudden brilliance. 

In the tender light of a new day Caterina lay quietly. Oc- 
casionally her lips moved as her eyes turned to the picture, and 
as they rested upon it a light glowed in their dullness. 

^'Mark, it is very near," she said, gently; but he did not an- 
swer. 

The church bells rang out, echoing the cathedral's deep- 
voiced call, and Caterina smiled faintly as the bells close to her 
window joined in. They were dear, old friends and she had 
often rung them herself, in the days of her strong happy youth. 

*'Mark," she said when they had ceased, '"God has been 
very good." 

"Very good," he repUed, sof Uy. "I thank Him for all His 



mercies." 



''And for taking me to Himself." 

''And for taking you to Himself, for by that means He has 
shown me His truth. But oh, my wife, my little saint, how shall 
I live without you ?" 

"It is His will," she said gently, and she laid one weak little 
hand upon his bent head, and with the other raised his face 
to hers. She gazed very earnestly at him, and then, pressing 
her lips upon his forehead, parted from him. 

"Now to God," she murmured. She lay back. And Mark 
knew that God had accepted her offering. 

[the end.] 



FRENCH-CANADIAN POETS AND POETRY. 



BY THOMAS O'HAGAN. 




iN the land through which flows the St. Lawrence, 
m which is enshrined the memory of a Fronte- 
nac, a Champlain and a Bishop Laval, there has 
taken root and blossomed a distinctive Cana- 
dian literature which during the interval of 
years since the Bourbon lilies were snatched from the brow of 
New France, has developed in beauty and strength with a 
flavor and form all its own. This literature is, indeed, of the 
household of France speaking to the soul with the accent and 
grace of the motherland, but enriched by the breath and spirit 
of an heroic people whose gift of toil has turned forests into 
smiling gardens and filled temples with the splendor of strong 
and heroic faith. 

French-Canadian literature and especially its poetry is a 
mirror of the people. It is replete with joy and beauty and the 
fine optimism of consecrated hearts. The French-Canadian 
poet since the days of Michael Bibaud has woven into his verse 
the finest of idealism. His muse, too, is aflame with patriot- 
ism. He owes no double allegiance. For him is the St. Law- 
rence with all its historic memories and not the Thames. His 
heart follows the voyageur and the coureur de hois. 

The question arises here: When did French-Canadian 
poetry with its individual note and form begin? From the fall 
of Quebec in 1760 to the year 1850 — that is, for nearly a hun- 
dred years — the genius of French-Canada was groping towards 
the light in dimness and with unsteady step. 

Imagine, if you wiU, seventy thousand people subjected 
to conquerors who tried to stifle every passionate yearning of 
the French-Canadian heart, whose policy and plan it was to 
blot out from the memory of the conquered their glorious past, 
and build a new horizon around every French-Canadian home 
that would limit alike its vision and its thinking. These hun- 
dred years were for the French-Canadians truly years of 
struggle, in which they fought for the freedom of faith and in- 



374 FRENCH-CANADIAN POETS AND POETRY [Dec. 

dividual liberty. Seeing the double yoke about to descend 
upon their necks they girded themselves for the battle. 

Then the French-Canadian found his soul, and finding it 
in the lists of victory, turned his mind to the higher things of 
the spirit. French-Canadian poetry really dates from about 
the year 1850. Benjamin Suite, the best authority living today 
on the intellectual development of French-Canada, tells us 
that until 1850 or 1860 we find little individuality in the poetic 
work of the French-Canadian. He lived on the literary tradi- 
tions of the end of the reign of Louis XIV. and the first half of 
that of Louis XV. 

The first poet of note in French-Canada was unquestion- 
ably Octave Cremazie, who was bom in the city of Quebec, 
April, 1830, and pursued his studies in the Seminary of Que- 
bec. Cremazie had a rich and cultivated mind, and the lofty 
and ardent note of Canadianism in his work entitles him to a 
first place among the patriotic poets of Canada. His knowl- 
edge of literature was very extensive, being thoroughly famil- 
iar with the great poets of England, Germany, Spain and Italy. 
He is said to have quoted with equal facility Sophocles, the 
great Sanscrit Epic, Ramayana, the Latin Satirist, Juvenal and 
Uie Arab and Scandinavian poets. 

Strength, fire and energy mark Cremazie's lines. His 
love for his native land was a very passion, and when a finan- 
cial catastrophe removed him from its shores, he yearned and 
mourned for his beloved Canada, homesick and sad unto 
death. From 1852 to 1862 — and these are the years that verily 
mark the beginning of French-Canadian poetry — Cremazie 
wrote and published Le Drapeau de Carillon, Le Canada^ Un 
Soldat de V Empire, Aux Canadians-Frangais and Le Vieux 
Soldat Canadien. From 1862 to 1878 he spent in Paris in en- 
forced exile, and his diary, written during the siege of Paris 
by the Germans, is full of interest and the wise judgments and 
observations of a poet and scholar. The ^'Morning Star** of 
French-Canadian poetry lies buried in the cemetery of Havre 
in the land of his ancestors, but far from the shores he loved 
to chant in song. 

We translate, as illustrating his work, the last stanza of 
his patriotic poem Le Canada, not that it presents Cremazie at 
his best, but because it strikes the dominant note in his work — 
patriotism : 



1919. FRENCH-^CANADIAN POETS AND POETRY 375 

Oh, happy he who seeks no skies 

Where strangers toil and weep, 
But finds felicity and joy 

Where his forefathers sleep. 

There are several French-Canadian writers whose work 
both in prose and verse is full of distinction, but who are not 
known as poets. The late Abb6 Casgrain has written several 
poems of merit and has made an admirable translation into 
French verse of Byron's Prisoner of Chillon, but it is rather as 
a prose writer — ^historian, critic and chronicler — that Abbe 
Casgrain will be known. He has been termed the foster-father 
of French-Canadian literature, and sixty years ago gathered 
around him in the very shadow of the Quebec Cathedral a 
number of ardent literary souls such as Dr. La Rue, Joseph 
Charles Tach^ Antoine Gerin-Lajoie and the aged Philip Au- 
bert de Gasp& Again Sir Adolpe Routhier, one of the sanest 
and most cultured critics in Canada, the author of our Cana- 
dian national song, **0 Canada," has done some good work in 
verse, but his place among French-Canadian writers must 
assuredly be that of the essayist, accomplished critic and nov- 
elist 

Napoleon Legendre who was born in Nicolet in 1841 is 
also both prose writer and poet. This gifted French-Canadian 
who received the honorary degree of Doctor of Letters from 
Laval University in 1890, reveals much delicacy and sensi- 
bility in his poetic work. In translating ^'Evening" from his 
volume Les Perce-Neige published in 1886, we have endeav- 
orded to preserve the poetic mold of the original. 

The breeze touches lightly the foliage 

The air is pure as a tear ; 
The sea beats noiselessly its pebbly shore 

With its blue wave so clear. 

The rays of the sun that lit up the hills 

Are now waning their fire; 
And the purple tint of each fading beam 

Creeps higher and higher. 

The brook hard by whispers its secret 

As it murmurs along; 
While the nightingale hid in its green-clad nest 

Trills a passionate song. * ^ 



376 FRENCH-CANADIAN POETS AND POETRY [Dec. 

Sing, winged poet, O sing ! Thy voice 

Is an echo on high 
To proclaim the God we adore 

In rapt notes of the sky. 

There are several minor poets whose work deserves our 
notice. A little volume, quite unpretentious, bearing the title 
Au Foyer de Mon Presbytire, from the pen of M. L'Abbe Apol- 
linaire Gingras, contains some charming little lyrics full of 
simplicity and feeling. The Auant Propos, or Introduction, to 
the modest volume is so full of quaint humor and clever al- 
lusions as to justify a quotation from the tender memory- 
laden lines of "A Fireside Memory*' found within its covers: 

Amid the pleasures of the town 
My soul is void of mirth, 
For I dream of the quiet happiness 
In the village of my birth: 
And tears oft stir my heart 
As memory beats its wing; 
And I see again a cottage bright 
And hear the young birds sing. 

Perhaps no French-Canadian poet was as much the poet 
as the late Pamphile LeMay. He not only was dowered with ex- 
ceptional poetic gifts but he looked the poet as well. Bom 
at Lotbini&re, Quebec, the memorable year of 1837, his first 
studies were pursued at the Christian Brothers' School. After 
spending a brief period in the United States, young LeMay 
returned and was for some time at the Seminary in Ottawa. 
Later he took up the study of law, and when the Hon. Mr. 
Chauveau became Prime Minister of Quebec, he received the 
appointment of Provincial Librarian, which position he held 
till within a few years of his death. 

LeMay had a very high artistic sense and a great spiritual 
endowment as a poet. His poetry is marked by a fine wedding 
of thought and diction and his sonnets have a rare finish. They 
are decidedly the best that have come from a French-Canadian 
pen. Laval University, which does not lightly set its approval 
upon literary work, bestowed upon LeMay two gold medals — 
one for his &ie poem The DUcouery of Canada written in 1867» 
and the other for his National Hymn written in 1860. In 1870 



1919.] FRENCH'CANADIAN POETS AND POETRY 377 

he translated into French alexandrmes Longfellow's beauti- 
ful idyll, Evangeline. So well did he accomplish his task that 
Longfellow wrote him that his translation had added to the 
worth of the poem. 

LeMay is the author of a long list of works in both prose 
and poetry, among the latter two volumes bearing the titles 
Les Vengeances and Une Gerbe. In the last named may be 
found a poem 'To the Expatriated" from which we translate 
the two following stanzas : 



/ 



Return all whom your native land 
Has mourned alas! with many a tear; 
On shores bereft of warmth and love 
You drag out lives from year to year: 
Far from the skies of your natal shore 
You seek in vain content. 
Return before your steps are stayed 
And the fires of life are spent. 
Return! the sun is shining bright 
O'er our broad meadows 

All in blossom. 
Reposing 'neath its golden light. 
Return! the peaceful swallow, 
When Spring its season doth renew, 
Takes ever towards its faithful nest 

Its flight. 



Happy those who never leave 
For other shores their native vale. 
Like leaves that clothe the summer wold 
Yet fade on bough despite each gale. 
Return that your dust may mingle 
With the ashes of our dead. 
To rest in the shade of holy ground 
With the humble cross above each head. 
Return! the sun is shining bright 
O'er our broad meadows. 

All in blossom. 
Reposing 'neath its golden light. 
Return! the peaceful swallow. 
When Spring its season doth renew. 
Takes ever towards its faithful nest 

Its flight. 



378 FRENCH'CANADIAN POETS AND POETRY [Dec. 

It is worth noting that four French-Canadian poets, Le- 
May, Legendre, Frechette and Suite were bom within a few 
years of each other — that is, about the year 1840. It is a com- 
mon thing for genius to reveal itself in cluster. Note, for 
instance, the great men who were born in both Europe and 
America about the year 1809. The greatest group of English- 
speaking Canadian poets were bom almost the same year — 
1860 — namely: Roberts, Carman, Campbell and Lampman. 

When Louis Frechette's volume Les Fleurs boriales was 
crowned by the French Academy in 1880, it was recognized 
that a French-Canadian poet of more than ordinary promise 
was added to the choir of Canadian singers. Frechette who 
was born in Levis, Quebec, and obtained his early education at 
Nicolet College, studied law with Pamphile LeMay in the office 
of Lemieux and RemiUard, Quebec. After a few years spent 
in journalism in Chicago, Frechette returned to Canada and 
abandoning Justinian and Blackstone gave himself up entirely 
to letters. His most ambitious poetic work is his '*La Legende 
d'un Peuple," a kind of oratorical epic. This poem its author 
dedicated to France. Jules Claretic of the French Academy 
wrote its Foreword. 

Dr. Louis Honore Frechette has been called the Lamartine 
of Canada. We find in his work something of both Lamartine 
and Hugo. The poetry of memory filled his soul. Writing once 
to his friend Alphonse Lusignan, he said: ^'Memory is all — ^it 
is the soul of life.'' Frechette resembles Hugo at times too in 
mistaking fine rhetoric for true poetry. On the occa- 
sion of Queen Victoria's Jubilee in 1897, he was made a Com- 
panion of the order of St. Michael and St. George. Several of 
the Canadian universities honored him with degrees, and to- 
gether with Suite, Casgrain and LeMay he was elected one of 
the first Fellows of the Royal Society of Canada. 

"My Little Friends," taken from his volume bearing the 
title Pile-Mile, published in 1877, is representative of the 
poetic work of Frechette: 

Fair children dowered with silvery voice. 
Fresh as flowers of rarest choice. 
Cherubs in your joy so gay; 
In your pretty dresses bright 
Like to angels clad in light — 
Rubens' dream in pencill'd ray. 



1919.] FRENCH-CANADIAN POETS AND POETRY 379 

I love to see you on the green 
By your mothers guarded — seen; 
Playing like bright butterflies 
Dancing on their silken wings. 
Heedless what the future brings. 
Or the great world with its sighs. 



Run and leap, O joyous throng. 
Ceaseless with your games and song — 
O'er the greensward skipping go; 
But when your joy doth sparkle bright. 
You'll ne'er forget, one deems you right 
Little angels here below. 

Oh, keep your trust forever strong. 
Your childlike innocence of wrong; 
These twain to you are given. 
In danger's shadow find no rest; 
And, if your mother's heart is blest. 
You'll find your place in heaven. 

William Chapman who, as his name indicates, is of Eng- 
lish origin on his father's side, was bom at St. Francois de 
Beauce, Quebec, in 1850. His first volume of poems Les Que- 
becquoises appeared in 1876. This was followed by Les 
Feuilles cT Erables in 1890. In 1904 appeared Les Aspiratidns 
and in 1910 Les Rayons du Nord. The two latter gained for 
their author the highest prize of the French Academy. 

The beautiful poem •The Poplars," full of rhythmic swing 
and sentiment taken from Les Feuilles d'Erables is ample tes- 
timony to the fine poetic gifts of Chapman: 

Hail! tall poplars bending o'er my pathway 
With your richly-laden foliage and your perfume sweet 
and strong; 

You sway above my head like an undulating arbor 
With your nesting choir of song. 

I love to look upon you in that season of delight. 
When to all the sun brings life and youthful bliss ; 

And zephyr-laden May, happy woer for a day. 
Thrills the soul with warm ecstatic kiss. 



880 FRENCH'CANADIAN POETS AND POETRY [Dec 

For in the lisp of the leaves that tremble, 
And the song from the nest swaying low, 

I seem in raptur^to hear sweet voices 
Telling the story of long ago. 

One evening in June, when the breeze grew jealous. 
And had loosen'd her ringlets of jet black hair. 

We stroird together o'er the fresh green meadow 
*Neath the gathering shade of your trustful care. 

From your summits there rose sweet songs and murmurs; 

A bird was chiding the echoes that start ; 
We came and sat there under your branches 

With a gift of love and spring in our heart. 

***** 

Yes, dear old poplars, 'neath your friendly branches, 
When Spring comes smiling I love to rest; 

For I seem to find here the spirit departed 
Of that happy eve with its joys so blest! 

Of that brilliant coterie of French-Canadian writers, bom 
as we have said about 1840, the sole survivor today is Benja- 
min Suite, poet, historian, chronicler and critic. Suite is won- 
derfully versatile. He has a most tenacious memory for his- 
torical facts, and is without a question the best authority we 
have in Canada on the history of the French-Canadian people. 
As a poet his lyrics are marked by great simplicity and 
naturalness, and a felicity of diction which gives a personal 
touch or charm to whatever he writes. 

Suite was bom at Three Rivers in 1841, and gave to the 
public his first volume of poems Les Laurentiennes in 1870. 
In 1880 was published his volume Les Chants Nouveaux. His 
monimiental work UHistorie des Canadiens-Frangais, a work 
in eight volumes, occupied him from 1882 to 1885. In 1897 Mr. 
Suite read a very scholarly paper before the British Associa- 
tion, which met that year in Toronto, on The Origin of the 
French-Canadians. 

In his volume of poems Les Laurentiennes, Mr. Suite pays 
a beautiful tribute to the memory of his countryman, Francis 
Xavier Gameau, perhaps the greatest of our Canadian histor- 
ians. We will quote it here in full, using the translation by 
Miss Mary Mclvor: 



1919.] FRENCH'CANADIAN POETS AND POETRY 381 

A tomb of monumental granite raise 

O Canada proud of thy liberty 

To him the chronicler of vanished days. 

That unborn eyes may the record see. 

Muse of our land! open again with tears 

The book of gold where shines each hero's name; 

To thee the offering of his hopeful years 

Was made and what hast thou to give but fame? 

■ 

A weary while he strove with courage mild 
To bend his soul to strangers who despised; 
Yet held he sacred rights altho' exiled. 
Till Death less cruel but more just than they, 
Marked his high place 'mid the immortal throng 
And honors worthless thro* a long delay. 
Now to his mourning countrymen belong. 

A monument above that silent mound 
To show a people where his ashes lie ; 
To poet and to artist holy ground. 
When musing on the days long since gone by; 
And now for that his words revealed so well 
Those early sires unknown to many a son, — 
Who for the love of our old banners fell 
Glory and he are wedded — ^both are one! 

The old literary guard that brought lustre to French- 
Canadian letters during the past half century have well nigh 
passed away. Benjamin Suite still remains but not **superflu- 
ous on the stage of time,'* for though approaching four score 
years his pen is still active. 

What the future has in store for French->Canadian litera- 
ture we know not. The singers of the dawn, the builders of 
light and hope have indeed wrought and planned well. May 
their successors prove worthy of their mantles and their lyre! 



THE ROAD TO CONNAUGHT. 

BY DANIEL A. LORD, S.J, 

I HE scene is the living room of a small house in the 
Protestant plantation of Leinster. The room is un- 
plastered, with plain but massive boards, forming 
the walls, which are broken by two huge, rough 
doors on leathern hinges, and b; a single glazed- 
window. No ornaments interfere with the grim 
plainness of the room, save a heavy musket which crosses a large 
cavalry sabre just above the wide open hearth and a royalist bugle, 
evidently a trophy, that hangs on the opposite wall. On a stand 
near the centre of the room but toward the back wall is a massive 
open Bible. The single table and the plain solid chairs are sub- 
stantial without sign of comfort; yet there is about the room a per- 
meating atmosphere of feminine care and thought. The chairs 
are not set at rigid angles, but are placed invitingly, some near 
the table, others close to the hearth; the table and the single has- 
sock are covered with carefully knit cloths of intricate design, and 
a plain white curtain is draped at the little window. 

Evidently the home-like atmosphere is due to the woman who 
is stirring a small pot that hangs in the open fireplace. She is 
young, not more than twenty-five, with dark hair and wide blue 
eyes, typically Irish in cast, slim of waist and deep of chest. Her 
face at present is reddened slightly by the heat of the crackling 
fire; normally she is rather pale, and there are marks of pensive- 
ness and perhaps suppressed vitality in the single, thin line that 
occasionally marks her .white brow and in the tight set to her 
rather full lips. She is clad in a plain gray frock, relieved by a 
band of white at neck and wrists. A white starched cap rests 
lightly upon her hair. 

It is the winter of 1659. A bitter wind is lashing the country- 
side and sending the sparks in occasional showers over the hearth 
stones. A particularly shrill blast causes the woman to look ap- 
prehensively toward the window and into the gathering dusk of 
an early winter evening. . ''' 

Presently, satisfied with the contents of her pot, she removes 
it deftly to the hearthstone and goes to the cupboard whence she 
carries two metal platters and two deep mugs. These she places 
near the fire to warm. As she stoops, a man's figure appears for 
an instant at the window. He glances in almost furtively, his eyes 
moving rapidly above his heavy fur collar. From his angle he can 



1919.] THE ROAD TO CONNAUGHT 383 

catch only a glimpse of the woman near the fire before he passes 
on. 

A loud knock at the door brings the woman swiftly about, a 
half smile of expectancy on her lips. But the knock is not re- 
peated, and her smile fades as she realizes that it is not the signal 
she had expected. Slowly she moves toward the door, trembling 
slightly from cold as she passes the window. 



The Woman. — ^Who knocks? 

A Man's Voice. — ^A shepherd strayed from his path in his 
search for a lost lamb. 

The Woman (after an instant's pause). — ^Whose shepherd 
are you? 

The Man's Voice. — ^The Lord of the Manor. 

The Woman (with a reassuring glance at the musket). — I 
have a musket at hand, unless you come in peace. 

The Man's Voice (a touch of humor in his voice). — ^Your 
mercy, mistress, but the sight of your fire has made me as peace- 
ful as a tabby on the hearth. In any case, Fd rather die a swift 
death from your musket than a slow one here from this killing 
cold. , ,^j 

The woman hesitates, then impetuously flings Up the heavy 
bar of the door and opens it sufficiently to allow the stranger to 
enter. A gust of wind accompanies him, sending the sparks 
whistling up the chimney. The woman shuts the door behind him, 
leaning her whole strength upon it, and then rests against it 
watching him with mingled pity and suspicion. 

He is a tall, strongly built man, bundled to the ears in a great- 
coat of sheep's wool. For a moment he sees only the fire and half 
stumbles across the room, his palms outstretched toward its glow. 

The Man. — God's mercy on you, mistress ! The glow of your 
fire is wine to my blood. My hands tremble like the hands of a 
palsied witch. Another mile, and I should have lost my precious 
nose. , ,.i^ 

As he speaks, he is unwrapping the heavy cloth that holds his 
collar up about his face. This he now drops behind him on the 
hearth, standing revealed as a handsome, clean-cut Irishman, not 
more than two years the woman's senior, with sparkling eyes more 
than balanced by the unyielding firmness of his mouth. The 
woman stands with the light of the fire full in her face as he turns 
toward her for the first time with an elaborate half- jesting, wholly 
grateful bow. 

The Man. — On the word of a shepherd, the tradesman most 



384 THE ROAD TO CONNAUGHT [Dec. 

beloved of God» you have my heart's deepest thankfulness. I 
beg. • • . 

A sudden leap of the flames lights up his profile. The 
woman's hand leaps to her heart, and she staggers back a step, 
her terrified eyes riveted on the man's smiling face. 

The Woman (in a horrified, half-whisper). — Mark! 

For the first time the man's eyes rest on the woman's face. A 
flush of joy leaps to his cheek. He springs across the intervening 
space and catches the sinking figure of the woman in his arms. 

The ilf a/i.— Nell ! My little sister. Nell! 

For a moment he holds her, looking longingly into her face, 
while her frightened sobs alone break the silence. Then he speaks 
in a voice calm and soothing. 

Mark. — My poor little sister! My lost lamb! Nell! . . • 
The shepherd has found the most precious lamb of his fold. Bless 
God for that! I've tramped Leinster from end to end looking for 
you. I've looked in at the maids in the dairies, praying you might 
be with them. I've watched the women as they came in from the 
fields, hoping that my eyes would single you out from their midst. 
Every spinning wheel I heard seemed to promise that your hand 
was turning it. All in vain until tonight. My poor little lone 
lamb! 

A fresh gust of sobbing shakes the woman, and she struggles 
for an instant to free herself. 

NelL — Don't, Mark! I'm not worth it; I'm not worth your 
search. 

Mark (tenderly and drawing her toward the fire). — ^My little 
sister, you are worth whatever it is in my power to give. 

Nell. — But in the face of all I've done . . • 

Mark. — I do not know what you have done. I never listened 
when men spoke. Persecuted men are bitter, cruel even toward 
their own. I've wanted to find you and let you speak for yourself. 
I've found you now; thank God and Mary for that! 

The long pause is broken only by her sobs. He places her 
gently on the chair and kneels beside her. 

Mark. — ^When I returned from Valladolid, the holy oils still 
moist on my hands, and the strength of God's blessed priesthood 
full upon me, I found that the worst had already been done. 
Munster and Leinster overrun by Cromwell's friends; Catholics 
and Irishmen driven from their homes to hell or Connaught, and 
only those left behind who . . . who had married Cromwell's 
men and given up their Faith. It had been quick work, quick and 
complete. In a little cave in the hills of Connaught, I found our 
mother and father. 



1919.] THE ROAD TO CONNAUGHT 385 

Nell checks her tears and turns all eagerness to him. 

Nell. — ^You come from them? They think of me at times? 

Mark (bowing his head). — Often, sweet. 

Nell. — ^And always with hate for their daughter? 

Mark. — ^With pity and love; never with hate. 

Nell— Thank God! Thank God! Mother is well and father, 
too? 

Mark (almost bitterly). — ^War on women is an easy thing. 
Cromwell kills unarmed men with clubbed muskets, unarmed 
women with starvation. Our father is waiting for you back there 
in Connaught. Our mother led me through the cold to you to- 
night. 

Nell (suddenly dry-eyed). — She is dead? 

Mark. — ^Thank God, the horror of it is over for her. Her's 
was the death of a martyr of God. 

Nell (rising to her feet and speaking with bitter intensity). — 
A martyr ! Sweet saints, a martyr I And I, her daughter, have not 
even a farewell kiss to cherish as a benediction from the dear 
saint. Oh, mother, mother, you die of starvation in Ck)nnaught, 
while I live on ... in Leinster. Mark, dear Mark, is there 
hope of pardon for such as I? 

Mark catches her in his arms and looks at her searchingly. 

Mark. — ^This man, this minion of Cromwell ... he 
married you? 

Nell (suddenly defensive). — Oh, that at least. 

Mark. — He loves you? ' 

Nell (lowering her head slowly). — ^He says little, but I know 
he does. 

Mark. — ^Has a baby come? 

Nell. — God has not blessed us. 

Mark (in a quick burst of anguish). — ^Nell, Nell, why, why 
did you do this? Why did you fly from the persecution that 
should have fired your Irish blood? . How could you have borne 
the thought of mother and father driven at the point of a sabre 
into Ck)nnaught, while you remained behind? How could you give 
up the Faith you once clung to . . . all for this man? 

Quietly Nell slips from his arms and lifts her head to face 
him. 

Nell. — ^Because, Mark, I love him. 

Mark (scarcely comprehending). — ^Why, I don't . . . 

Nell. — I love him so much that for him I gave up home and 
family and Faith . . . and happiness. 

Mark (still uncomprehending). — Happiness? What do you 
mean? 



386 THE ROAD TO CONNAUGHT [Dec. 

Nell. — ^Yes, that most of all. Oh, don*t you fancy that I have 
suffered? My woman's heart has known the anguish of Judas 
burning and searing it night and day. I have built up my love out 
of treachery to my God and my people, and even love cannot make 
me forget that. For him I have thrown away my right to happi- 
ness. 

Mark (his arms about her protectingly ) . — ^My poor little 
Bister. 

Nell (with a single dry sob). — ^And now mother is dead. She 
can never say that she understands and forgives me. 

Mark. — She said that before she died. 

Nell (a note of joy in her voice). — She did, Mark? She did? 

Mark. — She made me promise to look for you and bring you 
back to father and to God. That is why I asked for the Leinster 
mission. (Half whimsically.) The spies are sharp in Leinster, 
and the roots and berries here make abominable diet. I was laid 
by the heels thrice, the last time just yesterday at Kilmainham. 
But the guard loved the sight of gold better than the sight of his 
prisoner, and I left him an empty cell to keep till morning. 

Nell. — ^Was it worth all that, Mark, to find me? 

Mark. — It was worth all the nights spent in the open, all the 
pangs of hunger and of loneliness to find the best, the dearest lamb 
of my flock. (He takes her hands tenderly.) And now we're 
going back the long road to God and father and Connaught, NelL 
Ah, but how short the road will seem to me. Come, Nell ! 

As he speaks, there is the sharp crunch of a horse's hoofs in 
the snow. It has been growing rapidly louder but they have 
scarcely noticed it. Now they hear it, and their hands slip apart* 
Mark turns apprehensively, while Nells runs to the window and 
looks out into the dusk. When she turns from the window, her 
face is ashen. 

Nell (in a high, terrified whisper). — It is he. He must not 
even guess who you are. Quick; lie here near the hearth and 
seem to doze when he enters. Above all, he must not know you 
are a priest. I think ... I think he might kill you. 

Even as she gives the commands, Mark flings himself at full 
length on the hearth and appears to doze, his head buried in his 
arm. Nell replaces the pot on the fire to rewarm and tries to grip 
her vibrating nerves. A sharp rap at the door, and she hurries to 

open it. 

Framed in the doorway stands her husband, a finely built 
man, stately under his forty odd years, hardened physically with 
service under the Protector and spiritually from contact with the 
Protector's creed. He is dressed with something of the trooper 



1919.] THE ROAD TO CONNAUGHT 387 

still in his attire; a large military cape is wrapped about him and 
a leathern cap sets far down on his brow. He stands for a moment 
knocking the snow from his boots. 

Nell has slipped partially behind the door out of the way of 
the sweeping draft. 

NelL — Come in quickly, John. The wind is freezing me and 
ruining the fire completely. 

John enters* closes the door easily, and bends to kiss her with 
something like reverence in his manner. 

John. — It is a terrible evening, Nell, colder than ever I knew 
in York. The breath of my beast made an ice corslet for his chest 
Thank God for a warm fire. 

Nell has taken the heavy cloak from his shoulders and hung 
it upon a peg to dry. John paces toward the fire, and then stops 
suddenly at sight of the recumbent form. He turns inquiringly 
toward Nell. 

John.— Who is this? 

Nell (nervously working over the cloak). — ^A shepherd 
strayed from his path in search of his sheep. 

John. — It is risky business, Nell, and you alone. 

Nell (pleadingly). — I know, John; but it was so bitter out, 
and he so weary and cold. I hadn't the heart to refuse him 
shelter. 

John (bowing his head in grave assent). — ^Nor should I have 
had. Asleep? 

Nell (evasively). — He was quite exhausted . . . 

John. — Good! (He looks at the stranger attentively, though 
he cannot see his face.) A fine strapping sort of man, the girth 
of shoulders and thickness of wrist that Oliver would have loved 
to lead in a charge. A shepherd, you say? 

Nell (busy at the table). — So he told me. 

John (thoughtfully). — Somewhere in this bitter night a 
skulking priest lies hiding, a man of this fellow's girth and stature. 
I saw him when the pursuivants brought him into Kilmainham, 
bound and bowed, but with untamed eyes and unquivering lips for 
all that. Last evening, they tell me, he escaped, the sly trickster. 
I wonder if this man . . • 

Nell (the horror of it flashing upon her). — ^No, no! Not 

that! 

John turns with obvious surprise in his glance. Nell resumes 
her work at the table feverishly, setting the dishes, placing the 
chairs in their positions, and covering her confusion with rapid 
chatter. 

NelL — Come, sit down, John; I want to hear all the news from 



388 THE ROAD TO CONN AUGHT [Dec. 

the village, and you promised to tell me all you heard. The meat 
is piping hot, and Fve warmed the ale against the chill the weather 
has sent through your veins. 

John (half to himself, his eyes once more on Mark). — Such 
cold might drive even the foxes from their lairs. 

Nell (running to him and laying her hand on his arm). — 
John, you aren't listening to me. Sit, I beg of you, or all my labor 
for your comfort will just be lost. 

Yielding to her insistence, John crosses the room and seats 
himself moodily at the table. Nell keeps up her chatter all the 
while. She goes anxiously to the hearth where her platters have 
been warming, and when Mark stirs as if in his sleep, she stoops 
to whisper to him, but notices that her husband's eyes are upon 
them. 

Nell. — John, your coat sleeve is almost like ice. Wasn't it 
enough to freeze your marrow, riding against that terrible wind? 
(Pouring out the steaming ale into two mugs.) Here, drink this 
before you eat. Why, your poor hand is still trembling with the 
cold. 

John raises the mug to his lips, his eyes still on the apparently 
sleeping stranger; and then without tasting the ale, he sets the 
cup emphatically on the table. 

John. — ^The stranger must be cold, too. He will eat and drink 
with us. (In a loud voice.) Shepherd! 

Mark stirs and tosses uneasily. Nell seizes her husband's 
arm and presses him to turn. 

NelL — ^No, no, John I Let him sleep. He is so tired and worn. 

John (almost kindly). — ^Nell, you were young when the Gos- 
pel light touched your soul. (Nell shrinks involuntarily.) You 
never learned the knavery of these priests. I more than half sus- 
pect that this shepherd — 

Nell. — ^But suppose it were so; would not the laws of hospi- 
tality— 

John (roughly). — ^No laws bind for such as know no law. (He 
turns and calls again.) Shepherd! (He strides over to him.) 
Shepherd ! 

Mark stretches himself with a great affectation of sleep. 

John. — ^There is meat and drink awaiting you as soon as you 
can' shake off your drowsiness. Stand up, man. No guest of mine, 
save he who has looked me squarely in the eye. 

Mark rises slowly but with real dignity to his feet, fully pre- 
pared now to fight it out to the end. The two men face each other 
looking full into mutually hostile eyes. 

Mark. — My thanks, host ! A lost shepherd like myself stands 



1919.] THE ROAD TO CONNAUGHT 389 

sorely in need of food and drink after his wanderings. And I have 
yet much to do this night. 

John has been looking at him squarely and with growing con- 
tempt Now he glances at Nell over his shoulder; she is standing 
with her hand pressed terror-stricken against her cheek. 

John (in a voice of steel). — I suspected as much. It is the 
escaped felon. (To Mark.) Shepherd? You lied there, too. No 
shepherd you, but a popish priest! 

Mark (simply but with conviction). — I am a shepherd like the 
Good Shepherd, and ready to lay down my life for the sheep the 
wolves have scattered. 

John (turning away contemptuously). — ^You shall have your 
•hance. (To Nell.) Nell, my cloak! 

Nell (piteously). — ^What are you doing? 

John (incisively). — ^Taking him back to his felon's prison. 

Nell. — John, you must not; this is our home — 

John. — Less place, then, for traitors. 

Nell. — John, I beg of you — 

Mark.—rLei it be, mistress. I thank you for your prayers 
though you hurl them at a rock. Perhaps my day is not yet come, 
despite your husband's making. 

John. — ^That, the judges will decide. 

ffell. — John, listen to me! Let him go. You know what 
prison means for him . . . the rack, the thumb-screws, the 
galleys, perhaps the colonies. 

John. — Fit punishment for traitors. 

Mark. — ^Mistress, I beg of you — 

ffell. — John (he strides toward his cloak), for my sake . . . 

John (turning abruptly). — For your sake? What do you 
mean? Enough of this sentimentality. This man is a priest. 

Nell. — I know, and yet . . . John, I beg . . . 

John (coming to her). — ^For a priest you and I can have no 
pity . . ' Why for your sake? 

Nell— I . . . 

Jo/rn.— Well? 

Nell (desperately). — In the old days ... I, I knew him. 

John. — ^Knew him? (Suddenly seizing her wrist in an agony 
of doubt.) Good God, Nell, he is not your lover? 

Nell (breaking away and throwing her arms about Mark). — 
He is my brother. 

There is a moment's pregnant pause. Mark slips his arm 
about her heaving shoulders and stands facing John calmly. 
John leans heavily against the table, blank astonishment in his 
eyes. 



390 THE ROAD TO CONNAUGHT [Dec. 

John (vaguely). — ^Your brother? I did not know . • . 

Mark. — We never crossed before. I was in Spain when you 
came. 

John (with renewed contempt). — In Spain; ah, plotting with 
England's and Ireland's foes. 

Mark (almost angrily). — Plotting to save my countrymen 
from the tyranny and brutality of men like you and your thiev- 
ing troops of — 

Nell (wildly).— Mark, don't. 

John (imperiously to Nell). — ^Nell, come to me. 

Mark (releasing her and stepping back a trifle). — I'll not 
speak out my mind to you. You are her husband and I think you 
love her. 

John (disregarding Mark utterly, and taking Nell's limp 
hand). — ^You loved me well enough to give up all this for me, did 
you not? 

Nell bows her head silently. 

John. — I do not know why this man, this priest, came int« 
our home. But he cannot stay. 

Nell (impulsively). — John . . • 

John (with fierce emphasis). — ^No priest, not even your 
brother, can remain beneath my roof. I could not risk the wrath 
of God. 

Nell. — John, please listen . . . 

John (turning sternly to Mark). — ^Your freedom shall not be 
touched. I cannot take her brother to death or to torture. You 
may go in safety. But if you return, I shall not promise as much 
again. Now go ! 

Mark does not move. 

Mark (quietly). — Not without her. 

John gazes fixedly and without comprehending. 

John. — ^What did you say . . . 

Mark. — ^Not without her. I have come to bring her back i% 
her people and her God. 

John (releasing Nell's hand and walking toward Mark). — I 
could not have understood you rightly. 

Mark. — Perhaps not; how can I say? But let me be quite 
clear. I've tramped the length of Leinster, braving your pursui- 
vants, living in your caves and stables, now in your filthy prisons, 
now in your rotten courts, hungry and lonely and dead from 
weariness, searching for my lost lamb. And now that I have found 
her, I am going to take her back with me to Connaught. Is that all 
quite clear now? 

John. — ^You contemptible spy! 



1919.] THE ROAD TO CONNAUGHT 391 

Nell. — John . . . 

John (not heeding her). — ^You steal into my house disguised, 
like a thief or a felon. You come while I, her husband, am away, 
you with your smooth, Irish face and your oily Papist tongue to 
rob me of my wife • • . 

Mark. — You dare to speak of robbery? You who stole her 
from her Faith and her people? You who robbed us, already 
stripped of lands and liberty and God's blue sky, of our one lone 
lamb? 

John. — She came with me willingly. 

Mark. — And she will go with me willingly, or not at all. 

John (turning to Nell). — ^You have heard him? 

Nell bows her head. 

John. — ^And you are silent? 

She is motionless. John takes an agonized step forward. 

John. — Good God! you couldn't . . . you are not think- 
ing that • . . 

He catches himself suddenly by a strong act of will and turns 
to Mark. His voice has grown almost tender. 

John. — ^You say I stole her from you. Let her speak the 
truth. Nell, did I win you fairly as ever man won maid? 

Nell. — ^Yes, John. (Going to Mark.) Oh, Mark, Mark, you 
don't understand. There was more than love ; there was gratitude 
to him for • • . what is more precious than life. 

Mark (taking her hands). — ^Nell, what do you mean? 

Nell (shuddering). — ^When Drogheda fell, I was there. 

Mark starts, and Nell covers her face with her hands. 

Mark. — I did not know. 

Nell. — I had gone to visit Cousin Margaret. We girls fled as 
the soldiers stormed the city and rushed through the streets. We 
fled madly, not knowing where to go. Oh, the unspeakable horror 
of it all. Men with glazed, open eyes lying in the mire and almost 
tripping us as we ran. Women wandering wildly through the 
streets praying for death. The clash of the soldiers and the horrid 
scream of the bugles! They found us, a brutal band in leather 
and steel. I cried for help, and their eyes were merciless. They 
seized me ; I think I should have gone mad, when he came . . • 

Mark. — ^Merciful God ! 

Nell. — • . • flinging the soldiers to right and left and 
fighting his way to me. He picked me up and carried me to safety. 
For three days he hid me and cared for me though it meant his 
head had he been found. And when the soldiers marched away, 
I promised him if ever he came for me, I would be his wife. (A 
tense pause.) Margaret I never saw again. 



392 THE ROAD TO CONNAUGHT [Dec. 

Mark (comprehending at last). — ^And when he came 
again . • . 

Nell. — I kept my word. 

Mark (still caught with the horror of her possible fate). — I 
did not know; I never dreamed . . . (To John.) You are a 
brave man, sir; from the depths of a brother's heart, I thank 
you. 

John. — Are you satisfied now? Will you go back to Con- 
naught . . . alone? 

Mark. — ^No! You risked your life to save her body. I have 
risked my life for her soul. You fought your way through sol- 
diers and periled your head three days for her. I have walked in 
the midst of your spies and risked my head long months for her. 
My claim is stronger than yours. I claim her for God. 

John (to Nell). — ^You hear him? 

Silence. 

John. — Shall we answer him as man and wife? 

Still silence. 

John (suddenly passionate). — ^You do not love me! 

Nell. — I do ! A thousand times, I do ! 

John. — ^You have been happy here with me? 

Silence. 

John (almost in agony). — ^You have . . . have you not? 

Nell. — ^Yes, yes . . . and no? 

John (horrified). — ^And no? 

Nell. — Oh, there have been moments, days when my heart 
would seem to split. I did not know what it would mean when I 
gave you my promise in Drogheda. I kept my promise, but our 
home has been built on treachery and lies. The shame of my de- 
sertion when I thought of my mother and father treading alone 
the bloody road to Connaught, the bitter anguish at thought that 
the daughter they trusted had forsaken them in the hour of their 
greatest need, the longing of my woman's heart for my betrayed 
Faith— 

John. — ^You are a Protestant. 

Nell. — ^Not in truth. That was a lie lived for you. 

John (overwhelmed). — ^That, too? 

Nell. — That, too. As Protestant, I could stay with you; as 
Catholic, I must go. I chose to stay even at that cost. 

John (sinking into a chair). — Gk>od God! 

Nell. — When I knelt beside you in the church, I loathed my- 
self in the depths of my soul. The voice of your preacher railing 
at my Faith struck blood from my heart. The church where I had 
knelt to adore at the Mass you despised, seemed to reel above my 



1919.] THE ROAD TO CONNAUGHT 393 

head. I felt as if the dear Jesus would strike me dead were I not 
80 utterly, utterly contemptible. 

Mark (coming to her). — He loves you too much ever to close 
His Heart against you. 

John. — It is the spell of priestly witchcraft in your soul. 

Nell— No, no! 

Mark. — It is the compelling voice of Christ. 

Nell. — In the silences of the night, I would lie with dry throat 
and aching heart. The shadows cried. Traitress! My temples 
throbbed. Traitress! I could see my father and mother suffering 
off there in Connaught, suffering for Christ, and weeping in each 
other's arms for the daughter who had betrayed Him. I could 
have screamed in terror. 

John — ^You never told me. 

Nell. — ^You could not understand. At times I have stood near 
the clear lake longing to feel its waters closing over me in peace 
. . . but that would not bring peace. 

They stand a silent, tense group. Mark speaks first. 

Mark. — Come, Nell! Together we are going back to Christ 
and our father. In Connaught they are waiting for you. 

John (springing to his feet). — ^You shall not take her till she 
has spoken the final word. Nell, I offer you my heart, my home, 
my honor. This is a delusion, a trick of Satan. It will pass with 
the passing of this man. It is priestly craft snaring your soul. 
You owe your life to me, remember; I offer you mine. You will 
not be happy without me, Nell. 

Nell. — I know it . • . but I have not been happy without 
Christ. 

John. — ^Then you are going? 

Nell. — John, no other man shall ever claim my heart. 

John (suddenly freezing). — I ask you, are you going? 

Nell. — I must ... 

John. — ^Back to idolatry and Papist superstition? 

Nell.— Back to Christ 

John (turning to Mark, coldly). — ^Take her at once. My 
house is no place for Papists. 

Nell (in quick agony). — John, John, can*t you see that this 
is breaking my heart? 

He stands without heeding her. 

Nell. — Can't you see that my duty to God comes first? 

He turns his back upon her, facing the fire. Nell, as if struck, 
falls back a step. Mark's arm is suddenly about her waist. 

Mark. — Come, Nell ; it is bitter cold outside, but not so bitter 
as the heart of one that has loved. 



394 THE ROAD TO CONNAUGHT [Dec. 

Nell stands for a moment with anguish in her face; then she 
goes slowly with Mark to where her cloak hangs. He takes it 
from the peg» while Nell slowly slips ofiF her white cap and lays 
it on the table. Then he places the cloak gently about her and 
pulls the hood over head. His heavy coat soon falls from his 
shoulders, and he stands ready for the road. 

Mark (at the door). — ^The moon is rising to light our way 
back to Connaught. Come, my sister. 

Nell (still looking at John). — Good night, John. 

He does not turn. 

Nell (very softly) . — In my heart you will always be my lover. 
Good night! 

Mark stands in the doorway while Nell passes silently out 
into the dusk. The door closes gently. 

John does not move for a moment; then slowly he looks 
toward the door. With a sudden determination, he shakes ofiF his 
mood, walks firmly to the window and pulls the curtain shut with- 
out even a glance into the night. He goes to the door and bolts 
it with a heavy bar. He then strides back to the table. As he does, 
his eye lights upon the white cap which rests there. Tenderly he 
picks it up, running it through his fingers. With a sudden ges- 
ture he is about to crush it, but he pauses, and then slowly raises 
it to his lips. His lips quiver, and he falls to his knees with a 
mighty sob as 

The Scene Closes. 



flew JSoofts^ 



A SCHOLAR'S LETTERS FROM THE FRONT. By Stephen H. 

Hewett. New York: Longmans, Green & Co. $1.50. 

The letters which have been collected in this volume were 
nearly all of them written from the front. A few earlier ones 
are included as giving an idea of the writer's character and in- 
terests. Mr. F. F. Urquhart, Fellow of Hewett's Oxford College — 
Balliol — contributes a valuable biographical introduction, and the 
work is dedicated to the dead soldier's old headmaster, Dom 
Ramsay of Downside. 

These letters are as interesting and as moving as any similar 
collection of the last three or four years. To Hewett the War 
was the most searching of experiences, but he took it with a 
cheerful heart. Born in India, twenty-six years ago, he was edu- 
cated at Downside, the famous English Benedictine School, and 
in 1910 won the coveted Balliol scholarship as a youngster of 
seventeen. He was as good at games as at his books, Mr. Urquhart 
tells us, and indeed played hockey for his university against 
Cambridge in 1914. A brilliant classic, he carried ofiF the Craven, 
the Hertford and the Ireland scholarships. And he was a capable 
and devoted member of the Oxford Bach choir. On the outbreak 
of the War he received a commission in the 14th Warwicks. Six 
months after he had reached France, death came to him as he led 
his platoon into action at the Somme. 

Several of the letters are addressed to well-known Oxford 
dons. We find him writing, e. g., to Cyril Bailey, the translator 
of Lucretius, and the authority on ancient Roman religion: "If 
Newman repels you I should like to have a long argument on 
the subject. As for the Jesuits, well the army too is 'a system 
squashing individuality,' and (though the parallel may not be 
quite exact) we knew what we were in for and so did Father 
Tyrrell. The monastic system is traditionally a 'militia,' and 
as a system it has stood the test of practice and of time, as being 
— in our point of view — a means of keeping up things which we 
regard as as much incumbent on our honor as the defence of all 
that is English against all that is German." 

Stephen Hewett had meant, if he were spared to return to 
his old school and don the Benedictine habit. But it was not to 
be. His fellow-oflicers regarded his death as an irreparable loss. 
^Things are very different without Stephen Hewett," his com- 



396 NEW BOOKS [Dec. 

pany commander wrote. This little book is a worthy memorial 
of a noble spirit, and will surely have its inspiration for many 
a reader in years to come. 

THE TOWER OP LONDON FROM WITHIN. By Major-General 
Sir George Younghusband. New York: George H. Doran 
Ck>. $4.00 net. 

Very few Americans, or Englishmen, for that matter, could 
tell you whether or not the salt-cellar used by Queen Elizabeth 
is still extant. Perhaps it is an unimportant bit of erudition. 
Surely it is of less significance than the fact that the well-remem- 
bered queen possessed such an article contributory to savor and 
flavor. But a very readable recent book will enlighten you on this 
hitherto possibly obscure point, and will tell many more fascinat- 
ing things beside. The Tower of London from Within is the 
creditable achievement of Sir George Younghusband, the Keeper 
of the Jewel House in the Tower. It is written in an entertaining 
style, and has a due regard for the things that are of high interest 
to the general reader. It is full of treasons and trials and execu- 
tions, vivid memories of those good old days, which were bad 
enough when they were young. Dukes and earls and courteous 
knights flit through the pages, ghostlike, silent visitors, asking 
us to remember that they were the talk of London when Eliza- 
beth was queen and Drake was hoisting sail in the Channel. Not 
the least interesting feature of the book are the many reproduc- 
tions of old prints, which aid in a marked degree in making our 
imagination S3rmpathetic of the unrolling of ancient chronicle. 

PUNISHBIENT AND REFORMATION. A Study of the Peniten- 
tiary System. By Frederick H. Wines, LL.D. Revised by 
Winthrop D. Lane. New York : Thomas Y. Crowell Co. $2.50. 
Sir Thomas More (now St. Thomas More), the only man 
who ever cleared the docket of the Court of Chancery in England, 
declared at the very beginning of his Utopia "if we suffer your 
people to be ill-educated, and their manners to be corrupted from 
their infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which 
their first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded 
from this but that you first make thieves and then punish them?" 
Probably this expression is the aptest text for a review of a 
book on modern penology, for it is above all on education as pre- 
ventive that penologists dwell. Mr. Lane, revising Dr. Wines* 
classical book on the subject of the reform of the criminal 
through punishment, has above all dwelt on how much environ- 
ment, home life, the school, the city streets mean in the produc- 



J 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 397 

tion of criminals. Both these authorities a quarter of a century 
apart would agree in declaring that modern life first makes 
thieves, and then punishes them. 

In his additions to Dr. Wines* book, Mr. Lane has very prop- 
erly emphasized the fact that the physical counts for very much 
less in the criminal makeup than it did twenty years ago when 
Wines first wrote. It is a question of mind and not body that 
makes the criminal, and statistics seem to show that about one- 
fourth of our prisoners are feeble minded. But as many cunning 
criminals escape conviction, this proportion is probably too large. 
It is interesting to find that perversions of the will are coming 
to be recognized as the main causes of criminality. Knowledge 
of itself does not afford much protection. 

Mr. Randolph's suggestions of constructive eugenics to help 
in the problem of crime prevention are interesting and include 
''the abolition of certain non-eugenic customs such as the pre- 
vailing requirement that women teachers may not marry,'' to 
which the modern social order needs educating, but he also sug- 
gests "the dissemination of information about birth control, 
thereby making parenthood intelligent and voluntary and de- 
creasing the number of undesired and uncared for babies" which 
would almost surely open the door to vice. It is a common fail- 
ing with many sociologists to neglect the idea of vice while devot- 
ing themselves to the thought of crime, that is, the infraction of 
law in such a way as might lead to imprisonment. The volume, 
in spite of belittling the natural law as a background, is a valuable 
abstract of the present position of penology. 

JOHN AYSCOUGH'S LETTERS TO HIS MOTHER. Edited by 
Frank Bickerstaffe-Drew. New York: P. J. Kenedy & Sons. 
$2.00. 

Anything from the pen of Monsignor Bickerstaffe-Drew is 
sure of its welcome on this side of the Atlantic, and these letters 
written during 1914, 1915 and 1916 will find many eager read- 
ers; they were written during the reverend novelist's absence 
from England in active service in France and Flanders, and they 
were the last letters his mother lived to receive from him. He 
meant them to cheer and console her hours of loneliness and 
anxiety, and nothing could exceed the tenderness of the filial piety 
they display throughout. As '"war-letters" they are as good as 
any written from the English trenches. Devoted readers of the 
long line of fine novels which John Ayscough has to his name, 
will rejoice to possess this book of letters, if only because it con- 
tains so many interesting revelations of the author's personality. 



398 NEW BOOKS [Dec. 

80 many valuable passing comments on his own books and those 
of his masters in the art of fiction, so many wise and moving 
reflections upon the art, religion and life of our own day. 

THE CHRONICLES OF AMERICA. Edited by Dr. Allen Johnson, 
Professor of American History in Yale University. New 
Haven: Yale University Press. Fifty volumes at $3.50 per 
volume by the set. 

The Cotton Kingdom, by William E. Dodd. Professor Dodd 
of the University of Chicago has aptly chosen the title of his study 
of the Lower South of the pre-Civil War epoch, for in that eco- 
nomic unit cotton was indeed enthroned king with its capital the 
delightful planter town of Charleston. The kingdom is well 
described, its extent, its net-work of rivers so valuable for the 
marketing of crops, its peculiar labor system, and its abominable 
despoliation of the Cherokees, Creeks, and Chickasaws in its mad 
policy to extend the cotton acreage. The heavy emigration into 
the southwestern Eldorado, where cotton magnates were speedily 
created by the high prices of cotton and the mounting values of 
negroes is accounted for by showing the industrial decline of the 
Old South through the failure of the tobacco crop and the failing 
fertility of its worn-out soil. Small wonder was it, that states- 
men of the New South came to regard cotton with favor and 
slavery as a necessary foundation of Southern prosperity. Natur- 
ally Jefferson's philosophy was thrown aside, when theorists 
appeared who minimized man's inherent rights and emphasized 
the Biblical and philosophical arguments supporting slavery and 
the fundamental inequality of man. The year 1850 urged the 
claims of philosophers of the stamp of President Thomas Dew of 
the College of William and Mary, of Chancellor William Harper of 
South Carolina, of the poet-novelist William Gilmore Simms, of 
Calhoun's successors, Yancy, Davis, Slidell and Foote. Such were 
the men who like the late Pan-Germans were imbued with a mis- 
sion to extend Southern Kultur into Texas and the territories, and 
if need be by aggressive wars and filibustering expeditions into 
Cuba, Mexico and Central America. What cared they for negroes 
or for the welfare of "crackers" and "hill-billies" as long as cotton 
was increasingly profitable? Were not Southern planters the rul- 
ers of America? Was not the aristocratic society of New Orleans 
and Charleston the cream of life? The South- was prosperous; 
surely its philosophy was sound. 

Professor Dodd writes from a Southern viewpoint, which is 
occasionally apparent in attempts to explain away something, or 
in a characterization of James Ford Rhode's work as one in which 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 399 

''the tone is perhaps too patriotic/' He is at his best in depicting 
the social and religious life and in framing a brief for the South 
as a section in which literature, science, and education were not 
neglected. His consideration of the labors of the Methodists and 
Baptists has a friendly tone as compared to his less kindly atti- 
tude toward Presbyterian divines from Princeton College and his 
harsh estimate of Catholics and Episcopalians, whom we are to 
condemn as equally diplomatic in dealing with slaves and slave 
owners. 

Of the Catholic Church in 1850 he writes : 

'The lower South had been and still was outwardly an irre- 
ligious, dram-drinking, and duelling section. The French priests 
had built a compact religious community in and about New 
Orleans, but they had not pushed this work up the rivers and out 
into the great stretches of country where plantation life was 
dominant. Nor was their easy-going moral system entirely adapted 
to the needs of rural life. The Cathedral Church, the monastery, 
and the parochial schools filled the round of a priest's life and 
duties. The saving of souls in distant plantations was not his 
especial concern. Dueling and card-playing and horse racing were 
not beyond the range of his own interests ; why should he stir up 
a crusade against them? The faith of the Roman Catholic Church 
was, therefore, comparatively stagnant in the Lower South. 
Aside from a few churches in Louisiana and Charleston, firmly 
established parishes in Mobile, and a diocese in Florida, this 
branch of the Christian Church had not become a force in the 
planter civilization." In a footnote (p. 98) there is added: "The 
Roman Catholics of New Orleans, whose easy-going methods 
suited some twenty or thirty thousand merchants and planters, 
contributed their mite in the direction of religious orthodoxy. In 
New Orleans, Baton Rouge, and Mobile there was a nucleus of 
Catholicism, that might under better skies have won a controlling 
influence in large districts of the cotton kingdom." 

TMe Old Northwest, by Frederick Austin Ogg. Professor Ogg 
of the University of Wisconsin sketches the history of the old 
Northwest Territory from the French surrender of Montreal and 
Detroit until the admission of the Northwestern States into the 
federal union. There is a correct estimate of this section in Amer- 
ican history, but it is arrived at in the prosy way of the class-room 
lecture. There is nothing dramatic in the telling of the tale, 
though the chronicle is so replete with romantic episodes. The 
scene when Vaudreuil delivered an empire to Sir Jeffrey Amherst, 
the Pontiac conspiracy uniting all the Indian tribes from Fort Pitt 



400 NEW BOOKS [Dec. 

to Fort Chartres, the expedition of George Rogers Clark and his 
colonials, and the breaking-down of the Indian power by Mad 
Anthony Wayne at Fallen Timbers were the sort of stories that 
Parkman delighted to narrate or that Roosevelt could dash ofiF in 
virile style. 

The writer does not hesitate to emphasize the dastardly 
action of British agents in exciting the Indians to murder non- 
contending frontiersmen, who had no connection with the Revo- 
lutionary movement. Yet when they paid bounties for scalps, 
they were but carrying out the idea of the Earl of Suffolk who 
wrote: "God and nature hath put into our hands the scalping- 
knif e and tomahawk to torture them into submission." Nor does 
he fail to suggest the importance of the active assistance of Pire 
Gibault in urging the French settlers of Kaskaskia and Vincennes, 
as well as the neighboring Indian tribes, to receive Major Clark in 
the name of Virginia and of the allied French monarch. Dr. Ogg 
then outlines the growth of population, the huge migration from 
the coast-board States into Ohio, the ventures of the Ohio and 
other land companies, the removal of the Indians, the uprising of 
Tecumseh, the skirmish at Tippecanoe which made of Harrison 
a president, and the failure of the West in the War of 1812. 
Especially valuable for the general reader is the description of life 
in Ohio where were met men of all nations. As the economic side 
is in no way passed over, the Cumberland Road and river naviga- 
tion are enlarged upon as factors contributing to the rapid develop- 
ment of the territory. 

Dutch and English on the Hudson. By Maud Wilder Goodwin. 
This volume offers a splendid picture of the old colony of 
New Netherlands, supplemented as it is with maps showing the 
location of manors, a chart of New Amsterdam and prints of such 
worthy burghers as Peter Stuyvesant, David de Vries, and Peter 
Schuyler. One can visualize Henry Hudson on his bedecked 
Half-Moon sailing in 1609 through the Narrows around the 
heavily wooded Manhattan Island, and up the lordly stream past 
the Palisades, the Highlands, and the Catskills. Yet it is hard to 
picture the mighty metropolis of today as a primeval forest, hid- 
ing here and there an Indian village. The Dutch East India Com- 
pany was not slow in establishing fur posts at Albany, Orange 
and Nassau in New Jersey and even near Hartford, Connecticut, 
nor in purchasing Manhattan from the Indians at the rate of a 
tenth of a cent an acre through the driving bargaining of Peter 
Minuit. The early Dutch location on Manhattan below the 
wooden wall (Wall Street) is interestingly described with its 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 401 

peculiar Knickerbocker-like governors. Probably the most useful 
chapters deal with the huge feudal manorial grants to the Dutch 
and later English patroons. The Van Rensselaer manor is minutely 
described as the most typical, being quite like the expansive 
holdings of the Pauws, Melyns, Van Cortlands, Philpses, Schuy- 
lers. Van Twillers, and Livingstons. However, the Dutch days 
were soon ended and the wooden-legged Peter Stuyvesant, obstinate, 
courageous autocrat that he is described, had to surrender in 1664 
to the English fleet under Colonel Richard Nichols. It would have 
been well at this point if Miss Goodwin had developed the Dutch 
and English rivalry and the causes of the attack. 

Under the governorship of Nichols the Dutch are brought by 
tact to give their loyalty to the Duke of York and to live in har- 
mony with the English settlers, despite differences in customs, 
language, and religion. It was the same policy which in the last 
few years won the allegiance of the Boers to the British Empire. 
The Duke's laws would seem to call for a more substantial treat- 
ment. A brief resume is given of the governorships of Colonel 
Francis Lovelace, the Cavalier favorite whose title to fame pro- 
ceeds from his establishment of the Long Island race track; of 
Colonel Thomas Dongan (the last Catholic governor until Mr. 
Martin Glynn) who interested himself in postal roads and a colon- 
ial postal service ; of the maligned Edmund Andros who fell when 
William of Orange was named king by Parliament; of Colonel 
Benjamin Fletcher who antagonized the burghers by building 
Trinity Church and the merchants by his embezzling and secret 
dealings with buccaneers : of the Earl of Bellomont ; of Lord Corn- 
bury a relative of Queen Anne*s whose tenure was shortened by his 
theft of public funds; of Robert Hunter, and of William Burnett 
the famous bishop's son. It is an account of placing favorites of 
the crown who too frequently looked upon the governorship as a 
sinecure to enrich themselves and upon representative legislatures 
as an objectionable interference with their right of exploitation. 
Here we have a fundamental cause of the Revolution. The Leisler 
revolt and the famous Zenger freedom of the press trial are duly 
emphasized. Withal Miss Goodwin has made a worthy contribu- 
tion to the series. 

* 

Age of Big Business, by Burton G. Hendrick. In his study 
Mr. Hendrick shows the development of American business from 
the competitive stage of 1865 to the monopolistic stage of today, 
from the local market to the world market, and from the limited 
liability company to the heavily capitalized trust To find such 
an essay treating the question in an historical, conservative, com- 

▼OIm cz. 



402 NEW BOOKS [Dec. 

mon sense manner is indeed refreshing, especially when one con- 
siders the possibilities of the subject matter for engendering class 
hatreds, if developed by a journalist of radical tendencies. In the 
history of American business as in the American politics, there is 
much that is undeniably corrupt. However, it is not the sore spots 
of our industrial life that one cares to view under the magnifying 
lens of our intellectual muckrakers of the past generation or of 
the nihilistic parlor demagogues of today. What interests the 
student and the general reader is the rise and expansion of indus- 
try as an interpretation of America's greatness and future. This 
interest is satisfactorily met by Mr. Hendrick's volume. 

In 1865, the United States was a nation of farmers, artisans, 
and small business men, with but a score of millionaires and with 
a $100,000 standard of wealth. In Pennsylvania independent oil 
drillers and open air forges gave little evidence of a future Stand- 
ard Oil Company and United States Steel Corporation. Coal and 
iron were imported; natural resources were untouched; the fac- 
tories were family or partnership affairs; horse-cars encumbered 
city streets; cattle were driven on Fifth Avenue. Competition 
was destructive. The merger of a few hundred miles of railroad 
was denounced at a time, when there were thousands of oil drill- 
ers, four hundred and fifty coal operators, two hundred harvester 
companies, fifty salt companies in the Saginaw valley, fifty copper 
companies in Michigan, one hundred developers of the Comstock 
lode, thirty transportation companies in New York City, and 
uncountable lumber concerns. Combination of capital and con- 
centration of business were necessary to develop the national 
wealth and to compete for world trade. The period following the 
war marked a great change. Commodore Vanderbilt's career is 
selected as illustrative of the transition from the old to the new era 
of business. Railroad consolidation was the idea of this genius, 
who could scarcely read and who was under the spell of clairvoy- 
ants and mediums. Vanderbilt connected New York and Chicago 
by one road instead of seventeen, cutting the running time in 
half and incidentally amassing, by 1877, the first fortune of a 
hundred million dollars. The Commodore's idea was a success. 
Consolidation followed in every industry. 

A chapter is given to the career of John D. Rockefeller and 
the rise of the Standard Oil Company. It is not a pleasant story, 
but a mighty interesting one ; the campaign against Archibald, the 
scandal of the Acme Oil Company, Archibald's manoeuvres, the 
struggle for railroad oil terminals, the gathering in of the pipe 
line companies, the forcing of rebates, the establishment of the 
trust, the legal difficulties, the wiping out of competitors and 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 403 

middlemen, the entrance into the banking and the raihroad busi- 
ness» the fight with the Steel Corporation in the Messaba and Colo- 
rado mining fields. The work of Carnegie and the Pittsburgh 
millionaires in creating the huge Steel Corporation is told in quite 
as dramatic a style. Another chapter recounts the invention of 
the telephone by Bell» its perfection by Gray, Puppin and Edison, 
and the rise of the American Telephone Company. The organiza- 
tion of public utilities is then considered with sketches of the labors, 
too often of a political nature, of Yerkes, Widener, Elkins, Ryan, 
Dolan, Hanna, W£3tney and Calhoun, in obtaining control of munic- 
ipal railways. Next there is developed the consolidation of the 
farm machinery business and the incorporation of the Interna- 
tional Harvester Company under the skillful manipulation of 
George W. Perkins. The concluding chapter deals with the auto- 
mobile business and the phenomenal career of Henry Ford. 

SHINING FIELDS AND DARK TOWERS. By John Bunker. 

New York: John Lane Co. $1.25 net. 

Many readers who have read John Bunker's recent contri- 
butions to the various magazines — or who know the story of his 
literary association and close friendship with Joyce Kilmer — 
will give warm welcome at Christmas time to this lirst collection 
of his poetic work. The volume is of generous size, and it con- 
tains many good things, as was expected of it — also a few sur- 
prises which were not expected of it. For it not only proves that 
Mr. Bunker is a poet — ^it rather seems to indicate that he is three 
different kinds of a poet. At one extreme he gives us the "New 
York Sketches," very familiar and colloquial impressions of the 
metropolis in very "free verse" — scarcely rising in effect beyond 
a vivid but inelegant prose. On the othei^ horizon we find him 
building a whole series of poetic structures — ^are these, perhaps, 
the "dark towers" of the title? — of which "Enemies Three" may 
be chosen as an example. These are highly traditional in form, 
exalting in tone, but encrusted with a musical but remote Eliza- 
bethan phraseology. Midway between these two extremes stretch 
the fertile meadow lands, the "shining fields," which one likes \o 
believe most truly representative of Mr. Bunker's inspiration. 
For here are poems such as "The Flute Player," **The Great Re- 
fusal," noble themes nobly treated — ^work impregnated with the 
beauty of nature and the other beauty of pain, and with the su- 
preme and all-inclusive beauty of God. 

Two of the longest poems in the book are written in the 
manner of, in fact are dedicated to, Francis Thompson. Others 
are frankly "rumorous" of Crawshaw, of Gerard Hopkins, of Ten- 



404 NEW BOOKS [Dec. 

nyson and — ^inevitably — of Joyce Kilmer. That is to say, Mr. 
Bunker has enjoyed and experimented with a wide range of 
poetry. Not the less for this has he remained captain of his 
poetic soul. His is a highly personal muse, tender and chastened, 
yet capable of merriment, with the far vision of the pure in 
heart Lyrics such as ''Revolution,'* 'To Harsh Judgment Think- 
ing Itself Wisdom," or, in more playful vein, "Boons," are distinct 
additions to the sum of modern poetry. 

HISTORICAL RECORDS AND STUDIES. New York; U. S. 

Catholic Historical Society. 

Volume XIII. of this series published by the Historical So- 
ciety presents as its piice de resistance Part II. of Mr. Condon's 
interesting essay, "The Church in the Island of San Domingo." 
There are, besides, sketches of the careers of Cardinal Farley and 
Archbishop Hayes, an attractive life of Giovanni Battista Sartori, 
first Papal Consul to the United States, and an illuminating paper 
by Father Barnum, S.J., on the Catholic missions of Alaska. 
Among the shorter contributions are to be found one by Father 
Gerald Treacy on Andrew Carney, as well as a compilation of the 
literary work of John A. Mooney, and finally two papers pre- 
senting data of a particularly valuable nature — ^the first on the 
destruction of the Charleston Convent, the other on the question 
of Catholic "desertions" during the Civil War. 

A PADRE IN FRANCE. By G. A. Birmingham. New York: 

George H. Doran Co. $1.50 net 

This volume contains the experiences of a " Chaplain to the 
Forces " behind the lines in Belgium and France. 

The author, who is Canon Hannay, the well-known novelist, 
was designated a P. B., that is, one assigned to a permanent base. 
During the latter part of the War he did spiritual and social work 
among the men in the training and convalescent camps. The 
author was limited by circumstances to a field that was far re- 
moved from the spectacular action of the front lines, and conse- 
sequently is able to write nothing of those things which go to make 
a war book thrilling in movement and inspiring in bravery. 

He saw the dull, monotonous, seamy side of war with none 
of all those great movements of men in battle or the personal acts 
of self-sacrifice which make war interesting although monstrous. 
Yet he did have many opportunities in his relations with men to 
get something tangible from them which might be of value to a 
world interested as never before in knowing the life of the soldier 
in battle and out of it. And particularly, when the person in con- 



1919-] NEW BOOKS 405 

tact happens to be a minister who might seek deeply into men's 
souls and bring forth facts to help in the strengthening of their 
religious faith. However, if Canon Hannay saw much, he has iiept 
it to himself. The book is extraordinarily commonplace in con- 
tent. It fails, like an aeroplane with a missing engine, to rise more 
than a few feet above the ground. 

WORLD'S WAR EVENTS. Compiled and Edited by Francis T. 

Reynolds and Alden L. Churchill. Vols. I., II., and III. New 

York: P. F. Collier & Son. 

The compilers of this fine series conceived the novel but very 
logical idea of building a history of the World War from the 
writings of those men who, in other publications, official and 
otherwise, treated of some special phase of the struggle. These 
selections were made because they were the words of eye-wit- 
nesses or of those qualified by rank and position to know the 
truth of what they spoke. The first article is a reprint from the 
National Review of June, 1916, of an essay on **What Caused 
the War," by Baron Beyens. Some of the other articles are by 
Sir John French, Roland G. Usher, Capt. Mucke of the Emden. 
We have also the judicial decision of Judge Mayer on the sinking 
of the Lusitania. The second volume contains a masterly article 
from the pen of Raoul Blanchard, and the compilers have paid 
The Catholic W6rld a well deserved compliment by inserting 
in the third volume that wonderful essay by Abb^ Felix Klein 
on "The Wounded Heroes of France," which appeared in the 
October, 1918, issue. 

Altogether one cannot speak too highly of this splendid col- 
lection. No library, whether reference or otherwise, can afford 
to be without it. It is a well balanced symposium of the best 
that has been written about the War. The problem that con- 
fronted the compilers must have been to keep the work within 
bounds. They have succeeded in this admirably, yet have chosen 
wisely and well. 

TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. By Henry James. New York : Boni 

& Liveright. $1.75 net. 

The influential position of Mr. Henry James in the literary 
foreground was maintained with such perennial vitality that 
probably very few took note of the length of its tenure; conse- 
quently, it is almost startling to read the dates^ of the stories 
reprinted in this volume and to be thus reminded that fifty years 
have elapsed since he made his entrance into the field of fiction, a 
young author already master of a mature, fine and individual art. 



406 NEW BOOKS [Dec. 

How distinctive his art was may be best realized by those who delve 
into the volumes of magazines of that period, and read the stories 
that appear side by side with his. From these sources the pub- 
lishers have compiled the present collection, which must not be con- 
sidered an assemblage of relics, gratifying only to devotees of the 
author. These stories have an intrinsic interest and appeal for the 
general public. It is matter for congratulation that Messrs. Boni 
ft Liveright have retrieved these scattered bits and placed them 
in the arch with which the worlis of Mr. James span a half-centnry. 

SERMONS IN MINIATURE FOR MEDIATATION. By Rev. Henry 
E. O'Keeffe, CS.P. New York: The Paulist Press. $1.25. 
A pastor Is always glad to see a new book of sermons or 
meditations. A man of the mitier, he has an expert's interest in 
how others develop familiar themes, what new viewpoints, what 
striking illustrations, what telling anecdotes enhance their expo- 
sition. In Father O'Keeffe's sermons ideas are to be met on every 
pagC' Such headings as "A New Sheen on an Old Coin," "The 
Censoriousness of the Righteous," "Jesus and the Plain People," 
"The Moral Beauty of the Cross" will of themselves awaken 
pregnant trains of thought in a preacher's mind, and supply him 
with a sermon antecedently to all reading of the author's dis- 
course. His treatment of the Feasts of the year and the Sunday 
Gospels is likewise fresh and unconventional.* The opening ser- 
mon of the present volume, "Hopes for the New Year," draws 
from the circumcision of our divine Lord admirable moral les- 
sons. Even as He obeyed a law to which He was not really sub- 
ject, so the Catholic will loyally obey Church laws even if he is 
unable to discern their necessity. The Circumcision of our Sa- 
viour suggests to ourselves the spiritual circumcision of the heart. 
lips and tongue. Again, in the leaven in the meal. Father O'Keeffe 
sees a picture and a parable of religion in the modern world. 
The volume, by reason of its clearness, brevity, and talent 
tor expressing practical issues in an unhackneyed way, will be 
a valuable addition to every preacher's and pastor's library. 

'H OF TURNUS. But W. Warde Fowler. Oxford: Black- 
$1.75. 

>wler, in these critical and exegetical observations upon 
, Book XIL, brings to a close the series of Virgilian 
ich he so brilliantly inaugurated in The Gathering of 
and continued in Mneas at the Site of Rome. These 
ttle books immeasurably strengthen the position of the 
thor as the chief among English Virgilians. They are, 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 407 

so to speak, the full flowering bloom of that delicate insight and 
profound learning of which the commentator's noble chapters on 
Virgil in his Religious Experience of the Roman People were the 
bud and promise. No scholar, with the solitary exception of J. W. 
Mackail, has ever brought a surer taste or a more varied learn- 
ing to the study of the prince of poets. An English reviewer ad- 
mirably described the first of Mr. Fowler's volumes in this series 
as "the epitome and quintessence of English Virgilian taste, a 
taste which is as remote from the common judgment of German 
erudition as from the centre thrice to the utmost pole." 

Mr. Fowler's choice of the twelfth book was determined by 
the fact that it is the only one of the last four which contains a 
complete story in itself, "while at the same time it forms a mag- 
nificent conclusion to the greater story of the whole epic." It 
is matter for thought that Mr. Fowler regards the last book of 
the JEneid as the most mature of all twelve, the most revelatory 
and the worthiest of close study and leisurely reflection. 

For two years this great scholar confides to us in his preface. 
Virgil, "with his large and liberal humanity," has been his con- 
stant and helpful companion. "It has been" — he goes on — "a 
time of great anxiety and sorrow; but the dark days are now 
passing away. As I write, it is becoming daily more certain that 
violentia, with its delusions and pretences, is not to prevail, and 
that justitia and fides are still to be the foundation- stones of our 
civilization." 

THE FREEDOM OF THE SEAS. By Louise Fargo Brown. New 

York: E. P. Dutton & Co. $2.00. 

It is doubtful if any phrase figuring in the well-known "four- 
teen points" has been the object of greater misunderstanding 
than that of the "freedom of the seas." The present volume will 
aid greatly in furnishing the historical background necessary to 
a fair judgment both upon the true meaning of the phrase and 
the scope of its application. It traces both the theory and the 
practice of the international law of the sea from the earliest days 
down to the present time. It shows the various meanings that 
have attached to the principle of a free sea in successive cen- 
turies, and distinguishes clearly between the earlier claims of 
individual nations to exclusive dominion over portions of the high 
seas adjacent to their territories, and the later claims based upon 
exclusive rights of colonial commerce and upon the rights of a 
belligerent to restrict the commerce of other nations in time of 
war. The last of these meanings has now come to be the centre 
of controversy. In the event of war how far may a belligerent 



408 NEW BOOKS [Dec. 

interfere not only with the maritime commerce of its enemy, 
carried in enemy ships, but with the commerce of neutral states 
with the enemy, carried in neutral ships? Are merchant ships 
of the enemy, privately owned, to continue to be subject to cap- 
ture and destruction, or must the old American claim of the im- 
munity of private property be revived and recognized? May 
neutral ships be prevented merely from carrying contraband, or 
may their commerce with the enemy be entirely cut oflf even to 
the extent of restricting their commerce v^th neutral neighbors 
of the enemy? 

Miss Brown sketches with emphasis the underlying issues of 
commercial rivalry. She writes in an engaging manner and sum- 
marizes historical controversies in admirably succinct phrases. 
But her style suffers from a suggestion of flippancy which is out 
of place in the treatment of a serious subject. The concluding 
chapter on "The Law of the Sea Tomorrow" touches so lightly 
upon problems of such complexity that the lay reader may well 
be at a loss to follow the argument. We are promised in the 
preface a more thorough study of the period since 1713 in a subse- 
quent volume. 

DEMOCRACY. By Shaw Desmond. New York : Charles Scribner's 

Sons. $1.60. 

This book under the form of a novel purports to give a pic- 
ture of the unrest of the English proletariat during the several 
years immediately preceding the War, throughout the War itself, 
and continuing down through the months since the signing of the 
Peace Treaty. Denis Destin, the hero, is a Socialist who gives up 
his clerkship in the city to enter journalism and politics in order 
to advance the workers' cause, and the progress of the story shows 
his conversion from the theory of syndicalism and direct action to 
that of militant politics and the regular processes of governmental 
change. 

The author gives a graphic account of the modern industrial 
turmoil in England, and under thin disguises presents close por- 
traits of the chief modern leaders in English politics, govern- 
ment, and labor ; but as a novel the book cannot be considered an 
artistic success. It is so weighted with the various social theories 
in vogue among the innumerable political parties in England that 
the story is smothered in the confused welter. 

As an exposition of social theory also the book must be con- 
sidered a failure, since the author seems to have neither fixed prin- 
ciples nor definite ideas, and like his hero is obliged to leave things 
much as he found them — ^in a complete muddle. Despite the 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 409 

melodramatic ending with the crucifixion of Creagan by an angry 
mob» the book leaves us cold; it is inconclusive in every way. 
The style is staccato and the author effects the headless sentence 
first made popular by Carlyle. In general the author follows the 
journalese tradition* but it is high-class journalese, English 
rather than American. 

THE YOUNG VISITERS. By Daisy Ashford. With Preface by 

J. M. Barrie. New York: George H. Doran Co. $1.00. 

The question that has been agitating the London reading 
public which has snapped up half-a-dozen editions of The Young 
Visiters in a month, is, Who wrote it? The ofiBcial party, that 
is» the publishers together with such writers as Hugh Walpole, 
Frank Swinnerton and Sir James Matthew Barrie, stoutly affirm 
that The Young Visiters is **,the unaided effort in fiction of an 
authoress of nine years,** and that in the present book ** the pen- 
ciled manuscript has been accurately reproduced, not a word 
added or cut out.'* 

The Young Visiters tells, with childish punctuation and spell- 
ing, the story of Mr. Salteena, ** who is not quite a gentleman but 
you would hardly notice it but can't be helped anyhow," his un- 
happy love affair with Ethel Monticue, " who had fair hair done 
on the top and blue eyes," and Salteena's friend and successful 
rival, the dashing Bernard Clark, who "was rather bent in the 
middle with very nice long legs, fairish hair and blue eyes." Sal- 
teena, who is the son of a butcher, has social ambitions and 
through his friend Clark meets the Earl of Clincham who — for a 
consideration — is to polish up his manners and introduce him 
into the higher circles. 

The book is such an extraordinary performance there will 
probably always be doubts as to the exact circumstances of its 
making. 

MERCHANTS OF THE MORNING. By Samuel McCoy. New 

York: George H. Doran Co. $1.25 net. 

Mr. McCoy writes pleasing verse, and unlike many of the 
modern school of versifiers he is not at odds with life and the 
world — ^he is content with the great simplicities. He is neither 
sentimental nor cynical nor affected, nor does he adopt the pose 
of extreme sophistication and hard cleverness which profess su- 
periority to traditional ways of thinking and acting and feeling. 
These of course are all negative merits, but they are merits nev- 
ertheless. There is no great passion or emotion in his book, no 
sweeping vision, but what he does sing he sings simply and 



410 NEW BOOKS [Dec. 

clearly. Among the best pieces are "The Bright Day," "The 
Hobby Horse," and "The Holy War," but he achieves his finest 
metrical effects in "Sarin." 

CATECHIST'S MANUAL. First Elementary Course. By Rev. 
Roderick MacEachen, D.D., Wheeling, West Va.: Catho- 
lic Book Co. $1.75. 
This volume will be most serviceable to young catechists, and 

youthful mothers in their task of guiding the opening minds of 

children. 

It is well calculated to impress upon mothers the fact that 

children are a sacred trust of God's love, and lead them to learn 

of God's own Blessed Mother, how to fulfill the holy office of a 

true Catholic mother. 

SECOND MARRIAGE. By Viola Meynell. New York: George H. 

Doran Co. $1.50. 

Alice Meynell's daughter has written another novel, her sixth. 
Second Marriage, while it may not greatly add to Miss Meynell's 
literary reputation, will, at any rate, sustain it. The setting of 
this story is in the wide flat fens of England; the characters are 
the members of a family which had possessed its lands for cen- 
turies. It is with the subtle processes of their souls that Miss 
Meynell is chiefly concerned in this book. There is first the 
marriage of Ismay, the beautiful eldest daughter, to the man who 
loved her with such abandonment; his death causes her return 
to her parents' home where she meets her cousin, Arnold. The 
slow progress of their love-affair is a revelation of Ismay's char- 
acter, and the subsequent marriage brings the story to a close, 
it is all written in a delicately beautiful prose. 

MR. STANDFAST. By John Buchanan. New York : George H. 

Doran Co. $1.60. 

Those who have read Greenmantle and The Thirtg-Nine Steps 
by John Buchanan will recall a delightfully reckless character 
by the name of Richard Hannay. In the pages of Mr. Standfast 
he is the hero of an exciting secret service yarn that takes him 
to the desolate coast of Scotland and France trailing a dangerous 
and elusive master mind of enemy spydom — Graf von Schwabing. 
In this hunt he is assisted by a militant pacifist (?) and a delecta- 
ble girl, Mary, who, in the end, furnishes the satisfactory element 
of a romance. 

As it is not fair for a reviewer to relate the plot of a mystery 
story such as this, the reader must go and search for it himself. 
And in that searching we can guarantee that he will have a pleas- 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 411 

ant, exciting and wholly illuminating time. For there are spy 
stories and spy stories; and this belongs to the other kind. It is 
not written in the usual breathless style of action that we are 
accustomed to And in most spy stories ; the literary flavor is there. 
The book is excellently written. The action does not simply 
sweep along the characters; the characters sweep along the action 
— real, live people who have real blood in their veins. Another 
unusual touch is given the story by the use of Pilgrim's Progress 
as a code. Mr. Standfast, of course, reaches his journey's end 
after many vicissitudes. 

WAR AND LOVE. By Richard Aldington. Boston: Four Seas 

Ck>. 91.25 net 

The author of these poems has been unwise enough to write 
a foreword in which he declares that his present book, unlike his 
volume. Images Old <md New — " is a book by a common soldier 
for common soldiers." For this statement gives the reader an 
opportunity to take issue vnih the British Lieutenant author, and to 
assure him that his impressions of love are the attributes of a 
special character and reveal a decidedly pathological stigma. 

There has been no lack of singing in English of the intensities 
and nudities of human passion, singing raised in a technical 
way to the levels of pretentious literature; therefore there is little 
need to specify any praise for Mr. Aldington's method of delivery 
of his carnal moods. A confessed devotee of the lusts, he remains 
lustful amid the carnage and horrors of the battlefield; the sight 
of death does not present to him any other picture than contrast 
with the beauty of the flesh, and it would almost seem as though 
the eternal majesty of the event passed over his head unnoticed, in 
the protoplasmic yearnings of his poor, bedraggled, blood-stained 
body. The psychologists and physiologists have names and classi- 
fications for beings that reveal so clearly the marks of the brute. 
Mr. Aldington does not need the critics; he needs a physician. 

NEW RIVERS OF THE NORTEL By Hulbert Footner. New 

York: George H. Doran Co. $2.00 net. 

Mr. Footner writes a very charming account of his explora- 
tion of the headwaters of the Fraser, Peace and Hay Rivers in 
Northwestern Canada. He ascribes vividly the scenic beauties of 
river, lake, mountain and forest, the joys and hardships of camping 
out in the open vdthout a guide, the customs and traditions of the 
Slavi Indians, and the lives of the pioneers and traders of the vnld 
Northwest. The book is well illustrated by seventy-five photo- 
graphs taken by the author. 



412 NEW BOOKS [Dec. 

REZANOV. By Gertrude Atherton. New York: Boni & Liveright. 

70 cents. 

In the pleasant, convenient form of the publishers' ** Modern 
Library " we have now a reprint of Mrs. Atherton's semi-historical 
novel, first published in 1906. The selection is appropriate, as the 
little book embodies an interesting incident in the story of our 
country, the projected Russian aggression in California, in the 
year 1806, and also represents the author satisfactorily. No one has 
written more effectively and enthusiastically of California than 
Mrs. Atherton; in her hands the picturesque values of such a story 
are certain of full justice. It is the historical interest and ques- 
tions of state craft that predominate in this instance, however, 
and in dealing with them the author shows that she familiarizes 
herself with her subject before attacking it. 

Further application of this excellent principle would have 
precluded such an expression as ** Romanism " on the lips of a 
Spanish Catholic girl, and other matter distasteful to Catholics. 

i 

MARYOLIYIER. By May Sinclair. New York: The MacmiUan 

Co. $2.00. r^^O^fe^i 

This is a very dull, drab life story of a most uninteresting 
personality. Mary Olivier's relatives and friends are for the most 
part drunkards, imbeciles, lunatics and stupid atheists. The book 
is written ostensibly to set forth the author's crude ideas on pan- 
theism, and her superficial dabblings in German philosophy. She 
is evidently beyond her depth, but that does not prevent her from 
rolling off page after page of the most incoherent attacks on every 
Christian doctrine. Her admiration for Swinburne and Walt 
Whitman may account for the immoral tone of more than one inci- 
dent she records. When the French atheist does this sort of thing, 
he is at least interesting in a flashy way, and makes some attempt 
at style. His English imitator only succeeds in being vulgar, blas- 
phemous and inane. 



^-i:^ 




BARBARA OF BALTIMORE. By Katharine Haviland ^Taylor. 

New York: George H. Doran Co. $1.50 net. 

This is a clear, well-written story of a Baltimore home during 
war time. The inevitable German spy gives it the touch of mys- 
tery, and the invalid English soldier hero, visiting Dr. Crane and 
his family, gives it the touch of romance. The elder daughter is 
the villain of the piece, and her selfishness and dishonesty are 
punished in good old-fashioned style. Barbara is a sweet girl 
heroine of seventeen, worthy of winning the love of any man. 



1919.] NEW BOOKS 413 

IN A Sketch of Mother Mary Lawrence, F. M. M., by the Rev. 
D. J. 0*SuIlivan, M. A.L. (Boston : Society of the Propagation of 
the Faith» 25 Granby Street) we find a flower of New England 
growth, blooming early in the field of the Chinese Missions. Marie 
Comtois» in religion Mother Mary Lawrence, was of French- 
Canadian stock settled in Worcester, Mass. She became a Fran- 
ciscan Missionary of Mary in 1904 and in 1914 China was assigned 
as her portion of the vineyard. The mission of Chang Chung in 
Manchoria was confided to her care, but her years were to be short. 
In 1917 she closed a life beautified by spiritual and corporal works 
of mercy, at the age of thirty-three. A priest who knew her and 
gave her the last rites of the Church, said, when asked to write his 
impressions: *To do justice to a saint, in writing of her, the writer 
himself should be a saint." This American girl, when she saw the 
dire poverty of the Chinese poor, wished for the pennies she had 
spent for ribbons, ice cream, and candy. The story of her life is a 
mute appeal to other souls to deny self and follow the call of the 
Lover of souls. 

THE road by which souls have traveled on their journey towards 
truth is perennially interesting: but it is not often that we 
may rejoice in following the footsteps of a convert from Judaism 
— one, too, thrilling with the glad enthusiasm of that greatest of 
adventures. This is the theme of The Heavenly Road, by Rosalie 
Marie Levy. It is divided into four parts: a short survey of the 
Jewish nation as the depository of the prophecies of the Messiah, 
the life of Jesus Christ as the fulfiUer of these prophecies; next 
**What think ye of Christ?" the magnet of the millions through the 
ages who have followed Him; lastly what was Christ's mission? 
The earnest words of this convert are calculated to inspire travel- 
ing on *'the heavenly road" with strength and perseverance until 
they too reach the *'One Fold and the One Shepherd." This book- 
let may be obtained at 39 K Street, N. W., Washington, D. C. 
Price 25 cents, postage, 5 cents. 

GOOD OLD STORIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS, selected by 
Elva S. Smith (Boston: Lothrop, Lee & Shepherd. $1.60 net). 
Miss Smith, as librarian of the Carnegie Library, Pittsburgh, 
has great experience as to what sort of stories boys and girls like. 
These she has gathered from many sources. The charming illus- 
trations of Miss Bridgeman, sometimes fairylike, sometimes weird, 
but always of the enchanted land, enhance the individuality of the 
characters of the various stories. 



414 NEW BOOKS [Dec. 

WE are pleased to notice a fourth and revised edition of a* 
Student's History of the United States by Channing. The 
book is published by the Macmillan Company (New York). It 
presents in a condensed way the history of the United States since 
the days of early discovery and settlement of the continent. The 
special value of this edition is that the book has been brought 
completely up to date» concluding with a summary of America's 
participation in the Great War. 

VOLUME XV. of the Dictionnaire Apologitique (Paris: Gabriel 
Beauchesne)» among other articles, gives a complete study 
of "Modernism;" an exposition of "Monism," by Rev. P. Malle- 
branco, S.J., an article on the destruction of ancient "Monuments, 
by Paul AUard, and one by Godefroid Kuth on the "Middle Ages. 



99 



«< 



THE CATHOLIC HOME ANNUAL FOR 1920 (New York: Ben- 
ziger Brothers, 25 cents), contains many interesting articles 
by well-known v^iters, beautifully illustrated. We note especially 
Blessed Joan of Arc — Saint-elect," by Rt. Rev. Mgr. John Walsh; 
The Feasts of Our Holy Mother Church," by Rev. Edward 
Garesch6, S.J.; "The Rosary," by Rev. Thomas M. Schwertner, 
O.P., and "Subiaco, The Cradle of the Benedictine Order," by Rev. 
Michael Ott, O.S.C 

AN attractive and useful gift book is the new "thin edition" of 
the Manna of the Soul, with Epistles and Gospels by Father 
Lasance (New York: Benziger Brothers. $L00 to $4.75, according 
to binding). 

THE New York Committee of the Fatherless Children of France, 
11 West 46th Street, offers attractive cards of Christmas 
greetings at ten cents each. The price of one such card keeps one 
little war orphan in its mother's home for one day. Cards at $3.00 
and $36.00 representing a month's and a year's support may also 
be had. The committee offers further a special calendar for 30 
cents. The work of the Fatherless Children has the approbation 
of the Cardinal Archbishop of Paris. Those who help these His 
little ones, will give assuredly to the Christmas Babe Himself. 



IRecent Events, 



The result of the month's military opera- 
Russia, tions have been distinctly unfavorable to 

the anti-Bolshevist forces. They have suf- 
fered severe reverses on the three principal fronts. On the north 
and west Admiral Kolchak has been forced to retire on a wide 
line» and at this writing is even contemplating the abandonment 
of Omsk, the capital of the All-Russian Government. The civilian 
population of Omsk has already departed, and Kolchak has also 
ordered a preliminary evacuation of the city by the American 
hospital and such government departments as are not directly 
necessary to a military defence. It is intended to turn Omsk into 
a fortified town surrounded by trenches, but the Supreme Gov- 
ernor and the Government, as represented by the Council of Min- 
isters, will remain. 

Kolchak's withdrawal seems to have been caused by the 
recent departure of the Czech troops from the Siberian front. 
These forces, which deserted the Austrian armies early in the 
War and joined the Russians, have been in Siberia since the Bol- 
shevist coup under Lenine and Trotzky, in opposition to which they 
placed themselves under Kolchak's command. They have re- 
cently been ordered back to Czecho-Slovakia by the Supreme 
Council at Paris, and the gap made by their departure afforded 
the Bolshevists the opportunity for a wide advance. Kolchak 
met the menace by ordering several regiments to the scene, but 
lack of transportation facilities made it impossible for these 
troops to arrive in time, and the retreat was decided upon. 

General Yudenitch, who in our last month's account was ap- 
parently on the point of capturing Petrograd and had succeeded 
in wresting Gatchina, the strongest point south of Petrograd, 
from the Bolshevists, has since lost Gatchina and has been stead- 
ily pressed back by the Red armies, over a front of forty-seven 
miles^ The failure of Yudenltch's advance has been ascribed to 
lack of supplies and men, and especially to his disappointment 
in not receiving aid from Finland. According to a late report, the 
Finns have decided to send to Yudenitch's assistance a force of 
30,000 men in a new drive on Petrograd, but this is unconfirmed. 

In the south Denikin has been forced to retire a short dis- 
tance from Orel on the road to Moscow, and has met with a num- 
ber of local reverses from the Bolshevists on bis whole front In 



416 RECENT EVENTS [Dec. 

addition he has been hampered by attacks in Iiis rear by Bolshe- 
vist cavalry and on his western flank by the Ukrainian forces 
under General Petlura. A recent report, however, is to the effect 
that the Ukrainians have been taken in the rear by a force of 
30,000 Galicians in alliance with Denikin and that, as a conse- 
quence, Petlura intends to lay down his arms. 

It has been sometimes asserted that Kolchak and Denikin 
aim to restore Tsarism or a Russian. Monarchy, but the probability 
is that the aim of the anti-Bolshevist leaders is rather to restore 
Russia geographically; that the independence of Finland and Po- 
land is only half-heartedly recognized by them, and that separa- 
tion of the Baltic States is distasteful, since Kolchak, as head of 
the All-Russian Government, continues to think instinctively of 
these States as provinces of the Russian Empire. This policy has 
caused the Baltic States to withhold their aid. For, although op- 
posed to the Soviet Government at Moscow, they are equally de- 
termined on existence independent of Russia. 

As a consequence of this desire for autonomy, a conference 
of the Baltic States is now in session at Dorpet, Livonia. Dele- 
gates from Finland, the Ukraine, Poland, Letvia, Esthonia and 
Lithuania are in attendance. While Russia is also represented. 
The Bolshevist Government has been invited to send representa- 
tives to this conference to discuss the question of the exchange 
of prisoners of war, on which further negotiations are dependent. 
The conditions for an armistice with the Bolshevists have not 
yet been fixed by the conference, but the Baltic States have agreed 
on a neutral zone and have decided to ask the Allies to supervise 
it. The Allies are not represented at the Dorpet Conference, but 
are kept fully informed of its progress. 

The representatives of the Baltic States have issued a long 
ofiBcial statement explaining their attitude regarding their entry 
into negotiations with the Bolshevist Government. In this state- 
ment, which has been made public by the Esthonian Legation in 
London, representatives of these Governments point out that it is 
not their intention to intervene in the internal affairs of Russia. 
The communiqui concludes with the statement that these Gov- 
ernments are prepared to enter upon pourparlers with Russia, but 
that in order to safeguard their future, they earnestly request the 
great democratic States "to supervise the fulfillment of the treaty 
should peace be concluded" between them and the Bolshevists. 

As a consequence of the disasters to the various anti-Bolshe- 
vist movements, radical changes in the Allied Russian policy are 
expected in many quarters. Rumors of a proposed parley with 
the Soviet Government are numerous, and these were given a cer- 



1919.] RECENT EVENTS 417 

tain countenance by a recent Guildhall speech by the British Pre- 
mier. French statesmen are strongly opposed to such a parley 
^th the Reds, believing that Bolshevism in Russia will fall of its 
own weight, sooner or later, and that those who aid in its down- 
fall will have the greatest power in rebuilding Russia. If the 
Allies do not do this, France believes the Germans will, and there- 
fore wants the Allies to continue to aid those forces opposed to 
the Soviets. Syice Lloyd George's Guildhall speech, Bonar Law, 
the Government leader in the House of Commons, has assured 
that body that Great Britain has no intention of opening peace 
negotiations with Lenine and Trotzky until the House of Com- 
mons has had an opportunity to discuss the subject. 

Despite the repeated demands of the Su- 
Rumania. preme Council that her troops evacuate 

Hungary, Rumania still continues her grip 
on that country, and is thus the most serious obstacle in the way 
of peace in Central Europe. The situation may be succinctly set 
forth by the statement that peace in Central Europe cannot be 
achieved till the Hungarian treaty is signed, that the Supreme 
Council will not sign a treaty with the present Hungarian minis- 
try of Premier Friedrich, which it looks upon as a mere tool of 
Archduke Joseph, and hence has demanded the election of a new 
ministry, and finally that no fair elections can be held in Hun- 
gary till the Rumanian troops have been withdrawn. This Ru- 
mania has so far managed to avoid. 

Rumania's answer to the last three notes of the Peace Con- 
ference has just been received in Paris and voted entirely un- 
satisfactory. In it, instead of the complete evacuation demanded 
by the Supreme Council, Rumania states that she is now with- 
drawing her troops to the River Theiss or Tisza, and says nothing 
about any further removal. What Rumania seeks to gain from 
the occupation of Hungary is to fix her boundary further west 
than it was fixed by the Peace Conference. The Thiess line lies 
far to the west both of the Peace Conference's line, and the one 
which the Rumanians hope eventually to establish. The various 
notes of the Supreme Council also insisted that Rumania recog- 
nize the fact that the value of the materials seized by her troops 
in Hungary must be deducted from the reparations due her, and 
also that she must sign the Austrian treaty or not be allowed 
to sign the Bulgarian treaty. Rumania's reply is evasive on these 
points. 

Reports reaching Paris say that the Rumanians have begun 
to withdraw their troops from Budai>est. They are evidently 

Gi. 27 



418 RECENT EVENTS [Dec. 

moving back to the Theiss line. These reports say that much 
disorder accompanies the withdrawal from the Hungarian capital, 
and that ''requisitions" are being conducted on an unprecedented 
scale. 

Another aggression of Rumania is her recent announcement 
to the Supreme Council that she has annexed Bessarabia, a coun- 
try about the size of Ireland, formerly belonging to Russia and 
still Russian in its customs and ideals, and apparently opposed, 
to a large extent, to union with Rumania. Since the armistice 
Rumanian troops have occupied this territory, and during the en- 
tire history of the Peace Conference, Rumania has been trying 
to have it allotted to her. The Conference favored a plebiscite, 
but this did not appeal to the Rumanians, who seemed to doubt 
their success under such a plan, and decided to make the best of 
their opportunity and boldly seize the country. As we go to 
press, elections are in full swing for the new Rumanian Parlia- 
ment which will meet November 20th. The two hundred and 
forty seats to be filled in the Chamber of Deputies are being 
sought by two hundred and forty Liberal candidates, under the 
leadership of J. J. C. Bratiano, former Premier. It is significant 
that provision has been made for the representation of Bessara- 
bia in the new Chamber. The opposition of M. Bratiano and 
also of his successor in the Premiership to the Peace Treaty as it 
now stands, and apparently the whole-hearted opposition of all 
Rumania to that document, is based on their refusal to subscribe 
to that clause of the Treaty recognizing the rights of minorities, 
whether by means of plebiscites or by autonomy. 

It has frequently been asserted that there is a lack of honest 
cooperation among the Allies in dealing with Rumania. England 
and America stand firmly for obliging her to respect the orders 
of the Peace Conference. France and Italy have been accused 
of not being really so firm as they might be. This charge is borne 
out by the fact that the French newspapers generally are favor- 
able to Rumania in the latest Hungarian controversy. France 
has economic ties with Rumania, and it is known that Italy is 
seeking to establish friendly relations with her as the new mis- 
tress of the Balkans, in view of a possible Italian confiict with 
Czecho-Slovakia and Serbia as a consequence of the Flume inci- 
dent. 

Reports as to internal conditions in 
Germany. Germany are somewhat conflicting. On 

the one hand the number of unemployed 
has been reduced considerably from month to month. On Au- 



1919.] RECENT EVENTS 419 

gust 30th, 301,000 unemployed were counted in one hundred and 
thu-teen cities. On October 19th only 232,000 unemployed were 
counted in one hundred and seventeen cities, including Berlin 
and most of the large places. The Federal Labor Ministry cal- 
culates from these figures that there are about half a million un- 
employed in all Germany, while not six months ago it was nearly 
a million and a half. From talks with officials and labor leaders, 
competent investigators assign the following reasons for this 
comparatively favorable situation: First, employees have al- 
ready gained a considerable increase in wages and other privi- 
leges all around. Second, they are tired of strikes, seeing their 
gains in wages swallowed by enforced idleness. Third, the re- 
awakening of trade with foreign countries, which has already as- 
sumed a much larger proportion than is realized outside of Ger- 
many. 

On the other hand the mark has reached the lowest value in 
its history, the American dollar at present being worth from 
thirty-five to forty marks, whereas, normally it is worth only four 
marks. Moreover, the introduction of the eight-hour day has 
crippled German industry in competing with countries where pro- 
duction is greater, and many businesses are on the verge of bank- 
ruptcy. To remedy this condition, however, German industrial 
leaders are counting on the compulsory eight-hour day being 
introduced into other countries, as it has already been 
introduced into the principal trades in England, and once the 
eight-hour day is universally accepted by all industrial countries, 
they believe that Germany will not find it difBcult to compete again 
in the world's markets. 

As a means of stopping emigration from Germany, which had 
been urged in some quarters as an economic necessity, the news- 
papers are calling attention to the recent report of the German 
Mining Commission sent to France to ascertain the extent of the 
damage done to French mines during the War. The Commission 
reports that the work of reconstruction will have to be done ''from 
the ground up,'' and that the task is so great as to furnish work for 
all the unemployed in Germany for the next eight years. 

On November 4th a ten-day cessation of all railway passenger 
traffic throughout Germany was put into effect by the Government, 
and since November 16th only trains absolutely necessary have 
been allowed to operate. This plan was decided upon in an effort 
to prevent a national catastrophe owing to lack of coal, and to safe- 
guard the transportation of potatoes before the first frost comes, 
the trains being used to carry only these necessary supplies. The 
predicament is largely the result of protracted strikes in the rail- 



420 RECENT EVENTS [Dec. 

way repair shops, which have prevented production of the rolling 
stock needed to offset the wastage caused by the War, and to take 
the place of the five thousand engines handed over to the Entente. 

A committee of radical leaders has issued a manifesto, an- 
nouncing that the general strike of all workers to support the 
metal workers in their protracted walkout has been abandoned, 
owing to the attitude of the Majority Socialists and of the trades 
unions. The metal worker's strike still continues, but Minister 
of Defence Noske has adopted very severe measures to prevent the 
outbreak of the general strike. Troops have occupied the head- 
quarters of the Independent Socialists, and documents were seized 
which, it is said, prove Communist activity on the part of the In- 
dependents. 

German Bolshevists who planned to observe the anniversary 
of Lenine's victory over Kerensky on November 7th, were foiled 
by Minister Noske. Sixty Independent Socialist and Communist 
leaders in Berlin were arrested, and processions which the radical 
element attempted to organize, were broken up by Government 
forces without trouble. In Munich, Hamburg and other large 
cities the anniversary of the Russian Red Revolution passed with- 
out incident. 

The vital statistics of the German people during the War 
period have recently been published. The total German losses, 
including deaths from underfeeding due to the blockade, as well as 
the direct losses in the armies, are now placed by the ofiBcial 
statisticians at 5,500,000. The report also shows the effect of the 
War upon the birth and death rates. In 1913 the number of 
babies born in Germany was 1,839,000, and as the deaths of the 
year amounted to 1,006,000 there was a gain of 834,000 in the 
population. By 1918, on the other hand, these figures were almost 
reversed. There were 1,630,000 deaths and only 945,000 births, 
so that there was a net excess of deaths over births of 885,000. 

The past month in France has been for the 
France. most part one of expectation rather than of 

action. The Supreme Council, it is true, 
has addressed notes to various countries — ^to late enemies such 
as Germany and to late Allies such as Rumania, both of which 
have paid equally scant heed to the Council's demands and remon- 
strances; but in the main the attitude has been that of waiting to 
see the result of the deliberations of the American Congress on the 
Peace Treaty. The Supreme Council on five different occasions 
has formally announced that on a certain day it would fix a date 
for the coming of ofiScial peace, and as many times has postponed 



1919.] RECENT EVENTS 421 

the date in the hope that America would be able to deposit her 
ratification at the same time as England* France and Italy» and 
perhaps Japan. In the event of the Treaty's rejection by America 
it is the general opinion of the French press that the League of 
Nations is doomed. 

As a result of the long debates and proposed reservations of 
the American Senate, the formal deposit of ratification by the vari- 
ous countries who have already accepted the Treaty will, accord- 
ing to trustworthy information, be delayed no longer and will al- 
most certainly be made before the end of November, no matter 
what action the Senate may take. The conclusion of the Peace 
Conference seems to have been definitely set for December 1st, a 
date chiefly determined by the American and British delegations 
who insist on leaving France at that time. 

For the past few months European diplomats have been going 
ahead making plans in anticipation of the failure of the League. 
It has so happened that this work has been done largely without 
America, and the preparations for putting the Treaty into effect, 
have been made by those nations which have ratified it, namely, 
England, France and Italy. For some time it was the ordinary 
presumption that the Council of the League of Nations was to be 
more or less of a clearing-house for the execution of the Treaty. 
Several months ago there appeared one day an announcement of 
the creation of a new commission, one not named in the Peace 
Treaty. It was to be known as the Commission on Coordination, 
and to it were to report all the Commissions not tied to the League 
of Nations, and it, in turn, was to report to the different Foreign 
OflBces. Four days later its name was changed to the "Commis- 
sion for the Enforcement of the Peace Treaty." This Commission 
now stands to play the rdle it used to be supposed the Council of 
the League would play. It is to be one big, powerful piece of ma- 
chinery for the enforcement of the Peace Treaty. It vnll be 
stronger than the Reparations Commission, for it will have all 
the powers given to the Reparations Commission and others in 
addition. 

Elections for the French Parliament are now being conducted 
through the whole of France. After a lapse of nearly half a cen- 
tury Alsace-Lorraine will again be represented. Not a single can- 
didate in the restored provinces has been found to go before the 
people as a protester against union with France or even as a neu- 
tralist 

M. Cl^menceau is apparently fixed in his determination to quit 
party politics immediately after the general election. Whether he 
will accept the nomination to succeed President Poincari at the 



422 RECENT EVENTS [Dec. 

end of January, is still regarded as an open question, but the feel- 
ing is growing that he will not. What is generally believed is, 
that he will insist, if possible, on controlling the selection of his 
successor in such a way that Aristide Briand will not be able to get 
the nomination. In the early part of November the Premier ap- 
pointed Captain Andr6 Tardieu to a Cabinet post. Until this ap- 
pointment Briand was regarded as the only probable successor to 
Cl^menceau. Tardieu was looked upon as a mere possibility. The 
latter's entry into the Ministry, however, has greatly improved 
his chances, and he is now considered as Briand's most danger- 
ous rival. 

No solution has yet been found for the 
Italy. Fiume problem. Foreign Minister Tit- 

toni's compromise plan proposed that Italy 
should be given most of Istria, as well as a certain suzerainty over 
the city of Zara in Dalmatia, with a considerable number of the 
Dalmatian islands, while Fiume itself and the surrounding terri- 
tories would be a buffer state under control of the League. The 
mainland of Dalmatia, except Zara, would go to the Jugo-Slavs. 
This proposal has been rejected by the American Government as 
giving Italy a great deal of territory inhabited by enormous Slav 
majorities. Rumors are current to the effect that new proposals 
are to be made, the initiative being assigned to France in one re- 
port, while another has it that Italy has received from Lloyd 
George a pledge that a settlement of the Adriatic question, consist- 
ent with the honor of Italy and the interests of all the Allies, 
would be reached. Meanwhile disorders between D'Annunzio's 
troops and Italian regulars passing through Fiume have been re- 
ported, but details are withheld. 

The result of the Italian elections, set for the middle of No- 
vember, are awaited with great interest The War and the new 
method of voting have brought about a great change in the class 
of candidates for the Chamber of Deputies. The electoral reform 
consists in voting not merely for a candidate representing one 
constituency, as was the case formerly, but for a list comprising 
from ten to twenty candidates who have the same aims and polit- 
ical programme. This reform has for object to prevent cor- 
ruption, which was much easier when only one candidate had to 
be dected by a relatively limited number of electors. On the 
other hand, it has had the effect of eliminating from the lists many 
of the best known Deputies whose terms expire, such as Barzilau, 
ex-Minister and a delegate to the Peace Conference under Orlando, 
ex-Premier Sonnino, and others, who are unwilling to have their 



1919.] RECENT EVENTS 423 

names figure in lists of candidates with whom they cannot fully 
cooperate owing to differences of opinion. The two parties which 
are expected to make the largest gains are the Socialists and the 
Popular Party, or Catholics, as they are the only two parties 
which have constantly had a definite political programme, well 
organized and widely diffused. The other parties can hardly be 
called parties, as they are mere followers of a leader and are called 
after him, as, for example, Giolittiana (followers of Giolitti), fol- 
lowers of Orlando, Salandra, etc. 

The Popular Party has a large programme of reforms, among 
them being wider popular education, energetic measures for the 
development of agriculture, so that Italjfteay produce what is nec- 
essary for her own consumption, and the entire reorganization of 
Italian industries to enable the nation to be less dependent upon 
imports. It also requests that the Government guarantee respect 
for the Church. 

D'Annunzio has issued a proclamation to the citizens of 
Fiume setting the date of the Italian elections for the election of a 
Deputy representing Fiume in the Italian Chamber of Deputies. 
Commander Luigi Rizzo, formerly of the Italian navy and at pres- 
ent commander-in-chief of the D'Annunzio sea forces, is the can- 
didate announced by the D'Annunzio bureau of information. 

Conditions in Hungary continue to verge on 
Hungary. desperation. In Budapest alone nine hun- 

dred thousand persons are out of work; 
scarcely any money is in circulation except Communist paper, 
which is practically worthless; clothes and the necessaries of life 
are almost unprocurable. The small peasant proprietors were 
alienated by the highhanded methods of the Bela-Kun Soviet 
regime, whose mismanagement in the cities closed the factories 
and in the country produced stoppage of the food supply. The 
capital is without coal and almost without food, pumpkins and 
watermelons being the only nourishment the great majority of the 
people can obtain. To these hardships have been added recent 
heavy snowfalls accompanied by severe cold. 

Reports indicate that the suffering is very intense both in 
Vienna and Budapest because of lack of fuel and food. The situ- 
ation is made worse in Budapest by the presence of the Rumanian 
troops, who are reported to be still seizing food-stuffs and supplies 
of all sorts, regardless of the warnings of the Supreme Council. 
The Allied Commission in Budapest has been unable to let the 
hospitals in Hungary have supplies for their patients because of 
the immediate seizure of these supplies by the Rumanians. Hence 



424 RECENT EVENTS [Dec. 

large stocks of medicine and hospital equipment are held in stor- 
age in Budapest under an American guard, while Red Cross sup- 
plies originally intended for Budapest have been diverted else- 
vrhere en route, to prevent them from falling into Rumanian 
hands. The people in Budapest are reported to be cutting down 
the trees in the parks and on the boulevards, and digging out the 
roots in an effort to get enough fuel. 

The political situation also is in turmoil, and latest reports 
indicate that the Allies have taken energetic measures to bring it 
to order. Sir George Clerk, the Allied Emissary, has delivered on 
behalf of the Supreme Council at Paris, it is stated, an ultimatum 
to Premier Friedrich, whose government succeeded the short 
regime of Archduke Joseph, who in turn came into power on the 
downfall of the Soviet established by Bela-Kun. The ultimatum is 
said to notify Premier Friedrich that he must form a coalition 
cabinet within forty-eight hours, or must retire from the Premier- 
ship. The Supreme Council has taken the position that it is not 
prepared to negotiate a treaty with the present government of 
Hungary, holding that it is not properly representative of the na- 
tion. Count Albert Apponyi, the Magyar Nationalist leader and 
former Prime Minister of the Hungarian Kingdom, has accepted 
the presidency of the peace commission, which will go to Paris 
when summoned by the Supreme Council to negotiate the Hun- 
garian peace treaty, but there is no indication that the Supreme 
Council will receive this commission. 

Persistent reports for the last several months would seem to 
indicate that there is a widespread desire throughout Hungary 
for the restoration of the old monarchial form of government. 
Various names have been mentioned in this connection, the most 
frequent being that of the Archduke Francis Joseph Otto, eldest 
son of former Emperor Charles. The Duke of Connaught and 
King Ferdinand of Rumania have also been spoken of, the mon- 
archist party having issued a statement saying that, while It is 
desirous of reestablishing a kingdom, It does not favor the restor- 
ation to the throne of any member of the Hapsburg family. In 
the doubtful event of Archduke Francis* selection and the still 
more doubtful sanction of him by the Allies, he would assume 
the throne under some sort of regency by the State Council, as he 
has not yet reached his seventh birthday. 

November nth. 



With Our Readers. 



A LENGTHY and useful essay might just now be written on the 
forgetfulness and the blindness of the world. The nations 
apparently are so shaken with radicalism and revolution that they 
seem in danger of losing their very life. This is, we believe, only 
apparent : yet the evil is great and far-reaching : certainly serious 
enough to merit all the thought and action that we, who believe in 
the continuance of Christian civilization, can put to it. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

THE Great War brought us, as a people, back to many basic 
truths we had forgotten or neglected. Strange to say, the 
world saw again and accepted basic Catholic truth which it had 
long and often ridiculed and denied. Duty was once more en- 
throned in its high place. Previously, because duty was duty, it 
had been robbed of merit. In some perverse way the world had 
divorced the voluntary from duty, and had claimed, in a fatuous 
way, that only the former was meritorious and worthy. Lowell 
had sung the modern fallacy in his Sir Launfal: ''He gives nothing 
but worthless gold who gives through a sense of duty." The na- 
tion-wide draft changed all this. A man's highest merit was his 
duty to his country — to serve not where he wished but where his 
Government found the best use for him — at home or overseas. 

The Great War made fasting and mortification even fashion- 
able. It pressed home to men the reality and the necessity of the 
Catholic truth underlying our eternal redemption by Christ — ^vicar- 
ious sacrifice. The youngest among us, the healthiest, the strong- 
est, the bravest went out to die that we might live. 

The world had forgotten : the world was forced once more to 

remember. 

♦ ♦ « « 

THE War has passed. The heights to which we climbed we find 
too high and too lonely. We would return to the pleasanter 
valleys below: give over the strain and the tension — and live in 
peace. But the strain from which we thought ourselves free, has, 
in some way, possessed the valley also. We cannot escape it. The 
War still, in effect, endures. We cannot clearly analyze: we are 
at a loss to define, or to explain, but we find the valley from which 
we went forth to the hills, a changed place. The world is changed. 
How far is the change to go? Will the old peace ever reign again? 



426 WITH OUR READERS [Dec 

Does the present change mean practically a social revolution? 
Prophet indeed would be the man who could answer truthfully 
and definitely. 

Not only do we know a great change has taken place but that 
mighty forces are battling each other* and upon the successful 
play of one or the other will depend the immediate future of na- 
tions and of civilization. No man may count himself unimportant 
in the struggle. It is a war into which every man, woman and 
child is drafted for service by the supreme call of God. No one is 
exempt. And as the war of physical fighting led the world to rec- 
ognize its f orgetfulness : led it to see the necessity and importance 
of basic truths, long scorned, may not this even greater war for the 
very life of Christian civilization lead many to recover ancient 
truths and renew ancient sacrifices? 

^p ^p ^p ^p 

ONE may easily allow weak imagination to play the rdle of 
reason. The latter demands knowledge both of principles 
and of facts, and carries with it the heavy burden of concrete jus- 
tice. Imagination shifts the burden from self and idly pictures 
two classes — those who support law and order, and those who do 
not. Under the former it categorically classifies all who stand for 
the present economic system : under the latter all who do not It 
does not take pains to discriminate, nor to ask itself whether, in 
making such ill-considered classification, it does an injustice to 
law and order and to the very economic system which its seeks to 
maintain and defend. 

How many, without regard to principle, stand for the pres- 
ent system because it protects them in their own injustices, 
their own violation of God's law, and their own evil doing? How 
many stand for it unintelligently, never seeking to amend its 
faults and thus strengthen it? Its evils are not only apparent but 
glaring. Leo XIII. pointed them out many years ago. If time has 
led the world to forget them, it does not mean the world has cor- 
rected them. They are as true and as apropos today as when first 
written. Leo XIII. spoke to a world which did not and does not 
recognize nor accept his authority. It is now being forced by 
other and harsher means to acknowledge his wisdom. Reading 
it now for the first time, one might readily believe the following 
introduction was written but yesterday: 

'That the spirit of revolutionary change, which has long been 
disturbing the nations of the world, should have passed beyond the 
sphere of politics and made its influence felt in the cognate sphere 
of practical economics is not surprising. The elements of the con- 
flict now raging are unmistakable in the vast expansion of indus- 



1919.] WITH OUR READERS 427 

trial pursuits and the marvelous discoveries of science; in the 
changed relations between masters and workmen; in the enormous 
fortunes of some few individuals, and the utter poverty of the 
masses; in the increased self-reliance and closer mutual combina- 
tion of the working classes; as also, finally, in the prevailing moral 
degeneracy. The momentous gravity of the state of things now 
(detaining fills every mind with painful apprehension; wise men 
are discussing it; practical men are proposing schemes; popular 
meetings, legislatures, and rulers of nations are all busied with 
it — and actually there is no question which has taken a deeper 

hold on the public mind." 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

THE serious evils and injustices the Encyclical points out still 
endure, only aggravated by the greater centralization of 
wealth. It will hardly be said that the world has grown more Chris- 
tian since the Encyclical was written. 

The continuation and increase of those abuses prove, at least, 
that many who claim to be such, are not the true supporters of 
law and order and justice. They regard the present system as a 
means of making all they can get ; and, provided they escape suc- 
cessful prosecution by the civil law, they are doing ''right." That 
is the simple canon of modern business. Therefore to group all 
who stand for modern business and for the entire economic sys- 
tem, without reservation, as defenders of law and order and 
Christian civilization is ill-advised to say the least. 

In similar way many who are opposing present-day evils are 
not opposed to the present-day economic system. They believe in 
it but they wish it modified and perfected unto justice. Keenly 
alive to the growing evils that have fixed themselves upon it as 
excrescences, they realize that unless the evils are removed the sys- 
tem will be carried under by the weight of its own ills. Often they 
may be high-tempered, their language may be intemperate and 
highly colored, but the justice of their plea and the less fortunate 
ones in whose name they make it, ought to lead us to see their 
merit more readily. Our souls ought to be equally — and more-^ 
sensitive to abuses than theirs : our hands more ready to work for 
their removal. We are but injuring law and order and justice and 
the present economic system when we class them all indiscrimi- 
nately as revolutionists. 

« ♦ ♦ ♦ 

EXACT knowledge of aim and of motive is the handmaid to jus- 
tice. And justice, however irksome, will alone promote 
truth. The radical and the revolutionist would be glad if the 
conservatives would drive into their camp those who might be 



428 WITH OUR READERS [Dec. 

termed the honest liberals. And much of the far-flung radical 
propaganda has this very thing for its object — ^to label the de- 
fenders of the present system, defenders also of the evils 
which, in defiance of Catholic principles and Catholic teaching, 
have attached themselves to it. 

In the alignment and the judging of forces there must there- 
fore be the study and the reading that will enable us to know 
''what we are talking about." Much is heard today of the ''parlor 
Reds," of those who talked more defiantly than they acted: who 
never dreamed their preachments would be reduced to action: 
but who now find that their doctrines have been logically interpre- 
ted by more practical followers. The ideas, the teachings, the 
dogmas which their forerunners circulated by the si>oken and 
written word, have brought forth action and been incorporated 
into social and economic life. Ideas are not barren. The creeds 

of today are the deeds of tomorrow. 

« « ♦ ♦ 

THE Catholic Faith is not only a revelation concerning eternal 
life; it is a philosophy for temporal life. It directs not only 
the individual, but, through the individual, all human relations 
and all human society. God has made certain laws for the uni- 
verse. While He abides with them, still they, as a rule, work 
their pre-ordained course. Christ our Lord has revealed divine 
truths and given them to the Church for safe-keeping. The 
Church gives them to us to carry out, and it is for us to study, to 
apply, to readjust. It is for us to know their application which is 
their philosophy. The Church does not inaugurate or create phil- 
osophy : it stimulates, protects and safeguards it. It never put into 
execution the inevitable sequence of the truth, that Christ died for 
all, namely that all men are equal. Rightly and vdsely it allowed 
men to see and declare the liberty of man; the freedom of the 
slave; the integrity of the family; the onward march to Christian 
democracy. 

Under her inheritance there rests upon us the need of con- 
stant study first of her principles and her teachings, secondly, of 
the application of them to the life of our day. Human nature may 
never change: but human life in its infinite readjustments is al- 
ways changing. It is changing now with kaleidoscopic rapidity. 
To anticipate and to measure, require watchfulness, knowledge. 
The great Catholic truths are the magnet which draws in right di- 
rection all these forces, tendencies, conditions and impulses. If 
ideas always precede and guide actions, we may easily see our 
duty in the premises. We also ought to know and to read : we also 
ought to speak and cast broadcast our inestimable inheritance — 



1919.] WITH OUR READERS 429 

to combat the idealistic and evil-breeding preachments of parlor 
Socialists and zealous revolutionists. 

The growth of Catholic schools of sociology; of Catholic serv- 
ice schools; the increase of Catholic book and pamphlet literature 
on the subject are hopeful encouraging signs. Every parish ought 
to have its reading circle and study club. Every Catholic ought 
both to support and interest himself in such reading matter. If, 
in any great measure this were done, would we not send forth into 
modern society those ideas of Catholic teaching — old yet new — 
which by their divine strength would not only appeal but captivate 
and lead to far-reaching Catholic action. 



THE advertisements of new books concerning communications 
with the dead are pitiful evidence of both the need of personal 
faith in a living God and the lack of it. For the Catholic the Com- 
munion of Saints is a living truth. We are all made one in Christ 
and through Christ with the Father. This is a fact — not to be 
made so at some future date and after death — ^but by the power of 
Christ, here and now. It is the forgetfulness of this fact that has 
made the world forget God. Man is so poor and God is so gener- 
ous. The medium in which He gives us life with Him is Christ, 
His Divine Incarnate Son. By reason of his faith a Catholic 
knows he lives with God and also with his beloved dead, because 
they also live with God. The integrity of time and eternity: of 
this life and the life to come: of his loved and loving ones here 
and hereafter, is by that Faith preserved and perfected. 

♦ ♦ ♦ 4t 

THE life of God for man is the imitation of Christ. Christ as 
Man accepted not only the will of God: but He bowed His 
sacred Head even to the will of man. He came to do the will of the 
Father Who sent Him. He never sought to anticipate it. In this 
He gave a supreme example of a supreme truth — ^that belief in 
God exacts acceptance of and confidence in His will. To strive to 
anticipate it : to strive to lift the veil from a future which He has 
decreed to be dark, is fundamentally to question His right as our 
Creator and His will as our God. The first of the Ten Command- 
ments is the basis of all the others. Weaken that, and the whole 

structure of one's obedience is weakened. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

THE cult of spiritism and spiritualistic stances and all and 
everything connected with them is an index of the lack of 
faith in God. They who walk without Him give themselves to 
everything that in turn gives promise of supplying His absence. 
Superstitions, charms, taboos multiply: and those who refuse to 



430 WITH OUR READERS [Dec. 

accept the magnificent reasonable truths of Christianity give 
credence to paltry, inconsequential and unreasonable beliefs. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

THE grave importance of the whole question should lead us 
not only to watch against, but positively avoid, everything 
that urges or tempts us to know the future. Little may be thought 
of fortune-telling. Many who indulge in it call it trivial; they 
claim not to consider it as serious. It is a pleasant contest of 
clever guessing. But is it not true that every one of us is more or 
less affected by what is told us of our future? No question is more 
interesting to everyone of us. Our souls are open-eared at once 
when the word is mentioned. Our own fears and ambitions have 
already made them superlatively sensitive. When prophecy falls 
upon them we at least have the burden of rejecting it and assuring 
ourselves we give it no credence. And this burden is ours even 
though it be but the reading of palms, or of a teacup or an up- 
turned cut at cards. The cultivation of positive faith in God and 
His providence through all the mazes and tragedies of life is dif- 
ficult enough. We are not free to handicap it even in the slightest 
way. We are not free to think ourselves so certain of absolute 

trust in Him that we can afford to juggle with necromancy. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

QOD has divine, infinite concern for our souls and our bodies, 
for our present and our future. To prefer any other means 
to Him is certainly questioning and endangering that intimate 
personal trust and love that should bind us to Him. To live up to, 
to walk with a large-hearted, big-minded human friend taxes every 
power we have. To live worthy of him, we often feel, is quite 
beyond our best powers. We can but give him, we say, what we 
have and this we give gladly. 

To walk with God is to walk with Divine Omnipotence. To 
give Him absolute trust and utmost confidence is the first condi- 
tion of divine companionship. Then through His divine power He 
will raise us up to heights that of ourselves we could never attain. 
It is worth while to let Him work His holy will in us — ^whatever it 
may be. And thus our hearts shall possess what it was never pos- 
sible, in their brightest dreams of the future, to conceive. 



IN the September, 1919, issue of The Catholic World, we spoke 
of the missionary call from the East and how Maryknoll had 
and would continue to answer it. Father Francis Xavier Ford, 
a graduate of Maryknoll, speaks of how compelling that call is 
even in the silence of the night at Yeungkong, China : 

'^Benedicte, Stellm Cmli, Domino. — The sky at night is a won- 



1919.] WITH OUR READERS 431 

derful gift of God to us. Especially these cool crisp nights when 
its blue is deeper and the stars seem close and compel our admir- 
ation. It is all so peaceful, so removed from grosser life, God-like 
in its silent speed and gentle power. 

''It is a nightly call to thoughts of the foreign missions. 
Even to the natural man it brings the questioning thought of what 
the other half of the world is doing. Even the purse-proud feel 
small in presence of its majesty. It makes us all so childish in 
our puny might, and purifies and clarifies our relations with the 
universe. 

"It takes our thoughts from self and selfish seeking, and as 
though in contrast with its cold spirituality, it warms us to our 
fellow-man. The twinkling lamps of the hillside homes or city 
streets are mellowed in our thoughts and we feel grateful for 
their warmth. 

"To the missioner its silent appeal is bewitching. The famil- 
iar stars watching over a strange land are links with home. They 
are His comforting angels — God's eyes that watch with Him, that 
aid Him in his review of the day's work, that teach him peace, 
perhaps, when the heat of the day and the drain on his smiles 
have been trying. 

"They reassure Him that the world is God's, though men may 
not heed Him; fhey promise by their steady light to praise the 
Lord and give Him glory while the few worshippers in the heathen 
night are sleeping." 



<< I T makes one's heart bleed to read the appeals of the mission- 
1 aries among the negroes in our South — and to realize how 
helpless we are to send them more than a mere pittance." So 
speaks an appeal from the Catholic Mission Board for work 
among the colored people. 

That Board at present pays the salaries of one hundred and 
forty-nine sisters and of fourteen priests. The salary paid the 
latter is only $15 per month — so that the "overhead" must be 
slight indeed. Indeed the entire monthly payroll is only $3,240. 
Yet the Board has difficulty to meet this. It yearns to be able to 
extend its efforts, for the need is pitiable. Therefore the appeal 
goes to the Catholics of America. The office of the Board is One 
Madison Avenue, New York City. 



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Tbb Hacmillan Co., New York: 

The Next Step in Democracy, By R. W. Sellan, Ph. D. 11.50. StOTm in a Tea- 
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of Common Prayer Appointed by the General Convention of I';i3. |1.50. The 

Wild Swans at Coole, By W. B. Teats. |1.25. 

G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York: 

A Short History of Rome. By G. Ferrero and G. Barbagallo. |1.90 net Voltaire 
and His Letters. Translated by S. G. Tallentyre. |3.50 net 

Thb Four Seas Co., Boston: 

Ibsen in England. By M. A. Franc. |2.00 net Poems. By B. Curran. fl.OO net 
The Soothsayer. By V. von Heidenstam. 11.25 net Siances wiUi Carlyle. By 
E. Hacleod, A.M. |1.25 net 

Yalb UNiVBBsmr Pbcss, New Haven: 

Tales from the Secret Kingdom. By Ethel M. Gate. |2.00. The Policeman and 
the Public. By A. Woods, A.M. |1.S5. 

Frederick Pustbt St Co., New York: 

Prmfatio in Missis Defunctorum. Prmfatlones in Festis et Missis Votivis. S. 
Joseph, Spousi B.V.M. 

Russell Saoe Foundation, New York: 

American Marriage Laws in Their Social Aspects. By F. S. Hall and E. W. Brooke. 
B. W. HuEBSCH, New York: 

The Old Freedom. By Francis Nellson. |1.00. 

Clark & Fmnrrs, New York: 

Old-Fashioned Verses. By Wm. T. Homaday. 

Marshall Jones Co., New York: 

Walled Towns. By Ralph A. Cram, LL.D. |1.25. 

BoNi ft LivBRiGHT, Ncw York: 

Our America^ By Waldo Frank. |2.00 net 

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E. P. DuTTON ft Co., New York : 

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11.90 net Labor in the Changing World. By R. M. Maclver. 

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Charles Sgribner*s Sons, New York: 

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The Page Co., Boston: 

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Gommittbe on Special War Activities, National Catholic War Council, Washingtoiia 
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I 




PRESENT WAGES AND PRICES.^ 

BY JOHN A. RYAN, D.D. 

NE of the statements in the Social Recon- 
struction Programme of the National Catholic 
War Council is that the present level of wages 
should not be reduced, except in a small number 
of cases. That statement received considerable 
criticism at the time the Programme was issued. I do not think 
it is receiving so much criticism now. The reasons given for^ 
that declaration were three. First, that wages have not on the 
whole increased faster than the cost of living since 1913; sec- 
ond, that the average level of wages now, high as it is, is not 
above a living wage in the great majority of instances; third, 
that even if it were true that the majority of workers are get- 
ting more than a living wage, there are no good reasons why 
their remuneration should be reduced. 

The first reason given in the Progranmie is that wages have 
not increased faster than the cost of living since the beginning ' 
of the War. When that was published, there were no statis- 
tics of current wages which were at all general. It was known 
that high wages prevailed in certain industries, such as the 
shipping industry and other industries having to do with war 
supplies, but there was no scientific or statistical information 
available. Recently, however — within the last two weeks — 

> One of a series of lectures delivered at the Fordham School of Social Service 
on the Catholic Programme of Social Reconstruction. 

Copyright. 1919. The Missionaby Society op St. Paul the Apostlb 

IN THE State of New Yoek. 
VOL. ex. 28 



434 PRESENT WAGES AND PRICES [Jan., 

some rather general and fairly representative figures have 
been published concerning the present level of wages. In the 
light of these we can judge of the correctness of the statement 
in the Council's Programme that wages have not increased 
faster than the cost of living. There are sufficient statistics 
to form a fair approximation to the truth, and to produce some 
confidence in the judgment that was pronounced in regard to 
the rise in wages and the rise in the cost of living. 

The Council's Programme stated that the cost of living 
had risen at least seventy-five per cent since 1913; that is, from 
1913 until January or February, 1919. The recent figures given 
by the U. S. Bureau of Labor Statistics indicate that the rise 
in the cost of living from 1913 to December, 1918, was about 
seventy-four per cent; so that the statement in the Council's 
Programme was not far out of the way. They show, further, 
that the rise in the cost of living from 1914, jp«*>H»fore the 
War began, to June, 1919, was seventy-five per'^cirit: that is 
the general average throughout the country. No one pretends, 
at least in the Bureau of Labor Statistics, that these figures 
are based on complete knowledge of all the important influ- 
ences or elements that enter into the cost of living. All that 
can be claimed is that these are the prices of a sufficiently 
large number of commodities to be fairly representative of 
what the cost of living is, and that the figures have been gath- 
ered in a sufficient variety of cities and towns in the country 
to justify putting them down as a general average. 

Now as to wages: The National Industrial Conference 
Board published recently a statement of the weekly increase 
in wages in eight industries between September, 1914, and 
March, 1919 — about the same period covered by the cost of liv- 
ing statistics. The increase in wages for male workers varied 
from sixty-two per cent to one hundred and ten per cent, or an 
average of eighty-five per cent. That is ten per cent more than 
the increase in the cost of living. The wages of females in- 
creased sixty per cent to seventy-five per cent, or an average 
of sixty-six per cent. It may be interesting to know what in- 
dustries these were, so that we may have some idea of the 
importance of these figures as representing the remuneration 
which prevails among large classes of workers. The indus- 
tries are metals, cottons, wool, silk, boots and shoes, paper, 
rubber and chemicals. These are manufacturing industries. 



I 

I 

I 



1920.] PRESENT WAGES AND PRICES 435 

The United States Bureau of Labor Statistics has published 
the hourly earnings in eleven large industries, four of which 
are about the same as four of those in the list of the Indus- 
trial Conference Board. In these eleven industries, wages in- 
creased between 1914 and 1919 from fifty-one per cent to one 
hundred and fourteen per cent, an average of seventy-five per 
cent, which was the same as the increase in the cost of living. 
The Bureau also published the figures for wages in two other 
industries, namely, anthracite coal and bituminous coal. The 
increase in wages in the former is only fifty per cent; and the 
latter only thirty per cent. 

Hence the coal miners who are on strike now, and who 
have been giving the Government considerable trouble because 
of the strike, have some just claim to an increase in wages. 
Since 1914 their wages have increased only thirty per cent, and 
the gener«^l cost of living has gone up seventy-five per cent. 
Probably u*c cost of living has not risen seventy-five per cent 
in the regions in which these coal miners live. Rents prob- 
ably have gone up only slightly with them, and perhaps some 
other items have not increased anything like seventy-five per 
cent; but, even after we make all due allowance for these ex- 
ceptions, we still find the increase in their wages rather meagre 
as compared with the increase in the cost of living. They have 
not had an increase in wages since 1917, and we know 
that the cost of living has increased considerably since that 
time. 

These statistics of increases in wages bear out fairly well 
the declaration of the Council's Programme that wages have 
not, on the whole, increased faster than the cost of living be- 
tween 1914 and 1919. The probability is that there has been a 
slight excess in the increase in wages over the cost of living, 
taking the country as a whole, but it is not alarming, and it is 
not nearly as great as many people think. There have been 
enormous increases in the remuneration of certain classes; but 
when we talk about a general rise in wages, we are not talking 
accurately unless we have the results of a very large and very 
representative set of figures and investigations. 

The second reason which the Council's Programme gives 
for not reducing wages is that, for the most part, the present 
level of wages is not in excess of what is required for a reason- 
able and decent cost of living. In the eight industries described 



436 PRESENT WAGES AND PRICES [Jan., 

by the National Industrial Conference Board, the average week- 
ly wage for males last March was $23.37: that is a little less 
than four dollars per day, and four dollars per day is scarcely 
a living wage for a family in the cities today; most authorities 
would say that five dollars are required, and some would make 
the estimate higher. The average wage for females was $12.23 
per week in these eight industries. That, I think, is not an 
excessive living wage for women in cities now. In Washing- 
ton a few months ago I helped to fix wages for women in the 
printing and publishing trades there, to comply with the new 
minimum wage law. We agreed upon $15.50 per week. That 
figure was recommended unanimously by the men represent- 
ing the employers, the girls representing the employees, and 
the persons representing the general public. A little later, un- 
der the same law in the same city, the same kind of a repre- 
sentative group fixed a wage of $16.50 for girls in the mercan- 
tile industry. This was considerably higher than any mini- 
mum wage fixed by any public body in the United States. I 
think the next highest is $14.00. 

In the twenty-seven large industries covered by the Labor 
Bureau survey, forty-eight per cent of the males got less than 
fifty cents per hour, and fifty-six per cent of the females got 
less than thirty cents per hour at the beginning of 1919. 
Working for fifty cents an hoiu* for ten hours a day yielded the 
worker $5.00 per day, which is about a living wage. If he 
worked only eight hours he would have but $4.00. Thirty 
cents per hour for a ten-hour day, means $3.00 per day or $18.00 
per week. That would be a living wage for women. If they 
work only eight hours a day, the wage would be $14.40 per 
week, which is probably a living wage in most cities. There- 
fore, I conclude that the statement in the Council's Programme, 
to the effect that the present rates of wages are not, on the 
whole, above a living level is fairly well substantiated by what 
statistics we have. 

The third reason given for not reducing the present rate of 
wages is that, even though the present rates of wages are in 
excess of a living wage, there is no good reason for reducing 
them. The Programme points out, in the first place, that no 
Catholic authority maintains that a living wage in every case 
is a completely just wage. The question of what constitutes a 
fully just wage is a tremendously difficult one; I do not know of 



1920.] PRESENT WAGES AND PRICES 437 

any one who pretends to have answered it. I do not know how 
any one would go about forming a set of standards or rules, 
by which to determine with anything like accuracy, what would 
be a completely just wage in the case of any group of workers. 
As a matter of fact, when people talk about certain workers 
or classes of workers getting exorbitantly or outrageously 
high wages, all that they have in mind is that these wages are 
much greater than these persons were accustomed to receive. 
Of course, that proves nothing. If we took custom as a basis 
to determine the measure of justice, we never could increase 
the wages of even the poorest paid and the most sweated 
classes. 

The industrial resources of our country are ^parently 
great enough to give all the workers at least living wages, and 
quite a considerable portion of them something more. So long 
as that is the case, so long as we have the resources, there 
cannot be conclusively demonstrated any reason why the 
present rate of wages should fall, even though they be more 
than living wages in the majority of cases. As a matter of 
fact, the majority are not receiving more than living wages. 
Even if they were, it is impossible to show that these wages 
should be reduced as a matter of justice. Moreover, there 
are some good economic reasons why they should not be re- 
duced. 

Generally speaking, the higher the levels of wages are in a 
country at any given time, the better will be the conditions of 
business. High wages mean a large demand for goods by the 
masses, and this in turn means great activity of production. 
I do not say that this is always true, but merely that we can 
lay it down as a general proposition that a condition of high 
wages is better for business than a condition of low wages. 
Hence, there does not seem to be any reason from the side of 
either justice or economics why present rates of wages should 
be lowered, taking them as a whole. Some extraordinarily 
high wages are being paid in certain occupations, but these will 
be brought down in time by the force of competition. In some 
cases, indeed, these exceptionaUy high wages will continue, 
for the reason that the occupation is not popular with wage- 
earners, and will not attract them unless the wages are what 
we should call extraordinarily high. 

Suppose that wages should be reduced considerably : who 



438 PRESENT WAGES AND PRICES [Jan., 

is going to benefit thereby? For the most part the benefits will 
go to some employers, to the least efficient particularly, and 
to the more comfortable class of the consumers, who are not 
themselves wage-earners. The wage-earners wiD lose by the 
reduction in wages more than they will gain through the fall 
of prices. Inasmuch as the worker does not consume all that 
he produces, the gain from lower prices is shared by others, 
whereas a reduction in wages is borne by himself alone. 
Measuring in a rough way the comparative claims of the 
dififerent classes, we are justified in concluding that the 
wage-earners have a greater claim to be favored in this matter 
than the comfortable classes of consumers and the least effi- 
cient among the employers. 

This is a tremendously difficult problem, and it is regrettable 
that we cannot discuss it at length, in order to give some idea 
of the task that will confront industrial society for a long time 
to come, that of trying to adjust fairly the remuneration of the 
difTerent classes of workers in the community, and trying to 
weigh adequately the claims of the consumers as against the 
producers. In relation to any given commodity, the consum- 
ers are mainly a different class from the producers, and be- 
tween the two there is a real antagonism. No one, so far as I 
know, has discovered any formula which will enable us to say 
when the producer is exploiting the consumer by getting too 
much wages, and yet wages come ultimately from the 
consumer. 

Our second problem concerns itself with the reduction 
of prices. As already pointed out, prices have increased, that 
is, the general cost of living increased seventy-five per cent 
between June, 1914, and June, 1919. I might say that there 
was a further increase from June to September, but since Sep- 
tember there has been apparently a slight decline, so that the 
present range of prices (November, 1919) is probably a little 
higher than that of June. With regard to this problem of high 
prices, the Council's Programme says that a general policy of 
government fixing of prices would probably not be effective, 
because public opinion is not ready for it, and because Con- 
gress is still less inclined to do anything of the sort. We had 
some government price-fixing during the War in the matter 
of wheat, fuel, and a few other commodities. So far as it went 
and for the purpose for which it was instituted it was a fair sue- 



1920.] PRESENT WAGES AND PRICES 439 

cess. Remember I say 'for the pmpose for which it was insti- 
tuted.*' That purpose was to prevent extortionate prices, or 
notably extortionate prices* on the one hand, and to increase 
the amount of products on the other. Therefore, the price was 
put pretty high; it was put high enough to induce people to 
raise wheat, for example, who would not have done so other- 
wise. The same rule applied in the case of coal. 

People who complained that the price of coal fixed by the 
fuel administration was out of all proportion to anything that 
prevailed before, should have remembered that one purpose 
of this price-fixing was to guarantee to the owners of mines, 
producing at a high cost, a sufficient reward to induce them 
to continue operating. The mines, for instance, in West Vir- 
ginia from which the product has to be hauled to the railroad 
in wagons, began again to produce, and did produce a good 
deal because the price was high enough to enable them to make 
a profit. For the mines with better facilities of production 
this price meant unusual profits. Yet the price was not fixed 
as high by the Government as it would have been if the de- 
termination of it had been left to competition. The same 
thing holds good in the case of wheat. We thought the price 
of wheat was extraordinarily high at $2.20 per bushel, for it 
was a much greater price than wheat had sold for during the 
preceding ten years; but it induced farmers to produce wheat 
who could not afford to do so otherwise : moreover, $2.20 was 
considerably less than would have prevailed in 1918 and 1919 
in the absence of government action. 

Nevertheless this remedy would be scarcely effective in 
times of peace. The persons who produce any article, as wheat, 
coal, cotton, wool, or anything else, do not produce at the same 
cost. The question is, according to which of the varying costs 
is the price to be fixed? It should yield a fair profit to the pro- 
ducer; but to which producer? To the one best situated? In 
that case, the least efficient producer cannot produce at all. 
Perhaps it is not a concern of the Government whether many 
or a few are enabled to continue in business. That is one thing, 
but it is quite another thing for the Government to come in and 
say : **We realize that people do not want you to produce any 
more and we are going to fix the price so that you cannot do 
business.*' That would be a serious responsibility for any 
government to take, and perhaps more than any government 



440 PRESENT WAGES AND PRICES [Jan., 

is willing to take. As things are, the Government is not re- 
sponsible for the high cost to the producer, and if he is driven 
into bankruptcy that is none of the Government's business; but 
if the Government fixed the price which drove the high-cost 
producer into bankruptcy, it would be to some extent responsi- 
ble. That is the serious responsibility which confronts any 
government that attempts to fix prices in time of peace. It 
must make the price so high that everyone can make some 
profit, the more efficient producers an enormous profit, or fix 
it so low that only those will be able to continue in business 
who are most efficient and whose product the country needs, or 
it must strike some average between the two, in which case 
some of the high-cost producers will be driven out of business, 
and the Government will be then responsible. The question 
might then reasonably be raised whether the Government 
ought not to compensate the latter for the losses inflicted upon 
them. 

The Federal Government and some of the city govern- 
ments have been trying the remedy of prosecuting profiteers. 
With a great blare of trumpets that policy was announced a 
few months ago, and great hopes were raised that it would 
succeed in materiaUy reducing the cost of living. It has not 
materially reduced it as yet; it may have had some slight in- 
fluence in that direction. It has frightened, somewhat, a great 
many unscrupulous dealers and producers who were ready to 
boost prices still further and who had the power to do it. The 
prosecution by the Department of Justice of profiteers of this 
kind probably prevented some prices from being as high as 
they would have been if that had not been done. We cannot, 
however, expect that this method will reduce prices to any 
great extent, because the high level of prices, on the whole, 
is not caused by profiteering. 

Another remedy would be greater production. When the 
world gets down to the business of producing goods again at 
about the rates at which it produced before the War, we 
can look for a considerable reduction in the prices of com- 
modities. 

The Council's Programme mentions monopolies as one of 
the causes of high prices of some commodities. The Pro- 
gramme does not recommend any particular means of dealing 
with monopolies, and I do not know of anyone that has any 



« 



1920.] PRESENT WAGES AND PRICES 441 

confident recommendation for meeting this problem. The 
consumer is compelled to pay unnecessarily high prices 
through one combination getting control of a certain com- 
modity or, more frequently, through a number of different 
combinations or concerns coming to an agreement among 
themselves as to what the price shall be. That, I say, is more 
frequent than the other form. It prevails in many lines of 
retail merchandise. Certain staple groceries are sold at the 
same price in all the stores of the city. That does not happen 
by accident. Sometimes all that is necessary to effect an 
agreement of this kind is to have a central *l)ureau of informa- 
tion,*' as it is euphemistically called. From this bureau a man 
with a telephone at his elbow communicates with each of the 
stores and gives them the prices quoted for the day, and they 
act accordingly. That is what a monopoly means : concerted 
action to fix prices. What can be done about that? I don't 
know. The remedy of the Government fixing a maximum 
price is one commonly advocated, but for the reasons I have 
already given, and for many other reasons, that does not seem 
to be an adequate remedy. 

The Council's Programme suggests that the policy of gov- 
ernment competition should receive more attention than it has 
as yet received. That is a rather radical method, but we may 
have to come to it. It has been instituted in a small way in 
some States of the West. In my own State of Minnesota, some 
thirty years ago, the farmers who were in control of the legis- 
lature enacted a law providing that prisoners in the State Peni- 
tentiary at Stillwater should be employed making the twine 
which the farmers use in binding grain at harvest time. The 
prison-made twine was sold at four cents a pound less than 
the price of the twine made by the private manufacturers. 
More recently the State has gone into the business of manu- 
facturing a whole line of harvesting machinery in the State 
prison. Of course, the effect has been to keep the price of the 
prison-made machines below what it would have been if farm- 
ers were obliged to get them from the private concerns. And 
the privately manufactured machines are likewise sold at a 
lower price in Minnesota, owing to the State competition. 
There seems to be no good reason why that principle should 
not be extended, if no other method seems adequate to restrain 
the rapacity practiced by monopolies, and through agree- 



442 PRESENT WAGES AND PRICES [Jan., 

ments between firms that ought to be competing with one 
another. 

The Council's Programme recommends as the best rem- 
edy for high prices the organization of cooperative stores. That 
has been found to be a very effective device in England, and 
a very effective method of benefiting the consumers, especiaUy 
the poorer classes of consumers, even when the prices are not 
excessively high. The method is very briefly this : a group of 
persons in a community get together and organize a consum- 
ers* mercantile concern. It is a joint stock company, but every 
stockholder has one vote and no more than one, no matter 
how many shares of stock he holds; so that the thing is ex- 
tremely democratic. The store sells its goods at about the same 
rates as the privately-owned stores, but the profits from the 
sales are distributed among the consmners as a dividend on 
purchases. The consumers who are stockholders get interest 
on their investment — ^five per cent I believe is the usual figure 
in England — ^but in addition to that they get a dividend on the 
purchases and out of the profits of the concern; so that the 
saving which the consumer makes is not in the way of cheaper 
goods at the time he buys them, but in the way of this rebate 
or dividend which he gets every three months. That, in sub- 
stance, is the scheme. 

It is a great education in democracy, in saving, in thrift, 
and a great training in the art of codperation. It makes for 
altruism as against selfishness; it gives men self-respect when 
they find they are, after aU, able to do something in the way 
of managing a business concern, when the truth comes home 
to them that business ability is not something to be found only 
in a few hmnan beings, but that there is a certain amount of it 
in everybody. From this experience they acquire more con- 
fidence in themselves, train themselves to take more interest 
in social affairs as against their own private, selfish affairs. 
This consumers' codperation would prepare the workers for 
the day when they could combine to produce things, as well 
as to own stores. Many of us believe that the workers will not 
forever be content to be merely wage-earners. Many of us be- 
lieve that they should be the owners and managers of the tools 
which they work, and that the only way of preparing them 
for this is through these cooperative stores. 

The beneficial effects of codperative stores in reducing 



1920.] PRESENT WAGES AND PRICES 443 

prices could be greatly increased through codperative market* 
ing associations organized by the farmers. A whole army of 
unnecessary middlemen could be eliminated if the farmers 
were organized so that they could sell directly to the consum- 
ers. Both classes would be immensely beneiBted. 

In spite of all these remedies, prices will continue to be 
pretty high, at least they will not recede to their pre-war level, 
for a good while; for the principal cause of high prices is the 
increase in the volume of currency in circulation. Prices are 
high mainly because the purchasing power of the dollar is 
low. The purchasing power of the dollar is low because we 
have too much money in circulation for the amount of business 
that is to be done. Practically all economists are agieed in 
accepting what is called the quantitative theory of money, 
which holds that if the quantity of money increases faster than 
the amount of business to be done, prices must go up, since 
money is becoming cheaper. Remember that money is not a 
fixed measure like a yardstick, which always remains three 
feet in length. Money is subject to the law of supply and de- 
mand. For many years the supply of gold has been increasing 
too rapidly, and during the War we have had inflations of 
currency and too many substitutes for money. So long as this 
condition continues the dollar will be cheap, and everything 
for which it is exchanged will be dear. 



A POLISH MYSTIC ON THE NATIONAL RESURRECTION. 

BY MONICA M. GARDNER. 

HE better hour is now near, the second spring in 
our lives, another youth. Poland will give us 
back; will give us back what we have lost for 
i her — ^joy, fire, the heart's health." 

Thus Zygraunt Krasinski, the Anonymous 



Poet of Poland, expressed the innermost conviction of his soul, 
to an intimate friend more than seventy years ago in the dark- 
est moments of his country's history wlien, rent by persecu- 
tion, abandoned by Europe to her doom, Poland was, seem- 
ingly, the outcast of the nations. 

But another calling than that of defeat and dereliction was 
foretold to her and urged upon her by her great poet-mysttcs 
through those terrible years when the Rising of 1830 was being 
avenged in blood and in the tears of the countless prisoners and 
exiles of Poland. The nation's death was, in the extravagant 
language of Zygmunt Krasinski, but as Christ's, the prelude 
to a glorious resurrection. Her shame was the folly of the 
cross whose triumph shall blaze forth from horizon to horizon. 
Her sufferings were the penal fires Uirough which she needs 
must pass, ere she stand transfigured before the world in a 
new era of justice, purchased by her purgation and initiated 
by her restoration to freedom. 

We do not propose to dwell upon the complex, tortured 
personality of the Anonymous Poet who gave his country her 
most inspired form of national mysticism. That mysticism, it- 
self, is our immediate concern. We will merely indicate cer- 
tain features of his spiritual biography that explain the nature 
of his teaching. Out of an abyss of private and patriotic pain, 
his name unrevealed by reason of the tragedy which ruined 
his life, be evolved the message to his own people and to the 
human race that is being verified in so remarkable a manner 
by present events. When a boy of eighteen Krasinski saw, in 
1830, the desperate rising of his nation for liberty. For the 
rest of his life, till he died at the age of forty-seven, his burn- 
ing patriotism was confronted with the spectacle of his country 



1920.] A POLISH MYSTIC 445 

being done to death under the heel of Asiatic revenge. In- 
evitably, the first fruits of Krasinski*s genius* the masterpiece 
of his early youth, was the drama named, in the bitterness of 
his soul, the Undivine Comedy, in which despair is only re- 
deemed by its final cry of Galilsee vicistL Yet it is significant 
that this, the only great work of the Anonymous Poet that can 
be charged with pessimism, is not national, but sociological. 
The agony of Poland was being enacted before tlie eyes of 
her devout son: the moral he derived therefrom was hope, 
resurrection, love. 

In the beginning his outlook was not fully defined. It is 
true that in Iridion, the noble play that follows the Undivine 
Comedy, Krasinski pleads with his compatriots that the 
hatred of a persecuted nation for her persecutor leads to 
death, and that love, the only constructive power of the uni- 
verse, alone can save the conquered. To protect author and 
reader from the Russian dungeon and Siberia, the purport of 
the drama was disguised as the conflict between Rome and 
Hellas. It closes thus, in the Coliseum: ""And the sun rose 
above the ruins of Rome and there was none to tell me where 
were the traces of my Thought. But I know that it lasts and 
lives.** Iridion, however, does not contain the clearly con- 
ceived and definite moral of Krasinski*s later teaching. It in- 
volves one aspect of it, but no system. Krasinski*s own soul 
was still swept by fires of hatred for the oppressors of his coun- 
try. Iridion's vindication of the triumph of love over ven- 
geance, was the poet*s well-nigh reluctant surrender to his own 
higher voices. "Logic, necessity,'* he writes to a friend, "led 
the author to this conclusion. What is, is. Not our caprices 
rule the world, but Divine reason." 

For years after the completion of Iridion, Krasinski wan- 
dered in intolerable spiritual darkness. The problem, ever 
before his and his nation*s eyes, of a hideous injustice perpe- 
trated against a defenceless people with no sign of help from 
heaven, shook his faith. In the opening lines of his poem 
Dawn he tells how : "At first I trusted that the God of pitying 
love, after days but few, would send avenging angels from 
on high, and burst that grave that stands before the world. 
But the days passed by, passed by the years. In vain dawn 
struggled with the blind strength of night. Then sank my soul 
into that chaos of doubt where all light is changed into eternal 



446 A POLISH MYSTIC [Jan.. 

night. And from all the cycle of those lived out days one in- 
scription standeth: There is no hope here.** 

But he never ceased to search for the truth that should 
save his people and interpret the enigma of God's providence. 
Through anguish and travail, after he had walked, as he says 
in Dawn, through hell, at last there rose upon his sight the 
Orient, and the mysteries he had so long wrestled with were 
made manifest to him. He gazed, with undimmed vision, upon 
an up-rising, only possible because preceded by pain and 
death. He saw it with the eyes of a poet, and, as a poet, 
hymned it in Dawn, the song of his spiritual rebirth, and in 
the more concrete Psalms of the Future and Resurrecturis. 
Taking Krasinski's poetry alone, we may regard him as an 
idealist, a dreamer, as, in fact, a great poet. His prose writ- 
ings and the many letters in which he bares his soul to his inti- 
mate friends, disclose him as a philosopher and thinker who, 
for all his agony of yearning for some revelation upon the 
mystery of his country's fate, would accept no solution that 
did not commend itself, first of all, not to his heart, but to his 
reason. 

What were the facts with which Krasinski was constrained 
to grapple? His nation had been torn in three, blotted out 
from the land of the living by what has been well termed one 
of the greatest crimes of history. Krasinski had been **bom 
in fetters," to quote the famous line of Mickiewicz, referring 
to himself. His school and college days in Warsaw were 
passed in an atmosphere seething with hopeless struggles to 
save the last vestiges of the rights of the Kingdom of Poland 
that ended in the outbreak of 1830. Then came the years suc- 
ceeding the downfall of the Rising. The country became a 
scene of death, parting and desolation. Prisons, mines and 
convict settlements in Siberia were filled with Poles too mmi- 
erous to be counted. The religious faith, nationality, language, 
literature of Poland were treated as a penal ofifence. The chil* 
dren and youth of Poland were prohibited by law from learn- 
ing their own history and traditions, forbidden to be brought 
up as Poles. Only the unbroken power of the national ideal, 
fostered by the secret teaching of the poets of Poland, could 
have preserved life in this oppressed people who seemed 
doomed to perish. 

The national and spiritual guides of Poland faced 



1920.] A POLISH MYSTIC 447 

no abstract difficulties, but matters involving the actual 
existence of their country. How justify the Divine 
Providence that left unrectified a crime that cried to heaven 
for vengeance? Why had Poland been thrust down into the 
grave? And if she were to be reckoned no more among the 
living but with the dead, what hope was there for her youth, 
what object for them in life? They were caught in the bonds 
of a conquered nation, driven towards temptations to moral 
corruption that such a situation ofifers, of which the Russia of 
Nicholas I. was unsparing. What more salutary incitement 
against the lethargy of compulsory inaction and despair; 
against the desperate expedients forced upon the young by 
poisoned morals than some great national ideal, some assur- 
ance of a better future to be secured by individual efifort? But 
where could such be looked for? 

Against every external circumstance, against hope itself, 
Krasinski found the answer. In its simplest form he gave it 
to his nation in the series of lyrics. Dawn. Banned by the 
Russian censor. Dawn was carried clandestinely into Poland, 
devoured in secret by Polish men and women, and watered 
with their tears. The prose introduction to this poem smn- 
marizes the theory won by its author with his heart's blood, 
which, at long last, brought peace for himself and hope for 
his country. The process by which he groped his way thereto 
is in part worked out in an earlier philosophical prose writing. 
The Treatise of the Trinity (Of the Trinity in God and the 
Trinity in Man: Of the Trinity in Time and Space: Of the 
Standpoint of Poland among the Slavonic Races). It was never 
finished, and was published, as Krasinski left it, as recently as 
1912. 

These incomplete, often obscure pages, with their out- 
bursts of passionate patriotism, throw strong light upon the 
painful quest, by a son of an unhappy country, for the truth 
that meant life or death to him, because it stood for the life 
or death of his nation. By its nature this work could only 
speak to a few. All that was highest and most illuminating in 
it was wrought into a perfect whole of doctrines that, despite 
their mystical exaltation, shone clear as noonday, in a poetry 
that appealed to all. Dawn is the idealization of these doc- 
trines, the Psalm of Faith their recapitulation, the remaining 
Psalms and Resurrecturis their practical application. 



448 A POLISH MYSTIC [Jan., 

The Treatise of the Trinity and the preface to Dawn af- 
ford the best general idea of Krasinski's tenets. We will tdce 
first Krasinski's own lucid summary of them in Dawn, and 
afterwards follow the steps by which he built them up in the 
Treatise. 

The signs of dissolution that marked the world before 
Christ's birth, is the argument which opens the introduction 
to Dawn. "'In the days of Caesar preceding the great day of 
Christ the ancient world had reached the final consequences 
of its history:'' complete religious doubt, ruin and confusion 
of mind, endless yearning and vain longings for a life not to 
be found. Then arose Julius Caesar, "'as the angel to whom it 
was ordained to remove the impediments from before the feet 
of the approaching God. He led the world to the material unity 
without which no word of life could be dispersed abroad. He 
changed the known world into one great, broad highway." 
Thus the diffusion of Christianity was rendered possible. 

"Discite historiam exemplo monitir Krasinski continues. 
In the French Revolution he saw the reproduction of the birth 
throes preceding the Christian era; in Napoleon the spiritual 
counterpart of the conqueror who had prepared Christ's 
kingdom. In Krasinski's view, the logic of history and the 
Divine ordering accounted for Napoleon's career. Napoleon 
was to introduce the new and transfigured epoch of the human 
race when the teaching of Christ shall be completed in politi- 
cal relations. ""But before that truth shall unfold and fulfill 
itself," the world must run the same spiritual course as in the 
expiring days of pagan Rome — that of yearning, restlessness, 
denial, doubt. 

•That anarchy is so fearful that of necessity it tends to 
cataclysm — that desire so great and hitherto in vain that of 
necessity it smnmons the aid of Our Father Who is in Heaven. 
When did Cod ever abandon history when history raised its 
hands to Him? Infinite desire brings with it eternal yearning 
and infinite grief. From man collectively shall often flow the 
bloedy sweat of agony on the Mount of Olives of history. Were 
it otherwise there would be no spirit of humanity training it- 
self by its own will. Where would the merit be with which 
it merits in this time? What is that merit if not its life in his- 
tory, if not that space of toil divided into the moment of death 
and of the resurrection of the dead from death? Not to die. 



19200 A POUSH MYSTIC 449 

we must be God : to die, man. If the Divine Spirit unites it- 
self with the nature of man the Divine Life breaks asunder 
the human grave — Christ died and rose from the dead. . . . 

"You all know, my brothers, that we were bom in the 
womb of death: and from the cradle your eyes have been 
used to look upon the livid stains of death on the body of the 
European world. Hence the eternal grief that gnaws your 
hearts : hence the incertitude that has become your life. But 
every end contains in itself the successive beginning : the day 
of death but precedes the hour of awakening. Consider at- 
tentively, and the signs of death shall on a sudden be trans- 
formed for you into the signs of resurrection. 

**Christ manifested to the peoples the idea of humanity. 
Before Him, save for the Hebrews, there were no veritable 
nations, because the aim to which the nations are advancing, 
to which they gravitate as planets to the sun, was unknown. 
He promised that there shall be in the world one only fold 
and shepherd. He bade those who pray to the Father to re- 
peat each day these words. Thy Kingdom come;* and with 
that sigh for two thousand years we have all besought God for 
the realization of this ideal on earth.** 

Here Krasinski turns to the question of hiunanity. A 
prominent principle in his teaching is the identification of in- 
dividual morality with political morality. The same laws that 
govern the conduct of the soul must equally govern that of 
states. The transfiguration of the political sphere must begin 
with the abjuration of the sin against the Divine idea that was 
committed in the dismemberment of a living nation. 

"Christ dwelleth in thee, oh, humanity;** thus he expresses 
a part of this thought later in the Psalm of Faith. "He liveth 
in thy bosom, resides with thee, thy Guest. Thy blood is His, 
thy body is His body. With thee shaU be what did befall to 
Him. All thy vicissitudes He carried in His flesh. He mani- 
fested all thy hopes to thee. Whence art thou bom? Of a 
pure virgin womb, for of God*s thought and in God*s image. 
Whither art thou bound? Unto the Father's city. Through 
what must thou needs pass? Through toil and martyrdom. 
And when Christ on the sunmiit of Mount Thabor girded Him- 
self with the eternal dawn, seest thou not what that sign to 
thee fortells? Before thy earthly lot shaU be in full accom- 
plished, thou too» humanity, shalt be transfigured.** 



450 A POLISH MYSTIC [Jan., 

•^Behold, then," he says in the Treatise of the Trinity, ••as 
the plant must necessarily pass through the light to grow and 
become a flower, under the same necessity each man and all 
collective humanity must pass through the law of Christ and 
work it out in themselves to gain salvation. Salvation for 
each man is eternal life, the angelic state in a world higher 
than the earth of to-day. For humanity it is the Kingdom of 
God on earth, that is, the estate of the Christianization of 
civilization. Without that hiunanity on earth, without passing 
through that Kingdom here, no earthly spirit will reach eternal 
life. For what is hmnanity thus come into Christ's Kingdom? 
The collective state of aU individual men, the proof that they 
are ripe for the angelic condition. Therefore, each must in- 
exorably pass through Christ. Who from the beginning does 
not pass through Him, that is, does not work Him out in him- 
self, will not be, as He was, the living law on earth.'' 

Krasinski defines humanity in Dawn as: '"the collectivity 
and union of all the potentialities of the himian spirit, ex- 
pressed visibly on this earth by the harmony and love of its 
members, that is, of 'nationalities.' " As the members of the 
body, submissive to the will that rules them, make up the in- 
dividual ego, thus the nations form humanity. Christ's words 
did not at the outset permeate the political sphere because 
the transformation of that policy depended on the Christian- 
ization of the individual soul. 

••But in our days each individual is Christian, and all the 
relations between them are Christian. Where shall the Chris- 
tian idea further extend? Obviously in the sphere so far un- 
affected, so far untransmogrifled : and that is the sphere of 
policy. The world is nigh, not to a great change (for nothing 
can be changed of Christ's words), but to their great •trans- 
figuration,' to the deeper comprehension of them, to their higher 
glorification. The world today understands whither history is 
drawing near. It knows that history is ruled by Divine wis- 
dom, and that its end is humanity in harmony with the Divine 
Will, recognizing and fulfilling the law given it by Cod." The 
means to this end are the nations. They are the living notes in 
one great harmony, in the mighty harp of the universe that 
in the ecstatic vision of his Dawn the poet beholds as the in- 
strument upon •Vhose strings the Spirit wanders, on whose 
strings the Spirit playeth, in that song alone it resteth." 



1920.] A POLISH MYSTIC 451 

^^Governments are a human* nationalities a Divine crea- 
tion.'* If the world in Krasinski's scheme is to model itself 
after the pattern of Christ and the relations between govern- 
ments and peoples are to be founded on the morals taught by 
Christ, then it follows that the destruction of a nation, a mem- 
ber of the hmnanity which is to constitute Christ's kingdom, 
is a direct contravention of God's high destinies for the human 
race. 

''He is a child who says that this was a political crime. 
That crime is a far more heinous one, for it is a religious 
crime, transgressing beyond human spheres and touching the 
Divine, because: 'Ho seek to slay sacred nationality, when 
without it the realization of the idea of humanity on earth 
cannot proceed, is a violence against Divine truth, against eter- 
nal truth, is a sacrilege." 

There then unfolds before Krasinski's vision the reason of 
his nation's fall, the explanation of her long sufifering, her 
sublime calling for the future. In her humanity had been most 
profoundly outraged: in her the ideal of hmnanity that was 
to save the world should be most exalted. Krasinski's whole 
analogy of the life of man to that of the human race here comes 
to his aid. Christ died for man. One nation shall die for 
humanity. Christ, our individual Exemplar and the Exem- 
plar of humanity, rose again. Poland shall rise likewise 
from the grave, and by and with her resurrection the new 
epoch of himianity will be heralded to the universe. Without 
the redressal of such wrong it is obvious there can be no such 
regeneration of political relations. 

It is impossible here to deal in detail with Krasinski's theo- 
ries on the Trinity. We wish merely to draw attention to cer- 
tain passages of the Treatise of the Trinity as they illustrate 
the doctrines we have already considered, or affect more di- 
rectly Krasinski's national mysticism. Krasinski saw the tri- 
une not only in God and man, but likewise in history, time, 
nature and sufferings. From the premise that the first Person 
of the Blessed Trinity is All Being or All Power, the second 
Person All Thought or All Knowledge, the Third All Life, All 
Spirit or All Love, Krasinski divides the history of mankind 
into three parts, the age of Jehovah, the age of Christ, the age 
of the Holy Ghost The first epoch, the ancient world, corre- 
sponds to the epoch of being or existence; the second, the 



I 



452 A POUSH MYSTIC [Jan., 

Christian era, to that of thought or knowledge; the third, the 
future era, to that of love. 

*The world of thought is bom upon the hitherto existing 
world of being, but before they both recognize each other, 
bring their contest to its close, struggle no more against each 
other, and then unite and flow together into the one world of 
the spirit, how many ages must pass? How many transforma- 
tions, tribulations, tempests must befall? How much blood 
be shed from the body, how much despair from the soul?" 

The Holy Ghost, as All Love, is the union between the first 
and second Persons of the Blessed Trinity. The spirit links 
being or existence with thought or reason. Thus, the world of 
the spirit, the third epoch, is the perfection of the two preced- 
ing worlds, when there shall be one rule of mutual charity, 
and hence a Poland, risen glorified from the tomb. According 
to Krasinski we are in the state of transition between the sec- 
ond and third epoch: 'Transition from the epoch of torpid 
existence to the epoch of the living Spirit on this earth; from 
a government despotic, deaf, blind, dumb, to God's kingdom in 
which shall flower the fullness of the harmonious life of 
humanity." This theory of transition was Krasinski's harbor 
of refuge in the incomprehensible and wearying perplexities 
of existence. 

From the reciprocal self-impartation of the three Persons 
of the Blessed Trinity, Krasinski deduces that of created beings 
to each other and that of humanity in general. 

''In humanity the social state, the sanctification and up- 
lifting of which is the aim of humanity, is of itself that very 
reciprocal self-impartation of human spirits. Everywhere and 
always who gives receives back: who loves grows: who cre- 
ates something external is in that same moment himself cre- 
ated higher. To impart self to others on earth is in outward 
seeming to suffer diminution, to lose somewhat of self, even 
to be utterly destroyed — ^but this is only a delusion. That de- 
struction is itself destroyed, because in reality only by that 
means the living spirit grows and immortalizes itself. Christ 
expressed it in these words : 'He that shall lose his life he alone 
shall find it.' Surely God imparted Himself to the world, 
poured Himself into it, and thus continually works — and is 
anything of God diminished? By the very nature of the spirit 
the more it creates the more creative does it become. It gains 



1920.] A POLISH MYSTIC 453 

strength by its every act : by the very fact of what it gives out 
it grows more powerful: in this is its immortality." Christ 
''poured Himself into humanity by the most laborious life and 
most painful death. But then was at once manifested the 
truth of the law which is the law of life, because before human 
vision He rose again from the dead and before human vision 
ascended into heaven." 

From such doctrines it is an easy step to Krasinski's view 
that his nation was called to sacrifice herself for the human 
race and to acquire immortality by laying down life. There is 
the same thought in Dawn, but expressed in poetry. 

Christ by His human life and death first showed the in- 
dividual soul her way, teaching her the mysteries of her exist- 
ence and of her eternal future. Krasinski, drawing out his 
favorite parallel between the unit and collective humanity, 
insists that humanity must be taught by some given model 
the same truth of its immortality and of the road thither. 
We have seen this indicated in the introduction to Dawn. 
Krasinki analyzes it more closely in the Treatise of the 
Trinity. 

'The necessity of such exemplars is the eternal law of his- 
tory. Nothing is there brought about flimsily or easily. All is 
done little by little, with difficulty, laboriously, and beyond 
measure gravely and sternly. No abstract thought, no idea un- 
justified by execution, no theory taken alone can direct the 
destinies of the world. It must first take flesh, it must become 
a living example, a doctrine with a beating heart, whence not 
only ideal principles but crimson life-blood shall shed itself on 
all. By the sacred labors and sacred passion of Christ, by His 
transfiguration, resurrection, and ascension, each individual 
human spirit has been exalted into, if I can thus express it, 
a member that cannot be cast out from the structure of all 
creation because, passing through death, it consequently has to 
fling off that condition of the lowest stages of the spirit and 
live consciously without end. Behold in these days, when the 
Christ ordinance is beginning to permeate collective spheres, 
when it exacts an earthly realization, and when for the same 
reason history is stepping into the road which is to lead it to 
the Kingdom of God, there must likewise be found in this 
earthly world of humanity a member not to be cast out, im- 
movable, the living foundation of the whole future edifice. 



454 A POLISH MYSTIC [Jan., 

Only a nationality can be such : but it is not enough to conceive 
this by thought, history must prove it by deed/' 

The Pole's application to his country is self-evident. But 
Krasinski would have no passive idealism without its relent- 
less exaction of practical deed. He lays down the doctrine 
of Poland's vocation: it is for the Poles to prove it by action 
worthy of the national calling. As» notably in his Psalms of 
the Future, the Anonymous Poet again and again inculcates 
upon his people that the nation's mission of initiating the bet- 
ter epoch of the human universe is dependent on the nation's 
purity and on the moral worth of each member of the nation — 
let his countrymen show the world, says he in the Psalm of 
Love, that *'to be a Pole is to live nobly and to God." Begin- 
ning at the other end, he proves by the history of Poland that 
her death was preceded by "deed," the deed, the activity, on 
which Krasinski always lays such emphasis. She defended 
Christendom for centuries against the Moslem hordes. Her 
soil ran red with the blood of her Christian knights : and the 
last act of her independence was the formation of the Con- 
stitution of the Third of May that placed her in the van of the 
liberal reformers of Europe. With the eyes of a prophet and a 
mystic Krasinski regarded that stage of his nation's history 
when politically she was no more, the period in which he him- 
self was living, as her second epoch, the epoch of transition 
between her first and second life. 

But how is the resurrection of a nation to be gained? By 
the rugged road, the via dolorosa of painful effort to which 
Krasinski ever pointed. 

"No one without deliberation and strong resolve, without a 
thousand vacillations, investigations, searchings, painful de- 
ceptions, sinkings of the powers of thought and their alternate 
uprisings, shall reach the self -inebriation of their own Christ- 
likeness, woken in them by the manifestation of the Son of 
God. The collective spirit of a nation must pass through pre- 
cisely the same cycle as individuals if she is to rise from the 
dead and once more stand in the circle of living creative na- 
tions, ruling by political deed : and if added to this she is to 
become the historical pattern of their earthly immortality, her 
soul divorced from government must in her death be in- 
ebriated with the very Christ-ness of collective spirits, such as 
hitherto on earth there has not been, and which depends on 



1920.] A POUSH MYSTIC 455 

the incarnation of the ordinance of Christ in all internal and 
international forms in the world. Such an incarnation, being 
the new shedding forth of the spirit of Christ from the narrow 
bounds in which till now the world has kept it, to all the limits 
of the world, tends of necessity to the creation of an organ- 
ization higher, more rational and more holy than that which 
hitherto existing on earth has everywhere crippled the law of 
all love, and, by that same, universal nature also." 

This then shall be the "day of the Holy Ghost,'* bom in 
the womb of a nation, "in whose darkness must shine the vision 
of that day." Then shall Christ's words, from being heeded 
as words only, be brought into action in every department of 
human life — apolitical, commercial, social. Passing from the 
region of prose the Anonymous Poet sings that day for which 
he yearned as with an exile's longing, in the exultant strains 
that bring the poem Dawn to its close. 

"And that new world all rejoicing as a church shall flower 
to God. The Polish land, the Polish Eden, is desolate no more 
nor mourning. Nor behind me nor before me is there darkness 
any more. All is light and all is justice. Clear our purgatorial 
anguish, and our sorrows and oiu: bondage. Long the terror 
of our sleep. We believed it. We believed in eternal pain and 
toil. They were but the sanctuary's entrance, but one step 
upon the stairway : they were but the night of merit." 

Such is the merest summary of Krasinski's teaching. 
Conceived and elaborated as it was in the midst of his coun- 
try's tragedy he never beheld it justified by events. Equally 
he never ceased to believe in its truth, as he believed in his God, 
to his dying hour. 



THE SILVER LINING. 



BY JOHN CAVANAUGH, C.S.C. 



I VERY cloud, in the proverb, has a silver lining. 
and it is fair to suppose that the great war cloud 
that for years lowered over the world, shut- 
ting off its sunshiDe, has its own bright and in- 
spiring side. More beautiful than any courage 
displayed by men on the battlefield, for example, have been 
the noble strength and patience of mothers and sisters left 
at home to suffer the sorrows of fear and constant worry. In 
the late War, more than ever before, the part borne by women 
has been duly recognized and no doubt will have its proper 
appreciation in history. Someone has asked why the world 
has never erected a monument to the memory of a woman. Of 
course, the world has erected monuments to women — to the 
immortal Joan of Arc in France, for example, and at the other 
end of the scale to that noble Irish woman in New Orleans 
who spent her life befriending the newsboys of that city. But 
if it were true that the world had erected no monuments to 
women, the explanation probably would be that every good 
man who ever lived was himself a monument to some noble 
woman who, as mother, sister, wife or sweetheart encouraged 
him to be his best and to do his best. All the same it is lawful 
to hope that in the new day of enlarged activities for women 
they may have their share of the monuments, and that there 
may yet be lifted up to the clouds a symbol so strong and beau- 
tiful and eloquent as to be a fit interpreter of womanly cour- 
age and virtue in the War. 

We have in mind here, however, another sort of silver lin- 
ing to the war cloud. Probably no one who has talked with 
chaplains or soldiers, has failed to express the hope that 
stories of heroism or piety may be gathered into book form for 
the edification of posteri^ and to commemorate the spiritual 
qualities of the men who made up the fighting forces of Amer- 
ica. It is to be hoped that every chaplain will contribute his 
quota of beautiful incidents to the record, and it is much to be 
desired, though too much to hope for, that the officers and the 



1920.] THE SILVER USING 457 

soldiers and sailors themselves, as well as the zealous and 
efficient men who carried on the work of the Knights of Co- 
lumbus, may contribute according to their knowledge to the 
fund of that ''storial thynge that toucheth gentlenesse." Per- 
haps it may be worth while to open the campaign of edifica- 
tion with a few examples. 

To begin with, we have the beautiful story of the good 
chaplain — ^for the present he shall be nameless — ^whose piety in 
death led to several conversions and the end is not yet. He was 
one of those cheery, wholesome, self -forgetting men who so eas- 
ily win their way into the hearts of the soldiers. With him cour- 
age, which had been instinctive as regards nature, had been re- 
fined and strengthened by years of meditation, by the lifelong 
habit of faith, by heeding all the holy voices and lifting his eyes 
to all the sacred visions that had come to him in youth and 
afterwards. The roughest men in the army felt for him the 
chivalrous admiration that coarse miners in the old days of the 
Wild West used to feel for a beautiful, innocent girl who hap- 
pened to flutter by their camp on a sightseeing expedition. But 
while they worshipped him like a star apart and above them, 
they had for him all of a child's confidence in its mother. They 
went to confession to him in the trenches, a few steps from a 
group of smoking and chatting companions, or they stood at 
his side, when better arrangments could not be made, with 
companions touching elbows all around, utterly regardless 
whether their sacred confidences were overheard or not. Nat- 
urally the men loved him in their rough frank way and the 
officers were his devoted, admiring friends. 

Well, one day they earned in this good priest, and the 
doctors at once recognized that the shrapnel had done its work 
and he could not live. The oldest of the surgeons, with tears 
in his eyes, bent over the yoimg chaplain and said : 

"Father, you cannot possibly live. Is there anything we 
can do for you? Is there anything that will make your last 
moments happier?" 

Pale and faint and barely conscious the priest turned his 
face towards the kindly surgeon and said: 

"I do wish I could make another visit to the Blessed Sac- 
rament before I die." As it chanced there was not a Catholic 
in the group and they had only a dim notion of what the noble 
priest meant by a visit to the Blessed Sacrament. They asked 



458 THE SILVER USING [Jan., 

questions, however, and learned that the nearest chapel was 
two hundred miles away. Depressed and silent they were 
about to turn to their work again when a young lieutenant 
of the aviation service said: 

*'Doc, if you can bandage up the Father's wounds so that 
he will live for two hours, I will bring him to the chapel." 

And in a few minutes the dying priest was flying through 
the air almost literally on the wings of love at the rate of one 
hundred miles an hour to meet his God. The amazing thing 
is that the priest actually made the journey of two hundred 
miles through the air, received the holy Viaticum and had his 
visit with the Royal Host. I never heard what happened to 
the doctors. Perhaps some reader of this story may be able 
to tell me, but the young aviator has since become a Catholic 
and is now arranging for his reception into a religious com- 
munity. His three sisters, as a result of hearing this story, 
have also been received into the Church and are now novices 
in a community of nuns. 

Almost as beautiful in its way is the story of poor Pat 
Conway — that was almost his name — the terrible recidive. 
He was a recidive only in the sense that he was powerless to 
resist the temptation to go to confession at every opportunity. 
His own chaplain was a Protestant clergyman, but Pat man- 
aged to see Father Davis of the adjacent regiment every day 
to get absolution, and sometimes showed more than a willing- 
ness to confess oftener than once a day. The result was that 
the confessor soon began to shim the penitent with as much 
adroitness as often the penitent shuns the confessor. 

The Protestant chaplain in Pat's regiment was a noble 
fellow with all the beautiful qualities of an ideal chaplain. 
Among other things this refined and scholarly man was so 
ChrisUike in spirit that he never hesitated to run after Father 
Davis to attend to a dying Catholic boy in the regiment. ""But 
there will be times," he said to the good priest, "when I won't 
be able to go for you or perhaps can't find you. What shall I 
do then?" Father Davis told him that the most he could be 
expected to do under such circiunstances would be to sug- 
gest pious dispositions to the dying man and perhaps help him 
to remember the old Catholic prayers. This noble preacher 
went dutifully to work like a child at its catechism, learning 
th« Our Father without the heretical appendix, the Hail Mary, 



1920.] THE SILVER LINING 459 

the Conflteor, the Acts of Faith, Hope, Charity and Contrition 
and the Hail Holy Queen. He had them letter perfect in a 
short time, and more than once he helped a poor Catholic 
boy to remember the faith and the prayers of his childhood in 
the Supreme Hour. 

Next after Pat's passion for going to confession was his 
uncontrollable desire to *'go over the top/' and as nearly always 
happened in such cases, he went over the top once too often. 
When the stretcher bearers laid him down to receive first aid, 
Pat was hovering on the borderland of consciousness with only 
a short time to live. The poor fellow searched the hospital 
with his eyes for the priest, and seemed worried when the 
familiar features did not appear. The Protestant chaplain 
suggested holy thoughts, however, and helped with the reci- 
tation of the prayers. They were all said with unction, but, 
somehow, Pat was not quite at ease. Something seemed to 
be lacking even to his poor cloudy brain. 

'Tather,'' said he to the minister — ^remember Pat was half 
delirious — ^*Tather, say a Latin prayer over, won't you?" 

In going over the matter with Father Davis afterwards 
the minister said: 

*lt was a dreadful moment. Father. You had taught me 
English prayers, but never a Latin one, and I am ashamed 
to say that I knew no Latin prayers whatever. But some- 
where from the dim caverns of memory I seemed to recall 
just two Latin words and bending over the dying boy in sheer 
desperation I said: 'Dominus vobiscum' and Pat, who had 
been an altar boy in his youth, answered 'Et cum spiritu tuo' 
and died with the old familiar words actually trembling on 
his lips." 

None of us will doubt but that the good preacher's prayer 
for Pat was heard in heaven, and surely none of us but will 
hope that some day Pat's prayer also may be answered, and 
that so good a man as this noble chaplain— of whom, thank 
God, there were many in the War — ^may share Pat's faith and 
learn all the Latin prayers. 

That the War had awakened the slumbering piety in many 
an easy-going man will, of course, not be doubted, but that 
does not render less interesting the zeal and ingenuity with 
which our men, young and old, sought the sacraments in the 
hour of danger. Father M. J. Walsh, C.S.C., Vice-President of 



460 THE SILVER UNING [Jan., 

Notre Dame University, was for a time condemned to suffer 
the experiences of the school for chaplains at Fortress Monroe 
before going over to begin his distinguished labors on the fields 
of France. One morning he was awakened at two o'clock 
by a vigorous rapping on the window-pane beside his bed — 
the chaplains there were quartered in little huts. Startled 
and puzzled. Father Walsh asked: 

**Whafs upr 

"You are for one thing, Father," came the answer, "we've 
just got to see you.** 

In a few moments Father Walsh opened the door and ad- 
mitted two flushed, panting boys, sixteen or seventeen years 
of age. They had stolen past their own sentries and had run, 
with hardly a moment's intermission, a journey of fourteen 
miles to make this midnight confession, and must hurry back 
the same distance under penalty of severe punishment, make 
their way once more past the sentries so as to be ready to start, 
at five o'clock, for the boat that was to take them overseas. 
Surely, these boys were running in the way of the Com- 
mandments. Let us hope they went through the War with- 
out misadventure and that, all the rest of their lives, they may 
be as anxious to confess under easier circumstances. 

Of deeds of heroism done by the soldiers themselves there 
will probably be no end of stories. One hears of men who 
captured single-handed large numbers of the enemy, and the 
first impulse is to recall that Irishman who brought a dozen 
prisoners into camp and who, when asked how he had man- 
aged this seemingly impossible feat, replied: 

"Be gorra, I surrounded them." 

Nevertheless very wonderful feats of personal courage 
will probably be fully authenticated as regards both contend- 
ing sides when the smoke of battle is completely blown away. 

Three stories of Notre Dame boys are perhaps interesting 
enough to be recited here. There was Arnold Mclnemy, with 
the good nature and kindliness of the giant as well as the bulk, 
the captain of the football team in his graduation year, and 
acclaimed by the fans as a heady and nervy player. He ran the 
usual gamut of the college man suddenly made over into a 
lieutenant. One day he set out at the head of five soldiers to 
capture a machine gun that was doing deadly work from a 
peculiarly favorable point of vantage. One after another the 



1920.] THE SILVER UNING 461 

five men fell stark, though they advanced as cautiously as pos- 
sible and under the best available cover; and **Big Mack'' was 
alone when he reached the nest of the machine gun. I never 
learned in detail how he performed the miracle, but he did 
actually capture the gun, marching the foiu: soldiers operating 
it before him with their hands held high as he made his way 
back to our lines. He thought he had completely disarmed 
them and probably relaxed his caution too much in conse- 
quence. One of the prisoners managed to get behind him and, 
snatching a magazine revolver which he had concealed in his 
sleeve, he shot Mclnerny in the back, the bullet passing com- 
pletely through the body. The wound was obviously fatal and 
most men would have considered the War over, so far as they 
were concerned. While staggering under the shock and in- 
deed almost in the very act of falling, Mclnerny fired four 
shots in quick succession and the unfortunate men fell in their 
tracks. It is not perhaps a pretty story to tell, and one wishes 
that the prisoners might have arrived in safety within the 
American lines, but they had renewed the War by breaking 
faith with **Big Mack'' and, as a feat of alertness and nerve, 
his deed is worthy of remembrance. 

On the other hand, the story of Lieutenant Harry Kelly, 
who took the honors in the law school on his graduation a year 
before, is the record of an American boy who fared badly, 
but gave an inspiring example of courage in seemingly hope- 
less circumstances. Kelly and his men were surprised by a 
cleverly planned and courageously executed night attack by the 
Germans, involving the front and two flanks of the particular 
bit of trench in which they were located. It was in the dead 
of night and the men bounded out of their trench to grapple 
at close range with the foe. Kelly, in advance of his men, 
was seriously wounded and fell to the ground unconscious. 
When he recovered his senses, he heard soldiers talking con- 
fusedly near him and believing they were his own men, he 
made his whereabouts known. They proved to be Germans, 
however, and he was made prisoner. 

An enemy soldier took hold of his right arm, another of 
his left, a third walked before him with bayonet drawn and 
two others, carrying gun and bayonet, marched behind him. 
The darkness was impenetrable and the prisoner limped along 
with diflSculty for he had been shot through the leg. It would 



462 THE SILVER LINING [Jan.. 

seem that any thought of escape was out of question, but to 
the prisoner the prospect of capture and detention was less 
endurable than death. With a sudden swiping motion of the 
arm he released himself of the soldier on his right side and, at 
the same time, threw the soldier in front of him out of his path 
and jerked himself loose from the captor who held his left arm. 
The darkness now was rather in his favor and he had stumbled 
along a distance of twelve paces, when one of the enemy sol- 
diers threw a hand grenade with faultless aim. There was a 
crash and a blinding flash and Kelly fell to the ground again 
unconscious. He afterwards learned that the miniature battle 
was renewed over his prostrate body, and his own soldiers suc- 
ceeded in carrying him back to their trench. He will walk 
through the world henceforth with an artificial leg as a melan- 
choly souvenir of a deed of decision and courage such as the 
world loves. 

The death of Melville Sullivan makes another kind of 
story. He was a Virginia boy, the only son of refined and 
wealthy parents. He had the soft Southern face, the soft 
Southern manners, the soft Southern voice, and inevitably 
everybody loved him. With the sure instinct of their tribe the 
boys called him ''Dixie.*' One day he came to ask me for a 
letter that would admit him into the aviation service, and I 
had no idea that I was signing his death warrant when I 
granted his request. He soon became a brilliant aviator with 
all the daring of youth and skill and courage. 

One day something went wrong with the engine and Dixie 
fell a thousand feet to the earth. The first to run to his assist- 
ance was another Notre Dame boy. Captain Mulcahy, who had 
known and loved him at school. Dixie was not dead, but at- 
tempts to bring him back to consciousness proved useless. 
Mulcahy took from his pocket a little cross blessed with the 
indulgence for a happy death, and shouted into Dixie's ears, 
now closed forever to the sounds of the earth, the words of the 
Act of Contrition. Dixie never heard them, but he was an 
innocent soul, and I like to believe that somewhere they were 
heard and somehow they counted for Dixie. 

There must be thousands of beautiful stories of priestly 
courage and virtue and of lay piety and prowess. They are in 
some degree a spiritual compensation for the shocking expe- 
riences of the world's most dreadful War. They ought not to 



ig2a] SONG OF GOING 46S 

be lightly passed over or forgotten or permitted to remain the 
treasured memories of a little group. While merchants and 
manufacturers are fitting another war, less bloody but hardly 
less desperate, to make use of the economic resources opened 
by the great catastrophe, while great statesmen scramble for 
the lion*s share of the spoils of war and dole out the scraps of 
liberty to the little nations, the spiritual heritage of a War 
that touched the heights of heroism, as well as the depths of 
degradation, ought not to pass completely out of the memoiy 
of mankind. 



SONG OF GOING. 



BY KATHARINE TYNAN. 



I WOULD not like to live to be very old 

To be stripped cold and bare 
Of all my leafage that was green and gold 

In the delicious air. 

I would not like to live to be left alone. 

The children gone away. 
And the true love that I have leant upon 

No more my staff and stay. 

I would not live to stretch my shriveled hands 

To an old fire died low, 
Minding me of the long lost happy lands 

And children long ago. 

Let me be gone while I am leafy yet 

And while my birds still sing 
Lest leafless, birdless, my dull heart forget 

That ever it had Spring. 



THE EVIL OF POVERTY. 

BY VINCENT MCNABD, O.P. 

I HE problem of poverty has become so overlaid 
with the dust of modern money-making as to 
deceive, if that were possible, even the elect. In 
order to prove this, the motive of the following ar- 
ticle, let me quote largely from an article by the 
well-known and learned Franciscan, Father Cuthbert, O.SJP.C., 
of Oxford. In the year book of the Catholic Social Guild for 
1915, under the title "Poverty as a National Asset," he writes : 
"Catholics will remember that poverty is a state consecrated 
by our Lord Himself; ... as such it enters into the 
Christian scheme of life, and to banish it from our midst 
would be to close an avenue of spiritual perfection to the in- 
dividual and, ultimately, to the State itself. 

"It is, indeed, at all times a proper act of neighborly char- 
ity to relieve the poor man in his necessify; it may be at times 
good to put him altogether beyond the reach of want. But it 
would be a fatal mistake to close one's eyes to the real moral 
and spiritual values which poverty holds for no small number 
of men. 

"Much of the energy which is expended in trying to do away 
with poverty, would be more usefully employed in teaching 
men the value of a poverty honest in itself and noble in its 
endeavor. We should get near to the Gospel ideal, if this 
too had its place in our social ideals and were kept more con- 
sistently in the forefront of our programme of social better- 
ment. 

'The Catholic Church at least will never wish to do away 
with poverty absolutely, but will ever maintain amongst its 
own ideals that of honest and honorable poverty." ^ 

If we venture to express an emphatic dissent from the 

general tendency of these words, it is because the writer of the 

words, as a Franciscan and as a man of talent, possesses a wide 

influence, especially on questions so Franciscan as poverty. 

Poverty is of two kinds: voluntary and involuntary. It is 

■ CathoUe Social Year nook, 1815. pp. 75, 7n. 



1820.] THE EVIL OF POVERTY 465 

regrettable that nowhere in his article does Father Cuthbert 
make the simple distinction between "Voluntary Poverty" and 
"involuntary poverty." Voluntary poverty is a dearth of 
things which a man takes upon himself for a good eild. In- 
voluntary poverty is a dearth of things which a man finds upon 
himself, for the most part by the will of others and for no other 
end than that of money-making. Voluntary poverty may be, 
and for the most part is, a virtue. Involuntary poverty, may be, 
and for the most part is caused by sin. Now this virtue of vol- 
untary poverty is in those who are voluntarily poor; and this 
sin of involuntary poverty is in the causes or makers of the 
involuntary poor. The virtue of the Poverello is in the cell of 
the Poverello: the sin of the New York slums is not in the 
slums but in Fifth Avenue ! 

Poverty is an evil. It is not always and essentially, though 
usually and causally, a moral evil; yet by its definition it is 
always and essentially a physical and an economic evil. To 
realize that poverty is always and essentially a physical evil, 
we have but to attempt to define poverty. Let us meditate 
on this definition of an accredited writer: "Poverty or want 
is defined as the absence of those things which are necessary, 
not in a conventional way, but absolutely necessary for the 
bare upkeep of human life in a state of physical efficiency. 
For a man to live he needs to be housed, to be clothed suffi- 
ciently against the inclemency of the weather, and to have a 
sufficiency of food to nourish his body. Where all, or any of 
these, is absent, there is want." * 

This poverty is such an evil that even we mendicant friars 
with solemn vows of mendicant poverty, are rarely, if ever, 
supposed by our rules, to experience it. The decrees of 
Clement VIII., (1599) which still regulate religious life, con- 
tain the following provision: "Let the clothing of the com- 
munity and the furniture of the cells be bought out of common 
funds. It should be uniform for the community and the Su- 
periors alike. It should so befit the poverty they have wedded 
that, although there is no room for what is superfluous, there 
should be no lack of what is necessary.*' 

The recent Code of Canon Law legislates for nuns' dow- 
ries in the spirit of this decree of Clement VIII.: 

Can. 547. §1. — In monasteries of women the postulant 

*Pouertu in Cork, by ReT. A. M. MacSweeney, O.P., MA. Cork, 1917. 
voi^ ex. 30 



466 THE EVIL OF POVERTY [Jan^ 

shall bring the dowry demanded by the Constitutions or de- 
termined by lawful custom. 

§2. — This dowry shall be handed over to the monastery 
before the taking of the habit; or, at least, its handing over 
shall be ensured by some act valid in civil law. 

§4. — This dowry so prescribed cannot be condoned either 
wholly or in part, except by an indult of the Holy See, for 
religious orders with pontifical approval; or except with the 
leave of the local Ordinary, for religious orders with diocesan 
approval. 

Can. 549. After the first profession of a religious woman, 
her dowry shall be invested in secure, lawful and fruitful 
investments . . . Before the death of the religious it 
is altogether forbidden to spend it in any way whatsoever, 
even for building a house or for paying a loan. 

Can. 550. §1. — The dov^ies shall be wisely (caute) and 
wholly administered by the Convent where the Mother Gen- 
eral or the Mother Provincial usually dwells. 

§2. — Local Ordinaries shall be at great pains to preserve 
these dowries. Especially in their visitations they shall de- 
mand an account of them. 

All these regulations make it clear that the Church does 
not expect even the Mendicant Orders to experience that lack 
of the necessities of life which competent authorities accept as 
the definition of poverty. Indeed for the time being the 
Church insists on her religious women having a fixed capital 
invested to bring in a fixed income. Such a provision 
may or may not commend itself to Catholics of the twentieth 
century, but it makes it clear that the Church regards ""pov- 
erty," that is the lack of necessary things, as an evil. 

The present state of poverty in the world is a state of sin — 
the sin of theft. Whether it is, or is not, a fulfillment of the 
Beatitude, "'Blessed are the poor," it is assuredly a breach of 
the Commandment, "Thou shalt not steal." In saying this we 
must not be taken to deny that poverty is sometimes the sin of 
the poor person himself. But this admission does not negative 
the fact that the present state of poverty is the sin of theft; 
that is the sin whereby some folk have less than they ought be- 
cause some other folk have more than they ought. 

My readers might be excused if they scrupled to accept 
this seemingly revolutionary doctrine on the word of an in- 
dividual writer. But they cannot be excused from accepting 



1920.] THE EVIL OF POVERTY 467 

it when it is vouched for by the authority of a Pope. In the 
Rerum Novarum Pope Leo XIII. says : 

The condition of the working people is the pressing ques- 
tion of the hour. . . . There can be no question whatever 
that some remedy must be found and found quickly for the 
misery and wretchedness pressing so heavily and so unjustly 
on the vast majority of the working classes. 

According to Pope Leo XIII. the present state of the vast 
majority of the working classes (that is of the world) is not 
a blessing of God, or a state of ""real moral and spiritual val- 
ues," but a state of injustice. 

The result of civil change and revolution has been to di- 
vide society into two widely different castes. 

On the one side there is the party which holds power be- 
cause it holds wealth; which has in its grasp the whole of 
labor and trade; which manipulates for its own benefit and 
its own purpose all the sources of supply; and which is 
even represented in the Councils of the State itself. 

On the other side there is the needy and powerless multi- 
tude; broken down and suffering. 

Here the Pope develops his thought. Through ill-housing, ill- 
feeding, and like conditions pqverty bears fruit in a high death 
rate; especially a high infant mortality. The present state of 
injustice towards the poor is robbery with violence! The ills 
that we so denounce when they are public, casual and slender 
in the strikes of the poor, are hidden, permanent and enor- 
mous in the present status of the rich. 

Workingmen have been surrendered all isolated and help- 
less to the hard-heartedness of employers and the greed of 
unchecked competition. The mischief has been increased by 
rapacious usury, which although more than once condemned 
by the Church, is nevertheless under a different guise, but 
with like injustice, still practised by covetous and grasping 
men. To this must be added the custom of working by con- 
tract and the concentration of so many branches of trade 
in the hands of a few individuals, so that a small number of 
very rich men have been able to lay upon the teeming masses 
of the laboring poor a yoke little better than that of slaverg 
itself. 



468 THE EVIL OF POVERTY [Jan., 

The present state of poverty, far from being a good thing com- 
ing down from the Father of Lights, is a morally evil thing 
due to such vices as "hard-heartedness, greed, rapacious usury, 
injustice, covetousness." Moreover this state of poverty is 
rapidly becoming one of slavery. The State has ceased to be 
a commonweal or a commonwealth where men are, on the 
whole, equally free and rich. It is a tyranny wherein there 
are very many who have too little because there are a very 
few who have too much. 

It is undeniable that some souls have been found to thrive 
on poverty. But, for the most part, this is voluntary poverty; 
or to be more accurate, "voluntarily chosen poverty." If the 
poverty which is not voluntarily chosen but only voluntarily 
accepted, has resulted in good, this has not sprung from the 
poverty, which was evil, but from the human will, which was 
good. No one can understand, or should write, about the so- 
cial evils unless they understand that a thing or state or act 
is not good because a will can draw good out of it. Indeed 
there is nothing so evil that a will cannot draw some good 
from it. Yet, in spite of the good which a good will can cre- 
ate, evil is evil. The Crucifixion on God's side is the redemp- 
tion of man; on man's side it is the murder of God. It is, at 
once, God's best, and man's worst deed. 

The Church wishes the present state of poverty to end. 
Once more we should excuse our readers who scrupled to fol- 
low us in this opinion. Once more we beg our readers to 
realize that this is not the chance opinion of an unauthorized 
individual; but the authoritative statement of a Pope. In the 
Rerum Novarum Pope Leo says: 

Neither must it be supposed that the solicitude of the 
Church is so preoccupied with the spiritual concerns of her 
children as to neglect their temporal and earthly interests. 

Her desire is that the poor should rise above poverty and 
wretchedness and should better their condition in life; and 
for this she makes a strong endeavor. 

These are hardly the words of one who thinks that "much of 
the energy which is expended in trying to do away with pov- 
erty, would be more usefully employed in teaching men 
the value of a poverty honest in itself and noble in its en- 
deavor." » 

* Catholic Social Year Book, 1915, pp. 75, 76. 



1920.] THE EVIL OF POVERTY 469 

Again Pope Leo XIII. says of the present state of poverty : 
"Some remedy must be found and found quickly for the mis- 
ery and wretchedness pressing so heavily and so unjustly on 
the vast majority of the v^orking classes." We do not seek 
remedies for Divine blessings or for a state of things which 
holds ''real moral and spiritual values." This call of the Pope 
to destroy poverty is the call of God. "And there shall be no 
poor nor beggar among you : that the Lord thy God may bless 
thee" (Deut. xv. 4). 

This warlike attitude towards the injustice which is at the 
root of our present state of poverty is a characteristic of the 
Church's saints and social workers. Even when their sense 
of charity is engaged in offering relief or encouragement to the 
poor» their sense of justice is denouncing or seeking to destroy 
the roots of poverty. Seldom has this twin sense of charity 
and justice found fuller or fitter expression than in the words 
of Frederic Ozanam, founder of the Society of St. Vincent de 
Paul : **Let no one say that in treating poverty as a priesthood, 
we aim at perpetuating it. The same authority which tells us 
that we shall always have the poor amongst us, also commands 
us to do all we can that there may cease to be any poor . . . 
God did not make the poor. He sends no human creatures into 
the chances of this world without providing them with these 
two sources of riches, which are the source of all others — ^in- 
telligence and will .... Why should we hide from people 
what they know, and flatter them like bad kings. It is human 
liberty that makes the poor." * 

The total destruction of the injustice of involuntary pov- 
erty is and must be the Gospel ideal. It is said that this de- 
struction of involuntary poverty can come about only by the 
birth and growth of voluntary poverty, Deo gratias. Such a 
consummation would be altogether after the great manner of 
our Redeemer, Whose "self-emptying," or voluntary poverty, 
is the riches of the world. 

To sum up with a practical proposal. We religious, and 
especially we mendicant friars, should take our own standard 
of living as the minimum standard for the poor. We should 
advocate that the poor should have as many cubic feet of house 
room as we have; should have as much leisure time as we have; 

* Lift of Frederic Ozanam, by O'Meara, pp. 229, S24. 



470 AFFIRMATION [Jan., 

should spend as much per unit on clothing as we spend; should 
have the same standard of food as we have, should have as 
many opportunities of education, after their manner and by 
their own choice, as we have; and should have as much guild- 
cooperation and liberty as we have. 

This is a practical and irresistible proposal. If we say 
that it is not practical, because our standard of comfort is too 
high for the poor, then we are not poor. But if we say we are 
poor, then the others who are poor should have our standard 
of comfort. This would not mean Communism, nor yet the 
Kingdom of Heaven on earth. But it would mean the begin- 
ning of that justice which we can oppose only by warring 
against God. 



AFFIRMATION. 



BY LAURA SIMMONS. 



Oh heart, keep faith with Him ! the' scant and poor 
Thy cupboard's meagre spread; lavish the more 
Thy love, thy steadfast faith, thy gracious cheer — 
Tenfold they shall return, more rare, more dear; 
Of such as these the multitudes are fed — 
The two small fishes and the barley-bread! 




HENRY BORDEAUX AT THE GOAL. 

BY WILUAM H. SGHEIFLEY, PH.D. 

HE election of Henry Bordeaux to the French 
Academy will meet with approval at home and 
abroad. He is not only the most popular novelist 
of France; he is also a patriot, whose War rec- 
ord as captain and major has been crowned by 
a literary service in writing the glowing pages of La Vie 
Hiroique de Gugnemer and La Chanson de Verdun. Bor- 
deaux's foreign vogue is equaled only by that of Anatole 
France and of the three B's : Bourget, Barres, and Bazin. Like 
these three» he belongs to the traditionalist group» whose writ- 
ings have in recent years exerted a marked influence upon 
French thought. Like them, he cherishes the order, stability, 
faith, and self-sacrifice which for centuries made France pre- 
eminent in Europe. More than any other, he stresses the im- 
portance of the family as the basis of society. And since the 
family thrives best under stable conditions, he advocates de- 
centralization, local autonomy, a return to the soil. Not even 
Barr^s has so concerned himself with the fate of the diracinis 
and diclassis. Hence Bordeaux's exaltation of Savoy, his home 
and the home of St. Francis de Sales and Vaugelas, of Joseph 
de Maistre and Costa de Beauregard. This province, with its 
picturesque landscape and honest toilers, has inspired his best 
work. 

Love of his native region Henry Bordeaux received as a 
heritage. Born, in 1870, at Thonon, on the shore of Lake Gen- 
eva, he descended from an ilfnifaious line of magistrates and 
public officials. His father, an upholder of piety and discipline 
like Joseph de Maistre, was a lawyer. His portrait appears in 
Les Roquevillard. He served with distinction in the war of 
1870, and then became chief magistrate of his town. A fol- 
lower of Le Play, he inculcated in his children respect for tra- 
dition, for the family, and for rural France. Having chosen 
his father's profession, Henry studied at the College Stanislas, 
receiving his licentiate in law and letters in 1889. But, owing 
to his journalistic success in connection with the exposition 



472 HENRY BORDEAUX AT THE GOAL [Jan., 

of that year, he began to look toward literature as his life 
work. Although admitted to the bar, he practiced only four 
years. 

During this time, and whUe performing his military ser- 
vice, he continued to read widely in the classic and modem 
writers, according preference to moralists and sociologists. The 
writing of verse he soon abandoned because metrics hampered 
the free expression of his thought; but his talent for vivify- 
ing and interpreting a subject after the fashion of Sainte-Beuve 
he revealed in Ames Modernes (1894). Three years later the 
French Academy, which was to award him various prizes, 
crowned one of his works. In 1900 he published Le Pays natal, 
his first novel, and by no means his least. Since then he has 
devoted all his time to letters. His thirty volumes consist of 
fiction, criticism, and essays. Though ranking high as a critic, 
he owes his fame chiefly to his novels, the best of which are Le 
Pays natal, La Peur de vivre, Les Roquevillard, and Les Yeux 
qui s'ouvrent. All attest their author's conviction that the mis- 
sion of art is social and moral. 

Le Pays natal, the story of a **diracini qui reprend racine,*' 
is an appeal for provincial autonomy and return to the soil. 
Bordeaux, as a disciple of Taine and Le Play, depicts, like 
Barr^s and Bazin, the evils of excessive centralization and its 
concomitant desertion of the country for the cities. Lucien 
Halande, after wasting his best years in Paris, returns to his 
estate in Savoy, striving to restore the former vigor of this 
region. "My natural life was here . . . Yes, I have broken 
the solid chain that my family had wrought, link by link, from 
generation to generation !'' he exclaims. As his interest in local 
affairs revives, he comes to realize his obhgation to the past 
and his civic responsibilities. The decadence of provincial life 
and the malign influence of universal suffrage lead him to con- 
clude that in our democracy everything must be reshaped. So 
he marries a neighbor of the old stock, and prepares to 
set about his task. This novel, in its serious purpose and its 
fine sensibility, strikes the keynote of Bordeaux's social 
creed. 

Somewhat similar is La Peur de vivre, which condemns 
the civic and moral cowardice of those individualists who 
avoid the burdens and sacrifices of life, adopting the motto, 
"Avant tout il faut assurer sa tranquilliti." Such are th« 



1920.] HENRY BORDEAUX AT THE GOAL 473 

Dulaurens and the Orlandis, egotists living only for self- 
gratification. How different are Bordeaux's contrasting char- 
acters! Indeed) people more worthy of esteem than the 
Guiberts are not to be found in the French novel. Truly Cor- 
nellian, they put honor and family above wealth, and, at their 
country's sunmions, accept cheerfully every obligation. No 
girl but would like to be Paule Guibert, the faithful guardian 
of the fireside. No youth but would wish to be her brother 
Marcel, the officer who in the Sahara gives his life for France. 
Most admirable of all is the heroine, their widowed mother. 
Much as she loves her six children, Madame Guibert does not 
hesitate to offer up "the last flower from her deserted garden" 
when duty calls. 

La Peur de vivre, "beau comme un cri de jeunesse" is| 
Henry Bordeaux's masterpiece, the hymn of his manhood to 
what is worthiest in the human heart. Into this favorite work, 
with its scene laid at Le Maupas, his country estate, he has 
put most of himself. He has written nothing fresher and 
purer, nothing in which young hearts are more ardently 
animated by ambition to consecrate themselves to noble 
ideals. 

Characteristic, also, if less beautiful, is Les RoqueviUard, 
which treats of family solidarity. Like Balzac, Comte, Le Play, 
and Bourget, Bordeaux believes that the family, not the in- 
dividual, is the social unit. Accordingly, each individual 
should remember that his own reprehensible conduct may 
make all his relatives suffer. Thus Maurice Rouquevillard, a 
young lawyer, in eloping with a married woman, causes the 
death of his mother and brother, spoils his sister's marriage, 
and compels his father to sell their ancestral estate to redeem 
the family honor, a heritage which for centuries has been with- 
out stain. Yet, to this sacrifice the father consents without 
hesitation, since "the dispossessed family may regain the do- 
main. It is not the patrimony that makes the family; it is the 
succession of generations which creates and maintains the 
patrimony." The fine mystic chapter in which M. Roquevil- 
lard, alone amidst the giant trees of his estate, invokes the 
assistance of his ancestors, is Bordeaux's most imaginative 
creation. Nowhere else is his philosophy of life so condensed 
as in the conclusion, where we read: *There is no lofty in- 
dividual destiny. There is no grandeur except in service. One 



474 HENRY BORDEAUX AT THE GOAL [Jan., 

serves his family, his country, God, art, science, an ideal. 
Shame be unto him who serves only himself. Man's honor 
consists in accepting his subordination." 

In the more polished Les Yeux qui s'ouvrent, Bordeaux 
attacks individualism from another point of view, concluding 
that **the object of marriage is not the happiness of the con- 
tracting parties, but rather the creation of a new family: it is 
the child." If, therefore, a couple have children, they should 
not dissolve their union for personal considerations. That is 
why the author condemns his heroine, Elisabeth Derize, who 
would insist upon divorcing her unfaithful husband, Albert. 
It is her indifference to his historical studies that has been 
chiefly to blame for his infidelity. Yet, even though Elisabeth's 
grievances were more serious, the novelist, because of the two 
children involved, would disapprove of their divorce. The 
"link," he declares, makes marriage indissoluble. Fortunately, 
Elisabeth comes to realize that a woman should judge her hus- 
band's conduct as a whole rather than by one act; and, thanks 
to the efforts of Albert's mother — a woman not unlike 
Madame Guibert — she succeeds in saving her threatened 
home. After La Pear de uiure, this is Bordeaux's most pop- 
ular novel. 

Some critics would class with these four volumes five 
others: Le Lac Noir^ dealing with sorcery and judicial man- 
ners; La Robe de laine^ contrasting the pure life of a Christian 
woman and the frivolity of the world; La Neige sur les pas, 
describing an architect's indulgence toward his unfaithful wife, 
for the sake of their child; La Croisie des chemins, exalting 
duty above pleasure; and La Maison, personifying the family 
in epic fashion. All five are books of uplift by a moralist striv- 
ing to regenerate society. Worthy to be ranked immediat'^ly 
after them are three volumes of short stories and ten volumes 
of criticism, the first of which alone — Ames Modernes, written 
at the age of twenty-three — ^reveals admiration of Ibsen and 
the individualists. 

Bordeaux has contributed to numerous reviews, including 
the Atlantic Monthly. He can express in a few phrases the 
salient thought of a work or the outstanding traits of an author. 
The three volumes of his Vie au ThiAtre show him to be, also, 
a penetrating dramatic critic given to broad generalization and 
to sympathetic appreciation, one inclined, therefore, to dwell 



1920.] HENRY BORDEAUX AT THE GOAL 475 

upon beauties rather than faults. His impeccable prose is sober 
and natural, free from argot and neologisms. 

In the delineation of character Bordeaux excels. No con- 
temporary French writer has painted a finer gallery of por- 
traits. These characters are so strongly individualized that 
they differentiate novels which treat similar themes. His re- 
spectable women are refreshingly numerous, and Bordeaux's 
popularity arises in part from the fact that, rejecting the cyni- 
cal distortions of "naturalism" and the unhealthy innovations 
of Parisian literature, he chooses what is sane and elevating. 
Everywhere he adjusts art to social doctrine. He is too much 
of a moralist to be neutral. He glories in his native soil and 
in those who till it. Having observed the careless, iconoclastic, 
wealth-worshipping society of today, he prefers the faith, or- 
der, and authority of ancient France. 

He would combat the individualism of his contemporaries, 
and demonstrate the social importance of the family and the 
essential laws of its development. Like Bruneti^re, he seems to 
say to his compatriots: "If we have suffered from a malady 
for the past hundred years, it is from the inability to escape 
from ourselves, to subordinate ourselves to considerations, ex- 
igencies, and interests that are supreme. It is from this that 
we are suffering; and unless we take care, it is from this that 
we shall die." 



THE FIRST SNOW. 
BY E. J. o'tOOLE. 

IAZILY they fell, and leisurely, the great white 
flakes. Timidly, as if they were intruders that 
hoped to steal in, unnoticed, with the gray dusk 
and grayer twilight. True, they were only pre- 
cursors: tomorrow's first sun slants would run 
their veils to tears. Yet the crowds hurrying on the streets 
smiled their welcome and pushed and scurried with a holiday 
enthusiasm, for the first snow is always an occasion. Tired old 
human nature likes the first of anything. 

From a window five stories up, in the Dyner Building on 
the corner of Main and Tenth Streets, a girl stood, quite mo- 
tionless, her round face all but touching the wide window- 
pane, watching, without focus, the huge flakes drifting care- 
lessly down, down, down to the blurred yellow lights that had 
just stuttered but into the half dark of the street below. A 
long, red pencil was caught lightly between two rows of teeth, 
white as the snow tliat was blanketing the stone sill. Behind 
her, the ofBce was empty. A typewriter on the desk extension 
just balanced a loose page that tipped perilously from the roll. 
A shaded electric glossed the papers on the desk. The light 
faltered and fell, as it chmbed the shadows of the high room. 

As she watched, Peggy was thinking of other first snows. 
She could remendier them all, from the one when she was six — 
seventeen first snows since then — when her grandmother had 
bundled her up and let her stand on the great front porch, 
where the flakes blew in and kissed her face and were gone; 
when she was ten, her mother's soul had gone out of its tired 
body, on the first white morning of that year. Yet even more 
vividly could she recall the last two. 

The first of these was just such a day as this, and at just 
this hour, five in the evening. The wet, heavy flakes were 
blinding, and the little old man ahead of her was finding the 
snow and the crowds too powerful a combination. So she 
watched, and finally asked if she might help him. Unlike old 
people, his pride was untouched, and the little gray eyes were 



1920.] THE FIRST SNOW 477 

piteously glad when she let him put his arm through hers and 
change his cane to his other hand. But age had breasted too 
many a storm before this one, and presently she was forced to 
stop with him in the shelter of a corner store. 

Then, he came. Jinuny, big and ruddy, smiling with all 
the joy of a boy at the first snow. He knew the old man, 
in fact boarded next door to where he lived, so, because it was 
on her way, they both helped him the short distance left to go. 
Through the tantalizing flakes, the tall, young man on the left 
stole glances across the battered hat of the little old man, at 
the girl who took her strange job in so happy a manner. The 
lad's heart pounded at the sound of her voice, and he wished 
a thousand times within those two, short blocks that the old 
man, who was doing so nobly now between them, lived at the 
end of the car line. 

That was the first snow two years ago. And Peggy, who 
knew so few in the city, and Jimmy, who knew fewer, came 
that night to know each other; and if subsequent snows that 
winter, and showers that summer were allowed to witness, both 
were lucky. For they went these blocks, and some few added, 
every day together and there was no old man between them. 

Then came the first snow a year ago. Peggy started a little. 
It was at this hour, too. In fact, all first snows, if she remem- 
bered well, came at dusk. How Jimmy had come bouncing 
into this same office when he had found the "boss" was gone. 
Noisy and jumping about, like a big kid. Peggy had called 
him that. Indeed, he was more that than any other thing to 
her — a big, overgrown boy. They did not go home, either of 
them, for supper that night. They went to a place on Main 
Street — all white, with wide windows — ^where they could 
watch the snow still falling past the lights, along the curb- 
stone. "Gee whiz, I love the first snow. Peg." He said it a 
hundred times, if he said it once. Then they had tramped, 
care free and slowly, for an hour, arm in arm, looking in shop 
windows just beginning to hint at Christmas sales. Then they 
went in to a movie, and when they came out the snow had 
stopped falling. 

It was dirty, heavy, sticky snow along the streets in March 
when Jimmy said good-bye to her at the station. He had 
wanted them to see Father Dunnigan and be married before he 
wentt but Peggy had insisted, no. His last words were: 



471 THE FIRST SNOW [Jan., 



"Cheer up, Peg, Fll be back before the snow flies, and we'll keep 
flrst-snow night again." 

But now, Peggy stood and stood, watching it tumble and 
glide — these fairy ships, that loafed into port — and Jimmy was 
thousands of miles away. She was wondering if snow came 
as early in France. Whenever it came, he would kiss the first 
flake on his sleeve. She knew that. 

The clang of cars, and horn shrieks came dully up the 
canyon of stone from Main Street, where the flood of a day's 
work was loosening itself, as per schedule. Peggy turned and 
pulled the last toppling leaf to safety and put them in the 
drawer. There was just the semblance of a sob as she locked it. 

In the elevator on the way to the street, Mr. Ferguson, the 
bald-headed bachelor from Keman's, remarked on the weather 
and offered her a ride home in his Winton. But she begged off, 
with the excuse of several errands. For she did have errands. 

Out in the street the crowd was a five-thirty Main Street 
crowd. The only difference was that everyone smiled at every- 
one else, save stout ladies, who tried to squeeze through with 
open lunbrellas, where they could scarcely have gone with um- 
brellas closed. Peggy went on briskly; to all those passing, 
simply a girl hurrying home from a day in an office. So does 
the world pass by — ^for how the world would pause were it to 
see the visions that go down the cities' streets, in young hearts 
that dare dream, and old hearts that remember. 

In fancy Jimmy was towering heads taller just beside 
her, whispering his funny talk that needed no answer, while 
he steered her through the jam and across dangerous tracks. 
True happiness needs no realities. She was humming, as she 
came to a restaurant — ^white and with wide windows. They 
wouldn't miss her at Mrs. Delaney's, where she boarded. U 
Jinmiy were here, she would not go home for supper. 

Purposely, she chose a table for two. Had she dared she 
would have ordered two portions of everything. A huge, red- 
faced man stared at her from the next table. She whispered 
to Jimmy. No, that was foolish. If Jimmy were really there, 
the man would not dare to stare at her. She was totally un- 
conscious of those who came and went up the narrow aisles. 
Jimmy was telling her all about France and the "boches." 
She looked at her watch. "Come on, Peg, let's get out in the 
snow." She could have sworn she heard him say it. 



1920.] THE FIRST SNOW 479 

It was still early, so she returned slowly to Main Street, 
looking at the brightly lighted windows : displays of wonderful 
landscapes and colorings; furniture, flag-draped; cozy look- 
ing furs, on models that looked beautifully frozen; at jew- 
elry windows, with their rings — all kinds — and diamonds 
sparkling. 

A little before seven, she went up the stone steps of St. 
John's to make a visit, and Jimmy was still with her. They 
had often done that, made their visits together. The spirit of 
the first snow was even here. It came in and left wet, unsolved 
patterns on the linoleum of the aisles, clung to the shoulders 
and veils of those who passed or knelt near her. 

**The first snow, and he hasn't come." That was no way 
to pray. Peggy checked herself. "Please, dear Lord, take 
care of him, and bring him back. And • . . and if . . . make 
me strong." 

In the vestibule, she saw the "Roll of Honor," as she 
turned to take the holy water. Jimmy's name must be there. 
She would look. An old woman, short, with hair just turning, 
came and stood beside her. 

"You have some one, gone — eh?" The voice was very in- 
terested. 

•*Yes." Peggy turned and blushed. 

"A brother?" 

•*No— not a brother." Peggy could not make out the fea- 
tures well in the shadows. The light was so fixed it showed 
only on the list of names. 

**! had one." The older woman went on talking, it seemed 
to Peggy, more at the lighted list than to her. 

"A son?" Peggy ventured. 

"Yes ... he was killed." The little whisper neither rose 
nor fell. 

"Is his name there?'* Peggy moved a little closer to the 
narrow shoulders. 

"No — ^he doesn't live here. I don't either, that is, I didn't." 

There was a long pause. Each kept looking at the names, 
though neither was reading. 

"I got word today." The old lady went on. 

Peggy started. Apparently, the other did not notice. 

•This afternoon." The whisper was still, even lifeless. 
"On the two o'clock mail. They don't write much, do they? 



480 THE FIRST SNOW [Jan., 

Just killed in action. But then they have so many 

to notify." .| 

"I'm awfully sorry." Peggy touched the mother's arm 
ever so lightly. 

"I know, dear. You see I had to tell someone. Fve been 
telling Our Lord and His Blessed Mother, most of the after- 
noon. You see — ^but, maybe, you are in a hurry. 

"Oh, no." Peggy encouraged. "I've had my supper." 

"Well then, let's walk outside. Denny loved the snow. 
Denny was his name, you know." 

An awful something seized Peggy — loved the snow, 
echoed in her brain. She stood breathless. 

"Now, maybe dear, you don't care to hear about it." 

"But, I do," Peggy objected. "Come," and taking the 
woman's arm, they went down the steps to the street. It was 
still snowing. 

"You see, Denny and I lived up North, and I had his father's 
insurance, so Denny was finishing school. When the War 
came his whole class went, and I knew, though he never told 
me, how he wanted to go. So I told him Donald, that's my 
other son who is married and lives here, wrote and asked me 
to come to stay with him. He did, you know, but I felt he 
never thought I'd accept. You see, his wife isn't very friendly 
to me. I'm a little too old-fashioned, I imagine. And Denny 
said it would be only a year, at the most, so I cried by myself, 
when he was around, and kept telling him to go." 

"You encouraged him," Peggy interrupted, "and all the 
time you needed him so." 

"Well, that's the best I could do, dear. Women must do 
that, you know. Mothers, anyway. Make men of our boys, 
though we always want — in fact, always do keep them just 
that in our hearts. That is the hardest part of the work thjat 
God gives us to do." 

"But he was all you had, really." 

•*Yes," the voice was a little tired, as if she chafed at self- 
defence, 'l>ut I wasn't all he had. He had his life and his 
future, and he used to say: *When it's over, if I didn't go, the 
fellows wouldn't understand.' You see, when he wouldn't have 
me, he'd always have what I gave him, or he'd regret what 
I kept from him." 

There was silence then, as they went slowly on. In fact, 



1920.] THE FIRST SNOW 481 

Peggy couldnH think what to answer, and she feared too long 
a speech, for her throat was strangely tight. She was glad, 
now, she hadn't tried to keep Jimmy from going. 

"You live far?** Peggy ventured. "Maybe, you had better 
take a car here." They were at the corner of Main Street again. 

"Why, I'm in no hurry home,** the old woman said, almost 
playfully. "Donald*s in Washington, on business, and his wife 
will probably be out, and it*s awfully lonesome, always . . . 
It will be tonight. Can*t we . . .** She looked square about 
into the face of the girl at her side. "A movie — I like them, 
and it*s warm and dry, and there's music.'* 

Going in, Peggy marveled anew at her venture. How 
Jinmiy would like it when she told him how strangely her first 
snow night was spent! 

Once in their seats, they were both silent. Peggy waited 
for the other to begin but she sat very still, nearly rigid, and 
Peggy, watching from the corner of her eyes, knew the old 
lady saw nothing that was on the screen. Only when the W^ 
pictures came did she slip her hand over to touch Peggy*s. 

Peggy, too, found her thoughts wandering from the pic- 
ture and the long captions. She was tempted to kiss the hand 
that lay so still upon her own. Here was courage such as she 
had never dreamed of. How could that Denny, who lay beneath 
some hastily sodded mound in France, have ever hoped to 
come back, who inherited such a mother*s valor. The bravest 
do not often return. 

When they came out the snow had stopped, though it lay 
sparkling in the yellow lights, in a few tiny places where none 
had stepped. The wide walks and pavements were a slushy 
brown. The old lady refused Peggy's offer to go home on the 
car with her. She protested she was no invalid. And Peggy, 
who watched her climbing on the high rear steps, wondered 
why she had thought of her all the evening as an old woman. 
Peggy waved her hand and turned to walk home. Jimmy had 
lived out this way, and she knew every stone and house. 

It was early still, so Peggy did not hurry. She had so many 
things to think of. The farther from Main Street she went, the 
huger became the blocks of untrodden and untarnishing snow. 
She looked up, for the stars were out in full splendor, and 
wondered if the stars and snow brought such dreams and 
strange happenings to people in France. 

VOL. CZ* 31 w^ 



482 THE FIRST SNOW [Jan^ 

Up the front steps to Mrs. Delaney's she went, ahnost drag- 
ging her feet. She was loath to step back to realities, to stuffy 
halls and close, small bedrooms, to sputtering gas, after the 
exaltation of the night. 

Two flights up she went. Tired in body, yet her mind 
jumping and hopping, and rapidly turning over and over all 
the little things the old — there's old again — ^lady had said. As 
she put the key in the lock, her foot scraped against a letter 
that had been all but shoved under her door. It frightened 
her. She had not thought of a letter. Jimmy was the only one 
in all the world she ever heard from. 

Quickly she unlocked the door, and picked the letter up. 
Fumbling, she knocked over several things on the stand be- 
fore she found a match, and let the gas flare up with a great 
pop. She tore the envelope. With one glove still on she read, 
then read again, then turned the slip of paper. Somehow, she 
got her glove and hat and coat and rubbers off. Somehow, she 
found the envelope and slip again, and, somehow, she began to 
understand just what it meant — that one little line from the 
War Office in Washington, "... that James J. Courtney, 1410 
Oak Street . . . was killed in action November 1, 1918." 

When he was going, Jimmy had said: "You're the only 
one in the world. Peg, so you'll get my medals when they 
come." 

Peggy went to the stand, opened her purse, and took out 
her rosary. It was one of pearl that Jinuny had given her the 
Christmas before. Like a dream it seemed — all she was doing. 
She might have been beside his mound in France, for all her 
senses told her of the room and the things about her. Over 
to the bed she went, with vague visions of a tall, red-cheeked 
boy in khaki; of a woman, whose thin lips were suddenly 
caught at the comers; of soft snow falling all about her. 
Quickly, she knelt and buried her head in her hands. The 
tick, tick of the clock might have been the clanging of cathedral 
bells, for all she heard or heeded. For a long time the white 
pearls were still. It was only after a sob that they began to 
unwind themselves over the slender fingers that cupped her 
face. 




THE CHESTERBELLOC. 

BY THEODORE MAYNARD. 
III. 

The Politicians. 

R. GILBERT K. CHESTERTON has said of his 
brother Cecil that he was born a fighter and that 
he argued from his cradle. What was true of the 
very brave and able man who bore so honorable 
a part in the political debates of the Chester- 
beiioc, IS equally true of the other Chesterton and of Belloc. 
Temperamentally they are controversialists incapable of let- 
ting slip any opportunity for preaching their doctrines. Hard 
and frequent blows have been struck by them, and the ex- 
treme pugnacity of their nature has f ortimately been provided 
with a himdred outlets by a world whose trend makes rapidly 
for the very things they hate with a special fury. Other men 
have observed the trend and have disliked it; the Chesterbelloc 
has maintained that capacity for indignation which results 
in violent protest and violent action. 

When first the voices of the young writers on the Speaker 
were heard they were full of angry argument. Today, fifteen 
years later, the editorials of the New Witness are as trenchant 
as were ever the columns of the paper of those patriots who 
denounced the infamy of the Boer War. There is, however, 
this difference. Time, though it has not weakened the early 
wrath, has solidified it with a philosophy. The men who re- 
sisted the attack upon the South African Republic have seen 
an attack being made upon the English res publica. Danger 
is needed to make a nation conscious of itself and danger has 
awakened the dogma of democracy. A state indeed may be so 
far gone in decay that the increasing power of the rich is only 
viewed by the people with stupid acquiescence; normally it 
stirs up the sleeping sense of popular liberty. Modern society 
is in a phase of transition, but for the mass of the people the 
changes are so effectively masked by Parliament and the press 



484 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Jan., 

as to be almost imperceptible, though in reality they are swift 
and far-reaching. The Chesterbelloc has clearly marked the 
changes and their consequences; it has warned the world as 
to what is being attempted and, in order to counteract that 
attempt, has restated the doctrine of democracy. 

Sociologists have discovered a word that saves the necessity 
for thinking; that word is progress. A partial understanding 
of the biological theory of evolution has comforted men with 
the notion that things of themselves are certain to get better. 
To this Mr. Chesterton has made the obvious answer that if 
things of their own nature are certain to get better one might 
as well not interfere with them; the reformer may go to bed 
and get up in the millennium. The reformers have done so — 
continuing, however, to talk vaguely in their sleep of progress 
and eugenics and labor compounds. Unfortunately they are 
likely, upon getting up, to find themselves in hell. For "^prog- 
ress," as the Chesterbelloc is never tired of pointing out, is only 
a metaphor for walking down a road — ^very probably the 
wrong road. 

Things of themselves do not tend to get better; they tend 
to get worse. The aim of the reformer consequently should be 
to resist evolution, which he can do in no other way than by 
revolution. But he must have a creed. He must make up his 
mind as to what he wants to preserve before he begins to de- 
stroy. Every good revolutionist is a good conservative. The 
French Revolution was, as Mr. Belloc says, advocated as a 
reversion to the normal, to some primal right of man which 
had been lost and which has to be recovered. In Mr. Ches- 
terton's political writings there constantly occurs the figure of 
the white post taken by him as a symbol of the world. If you 
want to keep your white post (he says) you must repaint it; 
if it is to be the old white post you must make it the new white 
post. At the end of the eighteenth century in France the revo- 
lutionists built their arguments upon the implied contract 
which was the cement of society; in the beginning of the twen- 
tieth century in Russia the anarchists wish to uproot the foun- 
dations upon which society rests. There is much breaking 
and there may be more; but there will be no building. The 
Bolshevists have burnt the plan, as the Fabian Society has lost 
the map, and while one group of men run about Russia tear- 
ing down walls in a blind fury, another set wander about 



1920.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 4U 

England, with as blind a futility, trying to make up their minds 
what to do. 

The Chesterbelloc, on the other hand, is able to tell you 
exactly what it wants and what it does not want and why. At 
a time when democracy is forever in the mouths of politicians, 
but never in their hearts, the Chesterbelloc has kept it alive 
in the brain. Subtle doubts of equality have been expressed by 
the philosophers on the ground, apparently, that some men are 
fat and others are thin, some men tall and others short, some 
men clever and others dull, some men (it has come to this) 
are rich and others poor. The dogma of democracy, as given 
in practically the identical words by the two Chestertons and 
by Belloc, is that the things common to all men are infinitely 
more important than the things peculiar to some. Like most 
of the great transcendental doctrines, they will admit, this is 
incapable of proof, except by the results which follow its ac- 
ceptance or rejection — the energy, honor and happiness of 
the society which accepts it; the lethargy, dishonor and misery 
of the society which neglects it. 

The sterility of most modem political and economic ex- 
periments arises first from their philosophical bewilderment, 
and secondly because of an ignorance and contempt for his- 
tory on the part of politicians and economists; for if they knew 
the history of Christian civilization they would understand 
Christian people. Mr. Belloc is always insisting that the his- 
torian must know the Catholic Church. He should be a Cath- 
olic; at least he should be acquainted with the Catholic posi- 
tion. Without such knowledge he will have no key to Europe 
or to these civilizations which have sprung from Europe. To 
grasp the meaning of Christendom he must first grasp the 
meaning of Christianity. Yet many contemporary intellec- 
tuals, finding that the Faith does not appeal to them (rarely 
have they knowledge of what the Faith is) put the considera- 
tion of it away with contempt. Consequently they either en- 
tirely misread or find it convenient to ignore history. One 
really talented man has actually made a proposition that edu- 
cated folk should only pay attention to the newest things. The 
fads of the present (we learn) are of more importance than the 
great religions of the past, and so far from students studying 
the classic writers, they should not dream of wasting their 
time upon any book more than ten years old. There is at first 



486 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Jan., 

sight the appearance of daring about such an idea; it is as 
attractive as the brilliant folly of youth, and bears its savor 
of adventure. In fact, however, it turns out under examina- 
tion to be only the old game of begging the question. The 
modernists find it somewhat simpler to ignore the facts than 
to give up the habit of making theories. If the world will not 
fit, they will pretend that it does not exist. On this fear of the 
past Mr. Chesterton has written in What's Wrong With the 
World: 

The last few decades have been marked by a special culti- 
vation of the romance of the future. We seem to have made 
up our minds to misunderstanding what has happened; 
and we turn, with a sort of relief, to stating what will happen 
— ^which is (apparently) much easier. The modern man 
no longer preserves the memoirs of his great-grandfather; 
but he is engaged in writing a detailed and authoritative 
biography of his great-grandson. Instead of trembling be- 
fore the spectres of the dead, we shudder abjectly under 
the shadow of the babe unborn. This spirit is apparent 
everywhere, even to the creation of a form of futurist ro- 
mance . . • The old story, we know, was supposed to begin : 
'-'Late on a winter's evening two horsemen might have been 
seen — ." The new story has to begin: "Late on a winter's 
evening two aviators will be seen — ." The movement is 
not without the elements of charm ; there is something spir- 
ited, if eccentric, in the type of so many people fighting over 
again the fights that have not yet happened; of people still 
glowing with the memory of tomorrow morning • . . 

But when full allowance has been made for this harmless 
element of poetry and petty human perversity in the thing, 
1 shall not hesitate to maintain here that this cult of the 
future is not only a weakness but a cowardice of the age • . . 

The upshot of this modern attitude is really this: that 
men invent new ideals because they dare not attempt old 
ideals. They look forward with enthusiasm, because they 
are afraid to look back. 

Now in history there is no revolution that is not a restora- 
tion. Among the many things that leave one doubtful about 
the modern habit of fixing eyes on the future, none is stronger 
than this: that all the men in history who have really done 
anything with the future have had their eyes fixed upon the 
past 



1920.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 487 

The Chesterbelloc is often accused, by those who have not 
troubled to read its work, of drawing a stained-glass picture of 
such a mediaevalism as never existed, and then inviting mod- 
ern men to conform themselves to it. As a matter of fact the 
Chesterbelloc (or what practically amounts to the whole Ches- 
terbelloc as historian, Belloc himself), is if anything perhaps 
a little less than just to the Middle Ages. He acknowledges the 
attractiveness of the ideal almost attained in the twelfth and 
thirteenth centuries, but not only declares that that ideal was 
gradually decaying in the fourteenth century, but had lost most 
of its vitality in the fifteenth. The reason, he thinks, was that 
the Middle Ages came to their perfection too suddenly to last; 
that they had not sufficient root to support their load of loveli- 
ness for long, and were compelled to make way for the more 
vigorous Latin growth of the Renaissance. 

We have been used for some time past to the Teutonic 
theory of civilization. It was supported by many of the his- 
torians and by nearly all the dons at the universities. All that 
is hardy and honorable in the English character, we were con- 
stantly informed, came from the rude virility and sterling 
simplicity of our Germanic blood, so that at last an obscure 
Sinn Fein poet came to believe it enough to make the execrable 
couplet : 

Saxon and Teuton 

They grew the same root on. 

The Chesterbelloc, however, has consistently met this loose 
assertion of the academics with a flat denial. It seems that 
the whole of our civilization derives from Rome. As Mr. Ches- 
terton puts it in his history, 'The important thing about France 
and England is not that they have Roman remains. They are 
Roman remains." We are only too inclined to view the past 
falsely foreshortened by distance and to pass lightly and un- 
attentively past a period full of important organic change. 
The Roman occupation of Britain, for instance, is generally 
thought of as a brief episode of no permanent consequence. 
Mr. Chesterton reminds us that England was directly Roman 
for fully four hundred years; longer than she has been Pro- 
testant and very much longer than she has been industrial. 
So far from the Teutons being the makers of England they 
were the people that nearly destroyed it. Our civilization was 



488 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Jan.. 

Roman until the Barbarian came, and when those great waves 
from the Baltic had passed, it remained Roman. Even in 
blood the English are probably far more Gaelic than Teutonic, 
for at each invasion little more than a slight infiltration came 
into the original stock. As for the law, the religion, the ar- 
chitecture, the literature of England, these were re-latinized 
and the country was made once again a part of Europe. From 
the south came philosophy and arms and arts, for the new 
Rome carried on for centuries the work it had inherited from 
the old. 

A deep knowledge of history informs the politics of the 
Chesterbelloc, and in its proposed reforms it can point to the 
experience and example of a happier age. This knowledge, 
moreover, is very far from being bookish. Mr. Belloc can 
write dully when he is trying to be particularly lucid, but he 
is never dull as an historian; on the contrary, he u^ then 
extraordinarily vivid. 

This is due to the historian's concern with actualities, his 
insatiable thirst for first-hand evidence and personal observa- 
tion. No other such writer has studied geography so closely 
or found in it so frequently the clue to an enigma. 

G. K. Chesterton and his brother, Cecil, though they have 
been unable to give the close study to history that Belloc h!as 
given, have done useful and even brilliant work in it. G. K. C.'s 
Short History of England does not attempt more than a gen- 
eral outline, but as a critical guide to the ordinary reader it is 
invaluable. Its light is not the light of day but rather of the 
lightning that suddenly illuminates a landscape and that often, 
because of its sudden clarity, reveals more than the sun is able 
to show with its steady shining. Cecil Chesterton in his Nell 
Gwynn and more especially in his last book. The History of 
the United States, has a greater command than his brother of 
the professional manner. His native lucidity made him an 
admirable interpreter of facts; and an appreciation of the 
relative importance of details with a capacity to coordinate 
them is of infinitely greater value to the world at present than 
a plodding patience in research. 

Mr. Belloc in one of his essays, collected in First and Last, 
said that '"upon the right reading of history the right use of 
citizenship in England will today depend." The politics of the 
Chesterbelloc, now to be considered, are founded upon the 



1920.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 489 

reading of history which I have attempted to summarize and, 
being deep in the experience of the past, can offer much to the 
needs of the present, for the Chesterbelloc proposes not merely 
a poetic revival of mediaevalism, but a practical revival of 
Christendom. 

The Faith, being a vital spiritual force, resulted in certain 
secular consequences. The framework of the Christian state, 
its body of laws and to a great extent its methods were imposed 
by Roman arms. But a new spirit re-created society destroying 
by degrees, and with the strange new doctrine of the equality 
of men, the slavery which had seemed normal to the- older 
civilization. The slave slowly turned into the serf and the serf 
into the free peasant-proprietor; there was no sudden up- 
heaval but only a gradual decay of the Servile Institution. 
Working parallel with the economic transition was a political 
transition which at last grew conscious of itself as democracy. 
Men having come to believe themselves equal in the eyes of 
God, began to insist that they were equal in the eyes of the 
law. They went further and demanded the right to make their 
own laws. Government no longer could be exercised with the 
passive consent of the governed, but only with their active ap- 
proval. Democracy, that is government according to the gen- 
eral will, was in the air. 

Unfortunately it remained in the air and never came fully 
into operation. In England the struggle which had been going 
on between the barons and the crown, ended at last in the 
king's head falling beneath the axe, and his son's return as the 
paid servant of the new aristocracy. The Parliament which 
had overthrown the monarchy had also overthrown the 
democracy, and the English people learned the bitter lesson 
of the rapacity of the rich. 

Parliamentarianism has long been thought of as the same 
thing as democracy. It may be argued that it is the most con- 
venient means of achieving democracy, but even at its best 
it can be considered as only the democratic machinery. As it 
exists in the modern world, however, "Representative gov- 
ernment" does not represent anybody except the governing 
class. The general desires of the people are not ascertained and 
the will of the people is not carried out. The country is in- 
deed invited to vote, on the respective merits of this or that 
team of parliamentarians and their policies, but it is not con- 



490 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Jan., 

suited about the policies, and its choice is limited to one of two 
teams picked from the same governing class. 

By the very necessities of its own nature Parliament tends 
to become an oligarchy. At first it was a close aristocratic 
body, but during the memory of living men birth has come to 
count less and mere wealth more in its system. The old politi- 
cal families still count and have a prescriptive right to places 
within the governing body, but the new political families are 
the real power. The honest, narrow English squires could 
hardly be called democratic though they sat in the English 
Parliament; they did not represent the English people, but 
they represented something English. They are passing — and 
their successors are not democrats. These also, though they 
sometimes but not always sit in Parliament, are not representa- 
tive. They are not even English. The governing class is gov- 
erned in its turn by a group of cosmopolitan financiers. 

The evil of plutocratic government has, in our time, come 
to a head in England. In the State it is corrupt and in society 
it is oppressive. It is this evil that the Chesterbelloc has sin- 
gled out for attack. 

To expose the present condition of politics Hilaire Belloc 
founded in 1911, soon after he had left Parliament, the paper 
known as the Eye Witness and which was later, under the 
successive editorships of Cecil and Gilbert Chesterton, named 
the New Witness. The two main objects of the paper are to 
attack political corruption and to resist the establishment of 
the servile state. 

The consideration of the thesis that capitalism is becoming 
increasingly imstable, and must, unless property be again 
widely distributed, result in the reestablishment of slavery, 
will have to be postponed until a little later in this article. I 
must first deal with the attack made by the Chesterbelloc upon 
the party system. It was made in three ways : by Mr. Belloc 
in Parliament; by lectures and articles out of Parliament; 
and by means of satirical political novels. The thesis was 
fully stated with all Mr. Belloc's intimate knowledge and Cecil 
Chesterton's lucid logic in The Party System. To a great ex- 
tent that book is already out of date; there is no longer an 
official opposition; the Front Benches are not forced to the 
expedient of collusion in private and collision in public. Yet 
the book retains a high value and interest. 



1920.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 491 

Sham criticism of the present Govermnent is still en- 
gineered and is always followed by a sham withdrawal, but the 
old solemn and formal farce of opposition has, for at least a 
little, while, disappeared. 'Money still plays its part and has 
indeed more power than it ever possessed. Honors are more 
than ever bought and sold, and policies dictated by the rich. 
Even tlie clean sweep of the old gang announced when the last 
Prime Minister fell, has not been carried out, for Churchill and 
Chamberlain are of too old a gang to be broken. But the 
governing class no longer employs the subterfuge of splitting 
itself in two parties in the way Cecil Chesterton (I think I can 
detect his hand in the following passage) described in The 
Party System: 

But, it may be asked, is there anything wrong in men dif- 
fering in politics yet remaining on friendly terms in private 
life? Is there any reason why a man should not marry a 
woman because her family belongs to the political party op- 
posed to his? Not the least in the world. Such things would 
naturally happen in the most real and earnest political con- 
flict. But they would happen as exceptions; there would be 
perhaps one or two such cases in every generation. When 
we find such things not exceptional, but universal, we may 
safely say that we are not considering a certain number of 
examples of personal sympathy or attraction over-riding 
political differences, but a general system of government by 
a small, friendly, and closely inter-related clique. We are 
not surprised at Romeo loving Juliet, though he is a Montague 
and she a Capulet. But if we found in addition that Lady 
Capulet was by birth a Montague, that Mercutio was at once 
the nephew of a Capulet and the brother-in-law of a Mon- 
tague, that Count Paris was related on his father's side to 
one house and on his mother's side to the other, that Tybalt 
was Romeo's uncle's stepson, and that the Friar who mar- 
ried Romeo and Juliet was Juliet's uncle and Romeo's first 
cousin once removed, we should probably conclude that the 
feud between the two houses was being kept up mainly for 
the dramatic entertainment of the people of Verona. 

The ground of The Party System is covered also by the 
series of satirical political novels which appeared in rapid se- 
quence from Mr. Belloc. Emanuel Burden, the first and best 
of these books, is already a recognized classic of sustained 



492 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Jan^ 

irony. Following on its account of how an honest, but some- 
what stupid English merchant, was trapped and at last broken 
by a financier engaged in exploiting the riches of a malarial 
African district, we hear of another English merchant, more 
stupid than Mr. Burden, and just a shade less honest, who, hav- 
ing through sheer luck accumulated a fortune, is pushed, much 
to his bewilderment into politics, and finally is honored with 
a title because of his contributions to the party funds. Mr. 
Barnett, the Jew financier of Emanuel Burden, appears again 
in Mr. Clutterbuck's Election as the Duke of Batterseas, and 
has a finger in the pie of the novels which followed that 
book. 

In Pongo and the Bull he effects the downfall of the Gov- 
ernment, despite the desperate attempt of the leader of the 
opposition to keep the Government in office by means of an 
elaborate piece of stage management. Had Pongo not been 
chased by the bull he would have entered the chamber of the 
House of Commons at the Prime Minister's cue, "the leader of 
the opposition is morally guilty of assassination." But an acci- 
dent ruined collusion and precipitated the General Election 
which the Front Benches were seeking to avoid. 

A Change in the Cabinet is simply an amusing study in 
nepotism, where a half-wit whose wife has lost her enormous 
allowance from the American millionaire, her father, receives 
a place in the Cabinet and five thousand pounds a year, plus 
expenses to save him from (comparative) starvation. The 
thing is put more briefly in one of the Cautionary Tales for 
Children. 

Nepotism, so entertainingly described in these verses for 
children, though having something corrupt about it, is ob- 
viously much less positively evil than that direct and indirect 
giving and taking of bribes which is the secret sore of English 
politics. Yet both nepotism, for which a kind of defence can 
be made out, and the indefensible practice of bribery, are after 
all only symptomatic. They are consequences of a disease, not 
the disease itself. That is nothing less than a plutocracy which 
works through an oligarchy under the appearance — the camou- 
flage, blessed word! of democracy. It endangers the State, 
because the interests of finance are international, and patriot- 
ism is an exploitable commodity. It endangers the home, the 
unit of the State; because the rich, with a contempt peculiarly 



1920.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 493 

modern for the poor, are destroying in turn one after another 
of the private liberties of the people. It endangers society, the 
organization of the State; because the means of wealth are 
concentrated into the hands of a few who are able to establish 
a domination over the lives of the many who have become 
dispossessed. 

In 1912 appeared Mr. Belloc's book, The Servile State, 
whose thesis was that capitalism, as an economic system, grow- 
ing increasingly unstable, is striving to establish itself in stable 
equilibrium, and that the stability would be nothing else than 
a reversion to the servile institution, in which, under possibly 
some new name, the mass of men would be compelled by law 
to work for the profit of a limited number of masters. The 
argument was not that such a consummation is inevitable; 
but that the trend of society was towards it. Mr. Bclloc con- 
fined himself to definition and to abstract discussion, as of a 
mathematical problem, of his theory. He did not say that 
slavery was wrong, but merely considered whether a revival 
of it were probable. He declared that Socialism led to the 
establishment of the Servile State by being deflected from its 
objective in its impact upon capitalism; and ""that the Capital- 
ist State breeds a Collectivist Theory which in action produces 
something utterly different from Collectivism : to wit, the Ser- 
vUe State." 

To counteract both Capitalism and Collectivism, the 
Chesterbelloc has preached the reestablishment of a system 
of widely distributed property, such as was general in England 
before the Reformation, and is still general over the greater 
portion of Eiu^ope. In it, men would own their own bodies, 
their own land, and their own tools and, having economic in- 
dependence, could be free. 

When Leo XIII. issued his encyclical letter, Rerum 
novarum, he declared the pressing question of the moment 
to be the condition of the working classes; and today, the 
importance of sound economics is so overwhelming that, with 
the War over, nothing else is of much consequence. The yoke 
laid by the rich upon the necks of the masses of the popula- 
tion weighs heavier than in the great PontiflTs day — for even 
if there is a show of improving the lot of the workers in its 
material aspect, if modem social reform supports the granting 
of greater comfort and security to the laboring classes, it ac- 



494 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Jan., 

companies its benefits with an increased control over the lives 
of men. It means to destroy destitution and freedom at one 
blow. The more discerning of the Socialists have already be- 
gun to doubt the wisdom of strikes whose sole object is the 
obtaining of higher wages, preferring the gaining of a higher 
status to the illusory bulk of a pay-envelope. Yet, in all the 
welter of controversy, with collectivists, syndicalists and 
bolshevists shouting against one another, very few economists 
are demanding the independence and dignity which would re- 
turn with a society where private ownership would be normal. 
Still, there are many hopeful signs of a new spirit and the guild 
idea, tacked on to a modified form of Socialism, is gaining 
groimd. The more ground it gains, however, the more Social- 
ism loses, so that it is significant that Mr. Orage has foimd it 
convenient to rename his proposals, ""National Guilds'* instead 
of "Guild Socialism." 

Only recently has the world begun to know anything of 
the mediaeval industrial organization. We were allowed to 
read that the religious houses were suppressed because they 
were avaricious, but never that they were suppressed because 
the king and his servants were greedy for gold. About the 
guilds, however, there was an unanimity of silence. As Mr. 
G. K. Chesterton remarks in his Short History of England: 

The boy and girl reading the stock simplified histories of 
the schools practically never heard of such a thing as a bur- 
gher, until he appears in a shirt with a noose around his neck. 

When the mere fact of the existence of the craft guilds was 
suppressed, it was still less likely that a word would be said 
as to how they were destroyed and why. The fratricidal mur- 
der of the Protector Somerset cannot be altogether condoned 
by a Protestant coimtry, but while admitted, it is set off (like 
Henry's matrimonial adventures) to the debit side of a ledger 
where Protestanism stands as an enormous credit balance. 
There is, however, a debit never posted in full to the account, 
the enclosure of the common lands, and another debit not 
posted at all, the destruction of the guilds. G. K. Chesterton 
makes the point in a characteristic passage of his history: 

The Mediaeval Trade Unions were struck down, their 



Ift20.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 485 

buildings broken into by the soldiery, and their funds seized 
by the new nobility. And this simple incident takes all its 
common meaning out of the assertion (in itself plausible 
enough) that the Guilds, like everything else at that time, 
were probably not at their best. Proportion is the only prac- 
tical thing; and it may be true that Caesar was not feeling 
well on the morning of the Ides of March. But simply to say 
that the Guilds declined, is about as true as saying that 
Csesar quietly died from purely natural causes at the foot 
of the statue of Pompey. 

The doctrine of liberty, preached not as an intellectual ab- 
straction, but as a practical part of work-a-day life explains 
the pugnacious attitude of the Chesterbelloc which to many 
people seems to be mere wantonness. If the Chestertons and 
Belloc have exposed politicians, it is not because they take a 
malicious delight in scandal for its own sake, but because they 
desire the honor of their country and the liberty of their 
fellow-countrymen. 



NIAGARA IN WINTER 

BY EDWARD F. GARESCH^, S.J. 

THOU great priest of all the nations, thou 
Whose immemorial chanting shakes the sky ! 
The suns of ages on thy reverend brow 
Linger, in glorious life, immortally. 

1 come again to hear, eternal tone 
Of immolated waters, where the leap 

Of thy vast splendor makes perpetual moan 

And lifts unwearied litanies from the deep. 

And lo! 

I find thy priestly waters clad in snow. 

And where thy choral rapids used to sweep 

Surpliced in hills of frost, like acolytes, they sleep. 

All rubrical, in white. 

Hills, waves and trees are vestured deep with light 

As for high splendors of some solemn feast. 

The mighty altar of thy hills, aglow 

With ceremonial show. 

Twinkles with mimic suns; thy tapers bright 

Astound the reverent sight. 

And wistful, sedulous clouds of swirling mist 

Have never ceased 

To hang the shivering trees, by sunbeams kissed, 

With wonderful bright robes and baldachins of fleece. 

O the vast arc of that white altar, glowing 
With crystal columns of thy frozen streams. 
Gigantic pillars, halted in their flowing, 
Lucent with lightenings of marmoreal gleams. 
Their flutings vaster than old Egypt's glory. 
Chiseled to fretted arabesques of frost, — 
In the white windings of that splendor hoary 
The wildered sunbeams wander and are lost. 

Ah, bleak and beautiful, and clear 

With more than earthly glitterings of delight, 

Thine ice-built altar here 

Quivers with marvels of celestial light, 

Kissed 

With wild and tremulous mist, 

And streaming clouds of glory from its height. 



I«a0.] NIAGARA IN WINTER 497 

Around, in robes of state, 

The reverential forests stand. 

With their deep, paradisal fruitings hoar. 

Obsequious they wait 

While, chanting low, the waters deck them more. 

Strewing their crystal splendors on the land. 

Weaving the woods with many a strange device 

With snowy bands and crackling stays of ice. 

Until amazing glories flash and flow 

Where the white forests glow. 

And all the common world is covered under 

With hills of splendor and with vales of wonder! 

The vaporous incense of thy restless wave 
Is whirled in clouds of glory, freezing far. 
On every jutting crag the restless play 
Of thy swift, eager water piles away 
A heap of gelid foam. The furious war 
Of freezing torrents, teased to flinging spray. 
Hath left thy stones as lovely as a star. 
Where the pale stretches of thine ice fields are. 
Hark, the trapped surges impotehtly rave. 
Roar furious, prisoned in their icy cave. 

And still 

The steadfast waters keep their constant will 

On pouring towards the brink of their desire. 

The sacrificial torrent whelmed and lost 

In wonderful, deep frost. 

Leaps onward with its immemorial fire. 

With all its ancient joy and all its fear 

The liquid litany of the waves I hear. 

And echo through the white, impassive walls 

The solemn verberations of the falls. 

No fetters of imperious cold 

This sacrificial surge can stay 

From the wild winter's freezing hold 

The eager torrent leaps away. 

And through the far-flung ice resistless poured 

The ever valiant wave, to win its way. 

Shakes the white lightenings of its silver sword! 



▼OL. cz. 32 



SHAKESPEARE AND THE ART OF MUSIC. 

BY P. J. KELLY, MUS. D. 

If Music and Sweet Poetry agree 
As Ibey must needs, the sister and the brother. 
Then must the love be great, 'twixt thee and me. 
Because thou lovest the one and I the other. 
Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch 
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense; 
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such, 
As, passing all conceit, needs no defence. 

— Passionate Pilgrim. 

^ITH these words, Shakespeare sings of the inti- 
' mate relationship between music and poetty. No 
other dramatic poet has exhibited in his worits 
such great admiration of music and such tech- 
y nical knowledge as did Shakespeare. Of all his 
dramatic works, but five are without allusions to music. He 
therefore is a very valuable addition to the history of music, 
as his characters discuss the object of music, philosophy of 
music and also the practice of the art. 

There is a very intimate association between Shakespeare 
and music, for he lived at a time in which much vitaUty was 
exhibited in musical circles. The voice of music was abroad. 
Every aspect of life was accompanied by appropriate strains. 
Across the wooded hills, on the village common, in mansion 
and cottage, a real love of the art revealed itself in divers 
. manners. It would be diflicult to determine the great influ- 
ence that music exerted in the life of Shakespeare. Shakes- 
peare's excursions in the musical province are a direct out- 
come of a great joy in its charms. He is always happy when 
speaking on music and its place in life. To him it is some- 
thing real. It is the human side of it that attracts him. It 
is evident that to him, the art of sound was full of fascination. 
And whether his reference is humorous or full of enthusiasm, 
he speaks with the voice of one who knows and understands. 
The number and diversities of Shakespeare's allusions to 
music in its many forms proves an active interest in it. A 
clever man can write eloquently about it, without being par- 
ticularly sensitive to its influence, but that by Shakespeare 



1920.] SHAKESPEARE AND THE ART OF MUSIC 499 

it was regarded seriously, must be obvious to the careful stu- 
dent of his works. 

In sketching out a programme of Shakespearean music, 
certain familiar things are plainly indicated. We have Men- 
delssohn's fairy music to Midsummer Night's Dream, epitome 
of all that is best in his work. Then there are Berlioz's dra- 
matic symphony, Romeo and Juliet, Tschaikowsky's symphonic 
poem, Hamlet, and the incident music written by Arthur Sulli- 
van to the Tempest and Merchant of Venice. Besides there 
are the following overtures : Beethoven's Coriolanus, Weber's 
Oberon and Berlioz's King Lear. We conclude the list with 
Richard Strauss' symphonic poem Macbeth, and the Shakes- 
pearean preludes: Nicolai's Merry Wives of Windsor, Goetz's 
Taming of the Shrew, Gade's Hamlet, and Schumann's Julius 
Caesar. Of all musicians, Berlioz is the most interesting in 
connection with Shakespeare, whom he is better qualified to 
interpret than any other. 

Shakespeare's influence with the master of masters of the 
art of music, Beethoven, was very marked. He was well 
acquainted with the poet's works, and read him with avidity in 
German. Looking into his immortal music, we have his own 
authority for connecting Shakespeare's name with two mag- 
nificent sonatas. When asked to explain the hidden meaning 
of Sonata Op. 31 No. 2 in D minor and Op. 57 in F minor, the 
composer replied: "Read Shakespeare's Tempest." In the 
overture Coriolanus, Beethoven derived his matter mainly 
from Shakespeare. Wagner has analyzed the constituents of 
this overture, showing how the themes relate to incidents in the 
life of the Roman. The force and dignity of the opening, stand 
for the inflexible will and haughty bearing of the hero; while 
the second subject, of a tender and pleading character, one 
can hardly be wrong in associating with the tearful entreaties 
of the Roman matrons which woke the filial piety of Coriolanus 
and led to the tragedy of his death. 

The influence of Shakespeare upon music is naturally 
connected with the settings of the songs which are innumer- 
able. Of contemporary and very early settings, there appear 
to be very few. However, towards the end of the seventeenth 
century, examples are more numerous. In 1678, Purcell pro- 
duced his "Overture" and "Incidental Music," both character- 
istic and beautiful, to the masque in Shadwell's version of 



500 SHAKESPEARE AND THE ART OF MUSIC [Jan^ 

Timon. In 1690, the same Shadwell, having adapted The Tem- 
pest, Purcell contributed music to it; two pieces, "Come unto 
these yellow sands," and *Tull fathom five," being especially 
admirable. Later on he wrote the gossamer-like fairy music 
for the adaptation of A Midsummer NighVs Dream. We have 
also fine settings of the songs in As You Like It, Twelfth Night, 
The Merchant of Venice, The Tempest, and the dirge in Romeo 
and Juliet. The lyric "It was a lover and his lass," has been 
set sixteen or seventeen times and others nearly as often. Some 
of the sonnets, passages out of Venus and Adonis and The Pas- 
sionate Pilgrim and non-lyrical extracts from different plays 
have been given a musical dress. 

In Shakespeare's Plays we find folk music and song, but 
no sacred music of the *Te Deum" or "Sanctus" kind, for there 
was no call for it in the subjects he treated. Yet in Henry VIU., 
in the death scene of Queen Catharine, we have "sad and sol- 
emn music." He also made use of instrumental music. In his 
Antony and Cleopatra, Act IV., Scene 3, solemn and strange 
music is heard. None of such music has been preserved. It 
may have been only a few chords or snatches of melody, yet 
it was a second stage of instrumental music. Shakespeare 
must have known the Mystery Plays. Certainly the trained 
musician who idly turns the poet's leaves to see what musical 
allusions he makes, is astounded at his intimate knowledge 
of music, that art which so many of the poets rave about with 
so little understanding. Shakespeare knew what he was talk- 
ing about, and could move at ease among musical technics. 

Had we no other sources of information as to the intimate 
connection of music with the life of the time, we should find 
it reflected in Shakespeare's Plays, not only by the frequent 
introduction of songs sung by the characters, which, be it 
noted, are always relevant to the action, but by the introduc- 
tion of professional musicians, such figures in those days, and 
by the proneness of the characters to point their moral, or 
adorn their philosophy with apt musical similes. The histor- 
ical plays have fewer musical allusions than either the trage- 
dies or the comedies. Shakespeare stands out among all the 
Elizabethans, for his appreciation of the divine art, a sort 
of appreciation, which in its perception of music in all its then 
known forms and phases, we might term democratic. It is 
never quite safe, however, to count upon a dramatist's acting 



1920.] SHAKESPEARE AND THE ART OF MUSIC 501 

consistently with the dogmas of his characters; a man may 
smile and be a villain; so in Shakespeare's world at least a 
man may be musical and be a villain, for the most detestable 
of all his characters gives expression to his sinister motives 
in metaphors drawn from music : 

O, you are well-tuned now. 

But I'll set down the pegs that make this music. 

The most often quoted passage about music in Shakes- 
peare is the one about ""the man that hath no music in him- 
self/' and he is declared as *'fit for treason, stratagem and 
spoils." A careful reading of the second scene of Act I. of 
Two Gentlemen of Verona, will surprise the reader with more 
musical allusions than are found in any other single Shakes- 
pearean scene, unless it be in Twelfth Night One of the most 
playful touches in Shakespeare in connection with music, is 
the picturing of the musician looking for compliments in As 
You Like It: "Shall we clap into it roundly without hawking 
or spitting, or saying *we are hoarse,' which are the only pro- 
logues to a bad voice?" In Much Ado About Nothing, Act II., 
Scene 3, Balthazar, the musician, strives with might and main 
to win a compliment from Dom Pedro, but only gets: 'Thou 
singest well enough for a shift." 

Shakespeare's muse presents wonderful specimens of the 
strength and music of our language, as well as facility and 
felicity of construction; and this power of transferring the 
inmost truth of things into musical verse makes him, as Emer- 
son says, "the highest type of the poet." In addition to the 
extreme beauty and melody of his versification, "the golden 
cadence of poesy," and breathing the highest passionate elo- 
quence, the reader's attention is called to the striking paral- 
lelisms and analogies in phrase and metaphor throughout all 
his plays and poems. Yet he seldom repeats himself or plays 
upon but one string. The same thought and image is con- 
veyed by a happy alternation of phrase, combining both 
euphony and melody with harmony of thought and feeling. 

Musical Echo. 

How dost thou like this tune? 
It gives a very echo to the seat 
Where love is throned. 

—Twelfth Niffht, 11. 4. 



\ 



502 SHAKESPEARE AND THE ART OF MUSIC [Jan,, 

Echo— Music of the Hounds. 
We will fair queen, up to the mountain's top 
And mark the musical confusion 
Of hounds and echo in conjunction. 

— Midsummer NighVs Dream, IV. 1. 

Chime of Bells. 
Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouth like bells. 
Each under each. A cry more tunable 
Was never holla'd to, nor cheered with horn. 

— Midsummer Night's Dream, IV. 1. 

Music A Charming Awakening From Sleep. 
Procure me music ready when he wakes. 
To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound. 

— Taming of the Shrew. 

Aside from the choice of musical sounding words, which 
abound in Shakespeare's works, we find the musical phenom- 
enon of alliteration, a device which can rise to heights of great 
beauty in the hands of a master. The simplest form of this 
kind of verbal music in Shakespeare, is the alliterative epithet, 
"pale primrose," "fierce fire," **midnight mushrooms," "reel- 
ing ripe," "curled clouds," "mischiefs manifold," "ebbing Nep- 
tune," etc. Such epithets abound throughout his plays. Then 
we have lines like, "I will not struggle, I will stand stone still." 
Shakespeare did not deliberately invent involved combina- 
tions of this sort; he was more like Mozart, with an inward 
spring of music forever bubbling up and out, lisping in num- 
bers, because the numbers came, and adorning his verse with 
sound patterns of which he was, at most, half conscious but 
which have formed themselves in a very musical mind. Music 
with him was a natural and powerful means of expression; 
he uses it to carry his purpose a little further than the spoken 
word will take it. 

Shakespeare's allusions to musical instruments are far too 
numerous for detailed mention; he draws glibly from all of 
them. The viol da gamboys, a baritone stringed instrument, 
is connected inseparably with a gentleman's liberal education 
in Twelfth Night; the vile squeaking of the wry-necked fife 
in the masques, is held up to ridicule by Shy lock; the lute is 
pilloried over Hortensio's head by the Shrew; and even the 
various kinds of bag-pipes which seem all equally sour, are 
differentiated; the '*Lincolnshire bag-pipes" in Henry IV.; the 



1920.] SHAKESPEARE AND THE ART OF MUSIC 503 

**woollen bagpipes*' in the Merchant of Venice, and so on. He 
refers to the Virginals, a precursor of our pianoforte, and de- 
lights us with a most perfect metaphor in Winter's Tale, drawn 
from the method of playing them, which required quite a dif- 
ferent "touch" from the modern piano: "Still Virginalling 
upon his palm." 

Shakespeare most frequently mentions the lute, an instru- 
ment entirely different in its construction from the lyre. He 
speaks of it four times as often as the other common instru- 
ments of the home, and, in fact, it was **popular" in Tudor 
days, just as the pianoforte is popular now, or as the harp 
was in our grandmother's time. 

Nay, but his jesting spirit; which is now crept into a lute 
string, and now governed by stops. 

— Much Ado About Nothing, III. 2. 

And there I stood amazed for a while 
As on a pillory, looking through the lute. 

— Taming of the Shrew, II. 1. 

Bap. Why then, thou canst not break her to the lute? 
Hor. Why no; for she hath broke the lute to me. 

— Taming of the Shrew, II. 1. 

It is supposed that Shakespeare wrote his inimitable works 
without much thought of their permanence, still less of their 
eternal value, and probably the idea that the lyrics contained 
in them would be handled by a series of great composers, 
never occurred to him. Can one not imagine a flush of pride 
on the well-known features, were it possible to make known 
to him, that scarcely a single musician of all future ages left 
his lyrics untouched? As the unrivaled worth of Shakes- 
peare's plays sank into the minds of men, so composers of all 
nationalities hastened to avail themselves of his words. To 
evolve adequate musical settings of Shakespeare, appears to be 
as great an obsession, as the desire to write fugues in the name 
of Bach. Shakespeare, not only occupies the highest pedestal 
of literary fame, but claims universal approbation for the art 
he inspired. 



REVIVAL OF FRENCH CATHOLIC SOCIAL ACTIVITY. 
BY M.«C TUBMANN, LL.D. 

IN France and abroad I have often met with de- 
risive criticism directed particularly towards 
Catholics. "You do not know how to organize," 
they would say, or; "Form yourselves into a 
political party." Formerly they would add: 
"Be a Centre 1" pointing to the too famous German Centrum. 
For diverse reasons the formation of such a political Centre 
was impossible, but the Catholics of France have organized 
intellectual and social centres to which I wish to direct the 
attention of the readers of The Cathoug World. 

As a Frenchman living abroad I was much interested in 
attending the recent reunions, during the month of August, 
which were known as "La Semaine Sociale de Metz." This 
social week was made possible, because among Catholics, 
clergy and laity alike, there is more ardent good-will than ever, 
and more personal generosity towards the cause of the 
Church and the people. Notwithstanding the harrowing 
years we have lived through, human beings consumed with 
avarice and an insatiable thirst for sensual pleasure unfortun- 
ately still exist. But, in contrast to this pitiable type, often 
completely swept away by excessive luxury and corruption, 
there is an increasing number of souls of the ^lite who strive 
to stem the tide of physical and moral evils brought about by 
the War. 

Never before have vocations been so numerous in the con- 
gregations of men. I could instance Parisian novitiates not a 
few, whose aspirants count many already in their forties, for- 
merly occupying brilliant positions in the world. Responding 
to the divine call, their one desire is to serve God and their 
neighbor. 

With this multiplicity of vocations to the priesthood and 
religious life so noticeable in France today, in all walks and 
stages of life, we remark another pleasing evidence : the activ- 
ity and prudent assurance with which French Catholics assert 
themselves in the social field. The problems to be solved were 
never more numerous or complex, more delicate or mors criti- 



1920.] FRENCH CATHOLIC SOCIAL ACTIVITY 505 

cal. Our bishops have sought to indicate whefls the solution 
may be found, or at least the principles for their solution. 
Several have published pastorals recalling to mind the instruc- 
tions of the Encyclical, Rerum Novarum, and applying them 
to the present contingency. 

The letter of his Eminence Cardinal Maurin, Archbishop 
of Lyons, relative to the workingmen's associations, and pro- 
fessional organizations, created the greatest stir. 

That, in the social field, the French Episcopate is quite 
capable of demonstrating how fearlessly the Church voices jus- 
tice, was evidenced in a recent event. On the thirteenth of last 
October, M onseigneur Germain, Archbishop of Toulouse, having 
learned that the conciliatory committee between the directors 
of the city banks and their clerks on strike, could not effect 
an adjustment because the directors refused the arbitration 
allowed under the law of 1892, called a meeting of the bank 
directors and two delegates of the Association of Catholic 
Clerks. At this meeting the Archbishop urged that the actions 
of the Association were strictly in accord with the principles of 
Catholic sociology exposed in his recent pastoral^ on social or- 
der. He asserted that, in conscience, the directors could not 
disallow the arbitration claimed by the strikers. But, again 
the directors, alleging formal orders from their Paris manage- 
ment, refused to arbitrate. During a general meeting of the 
strikers, the propositions of the Archbishop were made known 
and met with warm applause. The members of the labor union 
begged their comrades of the Catholic Association to convey 
to the Archbishop their sincere gratitude. This is a 
typical instance of the existing spirit of Catholic circles in 
France. 

But one may ask — are these organizations, these social 
works numerous and in accord with this leadership? To an- 
swer this question fully would require many pages of The 
Catholic World. The discussion must necessarily be 
limited. 

To consider first Catholic intellectual activity in France, 
we will enumerate the Catholic universities, and the many 
flourishing religious establishments of secondary educa- 
tion for young men and young women. The universities 

^ St Thb Cathouc Wobld* '*With Our Readers," vol. cix., p. 709, for m tunmuury 
of thlt paftoral. 






506 FRENCH CATHOLIC SOCIAL ACTIVITY [Jan^ 

rank as follows: Paris, Lille, Lyons, Toulouse and Angers. 
They are frequented by large numbers of students. Of recent 
years they have enjoyed the advantages of keen interest in 
new ideas and great simplicity in methods. This does not 
mean yielding to doctrinal innovations, but showing in other 
lines a proper initiative, and a real desire to meet actual 
necessities. We must confine ourselves here to two examples of 
this spirit. Six years ago the Catholic Institute of Paris opened 
to ambitious persons a course in higher commercial studies, 
particularly for those desirous of pursuing a commercial, finan- 
cial or industrial career. Besides this, at Angers the Catholic 
University maintains a school of agriculture and a school of 
commerce. It expects to extend its activities to a school of 
arts and crafts under the direction of religious already estab- 
lished in Nantes. 

It would be a grave error to think there are no ardent 
Catholics among the faculties of the colleges and State universi- 
ties. On the contrary they are numerous and active. Many 
have grouped themselves in an original manner, as the authors 
and publishers of a periodical known as the Bulletin of Catho- 
lic University Professors. The subscribers to their Bulletin 
form a veritable family. It was started in 1911 by a noted 
professor, Joseph Lotte, who shortly after his conversion set 
out to become an apostle. 

In the month of July, 1914, in spite of difficulties, the 
Bulletin had about six hundred members and decided on a 
thoroughly Catholic mode of procedure. But the War sus- 
pended the Bulletin, its editor being mobilized. Before the 
close of 1914 the apostolate of Lotte was crowned by the su- 
preme sacrifice. Nevertheless the apostolate flourished. Lotte's 
enterprise was not forgotten, and in 1917 it was resumed at 
Lyons by a small group of professors who maintained its initial 
Christian spirit. Today it has more than doubled its sub- 
scribers. We could cite further many endeavors which unite 
Catholics belonging to the liberal professions. Among them 
let us mention the "Social Union of Catholic Engineers." This 
union meets under the leadership of an association legally 
constituted, of hundreds of engineers, graduates of various 
schools, without counting a large number of student engineers 
welcomed as guests and participating in many of the advan- 
tages of the association. The members are recruited among 



1920.J FRENCH CATHOLIC SOCIAL ACTIVITY 507 

Catholic engineers exclusively. Their aim is to promote their 
professional and moral interests, and to work along Catholic 
social lines; their motto is: 'To serve God, to serve each other, 
to serve others." This general purpose is explicitly realized 
by fraternal feeling among its members, by reforms of special 
interest to the profession, by founding or maintaining economic 
institutions and bureaus of information. Its members, imbued 
with the desire of exercising their profession in a truly Catholic 
manner, give much time in their periodic reunions to practical 
religious instruction, without neglecting technical and social 
questions. 

Another instance of the revival of Catholic activity in 
France was the great success of La Semaine Sociale de Metz, 
during the first week of August this past year. Our readers 
are no doubt familiar with this activity when, for a period of 
eight days, a group of important present-day problems are 
discussed in lectures given by cleric or lay specialists. The 
inspiration is essentially Catholic. The doctrine discussed and 
applied to the different topics is that of the Encyclical, Rerum 
Nouarum. 

La Semaine Sociale was inaugurated at Lyons in 1904 and 
has been held from that time imtil the orders for general mo- 
bilization were issued on Simday, August 2, 1914. Monday, 
August 3d, was the appointed time for the opening of the 
Semaine at B^an(on, but the reunions were necessarily ad- 
journed until victory was assured. Their recent revival in 
reconquered Lorraine, under the patronage of the new Bishop 
of iMetz, Monseigneui: Pelt, was interesting and significant. 
A large Catholic audience, not alone from Alsace-Lorraine 
but from all quarters of France, participated, as also a num- 
ber of foreigners, coming particularly from Belgium and Lux- 
embourg. 

Before the War, French example was gradually being fol- 
lowed in a number of countries: Belgium, Holland, Wales, 
Spain, Poland, Switzerland, Canada, Uruguay and Argentine 
Republic had their Semaine Sociale. Undoubtedly these coim- 
tries will also resume this interrupted work. 

Other general works along moral and social lines, for reli- 
gious and intellectual activity, could be mentioned, but we shall 
limit ourselves to pointing out a few of the most recent and 
efficacious. The aim of this rapid review is to see what has 



508 FRENCH CATHOLIC SOCIAL ACTIVITY [Jan., 

been done in the line of professional organization for the bene- 
fit of the masses. 

First, we must realize that prior to the War, there were no 
so-called workingmen's Christian unions of any importance. 
But today — and this is another good symptom of Catholic ac- 
tivity — they are establishing themselves particularly in Paris, 
opening registry offices, labor bureaus, and departments of 
legal advice. One can only hope these associations will prosper 
and develop. For those employed in commerce and industry, 
there is the larger Parisian Union, founded in 1887 by seven- 
teen young clerks, old pupils of the Friars, and members of a 
pious confraternity, placed under the patronage of St. Benedict 
Labr6. It numbers already about nine thousand members, 
grouped in seventy-five sections throughout the environs of 
Paris, and affiliated with similar unions in other important 
cities. This association is professional in outline and constitu- 
tion and distinctly Catholic in spirit and personnel. It is one of 
the models in France of Christian unionism. Its prunary aim 
is the mutual benefit of its members, effected through the reg- 
istry office, the legal council, a codperative society, a loan office 
and a cooperative restaurant. For a more detailed study of 
the workings and remarkable results of these several institu- 
tions, we must refer those of our readers who are especially 
interested to one of our books, Actiuitis Sociales* 

The Paris union of clerks extends its activity to night 
schools, banking courses, conferences, a library and a monthly 
bulletin. Religion is the actuating spirit of the organization. 
In the corporation of Parisian clerks, this union plays an im- 
portant part, and during the recent strike of the banks' per- 
sonnel, its attitude had to be reckoned with. 

When we turn to the women's associations we find again 
the most powerful in Paris. On September 14, 1902, eighteen 
teachers, fifteen clerks and as many working girls formed the 
very first Catholic Women's Professional Association. This 
was the nucleus of what is known today as, UUnion des syndi- 
cats* fiminins or because of the street on which their central 

* Activltis Sociales, by Max Turmann, LL.D, Paris: LecolTre-Gabalda. Chapter 
on "Examples of Unionism," p. 43 et seq, 

*It must be clearly miderstood that the French word Sgndicat used here as a 
union, an organization, association or federation has no connection with the term 
syndicalism, nor the unworthy socialistic movement which syndicalism usually •x- 
presses.— [Editor C. W.] 



1920.] FRENCH CATHOLIC SOCIAL ACTIVITY 509 

office is located, Les Syndicats fiminins de VAbbaye. It is 
composed of eight associations — teachers, commercial and in- 
dustrial clerks, clothing operatives, stenographers and type- 
writers, servants, nurses, matrons, housekeepers and factory 
workers, numbering fifteen thousand members, divided into 
fifty sections in the environs of Paris. 

The entirely Catholic associations are united for the pur- 
pose of furthering their professional and economic interests, 
and thereby obtaining mutual benefits for members. They 
have study clubs, and information bureaus, registry offices, 
night schools, recreation centres, a cooperative society, an in- 
firmary, and club, housekeeping courses, a dispensary, lodging 
houses, and restaurants reserved exclusively for women. One 
can see how far-reaching are the services of this organization. 

And these are not the only Catholic Women's Associations. 
Others flourish in the provinces, especially in the southeast, 
affiliated with the central Parisian group of the Rue de S^ze. 
The best proof of the social and religious importance of these 
Catholic groups^ is, that during the past months in a number 
of French territorial points, the revolutionary Socialists have 
fought them on every side, but the Catholic associations 
were inflexible. Much could be added concerning the myriad 
groups of young people, from the *' Association of Catholic 
Youth in France" to innumerable study clubs, societies, and 
gymnasiums scattered through city and country parishes. 
The patriotic courage displayed during the War by the vic- 
tims who fell before the enemy proved the value of the moral 
formation achieved by these Christian organizations. 

Today with their outline reconstructed the reunions have 
revived with new ardor. In this brief summary we have 
merely stated facts, which we believe will convince our Amer- 
ican friends that, more than ever, the Catholics of France 
despite the difficulties and perilous times which have deci- 
mated their ranks, are full of energy and hope for the future. 

*For a detailed list and brief sketch of all the Catholic Works of France* we 
refer the reader to a pamphlet by Francois Veolllot, entitled Les (Envres CathoHqutt 
de Prance, Paris: Bloud et Gay. 



THE DOCTRINE OF SIGNATURES. 

BY HARRIETTE WILBUR. 

iONG ago, before chemistry proper was dreamed 
of and before medicine became a science, men 
were always seeking for remedies and cure>alls. 
Now all the sciences have had their origin in 
superstitioD, and medicine no less than her sis- 
ters. In the light of twentieth-century knowledge, many of 
these old remedies seem very silly; yet they served one pur- 
pose, at least: if they were not cures, the experiments grad- 
ually led to the scientific rules which now govern the practice 
of medicine. 

The early simplers had one very peculiar method of test- 
ing their cures, and that was by the "doctrine of signatures." 

In an early work on The Art of Simpling, William Coles 
says: "Yet the mercy of God which is over all His works, 
maketb Grasse to grow upon the mountains and herbes for 
the use of men, and hath not only stamped upon them a dis- 
tinct forme, but also given them particular signatures, where- 
by a man may read, even in legible characters, the use of 
them." So, in the days of folklore medicine, when super- 
stition had much to do with beliefs and practices, a resem- 
blance between the external characters of a disease and those 
of some physical agent was supposed to indicate that the agent 
should be employed in the treatment of the disease. Thus, 
a red cloth was plainly the cure for scarlet fever, because it so 
agreed with the red, blotched skin of the sufferer; and not- 
withstanding its discomfort, a close swathing in scarlet flan- 
nel was the remedy in such cases. The same rule held good 
in the case of herbs. 

Our hepatica, or liver-leaf, owes both its Latin and its 
English names to the shape of its leaves, and because of its 
appearance it was once thought to be "a sovereign remedy 
against the heat and inflammation of the liver." And, owing 
to a black pupil-like spot in its corolla, (he eyebright, or 
euphrasy, was plainly, as revealed in its "legible characters," 
created for use in eye-troubles. 



1920.] THE DOCTRINE OF SIGNATURES 511 

... in physic by some signature 
Nature herself doth point us out a cure: 
The Liverwort is by industrious art 
Known physical and sovereign for that part 
Which it resembles; and so we apply 
The Eyebright by the like unto the eye.*' 

— William Brown, in Britannia* s Pastorals. 

Then purged with eyphrasy and rue 
His visual orbs» for he had much to see. 

— Milton. 

The lungwort (Pulmonaria officinalis) has white-spotted 
leaves which were fancied to resemble a diseased lung, and in 
this way the plant, which possesses demulcent properties, came 
to be used in diseases of that organ. A lichen (Sticta pulmon- 
aria) has a flat, expanded, somewhat lung-shaped thallus, and 
so has also been used for such a remedy. Because the lung- 
wort leaf could, by a stretch of the imagination, be made to 
look exactly like a dewlap, it was at one time a very popular 
remedy for the pneumonia of bullocks, one of its names being 
bullock's-lungwort. 

The granulated roots of the white meadow saxifrage, re- 
sembling small stones, were supposed lo indicate its efficacy in 
the cure of calculus complaints, hence the name "saxifrage," 
or "stone-breaker." The hard seeds of the gromwell were also 
used in cases of stone; it was formerly known as lythewale, 
or stoneswitch. Spleenwort, from the shape of the leaf, sug- 
gested its name and its uses; it is believed in some rural dis- 
tricts of the old world that swine, when affected with the 
spleen, will resort to this plant, and, according to Coles, the 
ass does likewise, for he tells us that: "If the asse be op- 
pressed with melancholy, he eates of the herbe asplemon or 
mill-waste, and eases himself of the swelling of the spleen." 
The pile wort has a tuberous root long thought, from its ap- 
pearance, to be an efficacious remedy for this trouble. 

The walnut was regarded as clearly good for mental 
cases from its bearing the signature of the whole head; the 
outward green cortex answering to the pericranium, the 
harder shell within representing the skull, and the shape and 
convolutions of the kernel implying the covering and matter 
of the brain. Hence, the outside shell was considered good 
for wounds of the head, whilst the bark of the tree was re^ 



512 THE DOCTRINE OF SIGNATURES [Jan^ 

garded as a sovereign remedy for the ringworm, by the same 
sign. Its leaves, too, when bruised and moistened with vinegar, 
were used for earache, perhaps because the ears appear to 
grow from the head much as leaves from a branch. For scrof- 
ulous glands, the knotty tubers attached to the kernel-wort 
have been considered highly efficacious. Our Lady's-Thistle, 
from its numerous prickles, was much recommended for 
stitches in the side. Nettle-tea is still a common remedy with 
many of the old-world peasantry for the nettle-rash, while 
the scabious, from its scaly pappus, led to its use in scabies, 
or even leprosy. The leaves of the wood-sorrel were believed to 
preserve the heart from many diseases, from their being **broad 
at the ends, cut in the middle, and sharp towards the stalk.'* 
Similarly the heart-trefoil was so called, and used, because "not 
only is the leaf triangular like the heart of a man, but also 
because each leaf contains the perfect image of a heart, and 
that in its proper color, a flesh color." 

Self-heal, or prunella, is called carpenter's herb, on ac- 
count of its corolla being shaped like a bill-hook, hence its use 
for wounds of all kinds. St.-JohnVwort, with its leaves 
marked with blood-like spots, which appear, according to tra- 
dition, on the anniversary of his decollation, is still "the won- 
derful herb" that cures all sorts of wounds. Herb-robert, from 
the beautiful red hue assumed by the fading foliage, was 
supposed to be "a stauncher of blood," while as a preventative 
against hemorrhage of every kind red roses have long been 
a favorite remedy in Germany. The water-soldier, from its 
sword-shaped leaves, was reckoned among the applications for 
relieving gun-shot wounds. Solomon's Seal was also long 
believed to be of use as a wound-dressing. Gerarde, describ- 
ing it, tells us how "the root of Solomon's Seal stamped, while 
it is fresh and green, and applied, taketh away in one night 
or two at the most, any bruise, black or blue spots, gotten by 
falls, or women's wilfulness in stumbling upon their hasty 
husband's fists." The specific name of the tutsan (Hypericum 
Androssemum) derived from the two Greek words signifying 
man and blood, refer to the dark red juice which exudes from 
the capsules when bruised; it was once applied to external 
wounds, and hence it was called "balm of the warrior's wound," 
or "all-heal." Gerarde says: *Thc leaves laid upon broken 
skins and scabbed legs heal them, and many other hurts and 



1920.] THE DOCTRINE OF SIGNATURES 513 

griefs, whereof it took its name 'toute-saine' of healing all 
things." 

Quaking-grass and aspen were both powerful ague-reme- 
dies, as would be inferred; the purple marsh wort was an ex- 
cellent remedy against the purples; the yellow bark of the bar- 
berry, when taken as a decoction in ale or white wine, was 
said to be highly useful in cases of the j aundice, hence in some 
parts of the Old World the plant is known as "jaundice-berry." 
An apple mixed with saffron was also recommended for the 
jaundice, while rhubarb, we are told, by the doctrine of sig- 
natures, was the "life, soul, heart, and treacle of the liver." 
As the woody scales on the cones of pine-trees resemble fore- 
teeth, so pine-leaves boiled in vinegar were used as a toothache 
medicine. 

In the case of the rattlesnake weed (Hiracium venosum) 
again crops out the old doctrine of signatures, for undoubtedly 
its remedial virtue has been attributed to the plant solely on 
account of the fancied resemblance between its leaves and the 
markings of the rattlesnake. The rattlesnake plantain has also 
been reputed as an infallible cure for both hydrophobia and 
snake-bites; it is said that the Indians had such faith in its 
medicinal value that they would allow a snake to drive its 
fangs into them for a small sum, if they had these leaves on 
hand to apply to the wound. The snake-cane is a tropical 
American palm having a ringed, snake-like stem; its juice 
is used by the natives as a cure for snake-bites, as is also the 
snake-wood, an East Indian vine. 

In accordance with this doctrine, it was once generally 
believed that the seeds of ferns were of an invisible sort, and 
thus it came that the possessor of fern-seed could become 
invisible. In Ben Jonson's New Inn this belief is noticed: 

I had 
No medicine, sir, to go invisible, 
No fern-seed in my pocket. 

And again, in First Part, King Henry IV. 

Gadshill: We have the receipt of fern-seed, we walk in- 
visible. 

Chamberlain: Nay, by my faith, I think you arc more 
beholding to the night than to fern-sccd for your walking 
invisible. 11. 2. 

▼OL. cz. 88 



514 THE DOCTRINE OF SIGNATURES [Jan., 

The weak, trailing, knotted stems of the knotgrass was looked 
upon with superstition; an infusion of it was supposed to 
have the effect of stopping the growth of an animal. For this 
reason it was called, as by Shakespeare, "hindering knotgrass.'* 
Beaumont and Fletcher, in the Coxcomb mention the legend: 

We want a boy extremely for this function, 
Kept under for a year with milk and knot-grass. 

Pliny pointed out the folly of the magicians in using the cata- 
nance, or blue succory, for love-potions, on account of its 
"shrinking in drying into the shape of the claws of a dead 
kite," and so holding the patient fast. The horse-shoe vetch, 
from the shape of its legumes, and the moonwort, from the 
crescent-shaped segments of its fronds, were believed to have 
power to unshoe horses treading upon them, hence the former's 
name of "unshoe-the-horse." The hound's-tongue has been 
reputed to have the magical property of preventing dogs bark- 
ing at a person, if laid beneath the feet. Of the valerian Top- 
sell informs us: 'The root of the herb valerian (commonly 
called Phu) is very like to the eye of a cat, and wheresoever 
it groweth, if cats come thereunto, they instantly dig it up for 
the love thereof, as I myself have seen in mine own garden, 
for it smelleth moreover like a cat." 

Such is the curious old folk-lore doctrine of signatures, 
which in olden times was regarded with so much favor, and 
was for a very long time recognized without any questioning 
as worthy of men's acceptation. Among the blessings we owe 
to science, is a deliverance from many of these nauseous pre- 
scriptions so popular with the old herbalists. 

Grandmother's gathering boneset today: 
In the garret she'll dry and hang it away. 
Next winter I'll "need" some boneset tea — 
I wish she wouldn't think always of me ! 

—Edith M. Thomas. 




THE LOYALIST.! 

BY JAMES FRANCIS BARRETT. 

Chapter I. 

[LEASE continued, Peggy. You were telling me who 
were there and what they wore. Oh, dear! I am 
so sorry mother would not give me leave to go. Was 
it all too gay?" 

"It was wonderful!" was the deliberate reply. 
"We might have danced till now had not Washington 
planned that sudden attack. We had to leave then — that was 
early this morning — and I have been abed since." 

It was now well into the evening and the two girls had been 
seated for the longest time, it seemed, on the small sofa which 
flanked the east wall of the parlor. The dusk, which had begun to 
grow thick and fast when Marjorie had come to visit Peggy, was 
now quite absorbed into darkness; still the girls had not lighted 
the candles, choosing to remain in the dark until the story of the 
wonderful experience of the preceding day had been entirely 
related. 

The grand pageant and mock tournament, the celebrated 
Mischienza, arranged in honor of General Howe, who had resigned 
his ofiSce as Ck>mmander-in-chief of His Majesty's forces in Amer- 
ica to return to England, there to defend himself against his ene- 
mies in person, as General Burgoyne was now doing from his seat 
in Parliament, was an event long to be remembered both for the 

> Historical facts constitute the background of this story. Its hero and its 
heroine are, of course, fictitious; but the deportment of General Arnold, the Ship- 
pen family, the several military and civic personages throughout the story is de- 
scribed, for the most part, accurately and in conformity 'with the sober truths of 
history. Pains have been taken to depict the various historical episodes which 
enter into the story, such as the attempted formation of the Regiment of Roman 
Catholic Volunteers, the court-martial of Major General Arnold, the Military Mass 
on the occasion of the anniversary of American Independence, with as much fidelity 
to truth as possible. The anti-Catholic sentences, employed in the reprimand of 
Captain Meagher, are anarchronisms ; they are identical, however, with utterances 
made in the later life of Benedict Arnold. The influence of Peggy Shippen upon 
her husband is vouch^ for by eminent authority. 

Due appreciation and sincere gratitude must be expressed to those authors from 
whom immense quantities of Information have been taken, — to John Gilmary Shea 
in his Htstory of the Catholic Church in the United Slates; to Martin I. J. Grinin's 
CatholicM and the American Revolution; to F. J. Stimson's excellent work. Memoirs 
of Benedict Arnold; to John Fiske's American Revolution, and to the many other 
works which have been freely consulted. 



516 THE LOYALIST [Jan., 

•xtravagance of its display, and the peculiar prominence afforded 
the foremost families of the city, particularly the Shippens. 

Edward Shippen was a gentleman of rank, of character, of 
fortune, a member of one of the oldest and most respected fam- 
ilies in the city of Philadelphia, whose ancestor, of the same name, 
had been mayor of the city nigh an hundred years before. He 
belonged to the society of Friends, or Quakers, and while he took 
no active interest on either side during the years of the war, still 
he was generally regarded as one of the sympathizers of the 
Crown. Because of the social eminence which the family enjoyed, 
and the brilliance and genial hospitality which distinguished their 
affairs, the Shippens were considered the undisputed leaders of the 
social set of Philadelphia. The three lovely Misses Shippen were 
the belles of the more aristocratic class. They were toasted fre- 
quently by the gay English oflBcers during the days of the British 
occupation of the city when their father's house was often the 
rendezvous of the titled celebrities of the day. 

"And was your Captain there, too?" continued Marjorie, re- 
f'^rring, of course, to Captain Monstresor, the engineer of the 
undertaking, an erstwhile admirer of Mistress Peggy. 

'Tou must know, my dear, that he arranged the spectacle. 
I saw little of him until the dance. In truth, he seemed more 
popular than General Howe, himself." 

Marjorie sat up. 

"Tell me! Did the tournament begin the programme?" 

"No!" replied Peggy. "The military procession of boats and 
barges with Lords Howe and Rawdon and General Howe and 
General Clinton opened the event in the late morning, sailing up 
the river to the Wharton House, the scene of the tournament." 
Marjorie nodded. "The noise of the guns was deafening. When 
the flotilla arrived at Walnut Grove, which was lined with troops 
and bedecked brilliantly vnih flags and bunting, the pageant 
opened." 

"Where were you in the meantime?" asked Marjorie, care- 
ful to lose no details. 

"We were seated in the pavilions — seven ladies in each — 
clothed in Turkish garments; each wearing in her turban the 
favor with which to reward the victorious knights." 

"And who was your knight?" 

"The Honorable Captain Cathcart," quickly replied Peggy, her 
eyes beaming with a smile of evident satisfaction and proud joy. 

"Lord Cathcart, whom I met here?" 

"The same," answered Peggy. "He was the leader of the 
'Knights of the Blended Rose.* " 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 517 



•«1 



'What an odd name!'* Marjorie exclaimed. 
'I know it. They were named after their device. They were 
dressed in white and red silk, mounted on gray horses and at- 
tended by esquires. They were preceded by a herald who bore 
their device, two roses intertwined above the motto 'We droop 
when separated.' My knight rode at the head, attended by two 
British ofiScers, and his two esquires, the one bearing his lance, 
the other his shield emblazoned with his device — Cupi^ astride 
a lion — over the motto 'Surrounded by love.' " 

**You little Tory," interrupted Marjorie. "I shall tell Gen- 
eral Washington that you are disloyal and have lent your sym- 
pathies with a British oflBcer." 

"I care little. The Yankees have little refinement — " 
"Don't you dare say that," snapped Marjorie, her whole being 
animated with sudden anger. "It is untrue and you know it. 
They are patriots and — " 

"Forgive me, dear," murmured Peggy, laying her hand on 
the arm of her provoked friend. "I said that only in jest. I 
shan't continue if you are vexed." 
There was silence. 

"Please! I am not angry," Marjorie pleaded. "Do con- 
tinue." 

"I forget my story now. What did I tell? There was so 
much that I am confused." 

The Knights of the Rose!" suggested Marjorie. 
'Oh yes ! Well this body of knights made the circuit of the 
square and then saluted their ladies. On a sudden, a herald ad- 
vanced with a flourish of trumpets and announced that the ladies 
of the Blended Rose excelled in wit, beauty, grace, charm and 
accomplishments those of the whole world and challenged a denial 
by deeds of arms. Whereupon a counter sound of trumpets was 
heard from afar and another herald galloped before a body of 
knights in black and orange silk with the device — a wreath of 
flowers surrounding a burning heart — over the motto 'Love and 
Glory.' These were the Knights of the Burning Mountain, who 
arrived on the scene to dispute the claim of the Knights of the 
Blended Rose." 

"It must have been gorgeous!" exclaimed Marjorie, clasping 
her hands together before her. 

"Indeed it was. Well, after several preliminaries, the en- 
counter took place, the knights receiving their lances together 
with their shields from their esquires, whereupon they saluted 
and encountered at full speed, shivering their spears against the 
shield of their adversaries. They next encountered and discharged 






518 THE LOYALIST [Jan., 

their pistols and then fought with swords. Again the two chiefs 
of the warring factions, Captain Cathcart of the Blended Rose and 
Captain Watson of the Burning Mountain, met in mid field to try 
the force of their arms as champions of their respective parties. 
They parried and thrust with true knightly valor until Major 
Grayson, as marshal of the field, intervened at the critical mo- 
ment, declaring the ladies of both parties to be fully satisfied 
with the proofs of love and the feats of valor shown by their 
knights, and thereby commanded the combatants to desist. This 
ended the tournament." 

"How wonderful!" sighed Marjorie. "I would I had been 
present. And your knight was the hero?" 

"Of course," replied Peggy with a smile. "I am sure that 
he would have worsted Captain Watson, had not the Major 
stepped in. But the banquet was splendid." 

"And Captain Cathcart!" reminded Marjorie, with a slight 
manifestation of instinctive envy. 

"Why ! He attended me, of course," was the proud response. 
"Each knight escorted his lady through the triumphal arches 
erected in honor of the Generals who were present, along the long 
avenue lined on both sides with the troops and the colors of the 
army. At the third arch, which was dedicated to General Howe 
and which bore aloft on its top a huge flying figure of Fame, 
we entered the great hall. Here refreshments were served and the 
dancing began, and continued until midnight, when it ceased that 
we might throw open the windows to witness the wonderful dis- 
play of fireworks and rockets. And then the supper I — " 

"Gorgeous, of course!" exclaimed Marjorie. 

"Gorgeous, indeed!" Peggy repeated — "a great room, with 
fifty or more pier glasses, drapped with green silk and himdreds 
of varieties of flowers of as many hues and shades. An hundred 
branches of lights, thousands of tapers, four hundred and thirty 
covers, and there must have been more than twelve hundred 
dishes. The attendants were twenty-four black slaves garbed 
Oriental fashion with silver collars and bracelets. And then we 
danced and danced until dawn, when we were interrupted by the 
sound of distant cannon." 

"And then your knights were called to real war," remarked 
Marjorie. 

"For the moment all thought this to be part of the pro- 
gramme, the signal for another great spectacle. Suddenly every- 
thing broke into confusion. The officers rushed to their com- 
mands. The rest of us betook ourselves as best we could. We 
came home and went to bed, tired in every bone. Mother is sorry 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 519 

that I attended, for she thought it too gay. But I would not 
have lost it for the world." 

And perhaps her mother was right. For Peggy was but 
eighteen, the youngest of the Shippen family. The other girls 
were somewhat older, yet the three were considered the most 
beautiful debutantes of the city, the youngest, if in anything, the 
more renowned for grace and manner. Her face was of suflBcient 
plumpness to give it charm, delicate in contour, rich with the 
freshness of the bloom of youthful years. Her carriage denoted 
breeding and dignity, sweetened by a magnetism of personality 
and a vivacity of manner, that drew to her, in love and admira- 
tion, all who came within her influence. Still her attitude was 
more prepossessing than permanent. 

Like her father, she was a Quaker in many of her observ- 
ances, to which creed she steadfastly adhered with a rigorous 
determination. She so frequently manifested her political sym- 
pathies, often intensified by irrational and passionate utterances, 
that her father was led to observe that she was more a Tory at 
heart than General Howe, himself. 

Her companion, Marjorie Allison, was about her own age, 
but as intensely patriotic as she was loyal. Her parents had 
always lived in Philadelphia, as their parents had before them, 
coming originally from the mother country to which they were 
now opposed in martial strife. The thrill of patriotism for the 
cause of the infant Republic, which throbbed violently within 
her breast, had been inspired to enthusiasm more by intense 
antipathy for the Church of England than for the English Gov- 
ernment. This antipathy was kept alive and invigorated by the 
doleful memory of the privations and adversities endured by her 
ancestors from the agents of this same Government because of 
their Catholic worship and their heroic efforts to follow their 
leligious convictions. 

The sympathies of the Allisons were undivided; they were 
notorious Whigs, ardent champions of the rights which the new 
Government so strongly asserted, and which they had pledged 
themselves stoutly to defend; ardent champions of the eternal 
principles on which the new Republic was built. The psychology 
of the Allisons' allegiance was no different from that of innum- 
erable other families. Usually, strange to relate, society, while 
constantly moving forward with eager speed, is just as constantly 
looking backward with tender regrets. But here were no re- 
grets. Religious persecution leaves no tender memories in its 
trail. Dissatisfaction with the past is never rendered more mem- 
orable than by the fanatic attempt to separate the soul from God. 



520 THE LOYALIST [Jan., 

Marjorie and Peggy had been friends from girlhood. They 
understood each other very well. Each knew and appreciated the 
other's peculiarities, her virtues and her foibles, her political 
propensities and religious convictions. They never discussed their 
differences as to the manner of religious worship. They avoided 
a clash out of respect for each other's convictions. Not so, how- 
ever, in matters relating to the form of government. Marjorie 
was a Whig, an ardent champion of the rights of the Ck>lonists, 
while her more aristocratic friend was Tory in her sentiments, 
moderate, it is true, but nevertheless, at times, inclined to be ex- 
treme. Notwithstanding these differences, their friendship had 
been constant and they had always shared their joys and sorrows 
alike. 

The days of the British occupation of the city had been 
glorious ones for Peggy and her sisters. The love of display and 
finery characteristic of them, was satiated by the brilliance and 
the gayety of the winter season when titled British ofiScers were 
fSted and entertained extravagantly. None outshone the Shippens 
in the magnificence of their entertainments. Their house was 
ever open in hospitality, and more than once it was whispered 
about that their resources had reached the point of exhaustion. 

At these functions Marjorie found herself a welcome guest 
For Peggy took care that her little friend was never overlooked, 
even if on one occasion a pang of regret sent her to bed with 
copious tears when the favor for the evening had been bestowed 
upon her fair guest. Marjorie, however, maintained a mature 
composure and a marked reserve, as was her wont, throughout 
it all, and Peggy again reassured herself that her misgivings 
were without foundation. Marjorie disliked the titled gentry. 
They were, without exception, hostile to the faith she so stead- 
fastly professed. She bore with them merely for the pleasure 
she derived from the cdterie made brilliant by their participation. 

So the winter passed, giving way to lovely spring, whose gen- 
tle zephyrs dispelled the cold, the ice and the snow that had sent 
the British into the ball-rooms for protection, the while they 
afflicted and distressed the patriots at Valley Forge. With the 
advent of favorable weather, operations began anew; the hopes 
and the courage of the Ck>lonists were now exalted to the highest 
pitch. The disasters of Long Island and Fort Washington had 
been offset by the victory at Saratoga. While the British had 
taken and held the important cities of New York and Philadel- 
phia, as well as the town of Newport, still they had lost an army 
and had conquered nothing but the ground on which they were 
encamped. 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 521 

Now» the beginning of the fourth period of the war the joy- 
ful news was heralded, far and wide, that the Government of 
France had formally acknowledged the independence of the 
United States and that help was on the way to assist the Colonists 
in their struggle. At the same time Lord North's conciliatory 
measures in Parliament gave indication to the patriots that the 
British Government was weakening. The joy of the Whigs knew 
no bounds, and Marjorie was beside herself as she related the 
glad tidings over and over again. The fourth epoch of the war 
augured well for the success of the cause. 

In all the Ck>lonies there was, at this stage of the war, no 
city more important than Philadelphia. Whatever there was of 
wealth, of comfort, of social refinement, of culture and of courtly 
manners was centred here. Even the houses were more imposing 
than elsewhere throughout the country. They were usually well 
constructed of stone or brick vdth either thatched or slated roofs. 
They were supplied with barns bursting vnih the opulence of the 
fields. The countryside round about presented a fattened ap- 
pearance. Its furrows swelled with the impulses of life and of 
nurture; its fields teemed with fruitage, were bedecked vnih 
foliage, and ornamented with well-kept trees and clipped gardens. 
Indeed, no place in the Ck>lonies presented a more striking pic- 
ture of affluence and of comfort. 

Nor was it vdthout its gentry, cultured and dignified. Its 
inhabitants were composed for the most part of members of old 
Quaker families and others faithful to the Church of England 
and devoted to the political principles of the mother country — 
the proud possessors of wealth and the exemplars of the most 
dignified deportment. Already its fair sex were renowned 
abroad, as well as at home, for their "beauty, grace and in- 
telligence." They moved with all the gayety and charm of 
court ladies. The wealth and luxury of a capital city were 
there; for even in the infancy of the Republic, Philadelphia 
had attained a distinction, unique and preeminent. What 
more natural, then, than that their allegiance should be divided; 
the so-called fashionable set adhering to the Crown; the common 
townsfolk, the majority of whom were refugees from an ob- 
noxious autocracy, zealously espousing the Colonists' cause; and 
the middle class, comprised of those families holding a more or 
less neutral position in the war, and willing to preserve their es- 
tates and possessions, remaining undecided, and so maintaining 
good oflBces with both sides throughout the strife. 

The British army took possession of the city, after its vic- 
torious encounter on the Brandywine, on the twenty-sixth of 



522 THE LOYALIST [Jan., 

September, 1777. Sir William Howe selected for his headquar- 
ters the finest house in the city, the mansion which was once the 
home of Governor Richard Penn, grandson of William Penn. 
Here General Howe and his staff of officers passed a gay winter 
much more interested in the amusements, the gayeties, the dis- 
sipations carried on in this old Quaker city than in their efforts 
to capture the army of General Washington. 

The infatuate populace, indifferent to the progress of the 
Revolution, unaffected for the most part by the righteousness of 
the cause of the Ck>lonists, became enamoured of the brilliance, 
the fashion and display of the English nobility. They cordially 
welcomed General Howe and his young officers, electing them the 
leaders and favorites in all the social gayeties and amusements of 
the season. Such was the luxury and dissipation of the British 
in the city, at dinner parties, cock-fights, amateur theatrical per- 
formances, that Dr. Franklin was led to remark in Paris that 
General Howe had not taken Philadelphia as much as Philadel- 
phia had taken General Howe. 

The general plan of campaign for the year 1777 did not in- 
clude the capture of Philadelphia. Howe had been ordered to 
march from New York, which city he had taken the preceding 
August, to the vicinity of Albany. There he was to join forces 
with the army from Canada under General Burgoyne, that was 
to penetrate northern New York. Why he elected to march 
against Philadelphia, and be obliged to retrace his steps in order 
to reach Burgoyne, was unknown at the time. The total collapse 
of Burgoyne's expedition at Saratoga and the menace of the Amer- 
ican Army under General Washington obliged him to alter his 
plan and to remain in the vicinity of Philadelphia, and make 
the city his headquarters for the winter. 

In the meantime. General Washington's army, which had 
been continually harrassing him, went into winter quarters in 
close proximity, at Valley Forge, a bare twenty miles distant, 
northwest of the city. Here the little army of the Colonists 
menaced the position of the British while enduring, with heroic 
fortitude, the severities of the winter season. Shoeless and shiver- 
ing, the soldiers were quartered in cold, rudely constructed huts, 
overcoated in torn blankets, with stuffed straw in their boots for 
want of stockings. Their food was scarce as their clothing and, 
at one time, more than two thousand men were reported unfit 
for duty because barefoot and otherwise naked. Many a night 
the men were compelled to remain seated by the fire for want of 
blankets. And, day by day, the supply of fuel diminished, and 
the neighborhood became more destitute of trees and timber. 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 523 

The morale of the troops seemed to feed on misfortune; but 
their hopes and courage were suddenly intensified when the news 
of the alliance with France reverberated throughout the camp to 
the booming of cannon and the shouts of the whole army. There 
was no respite, however. While the enemy was living in luxury 
and comfort in the gay city, the Continentals under the patience 
of Washington, and the military genius of Von Steuben, were 
being rounded into a toughened and well-drilled fighting machine, 
strong in organization and bold in spirit, a worthy match for the 
rapid and accurate movements for which the better equipped 
British army was becoming famous. 

That Sir William Howe found it easier to loiter in Philadel- 
phia than to play a strategic game against Washington in the 
depths of an American winter, was due none the less to the want 
of decision which characterized all of his actions than to the 
stupid mismanagement vnih which the campaign of 1777 was 
directed. The British had gained the two most important Amer- 
ican cities. New York and Philadelphia, but the entire American 
army was still in the field. The acquisition of territory was of 
no military importance, while the forces of the enemy remained 
intact and well organized. Moreover, Burgoyne was left to his 
fate and at Saratoga an army was lost. 

Nor was any advantage to be derived from the possession 
of the American capital. Washington's position at Valley Forge 
had held the British in check all venter. And whatever of work 
the Congress was required to do, could as well be done at York as 
at Philadelphia. As a basis for military operation the city was 
without value, for it was difficult to defend and hard to supply 
with foodstuffs. But it was rich, extravagant, fashionable, a 
''place of crucifying expenses,*' and its fine houses, good pave- 
ments, and regular arrangement of streets, impressed Howe as 
the most fitting place for the British army to establish winter 
quarters. And so they sat down for the winter. 

"We shall never forget the splendor of it all; it was wonder- 
ful!" exclaimed Peggy v^th a deep sigh. 

"A farewell party!" said Marjorie. "Undoubtedly the gallant 
Britishers outdid themselves. Howe leaves soon, does he not?" 

•Tes. Next week." 

"Which means that the period of entertaining is about to 
come to an end." 

"I suppose. But wasn't the winter glorious! I shall never 
forget it." 

A smile covered her face, dotting her cheeks with two tiny 



524 THE LOYALIST [Jan., 

dimples. She held her hands together over her knees while she 
sat quite motionless, her eyes looking out into the darkness of the 
room. Presently she bethought herself. 

"Let us light the tapers!" she announced, jumping up from 
the sofa. 

"It is late," Marjorie remarked, as she, too, prepared to arise. 
"I must leave for home." 

"Stay! It is still early. Soon we shall be obliged to settle 
into quietude. Dark days are before us." 

"Why!" Marjorie exclaimed. "I should think that the fu- 
ture augurs well. I do vdsh the soldiers would evacuate the 
city." 

**When General Howe leaves, all may as well leave with him." 

"When does he leave?" impatiently asked her true American 
friend. 

"Next week, I understand. The great Mischienza, you know, 
was arranged in his honor as a farewell celebration." 

"General Clinton, I presume, will succeed. He seems the 
most logical choice." 

"Yes. He already has been appointed to the supreme com- 
mand." 

"I hope he decides to evacuate." 

"I do not know. Perhaps," was the sole response. 

But it already had been decided. Upon the departure of 
General Howe, instructions were forwarded from the ministry 
to Sir Henry Clinton, the new Commander-in-chief, to evacuate 
the city at once. The imminent arrival of the French fleet, to- 
gether with the increasing menace of the Continental Army at 
Valley Forge, constituted a grave peril to the isolated army of the 
British. Hence it was determined that the capital city must 
be abandoned. 

Clinton intended to transfer his army to New York by water 
in order that the bulk of his forces might be concentrated for the 
spring campaign. On account of the vast number of Tories who, 
apprehensive of their personal effects, had begged to be trans- 
ferred with him, he was obliged to forego his original intention 
of sailing by water in favor of a march overland. Accordingly 
on the morning of June 18, 1778, the rear-guard of the British 
marched out of the city, and on that same afternoon the Amer- 
ican advance entered and took possession with Major-General 
Benedict Arnold, the hero of Saratoga, as Military Governor. 

The joy of the Whig populace knew no bounds. No longer 
would the shadows of dark despair and abandoned hope hang 
like a pall over the capital city. No longer would the stately 



1920.] THE LOYAUST 525 

residences of the Tory element be thrown open for the diversion 
and the junket of the titled gentry. No more would the soldiery 
of an hostile army loiter about the street corners or while away 
the hours at the Taverns or at the Ck>ffee Houses. The Ck>ngress 
was about to return. The city would again become the political, 
as well as the civic, centre of American affairs. The people would 
be ruled by a governor of their own accord and sympathy. Phila- 
delphia was to enter into its own. 

Chapter II. 

"It won't do, I tell you. And the sooner he realizes this the 
more satisfactory will it become for all concerned." 

''Sh-h-h," answered Mrs. Allison in a seemingly heedless 
manner. She was seated by the side window in her old rocker, 
intent only on her three needles and the ball of black yarn. "Judge 
not, that you may not be judged!" she reminded him. 

"He is too imprudent. Only today he contemptuously dis- 
missed the Colonel and the secretary; later he requested them to 
dine with him. We don't like it, I tell you." 

As a matter of fact, there was no more stanch defender 
or constant advocate of the cause of the Colonists than Matthew 
Allison himself; and when the proclamation of the new Military 
Governor ordering the closing of the shops and the suspension 
of business in general until the question of ownership was estab- 
lished, had been issued, he was among the first of the citizens 
to comply with it. True, his sole source of income had been 
temporarily suspended. But what matter? It meant order and 
prevented the wares from falling into the hands of the enemy. 
His small shop had enabled him, with his vdfe and daughter, to 
eke out a comfortable existence. Their cozy home, while un- 
mistakably plain and unadorned with the finer appointments in- 
dicative of comfort and opulence, nevertheless was not 
without charm and cheeriness. It was delightful in its simplicity 
and neatness. 

Allison had welcomed the entry of General Arnold into the 
city as a hero coming into his own, but he was not slow in per- 
ceiving that the temperament of the man rendered him an un- 
happy choice for the performance of the onerous duties, which 
the successful administration of the ofiSce required. Readily and 
with genuine satisfaction did he yield to the initial mandate of 
the Governor; but when the scent of luxury from this same 
Governor's house, the finest mansion in the city and the identical 
one lately occupied by the British commander, was diffused 



sion. M»i,j, 

V<a eavt- fxprc^sion'io pai" ^"^ Assatls taction. 

"Why allow yourself to be disturbed at his manner ot U\- 

ing?" asked his wife, picking up the conversation at the point 

flhere he had left it. 

"And you and I and the vast majority of us sacrificing our 

gll. Why they tell me that his quarters abound ia luxury to a 

degree never excelled by Howe himself." 
"Well!" was the simple reply. 
"And that the Massachusetts Regiment has been appointed 

jiis guard of honor; and that two armed soldiers have been sta- - 

tioned at the doorposts." He spoke with evident passion, the 

ardor of which pervaded his entire being. 

"And yet I daresay you would be the first to disapprove of 

the other extreme," admonished Mrs. Allison in her soft and 
gentle way. "Under martial law you know, there must be no 
relaxation of discipline, notwithstanding the fact that the Amer- 
icans once more control the city." 

"Laxity or no laxity, it is extravagant for him to be housed in 
the finest mansion in the city with a retinue of servants and at- 
tendants only excelled by Sir William Howe; to be surrounded by 
a military guard of selective choice; to maintain a coach and 
four with footmen and servants, all equipped with livery of the 
most exclusive design; to live in the greatest splendor, notwith- 
standing the avowed republican simplicity of the country as well 
as the distressed condition of our affairs and finances. Who is 
paying for this extravagance? We, of course. We are being 
taxed and supertaxed for this profligate waste, while our shops 
are closed to all future trade. These are not alone my opinions; 
they are the expressions of the men about town. This was the 
sole topic of conversation today al the Coffee House." 

For where else would the news of the day be found if not 
on the street comers or at the Coffee House. This latter institu- 
tion, like its London prototype, was the chief organ through which 
the public opinion of the metropolis continually asserted itself. 
Its convenience lay in its adaptability for the making of appoint- 
ments at any hour of the day, or for the passing of an evening 
socially for a very small charge. It had its characters who became 
as famous as the institution itself, its orators to whose eloquence 
the crowd listened with admiration, its medical men who might 
be consulted on any malady merely for the asking, its poets and 
humorists who in winter occupied the chair of learning nearest 
the stove and in summer held the choice places on the balcony. 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 527 

and who discoursed fables and politics with renewed embellish- 
ment upon the advent of every newcomer. The atmosphere al- 
ways reeked with the fumes of tobacco. Nowhere else was smok- 
ing more constant than at the Coffee House. And why any one 
would leave his own home and fireside to sit amid such eternal 
fog, was a mystery to every good housewife. But every man 
of the upper or the middle class went daily to the Coffee House 
to learn and discuss the news of the day. 

"I suppose Jim Cadwalader waxed warm today on the subject 
and gave you inspiration for your ideas/' submitted Mrs. Allison. 
^'Why do you not suspend your judgment for a while until you 
learn more about the Governor — at any rate give him the benefit 
of a doubt until you have some facts/' continued she with that 
gentleness and meekness so characteristic of her. 

"Facts!" said he, "'I am telling you that these are facts. The 
Colonel saw this, I tell you, for he dined with him. And I want 
to tell you this," he announced, pointing towards her, ''he hates 
the Catholics and is strongly opposed to any alliance with a Cath- 
olic country." 

"Never mind, my dear. We cannot suffer for that." 

"I know, but it may concern us sooner or later. Our fathers 
endured severe tortures at the hands of a bigoted Government, 
and if the new Republic gives promise of such unhappy tidings, 
we may as well leave the earth." 

"I would not take any undue alarm," quietly answered Mrs. 
Allison as her deft fingers sped on with her knitting. "General 
Washington is broad-minded enough to appreciate our loyalty 
and our spirit of self-sacrifice. And besides the new French 
Alliance will prevent any of the intolerance which made itself 
manifest in the person of King George. With a Catholic ally, 
the Government cannot very well denounce the Catholics, as you 
will discover by the repeal of several laws which have rendered 
life more or less obnoxious in some of the Colonies. And I think, 
too, that we have given more than our share to the cause. With 
so much to our credit, no public official, whatever his natural in- 
clination, can afford to visit his bigotry on us. I would not worry 
about General Arnold. He will not molest us, I am sure." 

"I don't think that he pleases me anyway." 

"And why?" she paused to ask. "Because he maintains too 
expensive a livery, or has surrounded himself by too many at- 
tendants?" 

"No. I dislike the man. I do not like his traits." 

"It is unkind of you to say that. Who enjoys a greater repu- 
tation for skill or bravery or personal courage than he? What 



i 



528 THE LOYALIST [Jan., 

would have become of Gates, or our army, or the French Alliance 
were he not at Saratoga, and there too without a command, you 
must remember." 

"I know all that, but he is too blunt, too headstrong, too 
proud, too — " 

Marjorie's figure at the door interrupted him. 

Although Mistress Allison was not twenty, she maintained 
the composure of a married woman, sedate and reserved like the 
matrons of this period. Her dress was neat and well chosen, a 
chintz cotton gown, of a very pretty blue stamp, blue silk quilt 
and a spotted figured apron. The vivacity of her manner and 
the winsomeness of her behavior were prepossessing, and she was 
beautiful to look upon: her complexion as dazzling white as snow 
in sunshine; except her cheeks, which were a bright red, and her 
lips, of a still deeper crimson. Her small oval face was sur- 
mounted by a wealth of dark brown hair, craped up with two 
rolls on each side and topped with a small cap of beautiful gauze 
and rich lace — a style most becoming to a girl of her age. Health, 
activity, decision were written full upon her, whether in the small 
foot which planted itself on the ground, firm but flexible, or in 
the poise of her body, agile or lofty. 

She was the only child of Mr. Allison and a much admired 
member of the city's middle class. It was said, and with some 
truth, that the inhabitants of Philadelphia were rated according 
to their fortunes. The first class was known as the carriage 
folk, who proclaimed, almost without exception, their pretended 
descent from the ancient English families by their coats of arms 
imprinted upon their carriage doors. The second class was com- 
posed of the merchants, lawyers, and business men of the city; 
and the third class were those who exercised the mechanical arts. 
These felt their social inferiority and never hoped for any associa- 
tion with the upper classes. The Allisons were of the middle 
rank, and were looked upon as its most respected members. 

Plain, simple living folk, they made no pretence to display. 
Neither did they affect aristocracy. Their manner of living was 
as comfortable as their modest means would allow. It was a 
common habit for the people of this class to indulge in luxury 
far beyond their resources and no small amount of this love of os- 
tentation was attributed to the daughters of the families. In this 
regard Marjorie offended not in the least. Whether helping her 
father in the shop during the busy hours, or presiding at the Coffee 
House, or helping her mother with the affairs of the household, 
she was equally at home. Neither the brilliance of the social 
function, nor the pleasures of the dance aroused unusual desireft 



1 

( 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 529 

in her. Indeed, she seldom participated in such entertainments, 
unless on the invitation and in company with the Shippen fam- 
ily with whom she was on the most intimate terms of friendship. 
The gay winter season of the British occupation of the city pro- 
duced no change in her manner or attire. The dazzling spectacle 
of the Mischienza found her secluded in her home, more from her 
own desire than from her pretended deference to the wishes of 
her mother. 

Her happiness was in her home life. This was the centre 
of her affection, the object of her tenderest solicitude. Here she 
busied herself daily, either in the care of the house, and the prep- 
aration of the meals, which were by no means sumptuous owing to 
the scarcity of all foodstuffs, or at the wheel where she made 
shirtings and the sheetings for the army. A touch of her hand 
here and there, to this chair, slightly out of place, to this cup 
or to that plate in the china-chest, to the miniature on the wall, 
leaning slightly to one side, or the whisk of her sweeping-brush 
through the silver-sand on the floor, transformed a disorderly 
spot into one of neatness and taste. It was here that she spent 
her days, enduring their unvarying monotony, with sweet and 
unbroken contentment. 

As she hurriedly entered the house, she arrested the atten- 
tion of her father and put a period to the conversation. 

"Oh father, have you heard?" 

"What news now, child!" 

"Washington has engaged the British." 

"And how fared?" 

"They were compelled to withdraw." 

"Thank God." 

"Where, Marjorie, did you come by this good news?" in- 
quired the mother. 

"At the State House. A courier arrived from Monmouth 
with the tidings," answered Marjorie, still nervous to narrate 
the story, and forgetting to remove her hat. 

'When did this happen?" asked her father, impatiently. 

It seems that General Washington started in pursuit of 
Clinton as soon as he had evacuated the city. He had decided 
that an attack must be made as soon as possible. When the 
British reached Allentown, they found the American army gain- 
ing the front and so they turned towards Monmouth. Near the 
Court House the British were outflanked and the Americans 
gained the superior ground and so the battle was won. Then 
General Lee ordered a retreat." 

"A retreat?" exploded Mr. Allison. "What for?" 

VOL. cz. 34 






.5**-:^- 



«<1 



THE LOYAUST [Jan.. 

"I do not know, but that was the report. Lee retreated when 
Washington virrived on the scene/' continued Marjorie. 
'And then?" 

'He rallied the iT€>ops to another front and began the attack 
^ew, driving the British hack a considerable distance. Nightfall 
^nded the battle, and when dBy broke, Clinton had withdrawn. 
"Arid Lee ordered a retreat!" exclaimed Mr. Allison. "A 

d- poltroon!" 

"All say the same. The crowd was furious upon hearing 
06 message, although some thought it too incredible. The joy 
qI the victory, however, made them forget the disgraceful part." 
"My faith in him has never faltered," quietly observed Mrs. 
^ison, as she prepared to resume the knitting from which she 
bad ceased on the sudden entry of Marjorie. 

"And his pretended friends must now croak forth his 
praises," rejoined her husband. 

"There were shouts and cheers," continued Marjorie, "as the 
jiews was being announced. Each newcomer would add another 
detail to the story, with beaming delight. All said that the retreat 
from the city and the defeat of the British augured a speedy 
termination of the war. The country is wholly united again 
under General Washington." 

"And what will become of Lee?" asked the father. 
"The traitor!" snapped Marjorie. "They ought to court- 
martial him. The crowd greeted his name with hisses when the 
details began to impress themselves upon them. I daresay, he has 
few friends in the city tonight, except perhaps among the Tories. 
He is a disgrace to the uniform he wears." 
"Undoubtedly, the losses were heavy." 
"No one seemed to know. The minor details of the engage- 
ment are still unknown. They will come later. The consoling fea- 
ture is that the enemy were compelled to withdraw, which would 
indicate that they were worsted. The remnants, I suppose, will 
concentrate at New York. There will occur the next great battle." 
"God grant that it will soon be over," exclaimed Mrs. Allison. 
'And now, daughter, have you more news?" asked her father. 
'Oh yes! General Arnold is going to give a ball at the City 
Tavern on the Fourth of July to the officers of the French army. 
It will be under the auspices of the American officers of Washing- 
ton's command and in honor of the loyal ladies who had with- 
held from the Mischienza. And I have been invited to attend," 
proudly announced the girl. 

"I should think that we have had enough of social life here 
during the past winter," quietly announced the father. 






1920.] THE LOYALIST 531 

"Well," replied Marjorie, "this affair is to exclude all who 
participate in the English army festivities. Only Americans will 
be present." 

'How did you come by this report?" asked her mother. 

'Peggy Shippen. I stopped there for a short time. They told 
me of the proposed invitation and that I was included.' 



"1 

"Vc((($y oaippen. i sioppea mere lor a snori iime. 

u«iL 1 was luciuucu." 

"How came they by the news?" 

"I suppose General Arnold told them." 



"Is he acquainted with them? I wonder — *' 

•Tes. They were presented to him, and he has already hon- 
ored them with his visit." 

"I don't like this," said Mr. Allison, "and you can be as- 
sured that there will be little restriction as to the company who 
will comprise this assemblage. The Governor will take sides 
with the wealthy, be their sympathies what they may. Well, if 
he establish the precedent, I dare say none will be so determined 
as to oppose him. Do you wish to go, daughter?" 

"I think I might enjoy it. The French soldiers are so gallant, 
I might find much pleasure there." 

"Very well, you shall attend," said her father. 

And so it was decided that Marjorie would be present at the 
Governor's Ball. As custom did not require mothers to accom- 
pany daughters to such functions, but allowed them to go un- 
attended, Mrs. Allison preferred to remain at home. To what 
splendor and gayety the affair would lend itself was a matter of 
much speculation. This was the Governor's first event, and no 
one was aware of his prowess on the ball-room floor. 

Once the list of invitations had become public, it was under- 
stood quite generally that no distinction was made between t]^ose 
that had, and those that had not, attended the Mischienza. 
Whether the number would be surprisingly small, or whether 
the affair would fail of success without the Mischienza ladies, 
could not be foretold. Indeed such speculations were idle, since 
no discrimination had been made. There were a number of 
young French ofiScers in the town and one or two of General 
Washington's aides had remained, because of the pressure of 
immediate business after the British evacuation. These, of 
course, would attend. All the other available young men be- 
longed to the families who had held a more or less neutral posi- 
tion in the war, and who had not offered their services to the 
patriots nor yielded allegiance to the foe. As these neutrals 
were among the most prominent people of the city, their pres- 
ence would, of course, be altogether desirable. 



532 THE LOYALIST [Jan., 

Marjorie was invited through the efforts of Peggy Shippen, 
who had proposed her name to His Excellency on the occasion 
of his visit to her house. She would be included in their party 
and would be assigned a partner befitting her company. Be- 
cause of the prominence of the Shippens, it was thought that 
the gallant young French officers would be assigned to them. 
Marjorie rejoiced at this, although the Shippen girls evinced no 
such sentiment. Whether it was because the French alliance 
was distasteful to them or because their Tory leanings took pre- 
cedence, they preferred other guests for partners. But as the mat- 
ter was to be decided by lot, their likings were not consulted. 

Ere long the city was agog with speculation respecting the 
coming ball. The battle of Monmouth was accorded a second 
place. The disdain of the middle class, who had been embittered 
against such demonstrations by the profligacy displayed during 
the days of the British occupation, soon began to make itself 
felt. That it was the first official or formal function of the new 
Republic mattered little. A precedent was about to be established. 
There was to be a continuation of the shameful extravagance 
which they had been compelled to witness during the winter and 
which they feared they would be forced to maintain for another 
protracted period. Living was high, extremely high, and the 
value of the paper currency had depreciated to almost nothing. 
Indeed it was said that a certain barber in the town had papered 
his entire shop with the bills and that ^^ dog had been led up and 
down the streets, smeared with tar, and adorned cap-a-pie with 
paper money. To feed and clothe the army was expense enough 
without being compelled to pay for the splendors of a military 
ball. Small wonder that the coming event aroused no ordinary 
speculation. 

Nevertheless preparations went on vnth growing vigor and 
magnificence, and not the least interested was Marjorie. The 
event was now awaited with painful anxiety. Even the war for 
a moment was relegated to a place of minor import. 

[to be continued.] 



Bew Booke* 



THE OLD MADHOUSE. By William De Morgan. New York: 

Henry Holt & Ck). $1.90. 

Mr. De Morgan died leaving the last chapter of The Old Mad- 
house unwritten. The novel was completed by his wife from the 
notes of the author and in accordance with his expressed inten- 
tions. It is the familiar triangle-motive, with a beautiful and de- 
signing woman at the apex and two intimate friends at the base, 
one of whom, the husband, is too loyal and honorable to be sus- 
picious; the other, temperamental, susceptible, and just loyal 
enough to have scruples and misgivings. A half dozen other well- 
drawn characters help to keep the story going vfiih the aid of an 
interesting dog and cat. We do not include the clerical uncle of 
the temperamental chap; and yet he overshadows the whole story 
and almost redeems it from conventionalism of plot. He appears 
in the first chapter, an admirably written chapter, dispensing 
avuncular wisdom over his cup of tea to his widowed sister-in- 
law. Just as the reader settles down to accept him for thirty- 
four chapters he pulls out his watch and sees it is time to be 
going. Then we got the surprise of our life. As a chapter- 
ending the following is most excellent : "She expected to see the 

old boy again shortly But she was mistaken, for she never 

saw him again." 

An ending like this for a first chapter is almost sufBcient 
by itself to float any triangle plot with streamers flying. One's 
curiosity about triangles may be jaded, but it is not often that a 
staid old gentleman of regular and conservative habits, with not 
an enemy in the world, bids his sister-in-law a casual good-bye 
of an afternoon and proceeds to drop into sheer nothingness to 
the mystifica|ion of all Scotland Yard. It is true he appears again 
at odd times, and in a manner that is, unfortunately, odd also and 
unpleasantly reminiscent of the cheap trickery of stances and 
their "materializations." A concession perhaps to a contempor- 
ary wave of something very much like a species of vulgarism. 
It lets down the artistic ambition of the present story several 
notches. 

The late Mr. De Morgan seemed to have every qualification 
of a great master of fiction. Keen observation, mellow and spark- 
ling humor, vfide and varied experience, a retentive memory, the 
artist's enjoyment and appreciation of men and things, energy, 
industry, and an ingenious style — ^what more does a novelist need 



534 NEW BOOKS [Jan., 

in the way of equipment? It was enough to win for him a large 
public whom he taught to look towards him for pleasure of an 
intellectual and refined sort. And yet he fails to mingle on equal 
terms with the great Victorians with whom he consciously chal- 
lenged comparison. With all his endowments and accomplish- 
ments he remains a mere journeyman — a very splendid kind of 
journeyman, if you wish — in comparison with Thackeray or 
Dickens. Owing to some spiritual narrowness he could not mount 
a platform opening on the wide world. His atmosphere is the 
stuffy atmosphere of an air-tight suburban parlor. He has a 
scientist's eye for details, but is deficient in the artist's power of 
making his details the eye-pieces of universal experience. The 
individuality, which imparts the stamp of originality on a product, 
has in his case more of the character of oddity than of genius. 

But it is hard to deny him genius. Here is a man who was 
the inventor of a bicycle, a smoke-consuming grate, the "most 
effective sieve in existence," and the famous De Morgan tiles. 
After amassing a fortune by means of these ingenious contri- 
vances he turned his hand to the production of novels at the age 
of sixty-four! When he died in 1917 he had written eight novels; 
and, although they were of a length we now find appalling — 
containing some 250,000 words each — ^yet employing no sensa- 
tional or melodramatic methods, they rode among the best- 
sellers like merchantmen among light pleasure craft. If this is 
not genius what a wonderful thing genius must be! 

THE DAY'S BURDEN AND MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS. By T. 

M. Kettle. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. $2.00. 

This is a revised and much amplified edition of a memorable 
book of essays entitled The Day's Burden: Studies Literary and 
Political which the late "Tom" Kettle, the brilliant young ex- 
parliamentarian and university professor, published in Dublin in 
1910. Since those days much water has flown beneath the bridges; 
the whole world has been plunged in the valley of the shadow 
of darkness, and poor Tom Kettle himself has fallen victim to a 
German bullet upon the field of honor. 

It is heartbreaking to read these essays again and to know 
that the hand that penned them will never write another line. 
They have all the inimitable charm that blossomed in his light- 
est effort; for Kettle was a writer of extraordinary charm no less 
than wisdom, and of all the Irishmen of his hour his outlook 
was the widest and finest. His was a profoundly Catholic spirit. 
Catholic in the fullest and richest significance of the word. And 
so it was fashionable in Dublin, for a time, to compare him with 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 535 

Belloc and Chesterton; indeed the present reviewer has often 
heard Kettle described as ''the Irish Chesterton." It begins to 
emerge more and more clearly, however, that Tom Kettle's 
stature was in reality several cubits higher than that of either 
of those extremely versatile English publicists. "G. K. C," pow- 
erful as is his critical pen, could no more rise to the heights of 
Kettle's essay, The Fatigue of Anatole France, than he could 
write that superb Shakespearean paper on A New Way of Mis- 
understanding Hamlet. After the deep bourdon-note of human- 
ity sounded in November First: The Day of All the Dead, Bel- 
loc's most solemn utterance is but a splendid shout. There can 
be no doubt that what Kettle has written will abide. He wrote 
incomparable philosophical essays, and brief political treatises — 
like The Open Secret of Ireland — the delightful verbal sword- 
play of which concealed from many a profound, almost uncanny, 
insight into the problems under consideration. He was the only 
English-writing artist of recent years who could produce con- 
vincing and authentic satirical poetry; he is sure of his place in 
letters if only as a distinguished exponent of satire. (William 
Watson's best efforts in this direction, for example, are poor 
and flaccid beside Kettle's.) What lyrical poetry has lost in his 
death may be realized from his Sonnet to his little daughter, 
Betty, written in the field, before Guillemont, Somme. He ful- 
filled in his own life that most palmary condition of great poetic 
creation — he was himself "a pattern of the best and honorablest 
things." Most noble, most magnanimous he was, and a very 
great Irishman as well. May God rest his soul! 

CHRISTIAN ETHICS: A TEXT-BOOK OF RIGHT LIVING. By J. 

E. Ross, C.S.P., Ph.D. New York : The Devin Adair Co. $2.50. 

Christian Ethics satisfies exactly the need long felt by teachers 
whose duty is, not to mete out the thorough treatment of a moral 
theology professor to his class of seminarians, but to give a popu- 
lar though systematic and satisfying grasp of the correct princi- 
ples of human conduct which should constitute an integral, yea 
an essential, of the higher education of our young men and young 
women destined even for secular pursuits. Dr. Ross is one of the 
many Paulist Fathers assigned to a work of vital importance for 
the welfare of Catholicity among our professional laymen, 
namely the work of keeping Catholic students of secular univer- 
sities in constant touch vnih the principles and practices of their 
Holy Faith. He is specially fitted for composing such a work, 
for experience is the best teacher. His experience as lecturer 
on ethics to the Newman Club of the University of Texas has 



536 NEW BOOKS [Jan., 

taught him how to present to the student mind moral princi- 
ples with condensed clarity, and to vitalize those principles by 
application to the burning questions, social and economic, na- 
tional and international, that possess the minds of all men at 
the present hour. Here in four hundred and sixty pages are con- 
densed the principles of right reason and Christian revelation 
which must govern all individual and social activities of man, 
and which, if heeded and properly applied, would solve the prob- 
lems that puzzle the cunning of crafty statesmen who are doomed 
to failure because they ignore the Creator and His moral law — 
the indispensable foundation on which must be builded the wel- 
fare o'f mankind. 

The synopsis at the opening and the bibliography at the close 
of each chapter, and the complete index and bibliography at the 
end of the book are excellent features. Christian Ethics deserves 
popular patronage as a text-book in academies, colleges and all 
higher institutions of learning. 

SECOND REPORT OF THE JOINT COMMISSION ON THE 
BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER APPOINTED BY THE GEN- 
ERAL CONVENTION OF 1913. New York: The Macmillan 
Co. $1.50. 

The General Convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church 
in the United States of America appointed at its session in 1913 
a Commission of seven Bishops, seven Presbyters, and seven lay- 
men to consider the revision and enrichment of the Book of 
Common Prayer. The First Report of the Commission was re- 
ceived by the General Convention of 1916, and further consid- 
eration of the matter was deferred till the recent Convention in 
Detroit. The Second Report, a substantial volume of three hun- 
dred pages, was prepared primarily for the use of the Delegates 
who would act upon certain sections of it. Its publication gives 
opportunity for the study of certain tendencies in the Episcopal 
Church which are of great interest to Catholics. The Detroit 
Convention considered the first part of the Report, but passed on 
the more important portions to the next Triennial, to meet in Port- 
land, Oregon, in 1922. 

This Report epitomizes in an interesting and quasi-official 
manner, the development of the Oxford Movement in the Epis- 
copal Church since the last revision of the Prayer Book in 1892. 
It seems to show that on the whole the tendency in the Episcopal 
Church is towards enrichment of liturgical forms along definitely 
Catholic lines. And this is the more interesting in view of the 
fact that the list of twenty-one Commissioners consists, with but 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 537 

possibly three or four exceptions* of names which are not usually 
reckoned as among the High Church party. Nevertheless, it is 
quite evident that the Report looks towards an "advanced" ritual 
(in the strict sense of the word). A definite effort is made to 
legalize certain forms which have, for some time, been widely 
used without authorization. The Calendar is enriched by the in- 
troduction of fifty-three ''Black Letter Saints' Days," among which 
it is a bit startling to find the festivals of two Popes, and the 
"Canonization" of "The Martyrs of China, 1900." 

Exception was taken to parts of the Report by Delegates at 
Detroit, notably Ambassador Page, who claimed that the Com- 
mission had exceeded its enabling act in reporting propositions 
involving "the Faith and Doctrine of the Church," among which 
were such matters as "Prayers for the Dead" and "Reservation 
of the Sacrament." For the Report recommends four Prayers 
containing direct petitions for the Departed, and a proper Collect, 
Epistle and Gospel for use in the Celebration of the Holy Com- 
munion at funerals. Provision is also made, by rubric, for a 
restricted Reservation of the Communion, for the Anointing of 
the Sick, and the enrichment of the Communion Office itself by 
the authorization of new Proper Prefaces, the Benedictus qui 
venit, the Agnus Dei, and the Pater Noster, vnth its introduction 
substantially as in the Missal. There is also, in the Appendix, 
a bolderized Compline Office, as well as short services of Prayer 
and Thanksgiving suitable for Guild meetings, and reminiscent 
of the rejected suggestions of 1892. 

All this would seem to indicate that the Episcopal Church 
is progressing in at least a High Church direction, were it not 
for the constant evidences of that effort after "comprehensive- 
ness" which, in this Report at least, results in compromise. The 
opposition developed at Detroit towards the only important 
changes in the Prayer Book thus far brought under discussion, 
leads one to wonder if perhaps the Commissioners may not have 
put more into their report than may be expected ultimately to 
find its way into the revised Services of the Episcopal Church. 

THE LITTLE FLOWERS OF SAINT FRANCIS. Translated by 
Thomas Okey. Illustrated by Eugene Burnand. New York: 
E. P. Dutton & Co. $15.00. 
One of the most beautiful books of the year is this edition 

de luxe of Thomas Okey's English rendering of / Fioretti di S. 

Francesco, with thirty exquisite drawings in color by Eugene 

Burnand. "For his studio M. Burnand has chosen Assisi, St. 

Damian, the sweet Umbrian vales and hills; he has placed his 



538 NEW BOOKS [Jan., 

models in a natural setting, under the light and color of the magi- 
cal Umbrian sun, in a land of which St. Francis was the poetical 
and mystical emanation." The result is eminently satisfying. 

The value of the volume is further enhanced by an appendix 
taken from a Spanish manuscript and appearing here for the 
first time in English. 

This noteworthy addition to Franciscana, is a masterpiece 
of typographical art. A volume with an appeal for every book- 
lover, and most especially those who know and love the Poverello 
and Assisi. 

The American edition is limited to five hundred copies. 

POEMS— FIRST SERIES. By J. C. Squire. New York: A. A. 

Knopf. $1.50. 

For several years past Mr. Jack CoUings Squire has impressed 
his critics as the ablest of living parodists in verse, but few people 
have realized that Mr. Squire was all the time a serious, original 
poet. Definite recognition of him in the latter capacity probably 
came when he printed The Lily of Malud, one of the three finest 
poems collected here. The present series contains what the 
author wishes to preserve of his four volumes of "serious" poetry. 
One of the things Mr. Squire desires to intimate by his choice of 
a sub-title for this volume is that ''under Providence other (and, 
let us hope, superior) collections will follow it." 

There is much in these pages that is very beautifully con- 
ceived and Thought. "August Moon," for example, — an exquisite 
nocturne, full of tranquil music : the long poem "Rivers," which 
is as lovely an evocation of the spirit of the "noble great rivers" 
of the world as is Masefield's "Ships" of the glory of the seas' 
standard-bearers. Since there is room to quote in full only one 
of the briefer poems, it shall be the splendidly dramatic "Sonnet" 
on page 102: 

There was an Indian, who had known no change. 
Who strayed content along a sunlit beach 
Gathering shells. He heard a sudden strange 
Commin^ed noise; looked up; and gasped for speech. 
For in the bay, where nothing was before. 
Moved on the sea, by magic, huge canoes, 
With bellying cloths on poles, and not on^ oar, 
And fluttering coloured signs and clambering crews. 

And he, in fear, this naked man alone, 
His fallen hands forgetting all their shells. 
His lips gone pale, knelt low behind a stone, 
And stared and saw and did not understand, 
Columbus' doom-burdened caravels 
Slant to the shore and all their seamen land. 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 539 

THE CRIME. By Dr. Richard Grelling. New York: George H. 

Doran Ck>. Vols. III. and IV. $2.50 net, each. 

In two large volumes Dr. Richard Grelling, who startled the 
world with / Accuse! continues, like a relentless prosecutor, to 
pile up evidence against a criminal many times proved guilty of 
the most terrible crime in history — the instigation of the World 
War. 

Dr. Grelling, in the third volume, as additional proof of The 
Crime comments in greatest detail on the speech of Chancellor Von 
Bethmann HoUweg delivered on December 9, 1915, wherein it is 
clearly shown that the German mind was filled to excess with 
plans for the forceful annexation in the East and West and the 
linking of Belgium and Poland as well as the Russian Baltic 
Provinces to the German Empire. His speech of April 5, 1916, 
is likewise dissected with the same results. With the evidence 
all in, the author quotes the words of the Kaiser, ''Before God 
and history my conscience is clear. I did not want the war." 

The fourth volume is somewhat in the nature of addenda. 
It takes up the so-called Belgian state papers of 1905 to 1914, 
published by Germany to show that the war against her was one 
in which she was merely the defender against aggressors who 
would destroy her. After examining them at great length the 
author gives his conclusions that they were tenaciously com- 
piled and full of lacunae. 

The four volumes of The Crime form a monumental work 
that will long remain a standard reference for the students of the 
future. They treat this subject in a minute and complete manner 
and are masterly in their logic and comprehensive detail.. 

MARY THE MOTHER: HER LIFE AND CATHOLIC DEVOTION 

TO HER. By Blanche Mary Kelly, Litt.D. New York: The 

Encyclopedia Press. $1.00. 

'Tor the first time in many centuries no one dare speak ill 
of the Mother of God," writes the Rev. John J. Wynne, S.J., 
in his very expressive foreword to Miss Kelly's latest book Even 
to those attached to other and older books that link them in love 
with the Queen of Heaven, this latest biography will surely be a 
volume of rare charm. 

It is no facile task to write down the facts in the life of the 
Mother of God. The gospel story is so incomparably written that 
one may well hesitate to do again what has been once for all 
accomplished. And if one cannot bring to the task a poetic in- 
sight and a poetic utterance, one should hesitate forever. Happily 
the author of The Valley of Vision has the gift of poetry, 



540 NEW BOOKS [Jan., 

and her new book can be counted as a labor that is an achieve- 
ment. She tells the years of Mary's life with a simplicity becom- 
ing to great things, and makes the old familiar story fresh and 
fascinating with the gladness and the glamour of romance. 

Fully as interesting is the second part of the book, which 
treats of the subject of Catholic devotion to Mary. It takes up 
the matters of Mary's titles, her feast days, the prayers and hymns 
composed in her honor, the shrines erected to her glory, and the 
paintings and works of sculpture which adorn them. The chapter 
entitled ''Shrines and Pilgrimages" is one of the most valuable in 
the volume. It gives a detailed account of the most important 
churches built in honor of the Blessed Virgin throughout the 
world from the early churches in Jerusalem to the last-built tem- 
ple of today. There is a wealth of erudition gathered in this part 
of the work, and it should be welcome to all who desire to have 
in a small volume many things which they are often eager to 
know. 

OUT TO WIN. By Joseph P. Conroy, S. J. New York : Benziger 

Brothers. $1.25. 

Father Conroy says of St. Ignatius: "He loved boys truly 
with an understanding of their earliest needs, with a sympathy 
for their inmost nature, an appreciation of their individual differ- 
ences, and an ability to adapt himself to every single boy." 

We think Father Conroy has made these qualities his own. 
He knows boys and in this series of talks with them he is so 
natural and entertaining that one reads him with interest from 
beginning to end. He is concerned with the character develop- 
ment of the boy between the ages of fifteen and twenty, that 
period in which the boy is "waking up to his rights." Though 
intensely serious. Father Conroy writes with much humor. He 
speaks the boy's vocabulary, oftentimes inelegant but always 
emphatic. 

To those, also, who have the care and training of young 
boys we earnestly recommend this little volume as thoughtful 
reading. 

POBMS, WITH FABLES IN PROSE. Two volumes. By Herbert 
Trench. New York: E. P. Button & Co. $6.00 per set. 
Although he was thirty-six years old before, in 1901, he pub- 
lished his first book of poetry, Deirdre Wedded, Mr. Herbert 
Trench undeniably ranks today in company with Robert Bridges, 
W. B. Yeats, Thomas Hardy, A. E. Housman, and Alice Meynell, 
as one of the half-dozen most distinguished contemporary prac- 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 541 

titioners of the art of English poetry. Of course there are other 
singers of unquestionable merit and significance. There is 
Laurence Binyon whose Sirmione and Death of Adam are poems 
of which modern literature may well be proud. There is that poet 
of strangely uncertain inspiration, yet indubitable genius, — John 
Masefield. And there are also the curiously crude and meta- 
physically involved, yet powerful work of Lascelles Abercrombie, 
and the achievement of Walter de la Mare, a craftsman of nar- 
row range but flawless execution. One may be fairly certain, 
though, that what Herbert Trench has created will withstand 
oblivion with a finer steadfastness than almost any poetry writ- 
ten in this generation. 

For he is that extremely rare thing among contemporary 
poets: a scholar and philosophical thinker no less than a poet. 
He has been — and not absurdly — spoken of in the same breath 
with Ck)leridge. Indeed one able critic has discovered in his genius 
''a mingling of adventurous romanticism, intuitive mysticism, 
and reasoned philosophy, comparable, magna intervallo, to the 
endowment of Coleridge." That gift of ecstasy, however, which 
makes of The Ancient Mariner the most magical piece of verse 
in the language. Trench is far from possessing. Neither has he 
the final felicity of diction, — donum paene divinum — ^which is 
characteristic of the author of Christabel. His verse abounds in 
roughnesses; more than once he is willfully negligent of that first 
duty of the poet, labor limse. But he has written no poem that 
is without vigor, swiftness, and radiance. He is unsurpassed by 
any living poet as a painter of external nature. He produces 
slowly, and so six years elapsed before he published his second 
book. New Poems (1907), which contained "Apollo and The Sea- 
man," perhaps the noblest poem Mr. Trench has so far written. 
Here the allegory is one of a moving and beautiful simplicity, 
and nowhere in all his writing is his gift for imaginative phrasing 
so splendidly discoverable. Through this poem there blows a 
wind that has traversed the seas of the world; a salt and cleans- 
ing and healing air. Lyrics and Narrative Poems, which appeared 
four years later is not so much a new book as a re-ordering of 
earlier verse. "On Romney Marsh at Sunrise," one of the besl 
things in this volume, is written out of a finely true emotion. 

These two volumes contain everything Herbert Trench has 
written up to the present time, together with some interesting 
Fables in Prose, This is his first Collected Edition, and the pub- 
lishers have clad noble poetry worthily. Some day book-lovers 
will search for this beautiful edition as today they seek the early 
volumes of Swinburne and Morris. Mr. Trench's quality is classi- 



542 NEW BOOKS [Jan., 

cal and permanent. He belongs to English literature, and if peo- 
ple knew what they were about, he would, like Matthew Arnold, 
be honored as a classic in his life time. But we are a perverse 
generation. 

THE MODERN COMEDY. By O. R. Howard Thomson. Boston : 

The Cornhill Co. $1.25. 

There is nothing very modern, nor at all comic, in the title 
poem of this little book. But there is a good deal of modernity, 
and of experimentation in many moods, "occasional'* and other- 
wise, in its various lyrics of love and war, of science and faith, 
of nature and art — ^and Williamsport! 

When the story of recent American poetry comes to be writ- 
ten, more than a word of gratitude should go to publishers who, 
like the Cornhill Company, have been so persistent and generous 
in their publication of contemporary verse. They give to the 
young poet what the ''little theatre" offers to the young drama- 
tist — a chance to be heard. And while the hearing means much 
eventual sifting of the chaff from the wheat, it is a brave adven- 
ture. And once, perhaps, in a year or in a decade, it is justified 
by the discovery of some beauty which shall live — ^and which 
might so easily have been lost. 

IRELAND'S FAIRY LORE. By Rev. Michael Mahon. Boston: 

Thomas J. Flynn ft Co. $2.00 net. 

Father Mahon's book should be of double service. It is writ- 
ten entertainingly, and it presents in an easy fashion not likely to 
scare off the unerudite, one of the most fascinating fields open 
to scholars at the present day. It is unfortunately true, so far 
as America is concerned, that even now, after the Irish Renais- 
sance has^done its work, the folk and fairy lore of Ireland is 
known to a comparatively few research workers and poetic en- 
thusiasts. Yet these old legends have a beauty which is marked 
and unique even among the beautiful major mythologies of the 
world. They deserve a wide currency, and any attempt to give 
them their rightful place in the imaginative heritage of humanity 
is deserving of success. 

BLUE SMOKE. By Karle Wilson Baker. New Haven: Yale Uni- 
versity Press. 
Sometimes a poet will define his (or her) quality for the 

reader in a line or two, and this Mrs. Baker has obligingly done 

for us in a couple of verses in the poem "Gossamer,*' where she 

describes her poetry as 



1920.] NEW BOOKS / 543 

A cobweb, fine and frail and fair. 
That trembles in the passing air. 

Her poetry is, moreover, wistful, graceful, delicate, feminine 
— fanciful rather than imaginative. 

BOOKS IN GENERAL. By Solomon Eagle. New York: A. A. 

Knopf. $2.00. 

For the last six years there has appeared, weelc by week, in 
The New Statesman of London, over the pen-name of "Solomon 
Eagle," a causerie on books and on things in general. A selection 
of some fifty-odd of these papers has now found an American 
publisher in Mr. Alfred Knopf. Solomon Eagle's weekly-page is 
undeniably the finest thing of its kind in contemporary literary 
journalism. This nimble writer has at indefatigable command 
a wide-ranging knowledge of letters, old and new, an impeccable 
taste, a rare gift of humor, and an inexhaustible flow of high 
spirits. He treats of The Beauties of Badness, and of Moving 
a Library, of Shakespeare's Women and Mr. George Moore and 
The Cattle of the Boyne; he tells how Mrs. Barclay Sees It 
Through; expatiates on £5 Misspent; and propounds the mo- 
mentous question. Was Cromwell an Alligator? The selection 
is delightful, though — carper that one is! — one misses the fa- 
mous commentary upon a certain American newspaper's inter- 
view with Mr. Alfred Noyes, the superb badinage at the expense 
of a certain New York publisher's announcement, and the ex- 
cruciatingly funny excursus on War Poetry. But the imaginary 
biography our causeur contributed to the American Who's Who: 
the engaging excoriation of that *'polyphoisboisterous" critic, 
Archibald Henderson: the lines addressed to the importunate 
Tennessee librarian — these are here, and they are all perfect. And, 
in more serious vein, no sounder criticism than Solomon Eagle's 
has yet been uttered on Herrick, Stephen Phillips, and Henry 
James — to take three papers at random. 

This man's gift is not far removed from genius. 

ADDRESSES IN AMERICA, 1919. By John Galsworthy. New 

York: Charles Scribner's Sons. $1.25 net. 

This volume consists of seven addresses given by John Gals- 
worthy before American audiences in the course of his visit here 
last spring. His Lowell Centenary lecture and his speech to the 
League of Political Education are included m the number. 

We hear a great deal these days of the union of hearts and 
hands which should now subsist between ** American and Briton" 



544 NEW BOOKS [Jan., 

— to borrow the title of the second of these addresses — and it is 
doubtless desirable that Americans should understand the mental 
processes and appreciate the culture of enlightened Englishmen. 
The truth is, however, that Mr. Galsworthy has never written less 
felicitously, less convincingly, than he has done here. If in these 
pages there is a single original or striking thought, we have failed 
utterly to find it. The Atlantic Monthly, the publishers of these 
lectures tell us, declares that "we must listen to Mr. Galsworthy. 
If the future of the world depends upon understanding between 
men and nations, we have reason to be thankful for his peculiar 
gift of sympathetic insight; he lives always in the House of the 
Interpreter." This is one result of being in a state of extreme pro- 
Entente exhilaration! 

STUDIES IN THE ELIZABETHAN DRAMA. By Arthur Symons. 

New York : E. P. Dutton & Co. $3.50. 

Symons himself once wrote, in a brilliant little preface to the 
Biographia Literaria, "while there is a great mass of valuable criti- 
cism done by critics who were only critics, the most valuable 
criticism of all, the only quite essential criticism, has been done 
by creative writers, for the most part poets." The man who 
penned these words has no superior and hardly an equal among 
Jiving English critics; he is also, at his best, an extremely fine 
poet. His criticism, like Pater's, is quickened mediation; and he 
has all the delicate penetration, the luminous insight of his 
master. 

The present volume consists of more than a dozen essays on 
plays of Shakespeare, and on the dramatic work of certain of 
Shakespeare's contemporaries. Adequately to display the quality 
of this absorbing book there is unfortunately no space here; one 
can merely tabulate. To our mind the most valuable of the 
Shakespearean studies are those on Antony and Cleopatra and 
on Romeo and Juliet, this latter surely, after Dowden's famous 
essay, the most beautiful of all interpretations of the play. (The 
opening sentence may serve to indicate the rare treat in store for 
him who reads further : "The play of Romeo and Juliet is like a 
piece of music, and it is the music which all true lovers have 
heard in the air since they began listening to one another's 
voices.") It is safe to predict that this work, like the author's 
earlier Studies in Prose and Verse, vnll take and keep a high and 
special place among the most significant achievements in criti- 
cism of modern English letters. All the essays were originally 
contributed to periodicals. They have now received a thorough 
revision at the hands of the author. 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 646 

WAR IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN. By Kermit Roosevelt. New 

York: Charles Scribner's Sons. $1.60 net. 

Just as refreshing as its title, this book brings a breath of 
those strange, far-off places that are so old as to be ever new. 
After reading so many volumes treating of the War in France 
and Belgium, it is a rare delight to be transported to the land of 
the Tigris and the Euphrates, back again to the storied ruins of 
Babylon and Bagdad. 

The author, the illustrious son of a versatile father, knows 
the value of the places he fought in and has presented them in all 
their glory. He writes in a style that is richly entertaining and 
marked with the free, easy swing that so characterized his father's 
writings. Indeed, there is much of the father in the writings of the 
son, and all who loved the tang of outdoors that is to be found 
in the elder Roosevelt's books will find much here to gratify them. 
If this work be taken merely as a promise, and it is decidedly more 
than that, it is a portent of great things to follow. The book in 
itself is very worth while. 

A HISTORY OF LATIN AMERICA. By William Warren Sweet. 

New York : The Abingdon Press. $3.00 net. 

This book covers briefly for students and those general read- 
ers who are interested in Latin countries the past history and 
present conditions of Spanish America. Each chapter concludes 
with a bibliography full of suggestions for those who would do 
further reading, thus making a valuable and interesting hand- 
book, and giving a connected history of events. 

The author feels that the Spaniards were no worse than the 
English in their treatment of the savages. There were many 
marriages from the beginning between Spaniards and natives, so 
that today there are the following proportions of the people of 
Latin America belonging to the half-breed or mestizo race: Mex- 
ico, fifty per cent; Peru, thirty per cent; Bolivia, from thirty to 
forty per cent; Venezuela, seventy per cent; Chile, sixty per cent. 
There are many who consider the mestizo as the coming race in 
Latin America, especially in the western regions, and the develop- 
ment of many of the States seems to depend largely on the de- 
velopment of this mixture of the white and Indian people. So far 
Latin America has been governed by the pure white race, while the 
Indian and the mestizo have been practically serfs. The latter 
have gone on rapidly increasing while the Indian is decreasing 
in numbers. 

There were twelve universities in Latin America in the 
Colonial period, eight of which were established before the crea- 

yot. GZ. 35 



546 NEW BOOKS [Jan., 

lion of Harvard. There was considerable scholarship, much ex- 
cellent work being done in medicine and surgery. The bulk of the 
books published during the religious period were upon religious 
subjects, written by ecclesiastics. Seventeenth century Mexico 
produced a rare poetical genius, a nun by the name of Juana de 
la Cruz. On the whole, the Colonial period in Latin America was 
more fruitful in a literary sense than the Colonial period of the 
English Colonies. The work of education was entirely in the 
hands of the Church; and the favorable account the author gives 
must be taken as a tribute from one who is evidently not in sym- 
pathy with Catholicism. He is prejudiced, but tries to be just. 

Argentina, Brazil, Uruguay and Chile are characterized as 
progressive States politically, industrially and economically; 
while Venezuela, Colombia, Paraguay, Peru and Bolivia are back- 
ward. Professor Sweet says that the Monroe Doctrine met with 
the approval of the Spanish Americans up to the time of the 
Mexican War. This country has since lost ground with them, 
especially since the Venezuelan controversy, and the famous 
proclamation of Secretary Olney: "Today the United States is 
practically sovereign on this continent, and its fiat is law upon 
the subjects to which it confines its interposition." 

The friendship of Latin America is worth striving for; the 
republics are increasingly stable, the people are financially re-^ 
sponsible, and economically the Latin American countries will 
progress more in the next fifty years than in the previous four 
hundred. 

DICTIONARY OF THE APOSTOLIC CHURCH. Edited by James 
Hastings, D.D. Vol. II. Macedonia-Zion. New York: 
Charles Scribner's Sons. Cloth, $7.00; half morocco, $10.00. 
The second volume of Hastings Dictionary of the Apostolic 
Church is liberal Protestant in tone like its predecessor. The 
majority of its articles are written by professors of theology and 
Scripture in theological schools and colleges of Great Britain and 
the United States. The only article by a Catholic is on Polycarp by 
Mgr. Pierre Batiffol of Paris. The Biblical articles treat of the 
Epistles of St. Paul (Philippians, Thessalonians, Romans, the 
Pastoral Epistles), and St. Peter, and discuss briefly New Testa- 
ment names and other subjects connected with Scripture. The 
theological articles include marriage, divorce and predestination. 

It would take a volume to point out the heresies and false 
statements that one meets with on every page. We are told, for 
example, that celibacy is not a higher state than marriage; that 
divorce is allowed for adultery; that there are but two sacra- 






1920.] NEW BOOKS 547 

ments; that there is no sacrifice in the New Law; that the his- 
tory of demon possession in the New Testament is not authentic; 
that Christ shared the ignorant viewpoint of His time; that justi- 
fication by faith is the teaching of St. Paul; that the Reformers 
were altin to the prophets in their conviction of the truth of their 
message, and much else of a like nature. 

THE TVTLD SWANS AT COOLE. By W. B. Yeats. New York: 

The Macmillan Co. $1.25. 

To those who have followed the later Yeats it has become 
increasingly evident that he has wandered farther and farther 
into that ultimate fog for the literary worker, where words are 
mistaken for things. Never remarkable for the vigor or depth of 
his thought, he here presents the spectacle of a man snared in 
his own limpid and beautiful style. Like most of his previous 
work, the present is a book of tones and atmospheres, with the 
tenuous quality, the occasional verbal magic, the pagan wistful- 
ness and the gray melancholy which Yeats, more than any one 
else, has caused us to associate with the Celtic temperament. 
'The Phases of the Moon," a parable of the artist and his relation 
to life, is one of those pieces of intricate and elusive symbolism 
of which Yeats is so fond and of which the average reader will find 
it difBcult to catch the significance. The predominate note of the 
book is one of regret and disillusion, with here and there a touch 
of acridity. It is the weary gesture of a man who has long put 
his faith in dreams and has at last found them wanting. 

WHAT IS AMERICA? By Edward Alsworth Ross. New York : 

The Century Co. $1.25. 

It is in many ways a useful little book that Professor Ross 
has written. Its title would seem to imply that there are many 
persons who ought to know the answer. And, as is usual in such 
cases, there are. But these individuals very frequently are the 
very ones who never think to ask the question. In asking it for 
them, the author has done them a kindness. For so many millions 
of people accept their Americanism without a knowledge of what 
America is, that it is always timely to raise the question. The 
fiist chapter deals with the make-up of the people of the United 
States from the days of Plymouth to the coming of the Italians 
and the Slavs. The book proceeds with an account of the variety 
of ways in which Americans make a living, sketches the develop- 
ment of business, describes the growth of education, and in other 
ways traces the evolution of American standards. 

We regret to say that in his chapter on "Marriage and the 






548 NEW BOOKS [Jan^ 

Family," Professor Ross defends divorce as a ''cautious provision 
of relief for the mismated." "The fact is," he says, "that two- 
thirds of the divorces are granted to aggrieved wives, and the 
r* ason why American wives will not put up with the drunkenness, 
cruelty, or unfaithfulness in their husbands that the women of 
other countries put up with, and that their grandmothers bore in 
silence, is that they respect themselves more, have a higher ideal 
of what a union should be, and know that once they are divorced 
they can support themselves by their labor." Such treatment of 
this vital topic is, to say the least, inadequate and superficial. 
Professor Ross must admit that there is a great deal more to be 
said on the question. 

The book is not an elaborately detailed analysis of American 
life, but rather a popular handbook, making its appeal to those 
who are not over-radical, or over-conservative, and who are not 
over-learned;^ to those who believe in progress, and democracy, 
and justice. As an appendix to the volume it is refreshing to find 
the text of the Constitution of the United States, a document re- 
ferred to frequently by us all, but, unfortunately, almost as little 
read as the Virginia Bill of Rights which accompanies it. Perhaps 
Professor Ross' book may tempt many who have promised some 
day to commit to memory the words of the national anthem, to 
study the Constitution of their country. 

OLD-FASHIONED VERSES. By Wm. T. Hornaday. New York: 

Clark & Fritts. $2.00. 

In this rather sumptuously bound and illustrated book the 
author has made a collection of verses dealing with a wide variety 
of themes. The War and its aftermath, the West and the spell of 
nature, wild life, friendship and love, and nonsense verses. The 
verses are pleasantly rhymed and correctly metred, and the senti- 
ment is unexceptionable, but the ideas are commonplace and the 
book as a whole lacks distinction. The most spirited piece in the 
volume relates the destruction of the English fleet under Crad- 
dock by Speck von Spec, and the latter's subsequent defeat by 
Sturdee off the Falkland Islands. 

VERGIL AND THE ENGLISH POETS. By Elizabeth Nitchie. 

New York: Columbia University Press. $1.50. 

Miss Nitchie's aim in this interesting Columbia dissertation is 
"to trace the changes in the reaction to his [Virgil's] poetry in the 
different periods of English literature, and to study his influence 
especially on the representative poets of England under the vary- 
ing conditions of the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, Pseudo- 
Classicism, and Romanticism." 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 549 

She has traversed much territory, and with a sort of thor- 
oughness; yet in many places, and on the whole, she is cursory. 
Her treatment of Bede, of Shakespeare, of Gray, of Wordsworth — 
to take a few poets at random — is altogether inadequate. Not 
that her monograph is without value. But an intensive study of 
the influence of Virgil (Miss Nitchie, we notice, insists upon call- 
ing the poet Vergil) still remains to be done. There are too many 
gaps here. And her remarks on page twelve show that she 
is unwilling to attempt the very thing we most need: we need 
light on the influence of Virgilian diction upon the diction of the 
English poets. 

THE MUD LARKS. By Crosbie Garstin. New York: George H. 

Doran Co. $1.50 net. 

These are humorous short sketches of English soldier life at 
the front, many of which originally appeared in Punch. They 
are, to our great relief, not transcripts from actuality, but rather 
a free and imaginative rendering of military experiences told with 
much zest and humor — a humor, too, really funny without being 
vulgar. It is by turns dry, whimsical, farcical, extravagant, ironic, 
light, high-spirited. And though much of it is typical British 
fun-making, the author has also a close insight into the Irish 
temperament, which is not at all strange, since, as we gather 
from the book, he comes from Ireland. Such chapters as "The 
Riding Master," "Leave," "Funny Cuts," "A Faux Pas," "The 
Harriers" and "The Camera Cannot Lie" are a joy to the harassed 
reviewer, while in "War Vegetation," "I Spy," "Lionel Trelawny," 
"A Rest Cure" and "The Bobby Trap" there is an element of 
ultimate surprise which reminds one of the ending of a typical 
O. Henry story. In The Mud Larks Mr. Garstin has produced 
a thoroughly readable and amusing book. 

THE SWORD OF DEBORAH.. By F. Tennyson Jesse. New York: 

George H. Doran Co. $1.00 net. 

Miss Jesse, the great-niece of the illustrious poet, takes up 
the pen to show the might of the sword in the hands of her fellow 
women. Not that they themselves carried the sword. They were 
of the sword but lived not by it. Rather they were the workers 
of the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps, the Volunteer Ambulance 
Drivers, the First Aid Nursing Yeoman and the General Service 
Voluntary Aid Detachment, those four great organizations of 
British women who were powerful factors in carrying on the War 
to a successful close. 

The author sketches in a charming way the work done by 



550 NEW BOOKS [Jan., 

these uniformed organizations, and gives an intimate picture of 
the patriotic women, each of whom represented a man released 
for active military duty, as they labored at menial tasks of manual 
labor, assisted in transporting the wounded, or cared for the 
stricken soldier in the great emergency hospitals back of the 

lines. 

. -» > . « 

A DAUGHTER OF THE NORTHWEST. By Irene Welch Gris- 

som. Boston: The Cornhill Co. $1.50. 

This novel in its opening indicates a claim upon the reader's 
attention that is not justified later. The scene is laid on the 
Pacific Coast, in the Columbia River region, a picturesque section 
which the author describes well and with the affection of old 
acquaintance. She introduces the subject of the Oregon lumber 
business, upon which she seems well informed, going at some 
length into the requirements for improving conditions there. Had 
the story been built around this, better results might have been 
produced. As it is, nothing comes by corollary; there is not even 
connection, in the sense of dependence. The plot might be worked 
out in any locale. In fact, its situations have repeatedly served 
novelists, and there is no originality of treatment to give them a 
touch of freshness. 

CAPTAIN ZILLNER By Rudolf Jeremiah Kreutz. New York: 

George H. Doran Co. $1.75 net. 

This vivid tale pictures the life of an Austrian officer during 
the early campaigns against the Russians in Galicia. The writer 
evidently holds that all war is unjust and "a monstrous crime 
against humanity." The common soldiers are *'cattle driven to 
slaughter" or "day laborers in the service of death." "Right is 
wherever might happens to be," and all the nations are prompted 
in their so-called patriotism by "religions which sow love and 
reap hate." 

We believe that the writer is a rabid Socialist of Jewish stock, 
who is obsessed by an intense hatred of Christianity and its 
priests, who are held up to scorn on every page. They are "cow- 
ards, beasts, traitors, and intolerant hypocrites," who travel 
about "with greasy frocks and unwashed necks, uttering unreal, 
professional banalities of duty to God and country." Even the 
last anointing of the dying, which wins the respect of the most 
abandoned criminal, is made the theme of a nasty jibe. 

The book continually harps upon the incompetence of the 
Austrian General Staff, the cowardice and cruelty of the command- 
ing officers, the treachery of the Slav regiments, and the total lack 



) 



A 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 551 

of enthusiasm of the average soldier, who fought like a slave under 
the lash. No sensible reader will deem this coarse and irreligious 
treatise an accurate picture of real conditions in the Austrian 
army. It condemns both sides with equal impartiality. 

« 

OUR CASUALTIES AND OTHER STORIES. By G. A. Birming- 
ham. New York: George H. Doran Co. $1.50 net. 
This volume of war stories is written with all the pathos and 
humor that characterize Canon Hannay's best work. His sym- 
pathies are plainly with Carson and the alien Ulster Irish, l)ut he 
does his best to appear fair to both Catholic and Protestant in these 
portraits or caricatures of the Irish soldiers at home and abroad. 
Many of the historical events of the past few years form the basis 
of his stories, viz., Ulster's disloyal purchase of guns and ammuni- 
tion from Germany, the Dublin rebellion of 1916, the training of 
the veteran stay-at-homes, and the like. Occasionally, he gives a 
sly dig at the excessive red tape of the medical hospital corps, the 
stubbornness of the old-fashioned folk in opposing the daylight 
saving law, and the Irish hatred of the Government, "meaning 
the police." 

The best stories, to our mind, are "Getting Even," "The Up- 
right Judge" and "The Mermaid." We have heard of this last 
named legend before, although it had a Breton instead of an Irish 
setting. 

THE SPANISH ARMADA. By Ernest R. Hull, S.J. History of 
England Series. New York : P. J. Kenedy & Sons. 35 cents. 
This study of the Spanish Armada is a contribution to a 
series dealing with English history from the Catholic point of 
view. The purpose is to correct many historical errors that have 
been made by non-Catholic historians and kept before the English 
public by text-books and histories for many generations. The tra- 
ditional view of the Armada has been that it was the attempt of 
the Pope, aided by that gloomy and fanatical monarch, Philip II., 
to establish the Catholic power in England by force of arms. 
"The Armada, as pictured in the mind of the average Protestant 
of today — ^unless he has corrected his impressions by critical read- 
ing — is the Armada as it was pictured in England in the throes 
of excitement which accompanied the expectation of its arrival." 

Father Hull shows that the Armada was a political act of self- 
defence against England, for outrage against international law per- 
petrated by English adventurers such as Sir Francis Drake, who 
were patronized and supported by Elizabeth. Secondly, it was a 
last resort to force after the failure of all efforts to secpre diplo- 



• • • • 

• • •••. 

* . • • r 



552 NEW BOOKS [Jan, 

matic redress from England. Thirdly, any religious motives in 
the case were accessory and followed the inauguration of the 
Armada enterprise. 

The support of Sixtus V. to the Armada expedition was very 
half hearted, and reluctant, and was given only after the scheme 
had been well inaugurated by the King. Father Hull describes the 
Spanish King as a high-minded Spaniard, a devout Catholic, and 
one who was anything but a fanatic. He had no ambition to crush 
Protestantism in England by force of arms. The terms which he 
wished to secure, as shown by his instructions on the sailing of 
the Armada, were to obtain the privilege of following their religion 
for the persecuted Catholics of England; to secure indemnity for 
the pillaging of Drake; to get England's guarantee to withdraw 
her interference in the Netherlands. The Armada was significant 
for it revealed the growing weakness of the Spanish Empire, 
showed the growing strength and superiority of England's sea- 
manship and suggested to England colonial enterprise, giving her 
the confidence necessary to undertake it. 

APOSTOLIC zeal marks the chapters in Rev. George T. 
Schmidt's book on The American Priest (New York: Ben- 
ziger Brothers. $1.25). Clear before him rises the dread respon- 
sibility devolving upon our national priesthood to stem the surg- 
ing onrush of anarchy and irreligion, twin spectres from hell, the 
one driving men on to material, the other to spiritual ruin. Zeal, 
loyalty, humility, kindness are chiefly stressed as virtues to be 
peculiar to the priests of our country in the counter campaign. 
Sound and practical advice in regard to visiting the sick is given in 
the book. One might have looked for more insistence on study of 
social questions for the American, more insistence on prayer for 
the priest, but perhaps Father Schmidt deemed these too extremely 
obvious to require more extended treatment. To young secular 
priests particularly the book seems to direct its appeal. 

AN attractive compilation of "Consoling Thoughts for Every 
Day in the Year" is Whom the Lord Loveth, by Henriette 
Eugene Delamare (New York: P. J. Kenedy & Sons, $1.00, post- 
paid $1.10). The author has drawn freely from Scripture, the 
great Catholic ascetics, poets and essayists of the past, and many 
well-known and well-loved authors of today, in an effort, well 
achieved, to lift up hearts unto the Lord. 



IRecent iSvente. 

The military situation on the three princi- 
Rttssia pal Russian fronts during the past month 

has been uniformly favorable to the Bolshe- 
vists. On the Eastern or Siberian front, beginning on the fifteenth 
of November with the capture of Omsk, the Soviet Army has 
steadily advanced on a wide front several hundred miles beyond 
the former Kolchak capital. At present they are twelve hundred 
miles from Irkutsk, the new capital of the All-Russian Govern- 
ment. At no point, apparently, were the anti-Bolshevist forces able 
to make a stand, and rumors were current at the beginning of De- 
cember that Admiral Kolchak might yield the supreme direction of 
affairs to General Denikin operating in the Southwest. To date, 
however, he is still in nominal command of anti-Soviet military 
efforts and, according to a recent rumor, has made it known that 
unless the Allies support the White Armies, he may cede a part 
of Siberia to Japan in order to save the rest of Russia from the 
Bolshevists. 

Color was lent to this last report by the fact that fresh Japan- 
ese troops have recently been landed at Vladivostok. It is not 
yet clear, however, whether the new forces are reenforcements 
or replacements or units which have been serving in Siberia since 
the Allied and Associated Powers decided to go to the assistance 
of Czecho-Slovak troops, making their way from Russia to their 
native land. Japan's original force in the joint undertaking was 
approximately 30,000 men, while the United States sent in about 
8,000 men and the European Allies lesser forces. 

A revolutionary movement against the Kolchak Government 
was started in the middle of last month by the social Revolution- 
ary-Zemstvo group in Vladivostok under the military leadership 
of General Gaida, former commander of the Czecho-Slovak forces 
on the Siberian front. This revolt was occasioned by dissatisfac- 
tion with the extra-constitutional methods of the AU-Russian 
Government and resentment over the dissolution of the Siberian 
Assembly by Kolchak. The uprising was quickly suppressed, 
however, and General Gaida, who was captured with his staff, 
has since left the country. 

Partly as a result of this incident, but chiefly because of the 
opposition of social revolutionary elements, Kolchak has since 
formed a new coalition Cabinet under Premier Victor Pepaliaeff, 
formerly Minister of the Interior in the AU-Russian Gov^ifirment. 



554 RECENT EVENTS [Jan., 

The new Cabinet has been formed with the greatest possible 
socialistic tendencies compatible with Kolchak's stand against 
Bolshevism. Larger powers are given to the recently created 
Zemstvo Congress, and every effort is to be made to placate the 
Cossack atamans and the Czechs. In reforming the Cabinet it has 
been the endeavor also to eliminate the influence of the military 
over civil matters, which is generally considered to have been one 
of the notable weaknesses of the Kolchak Government. Since the 
fall of Omsk, Irkutsk has been the seat of government. 

On the southwestern front under General Denikin, the 
month's campaign has been one of alternate advances and re- 
treats, with the advantage at present apparently resting with the 
Bolshevists. According to late dispatches the Bolshevist forces 
have captured Kharkov in Southern Russia, which has been one 
of the bases of General Denikin. The occupation of Volki, about 
twenty miles southwest of Kharkov, also is claimed by them. It 
is reported that volunteers of General Denikin's army, eighty-five 
miles east of Kief, have been driven out of Pirratin in the Gov- 
ernment of Poltawa. The Bolshevists report the capture also of 
the staff of the famous cavalry division of General Mamontoff, 
which earlier in the month in the course of several brilliant raids 
in the rear of the Bolshevist forces, had taken 2,500 prisoners. 
Fighting on the southern front has reverted to the type of the 
days of Waterloo, and cavalry is being extensively used on both 
sides. 

The Bolshevist successes against Denikin seem to have been 
achieved by massing against Denikin's centre heavy forces of 
picked troops, including their new cavalry and also Lettish and 
Communist troops hitherto held in reserve, besides a large num- 
ber of troops withdrawn from the trans-Siberian front. The 
Bolshevist forces greatly outnumbered those opposed to them by 
the volunteer army. 

At the same time on the western flank important successes 
have been won by the Galician troops, 15,000 strong, who had 
formed the mainstay of the Ukrainian Army under Petlura. They 
have broken with Petlura and, after prolonged negotiations, 
placed themselves at Denikin's disposal for operations against the 
Bolshevists. As the movement for the independence of Russian 
Ukraine was nurtured in Galicia, this defection from Petlura is 
looked upon in some quarters as signal proof of the insolvency 
of this leader and the separatist movement he represents. Rem- 
nants of Petlura's forces are now defeated and scattered, Petlura 
himself hastening northward through Volhynia, and his tempor- 
ary ca^t41» Kamenemspudolsk, has been entered simultaneously 



1920.] RECENT EVENTS 555 

by Denikin's troops and the Poles. On the other hand some ob- 
servers think that Ukrainian nationalism has failed simply for 
lack of what has contributed largely to Polish success, namely, 
the moral and material support of the Allies, and that the crown- 
ing injustice of Allied discriminations against the Ukrainian di- 
rectory, is the recent award of a mandate over Eastern Galicia to » 
Poland. 

The Russian Northwest Army, which attempted last month 
under General Yudenitch to capture Petrograd, has been definitely 
defeated and scattered, a large portion of this army having been 
forced back into Esthonia. There has been some talk of a new 
offensive against Petrograd, and the Esthonian Government has 
been requested by General Estievar of the French Army to permit 
the reconstruction of the army of General Yudenitch and allow 
the West Russian forces, formerly commanded by General Avaloff- 
Bermondt, to be mobilized in Esthonia for a fresh attack on Petro- 
grad. The Yudenitch debacle is ascribed to the fact that the full 
force was used at the front and the necessity for reserves was 
ignored. Four of the Russian divisions formerly under Yuden- 
itch have been organized under the Esthonian General Tonnison, 
and are protecting the positions below Narva against the Bol- 
shevists. 

The most important event in the Baltic region has been the 
capture of Mitav by the Letts and the general evacuation of Letvia, 
Lithuania and Courland by the German force formerly under 
General von der Goltz. Ever since the German repulse by the 
Lettish forces from before Riga last month, the Germans have 
been retreating before the Letts. Late reports have been received 
from East Prussia, however, stating that five train loads of troops 
of the German "Iron Division," who had arrived at Tilsit on their 
way to the interior of Germany, have suddenly refused to proceed 
further in accordance with the Allied G)mmission's orders, and 
four train loads have gone back northwest of Memel, where they 
still threaten Courland. Their numbers are said to be fifteen 
thousand. Further east the evacuation appears to be proceeding 
regularly, but the Memel force seems to have got out of hand 
and to intend to defy the Allies. Unless they agree to withdraw 
in a short given period they will be declared outlaws, which means 
that the Letts and Lithuanians will be allowed by the Allied Com- 
mission to march against them. 

The representatives of the Government of Esthonia, Letvia, 
Lithuania, Poland, Ukrainia, and White Russia in conference at 
Dorpat have declared themselves in favor of a military and politi- 
cal convention to defend their independence against aggression 



556 RECENT EVENTS [Jan., 

equally from the Germans, from the Bolshevists, and from the 
All-Russian Government under Kolchak, which last is in favor 
of a united Russia. To the All-Russian plan, the Baltic states are 
as strongly opposed as to Bolshevist or German attack. Soviet 
delegates were sent to the Dorpat conference, with the ostensible 
purpose of negotiating for the exchange of prisoners, but they 
endeavored to widen the conference to include peace parleys. A 
late dispatch states that the conference between the Baltic states 
and the Bolshevists has been adjourned till the end of December. 
Negotiations for exchange of prisoners have also been going 
forward at G)penhagen between a British representative and M. 
Litvinoflf, the Russian Soviet representative. M. Litvinoff en- 
deavored to turn these discussions also into peace pourparlers 
with the Entente. His communications to the American, British, 
French and Italian Ministers at Copenhagen, however, have been 
returned to him. The Ministers hold that to take ofBcial cog- 
nizance of the communications would be a breach of faith with 
Denmark, which consented to Litvinoff's presence in the country 
for the purpose of meeting a British delegate on the question 
of the exchange of prisoners and on condition that politics should 
be excluded from his programme. 

The result of the French elections last 
France month was a sweeping victory for the Bloc 

National, the patriotic grouping of non- 
Socialist parties which have supported Cldmenceau's Government, 
and a strong repudiation of anything in the nature of Bolshe- 
vism or Soviet rule. The Bloc National will have more than five 
hundred of the six hundred and twenty-six members of the next 
Chamber, while the Socialist representation will be reduced from 
one hundred and five to fifty-five. Jean Longuet, the Socialist 
leader and most prominent French Bolshevist, was defeated. 
The Socialists were responsible for making Bolshevism an issue, 
and it is they who feel the sting of defeat. Six months ago seven 
Socialist parties united for the purpose of getting control of the 
Government. When Longuet and his lieutenants some weeks 
before the election came out openly as friends of the Soviets, 
Cl^menceau took a hand and formed the Bloc National. Not only 
did the election show that the extremists could not swing labor 
for Bolshevism, but it made clear that several thousand French 
Socialists loved France more than their party. For a great many 
French Socialists voted the Bloc National because they feared 
Bolshevism. The returns from the provinces show that the farm- 
ers and inhabitants of small towns also steered away from 



1920.] RECENT EVENTS 557 

Sovietism. Besides M. Longuet, leader of the Minority Socialists, 
other defeated radical leaders were Pierre Remandel, leader of 
the Majority Socialists, Henry Franklin-Bouillon, the Radical So- 
cialist Chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee of the Cham- 
ber of Deputies, who had urged rejection of the Peace Treaty, 
and Pierre Brizon. In the Paris municipal elections only four 
Socialists were elected. 

Despite the announcement of Cl^menceau, who is seventy- 
eight, that he will retire, rumor persists that he will be the next 
President. One of the planks of the platform of the Bloc Na- 
tional calls for more power for the President of the Republic, 
to make him a stronger figure in national and international poli- 
tics. The election of French Senators will take place in Jan- 
uary, and soon thereafter the Senate and Chamber of Deputies 
will meet to elect a President. 

Universal regret, and some sharp criticism, has been ex- 
pressed in the French press over the rejection of the Peace Treaty 
by the United States Senate. The American peace delegates, who 
had intended leaving France on December 1st, delayed their de- 
parture till the tenth, as a result of French and English impor- 
tunity, to await the decision of the Senate. On their departure 
Hugh Wallace, the American Ambassador to France, was in- 
structed to take up the work relinquished by the American dele- 
gation and fo represent the United States in the various discus- 
sions and conferences. His powers are strictly limited, and word 
has since been given out at Washington that he has been author- 
ized to sit at the Council meetings only on matters having to do 
with the Hungarian and Bulgarian Treaties, without taking action 
on them, but in order to keep the United States Government in- 
formed about them. He will have nothing to say in any other 
business. 

Meanwhile, since the departure of the American delegation, 
Cl^menceau has visited London and had a three-days' conference 
with the English Premier. In this conference Italy's Foreign Min- 
ister, Vittorio Sciatoia, also participated. The object was the 
formation of a closer alliance between England and France in 
view of America's withdrawal from European affairs. France de- 
manded, in the absence of America, that England carry out her 
pledge to guarantee the former country against German attack. 

The plan of the League of Nations will be retained in the 
Anglo-French arrangements, as its great use as a piece of politi- 
cal machinery is recognized. Nevertheless, in the widest official 
as well as political circles of England, the League of Nations in its 
ideal sense, as it was originally intended, is now considered dead. 



558 RECENT EVENTS [Jan., 

One of the gravest questions affecting the entire international 
situation is that of the claims of Ireland; and unless the ques- 
tion of her rights and self government be settled the international 
situation will remain disturbed and disturbing. England and 
France, with Italy, have decided also to establish inter-allied mili- 
tary machinery, with Marshal Foch at its head, to insure that Ger- 
many lives up to her bargin. 

Despite the action of the Senate, hope is still entertained in 
France that America may be won to participation in European 
affairs. As a result of the London conference, the American 
Government will be notified that in order to facilitate a compro- 
mise between adverse parties in the United States Senate, the Al- 
lies are willing to accept, to as great an extent as possible, some 
of the reservations to the Versailles Treaty proposed by the Sen- 
ate Foreign Relations Committee. It is s^d the Allies will "do 
everything in order that America may participate in future con- 
ferences," and are willing that America shall take all the precau- 
tions she regards necessary to protect her own interests. 

Besides the terms of the new economic agreement between 
France and England, the London conference also considered the 
Fiume question. It is understood that the British and French 
representatives informed the Italian Foreign Minister that they 
would sponsor Italy's cause at Washington, but that no settle- 
ment of the Fiume problem would be acceptable unless it con- 
formed with President Wilson's conditions. 

The Jugo-Slavia delegates early in the month became a party 
to the Peace Treaties with Austria and Bulgaria, to which they 
have hitherto objected. The Supreme Council in agreement with 
the Jugo-Slav delegation, conceded certain modifications in the 
peace terms with Austria, notably the advancing of the date for 
payments to the Jugo-Slav State on reparations due it. Rumania 
also has signed the general Peace Treaty, as well as the Austrian 
and Hungarian Treaties, with the necessary provisions for minori- 
ties. The Bucharest delegates also declared their willingness to 
withdraw from Hungary to the boundary line laid down by the 
Peace Conference last June. The decision of Rumania to recede 
from her defiance of the Supreme Council has removed one of 
the ugliest problems of European politics. 



Late dispatches indicate that the Fiume 
Italy imbroglio is finally on the eve of settle- 

ment. According to report, an agreement 
between d'Annunzio and the Italian Government has been signed 



1920.] RECENT EVENTS 559 

by Premier Nitti and d'Annunzio, whereby the latter is to hand 
over the command of the city of Fiume to regular troops under 
General Caviglia, former Minister of War. This occupation of 
Fiume by Italian regular troops is considered merely in the nature 
of a trusteeship, pending a final decision of the Entente Powers 
as to the city's ultimate disposition. The Italian Government is 
said to be willing to take possession on these terms, feeling con- 
fident that its claims to Fiume are so manifest, its title must be 
recognized. In diplomatic circles it is said that the retirement of 
the American members of the Supreme Council probably would 
facilitate a settlement of the Fiume problem, which it was im- 
possible to obtain with American participation. OfScial an- 
nouncement concerning the Fiume arrangement is soon expected 
fiom the Italian Government. It acknowledges, in a sense, the 
right of Fiume to decide its own destiny according to the princi- 
ple of self-determination, and promises to do everything in its 
power to have a decision of the Fiume National Council accepted 
by the Allied and Associated Powers. At the same time it is be- 
lieved that d'Annunzio and his troops will be pardoned, the pa- 
triotic ideals which moved them to enter Fiume being taken as 
a mitigating circumstance. 

The recent Italian elections resulted, on the whole, in a vic- 
tory for the Socialists, the new Catholic party securing the next 
largest number of seats. The Socialists have elected one hundred 
and fifty-six members to the Chamber of Deputies and the Catho- 
lics one hundred and one. Both these parties have defined pro- 
grammes, are well organized, attend assiduously the sittings of 
the Chamber, and, in fact, work as regular parties. The remain- 
ing groups comprise a smaller number of adherents, so that alone 
and unsupported they cannot counterbalance the power of the 
above mentioned parties. The smaller groups include Radicals, 
who count only fifty-four Deputies; Reformist Socialists, led by 
Bissolati, who total twenty-five, and Republicans, who number 
about a dozen. There remain outside these parties or groups 
about one hundred and sixty Deputies. Thirty of these have 
formed a new group called "Group of National Reconstruction," 
comprising men of different political views, who fought side by 
side in the War and are united by desire for concrete reforms 
necessary for the reconstruction of the national life. Most of the 
Deputies outside these regular parties and groups, represent 
moderate tendencies. The Socialists' success is ascribed to the 
general apathy of the voters, only sixty per cent of the Milan 
electors having voted, only thirty per cent in Rome, and only fif- 
teen per cent in Palermo. As all the Socialists voted, the news- 



560 RECENT EVENTS [Jan., 

papers point out that, had the other citizens troubled themselves 
to vote, they could have swamped the Socialists. It is declared 
that the voters were not attracted by the fact that, under the new 
electoral law, they had to vote for fifteen candidates instead of 
for one, as formerly. 

The new elements which have entered the Socialist Parlia- 
mentary group are declared to be animated by revolutionary sen- 
timents, and to favor an extreme policy which, in their opinion, 
will lead inevitably to the advent of Bolshevism in Italy. Since 
the election, the Chamber of Deputies has been the scene of num- 
erous outbreaks and demonstrations against the King and Gov- 
ernment, and, for a time, rumors of the wildest character re- 
garding the possibility of a serious crisis, involving not only the 
Cabinet but also the reigning house of Italy, were in circulation. 
Hope has been expressed by Premier Nitti that all the other 
parties will form a coalition against the Socialists. 

Because of public demonstrations in Rome on the opening 
of Parliament against the Socialist Deputies for their disloyal and 
pacifist attitude, a general strike was called by their sympathizers 
in the Labor Exchange. The strike continued for several days, 
with rioting and serious disorder, especially in Rome, Genoa, 
Turin, Milan, Mantua, Bologna and Florence. Order was finally 
restored by the military. As a result of the outbreak ten persons 
were killed, one hundred wounded, and one thousand placed 
under arrest. 

The chief cause for German delay in sign- 
Germany ing the protocol, preliminary to putting 

the Peace Treaty into effect, has been the 
German objection to reparation for the sinking of the interned 
German fleet at Scapa Flow last June ; and throughout the month 
there has been a constant exchange of notes on the subject be- 
tween the Government at Berlin and the Supreme Council. The 
Berlin authorities at first contended that the internment of the 
fleet at Scapa Flow did not constitute the final disposition of the 
warships, the sinking of which must not be charged to Germany, 
but to the Allies who interned the fleet in a British and not a 
neutral port, contrary to the stipulations of the armistice. More- 
over, they contended that Admiral von Reuter was cut off from 
communications with Germany and believed that the armistice 
ended at noon on June 21st. Therefore, in accordance with mari- 
time custom, he began sinking the fleet. The point was raised, 
also, that, as von Reuter was a prisoner, he had lost his command, 
and therefore Germany's responsibility for his acts ceased. 



1920.] RECENT EVENTS 661 

The British Admiralty in the beginning of December largely 
destroyed the foundation for this plea by publishing two letters, 
one from Admiral von Trotha» Chief of the German Admiralty, to 
Admiral von Renter, and the other. Admiral von Renter's com- 
munication to the commanding ofScers of the interned fleet. 
These letters were found in Admiral von Renter's safe in the 
salvage operations last July, on the German flagship Emden, 
Von Renter's communication, dated June 17th, gave orders to the 
commanding oflBcers "for necessary preparations for sinking their 
ships so as to insure that, on receipt of an order, they will sink as 
rapidly as possible." Von Trotha's letter, which is expressed 
in guarded phrases, says, among other things, with reference 
to the Versailles Peace Conference, that "the first condition will 
be that the ships remain German, and that their fate, whatever 
turn it may take under the pressure of the situation, will be con- 
summated by ourselves, and that their surrend^ to the enemy 
remains out of the question." As regards the means by which 
von Trotha was able to communicate with von Renter, it is noted 
that, on May 4th, a ship called the Dollart reached Scapa Flow 
from Germany, and on June 17th — the very day von Renter issued 
his order to sink the ships — two ships, the Bardenia and the 
Schleswig, also from Germany, arrived at Scapa Flow, bringing 
clothes and provisions for the interned crews. 

The German rejoinder to this disclosure alleged that the ob- 
jectionable passage from the von Trotha letter had not been 
properly translated, and that it was "out of context with the rest 
of the letter." On the threat of an ultimatum from the Supreme 
Council, however, Berlin, while waiving the question of guilt, 
finally agreed to repay for the Scapa Flow loss. Objection is 
made, however, to the manner of reparation suggested in the Al- 
lied demand for 400,000 tons of shipping, dock material, 
dredges, etc., "because the execution of the demands formulated 
in the protocol would compromise irretrievably Germany's eco- 
nomic life and also render impossible of execution the other enor- 
mous obligations which the Treaty imposes on Germany." Ber- 
lin proposed instead that compensation be made by the offer of 
such harbor material as can be spared without seriously disturb- 
ing Germany's economic life, the amount and the mode of com- 
pensation to be decided by a board of Allied and German ship- 
ping experts. To this the Supreme Council agreed, and this ship- 
ping board has since been constituted and is now in session. 
With this disposal of the Scapa Flow controversy, it is calculated 
that the Treaty between the Allies and Germany will be put into 
effect before January Ist. 

VOL. cac* 36 



562 RECENT EVENTS [Jan., 

The long-discussed question, what to do with the German 
U-boats, was recently settled, when the Supreme Council decided 
that they should all be sunk with the exception of ten, which will 
be given to France. There are between ninety and one hundred 
U-boats, most of them now in English ports. It was decided to 
give the ten submarines to France, because she was not able to 
build submarines to any great extent during the War on account 
of her facilities being devoted to the manufacture of munitions 
for the Allies. Italy is to receive the Austrian submarines. The 
Supreme Council also adopted the British suggestion for the par- 
tition of the German war fleet. Under the arrangement Great 
Britain will receive seventy per cent of the total tonnage ; France, 
ten per cent; Japan, eight per cent, Italy, ten per cent, and the 
United States, two per cent. 

According to a recent announcement in the House of Com- 
mons by Winston Spencer Churchill, British Secretary for War, 
the Germans have handed over to the Allies 5,000 guns, 25,000 ma- 
chine guns, 3,000 trench mortars, and 1,700 aeroplanes. They 
have still to deliver forty-two locomotives and 4,760 railway trucks. 

The authorities at Berlin are greatly disappointed by the fail- 
ure of the Premium Bond Loan. Five billion marks, it was thought, 
would be subscribed, but the amount will fall considerably short 
of four billion. The Government will subscribe in order to bring 
the figure up to the last-mentioned amount. The lack of success 
is all the more remarkable in view of the long and costly campaign 
by which the Government endeavored to persuade people to sub- 
scribe. The failure of the loan is variously ascribed to lack of 
confidence in the Government's financial measures, to the un- 
compromising attitude of the Entente, to internal political trou- 
bles, and to depreciation in the value of German money. 

The tax measure proposed on December 3d before the 
National Assembly by Mathias Erzberger, Minister of Finance, 
is also the subject of severe criticism. The capital levy, it is said, 
''will leave Germany bloodless and make economic recuperation 
impossible." In Hamburg the feeling against the levy is par- 
ticularly strong. In view of the strong hostility of banking and 
financial interests, it is rumored that the Government intends to 
withdraw the measure. 

According to competent observers there is no immediate 
danger of a successful movement under military leadership, and 
the monarchial element, though loud, seems confined to certain 
sections and to be without general influence. There is some fear 
of Bolshevism, however, especially if the coming winter is very 
cold and Lenine succeeds in penetrating the country and orgaur 



X920.] RECENT EVENTS 563 

izing his forces. Fear is also expressed that if the Allies do not 
mitigate their present policy, cold and hunger may drive the 
people to anarchy. 

Meanwhile the present Government hangs on, and even if 
there are some changes in the ministerial coalition, it is felt that 
the bloc is too strong to be ousted by anything short of a revolu- 
tion. This coalition of majority Socialists, Centrists, and Demo- 
crats has three hundred and twenty-seven seats out of a total 
of four hundred and twenty in the National Assembly, and, de- 
spite internal quarrels and jealousies, it is generally thought fear 
of the reactionaries on the one side and of the Spartacides on the 
other, will keep the coalition intact until the spring elections. 

The rise in the curve of labor employment and production 
is the one bright spot of the German situation. This movement 
has been steady, and production in the mines, shipyards and gen- 
eral industries has reached a level approaching the pre-war basis. 
The depreciation of the mark, however, still continues, and for 
this adverse condition there seems to be no remedy. The Govern- 
ment printing presses are turning out marks at the rate of 70,000,- 
000 a day, 13,000,000 of which represents new paper money put 
into circulation. 

December 20th. 



With Our Readers. 

FATHER HECKER AND PRESENT PROBLEMS. 

BY THE EDITOR. 

THE curtain of time folds about some great and holy men as 
the mantle of a prophet. Events prove that, in some way, they 
had the power to forecast the years: to extend their gaze, and 
events show the present interest of their estimate, their zeal, their 
judgment. 

On December 18, 1819, over one hundred years ago, Father 
Isaac T. Hecker was born. He founded this magazine, The 
Catholic World, in 1865. 

As we face a new year, it is our purpose to review the life, 
aims and work of Father Hecker in as far as they show how he 
anticipated the crisis which the world now faces, and what means 
he outlined to meet that crisis. 

FATHER HECKER was an intense, aggressive Catholic priest 
and apostle. He was consumed by love of Catholic truth and 
he gave himself completely to its service. He was not content 
with half measures. He realized what Father Lattey says in his 
recent volume. Back to Christ: "Christ asked for all, and asked 
for it as His right." "Divine Love is infinitely active," as Father 
Hecker would say, and Divine Love in the Person of the Holy 
Spirit dwells within the soul. Father Hecker borrowed of this 
infinite activity: hence his ceaseless energy, his desire that every 
power of the individual, in its fullness, be actively devoted to the 
cause of Christ. 

To Father Hecker the Church was God's voice upon earth. 
As God's creative goodness extended to every order and portion 
of His universe, so the truth of the Catholic Church would vivify, 
explain, redeem and sanctify every field of human activity and 
every faculty and power of man. As the light from heaven it 
was the light for this world and for us who dwell for a time 
therein. He was consumed with zeal to carry it, and have every 
other Catholic carry it, to the ends of the earth. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

DEFINITE Christian truth alone can satisfy the soul: lacking 
it, the soul still hungers, and its hunger must be satisfied. Many 
thus made destitute have attempted to console themselves with 
the preaching that one ought to forget self and give self entirely 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 565 

to others ! The essence and fullness of Christianity, such preach- 
ing maintains, is social service. Never to think of self: to find 
self-perfection simply in serving others. The acceptance of this 
preaching leads to the utter rout of the soul. It leads to forget- 
fulness of all definite laws of self-perfection: of those sacred 
obligations that are the stronghold of man's dignity and man's 
worth. It robs the heart of those high personal standards, inde- 
pendent of all others, which should be held inviolate were death 
and disaster to descend upon the whole world. It submerges the 
individual under the waves of the world's tragedy, and the world's 
suffering. What one has not, one cannot give to others. The 
body may be clothed by him: but the soul will still cry out un- 
answered, uncomforted. 

So the modern world is being confounded by its own gospel 
of human altruism. Its hunger has led it to seek food: but the 
food it can get of itself only leaves its hunger more unsatisfied 
and torturing. Having no personal faith in a personal God, it 
cannot feed itself; having no food for itself it cannot feed others. 
Bread and the circus may have delayed, they did not avert the fall 
of Rome. Welfare work only palliates and postpones; man seeks 
justice and the right to live according to his independent dignity, 
his personal worth. To limit humanity to itself is to write down 
humanity as both hopeless and helpless. The history of the race 
and the experience of the individual confirm this. 



FAITH in a personal God as our Creator, demands the union 
of the soul with God. Faith in Jesus Christ as our Saviour, 
demands the perfect obedience of the individual to Christ: an ac- 
ceptance, an obedience to all His revealed truths and to all His 
commandments. It means the surrender of self to Him Who is 
our life: an intimate union than which nothing is more tem- 
porally or eternally important. That union is the rule of our 
relations with others : it is Christ in us and as He is our Saviour 
so only, through union with Him, can we be saviour, helper, 
guide or comforter to others. FromT Him radiates the light of the 
world: only inasmuch as we are in Him may we radiate light to 
others. Personal perfection is the first, the constant and the last 
work of each Christian soul. All his other labors and his good 
works are measured by its strength, its fidelity, its growth. Only 
in the measure of his perfection can he aid his fellowmen. He 
may have riches and distribute his goods to feed the poor, but 
unless he have charity, it profiteth him nothing. 

is the grace of God : it is the favor of God : it is the 



566 WITH OUR READERS [Jan., 

union, the life of the soul with and in God. It is the life of God, 
the Holy Spirit, living, reigning within us, by Whom we know 
that we are the temples of His indwelling Self. 

This is the crowning work of Christ Who, through Himself, 
has brought to our souls the Holy Spirit, the Sanctifier. 

♦ ♦ 4t 4t 

TO keep, to perfect this life with and in the Holy Spirit, is the 
first and greatest care of every one of us. All other work will 
be vain without it. It is the source of our own peace and strength 
and purity and unselfishness. It is known under various titles — 
the life of prayer, the interior life, the spiritual life. 

We may, therefore, rightly ask: what will be the issue of all 
our human endeavors, of all our efforts, of all our reconstruction 
programmes unless they be informed by this interior spirit, seek- 
ing its guidance from prayer, from love of the sacraments, from 
personal devotion to the Holy Spirit? The world may laugh the 
true answer to scorn : as the world may not understand one who 
gives up all to spend his days in prayer. But the world knows 
not its own evils nor their cure. 



FATHER HECKER not only foresaw the urgent need of the wide 
cultivation of this interior spirit life, but he himself was an il- 
lustrious example of it. His whole life was a life of prayer. He 
sought solitude in the first days of his Catholic life. He begrudged 
the hours necessary for study because they intruded upon his 
hours of prayer. He often speaks of the favors he gained therein. 
It was the sole sustaining strength of his great mission. He knew 
the world of his fellowmen. No one realized more clearly than 
he the social and economic injustices of his day. No man felt 
more keenly and more deeply the spiritual destitution of those 
who were without the true Faith: with apostolic spirit he 
yearned to go to them and help. Yet he realized that his success 
would be measured by his own interior life with the Holy Spirit 
of God: to lose or impair that union, was to threaten every ex- 
ternal act to which he might put his hand. Intellectual gifts : zeal 
of the heart: untiring labor of the body — ^these he might possess, 
these could win him distraction and forgetfulness in the glory and 
honor of external work — but they would fail, both for himself and 
for others, unless he kept not alone the touch of, but intimate 
union with the Holy Spirit, unless, indeed, his life were hidden 
with Christ in God. 

He was blessed with a great mission to his fellow Americans. 
He was a leader of his time and of times to come. He is to us an 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 567 

inspiration. But if we take at all the lesson of his life, we must 
grasp, first of all, the lesson of continued and abiding prayer : of 
learning to live in the presence of God : of seeking the guidance of 
the Holy Spirit within us, not only for every act and for every 
work but for that power of initiation, that courage of achievement, 
that passion for perfection which, in turn, are begotten of and 
crowned by the Holy Spirit within us. 



THESE should be commonplace truths to every Catholic. As 
the Catechism of the Council of Trent tells us : "The pastor 
must also teach that there are certain admirable effects, and cer- 
tain most ample gifts of the Holy Ghost, which are said to orig- 
inate and emanate from Him, as from a perennial fountain of 
goodness. For, although the extrinsic works of the Most Holy 
Trinity are common to the Three Persons, yet many of them are 
attributed especially to the Holy Ghost, to give us to understand 
that they proceed from the boundless love of God towards us: 
for as the Holy Ghost proceeds from the Di\dne Will, inflamed 
as it were with love, we can comprehend that these effects, which 
are referred particularly to the Holy Ghost, arise from the ex- 
tieme love of God towards us." 

The Church constantly calls us to prayer. It calls us to it more 
insistently today. In this diocese, for example. His Grace the 
Archbishop has appointed an entire week for thoughtful prayer 
before the Blessed Sacrament, solemnly set in exposition. It is 
that aged call of the Church with two appeals that are really as 
one. An appeal for the suffering world that God may look upon 
it in mercy; an appeal that we may be more devout, more prayer- 
ful, more interior. Love of the Holy Spirit will lead us to answer 
with ready hearts. As Father Hecker said: "The measure of our 
love for the Holy Spirit is the measure of our obedience to the 
authority of the Church, and the measure of our obedience to the 
authority of the Church is the measure of our love for the Holy 
Spirit." 

♦ * * * 

THIS interior spirit was the secret of Father Hecker's confi- 
dence : of his peace : of his strength, which despite the de- 
pression of adverse circumstance and unjust criticism, expressed 
itself in Christian humor and even gayety. In his own day he heard 
some of the doubts that have been repeated in ours. A clergyman 
told him that "Dr. Newman" (not as yet Cardinal) said, when he 
was told that Father Hecker intended to found the Paulists : "Oh 
yes; the Americans do not know what obedience is»" and Hecker 



568 WITH OUR READERS [Jan., 

answers : "As our Holy Father is not unwilling to give us encour- 
agement, let us indulge the hope that our Divine Master will not 
refuse some little out of the way corner in heaven to his unworthy 
servants, and 'rebels/*' 

He had undertaken the seemingly impossible task of 
converting America to the Catholic Faith. The commnuity of 
Paulists in 1865 numbered seven priests. Father Baker one of 
the ablest and most beloved died. Father Hecker wrote, in a letter 
to a friend in Europe: ''We are only six. Two of these quite 
broken down. A fine set of fellows are we to set afoot the con- 
version 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 for the con- 
tinent. But — But what? Anyhow we intend to live, work and 
die bravely. And as for the rest, let those who follow look to it." 

He gave the example and the secret of his interior life. '*Men 
whose souls are actuated by the gifts of the Holy Spirit; men 
whose countenances are lit up with a heavenly joy, who breathe 
an air of inward peace and act with a holy liberty and a resistless 
energy," were, he declared, the need of the day. So he could 
write : "Father Baker's death has energized me in all directions." 



BUT he who so believed in the zeal and perfection of the ex- 
ternal work : in giving all one had to God, believed also that 
he could not so give, or that the giving would be fruitless, unless 
it was wholly fired by an interior life of personal perfection and 
of constant prayer and recollection. 

"Peace is gained by a wise inaction, he declared, and strength 
by integral resignation to God, Who will do all, and more than 
we, with the boldest imagination, can fancy or desire." "The 
Church asks for men, not cyphers or cripples" — but it was the 
Church that asked for them as her children. And "the enlargement 
of the field of action for the soul, without a true knowledge of the 
end and scope of the external authority of the Church, would only 
open the door to delusions, errors, and heresies of every descrip- 
tion, and would be in effect merely another form of Protestantism." 

Father Hecker repudiated utterly and, in that repudiation, 
anticipated the modern philosophy that preaches as man's high- 
est perfection the free expression of himself: to know life to its 
fullest emotional possibilities — such a philosophy as was voiced, 
in his earlier years, by the poet, Alan Seegar — ^"to act out your- 
self," "obey your instincts," "assert your manhood," was, in Father 
Hecker's words, "to lose one's manhood." These extravagant 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 569 

efforts to magnify man were, according to him, the natural re- 
bound from the opposite extreme of Calvinism. 

The mistake made by souls that were led astray by such in- 
dividual independence or by too great an absorption in external 
work arose, according to Father Hecker, "from their not sufS- 
ciently appreciating the necessity of the authority and discipline 
of the Church, as the safeguards of the soul." 

As he saw clearly, and preached constantly the integrity of 
God's universe, the perfect synthesis of all truth, of reason and 
of revelation, of nature and of the supernatural, of how Christ is 
the Alpha and Omega of truth to men, and the Church, His voice, 
so Father Hecker also saw and lived what may be termed the in- 
tegrity and fullness of the Christian's spiritual life — ^the office 
and power of the Holy Spirit to sanctify by His supernatural gifts 
all our natural gifts and to make the entire man resplendent 
with the grace and power of God. "Now when the soul sees that 
the external authority is animated by the same divine Spirit, with 
Whose interior promptings it is most anxious to comply; when it 
appreciates that the aim of external authority is to keep it from 
straying from the guidance of the indwelling divine Spirit, then 
obedience to authority becomes easy, and the fulfillment of its 
commands the source of increased joy and greater liberty, not 
an irksome task or a crushing burden. This union of the inner and 
outer divine action is the secret source of Catholic life; the inward 
principle prompts the obedience of Catholics to the divine external 
authority of the holy Church. From this is born the conscious- 
ness of the soul's filiation with God, whence flows that perfect 
love and liberty which always accompanies this divine sonship." 



BY cherishing and cultivating this interior life of prayer we 
become not only faithful children but faithful missionaries 
of the Church. Father Hecker saw how the sphere of the in- 
dividual was to be widened in the modern world. He saw how 
effective for good or for evil might be the personal example of 
every Catholic. Out in the marketplace, in shop or in office the 
individual man or woman would have the opportunity to explain 
the doctrines of the Church: to lay down the right ethical 
principle on a social, economic or labor question. Father Hecker 
so loved, so appreciated dogmas that he saw and championed what 
few of us see, yet what is so necessary for us to see, particularly 
today if the world is to be restored to Christ. Nothing with him 
was unaffected by or independent of Catholic dogma. "Every 
religious dogma," he wrote, "has a special bearing on political 



570 WITH OUR READERS [Jan.. 

society." Therefore he worked for a well-informed, intelligent 
Catholic laity. He labored untiringly for a great Catholic press, 
for books, pamphlets, tracts, even for a Catholic daily. He would 
fire others with like enthusiasm. He wanted the individual Cath- 
olic layman not only to be prepared, but actually to speak: to be 
aggressive: vigilant of opportunity: with initiative and energy: 
carrying into every corner, to every ear that would listen, the 
message of the Catholic Church. 

Was there ever an hour when his message and inspiration 
were needed more than now? The Holy Father may speak. But 
what of his message if we do not study and imitate and follow it. 
Our appointed leaders, the bishops, may lead and plan and urge. 
But what of their work, if it be not taken up and made vigorous 
with far extending life by our hands? 

Now according to Father Hecker, "to be guided by God's 
Church is to be guided by God." He prayed that every Catholic 
should see this, and he believed that, once seeing, the zeal and 
activity of the Catholic laity would know no limit. "What we 
need today is men whose spirit is that of the early martyrs." 
And Father Hecker believed that the very opportunities and needs 
of the day would play their part, under God, in fostering such 
enthusiasm and such sacrifice. "The Church is the sum of all 
problems, and the most potent fact in the whole wide universe. 
It is therefore illogical to look elsewhere for the radical remedy 
of all our evils. It is equally unworthy of a Catholic to look 
elsewhere for the renewal of religion." 



FATHER HECKER saw and foresaw the growth of democracy 
throughout the world. With us that growth is common- 
place. To some, who lacked the insight of Father Hecker, the 
American Republic sixty years ago was not only a dangerous 
but an un-Catholic and even anti-Catholic experiment. De Maistre 
said this country would not last, and The Dublin Review in 1865 
foretold the speedy disruption and downfall of the United States. 

Today we are praying that the new republics of the world 
be as fair in their constitutions as is our own country. The Holy 
Father recommended to the new Czecho-Slovak Republic the Con- 
stitution of the United States as a model. Father Hecker was as 
conscious as any one of the predominant Protestant sentiment in 
America; he saw greater persecution of the Church and of 
Catholics than we have seen. But he also saw that the Consti- 
tution of the United States was not un-Catholic or anti-Catholic: 
that under it Catholics might work with freedom : that its princi- 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 571 

pies, if rightly carried out to their full logical term, would lead 
to Catholic truth, as of Catholic truth they were born. 

"He whose intellectual vision is open to the light of first 
principles and their main bearings, and is not altogether a stranger 
to true history, knows full well that the Catholic Church has 
battled her whole lifetime for those rights of man and that liberty 
which confer the greatest glory on the American Republic." 

''It is an error, radical and gross, to say that the basis of the 
American character is the spirit of political and religious rebel- 
lion." "They want to make out that the American States claim 
to be indifferent to religion. They accuse us of having a theory 
of government which ignores the moral precepts of the natural 
law and of the Gospel. Such is not the case, and never has been 
from the beginning. This is a false interpretation of the Amer- 
ican States." 

And as it was founded on justice: as it gave the greater re- 
sponsibility to the individual, so Father Hecker saw the golden 
opportunity of showing the true American that his very first 
principles were a preparatory declaration of the Catholic Faith/ 
Father Hecker had no misgivings: he did not demand the Amer- 
ican form of government for all nations of the world. He 
would not say that in other countries it would he fulfilled nor 
fulfill the mission it had here. "The Catholic Church has flour- 
ished under all forms of government." "Neither do we wish to 
plant our American ideas in the soil of other nations. The mis- 
sion of the American Catholic is not to propagate his form of 
government in any other country." The American loved liberty 
and since he loved it, he could be led to love the truth that was its 
sole foundation. "Protestantism as a religious system was an in- 
sult to all ideas of freedom." America was free in good measure 
from the religious passions and prejudices of the Old World. In a 
new land the people had to stand together to form a new country. 
Many would be willing to listen : "If the Catholic religion were pre- 
sented to their attention without exaggerations and in the light of 
its real character, the more impartial and intelligent minds would 
assimilate this knowledge." 



TO Father Hecker this was not alone a mission to Protestants 
as such, that is those who retained some positive belief in 
parts of the Christian creed. He saw the rapid drift of Protestan- 
tism towards Unitarianism, for such it is in great measure today, 
in spite of its various names — ^and that from Unitarianism it 
would drift to Universalism. He saw the undermining of all 



572 WITH OUR READERS [Jan^ 

Christian truth : as the Catholic Faith was **the mother of civiliza- 
tion," so he saw what we are seeing, civilization itself threatened. 
He anticipated the appeal we must make for the world's recov- 
ery, an appeal to the reason of man: to the things he still holds 
dear, showing him that their only security is Catholic teaching 
and Catholic doctrine. It is the commonplaces of life and the 
fundamentals of society that are threatened. 

"Democracy is the spirit of the age," said Father Hecker, and 
he prophesied it would sweep the world. But the safeguard of 
democracy, indeed the mother of it, is the Catholic Church. 
They who know not Christian truth nor Christian history know 
not how to treasure and to guard it. They use it to their own 
destruction. They pervert it and make it the instrunient of law- 
lessness and irresponsibility and disorder. They who so misuse 
it, also use it as a weapon against the Church. It is for us not 
to crush what is good therein: but to nurture the good: to show 
its guarantee: to expose the errors: to give sight to the blind 
by the saving waters of God's truths. "Satan seizes hold of the 
noblest aspirations of the soul, and by deceiving men under the 
guise of a real good, leads them quite astray. For what under- 
lies the promises of Protestanism and its innumerable sects: and 
rationalism, so called and its different phases, and the secularists, 
religious radicals, materialists, revolutionists, socialists, inter- 
nationalists . . . for their name is legion and their confusion of 
tongues is as great as that of Babel — ^what underlies their prom- 
ises is in one aspect true and in a sense desirable. The right an- 
swer to all their fine promises is this : Tou afiBrm some undoubted 
truths and you hold out a desirable good; but the way that you 
point out for realizing the one and attaining the other is sub<- 
versive of all truth and the supreme good, and it will not reach 
even what you aim at, but end in entire disappointment and an- 
archy. Put together the fragmentary truths afiBrmed by each of 
your different religious sects, and you will find them all con- 
tained in Catholicity. Make a list of all the honest demands for 
ameliorations and reforms in man's social, industrilil, and politi- 
cal condition — ^it will not be a short one — ^and you will discover 
that they have their truth in the spirit, and are justified by the 
teachings -and the practice, of the Catholic Church.' O sincere 
seeker after truth ! Did you but know it, the path lies open bef ose 
you to a perennial fountain of truth, where you can slake to the 
full that thirst which has so long tormented your soul. O sincere 
lover of your fellowmen ! There is a living body which you may 
enter and cooperate with, whose divine action is realizing a 
heavenly vision for the whole human race, brighter and more 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 573 

beautiful than the ideal, which so often haunts your lonely 
dreams!" 

So Father Hecker catalogued two great movements in the 
world: the Catholic Church that taught the ways of justice here 
for man: of peace and of order and the way of eternal life; and 
the forces of revolution, of godlessness, of disorder and of decay, 
that won influence only because they are able to deceive men. 
No writer of the present day could give a clearer synopsis of the 
world's condition. And Father Hecker concludes : "Only the uni- 
versal principles of reason and revelation grasped and welded by 
such an organic world power as the Catholic Church, can guide 
aright the tumultuous masses of mankind when the transition from 
one phase of civilization to another has begun." 

^^j^pATHER HECKER saw very clearly the need of Catholic edu- 
I cation. We see that secular education has sown the seeds 
of personal irresponsibility: of ignorance of the moral law: of 
forgetfulness of God. Father Hecker wrote: "It is clear that the 
chief aim of the advocates of the present public-school system in 
the United States is less the desire for general diffusion of 
knowledge than the advancement of a pet theory of education; 
and many of them insist upon its exclusive adoption, because they 
imagine that its spirit and tendency are against the spread and 
progress of the Catholic faith. They are blind to the fact that 
it is equally destructive to every form of the Christian faith; 
that it leaves, because of its practical inefficiency, thousands of 
children in ignorance; that it does violence to the religious con- 
victions of a large body of citizens of the Republic; that it tram- 
ples upon the sacred rights of parents, and endangers the State 
itself by perverting its action from its legitimate function. 'Heat 
not a furnace so hot that it doth singe yourself is good advice. 
The so-called American public-school system is a cunningly- 
devised scheme, under the show of zeal for popular education, to 
force the State, in violation of American principles of liberty, to 
impose an unjust and heavy tax on its citizens, with the intent 
of injuring the Catholic Church while in the meantime it is sapping 
in the minds of the American youth the foundations of all religion 
and driving them into infidelity." 

TO him was evident the need of widespread, energetic work 
on the part of Catholics. As in the past, the Catholic Church 
inaugurated and led in works of social welfare and social better- 
ment so should we lead today. "The great majority of her (the 



574 WITH OUR READERS [Jan., 

Church's) saints were men and women whose hearts were over- 
flowing with warm and active sympathy for their race, consecrat- 
ing their energies to its improvement spiritually, intellectually, 
morally, and bodily, and not seldom laying down their lives for 
its sake." 

He foresaw that women, as of old, were again to be leaders 
in the work. In the old and in the new fields of endeavor, they 
would bear the message of Catholic loyalty and Catholic truth, and 
extend the kingdom of God on earth. The signal services ren- 
dered by Catholic women during the crucial days of the War, 
both at home and abroad under the direction of the National 
Catholic War Council, have been a singular vindication of his 
prescience of the wider field and the greater need of the mission 
of Catholic women in social work. 



HE anticipated the modern objection that the Church had no 
concern for men's welfare here: but only for his life here- 
after. 'The Catholic Church places no gulf between God and 
humanity, or divorce between heaven and earth, or antagonism 
between revelation and reason, or religion and science; and she 
repudiates the doctrine which emphasizes faith at the expense 
of good works. Hence the accusation of modern infidels against 
Christianity, as confining itself exclusively to man's happiness 
hereafter — *a post-mortem happiness' — ^while ignoring his actual, 
present good — ^is altogether false when made against the Catholic 
Church." 

And to the much agitated question of Christian unity. 
Father Hecker gave what must be always the only true answer: 
"The only road open for us to be Christians, consistent with 
reason, with moral rectitude, and with a proper respect for our- 
selves, is to become Catholic. For the expositions of Christian 
doctrines by the Catholic Church are consonant with the dictates 
of reason, in harmony with our moral feelings, and favorable to 
the highest conceptions of the dignity of human nature." 

* * 4t 4t 

WE may well end this review with Father Hecker's estimate of 
what kind of men this age demands if we are to win back the 
world to Christ: 

"The age is superficial; it needs the gift of Wisdom, which 
enables the soul to contemplate truth in its ultimate causes. The 
age is materialistic; it needs the gift of Intelligence, by the light 
of which the intellect penetrates into the essence of things. The 
age is captivated by a false and one-sided science; it needs the 



1020.] WITH OUR READERS 575 

gift of Science, by the light of which is seen each order of truth 
in its true relations to other orders and in a divine unity. The 
age is in disorder and is ignorant of the way to true 
progress; it needs the gift of Counsel, which teaches how 
to choose the proper means to attain an object. The 
age is impious; it needs the gift of Piety, which leads the soul 
to look up to God as the Heavenly Father, and to adore Him with 
feelings of filial affection and love. The age is sensual and effem- 
inate; it needs the gift of Fortitude which imparts to the will 
the strength to endure the greatest burdens, and to prosecute the 
greatest enterprises with ease and heroism. The age has lost and 
almost forgotten God; it needs the gift of Fear to bring the soul 
again to God, and make it feel conscious of its responsibility and 
of its destiny. Men endowed with these gifts are the men for 
whom, if it but knew it, the age calls. Men whose minds are en- 
lightened and whose wills are strengthened by an increased action 
of the Holy Spirit. Men whose souls are actuated by the gifts 
of the Holy Spirit. Men whose countenances are lit up with 
a heavenly joy, who breathe an air of inward peace, and act with 
a holy liberty and a resistless energy. One such soul does more 
to advance the kingdom of God than tens of thousands without 
those gifts. These are the men and this is the way, if the age 
could only be made to see and believe it, to universal restoration, 
universal reconciliation, and universal progress, as far as such 
boons are attainable." 



IN line with the need for prayer to solve correctly the problems of 
our times, comes the annual invitation to unite in the Octave of 
our times, comes the annual invitation to unite in the Octave of 
Prayer for Church Unity, beginning January 18th, the Feast of St. 
Peter at Rome, and ending on January 25th, the Feast of the 
Conversion of St. Paul. 

We earnestly recommend this pious custom to our readers. 
By it they become incorporated in the work of the Church mili- 
tant, ever striving to realize the words of Our Lord : "That they all 
may be one, as Thou, Father, in Me and I in Thee ; that they may 
also be one in Us; that the world may believe that Thou has sent 
Me." 



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The WeU Known Biblical Scholar of St. Joseph's 
Seminary, Dunwoodie, New York 



^nr^HIS is the first of a series of Biblical 
Primers to be published. It sum- 
marizes Sacred History from the crea- 
tion of the world to the coming of 
Our Blessed Lord. The book is well 
printed in handy size. It is enriched 
with illustrations and appropriate maps. 
An excellent volume to be in the 
hands of pupils beginning a Scripture 
Course, 




THE 



O-tholicll^rld 



Vol. ex. 



FEBRUARY. 1920 



No. 659 




THE CONSERVATIVE MIND.* 

BY WILLIAM J. KERBY, PH.D. 

OME years ago the newspapers reported the efforts 
of two scientists to construct flying machines. Of 
one it was said that he worked on Vight theories 
but could not fly. Of the other it was said that 
he was working on wrong theories and could fly. 
As a matter of fact, the Wright brothers tell us that they found 
traditional scientific data unreliable and they were compelled 
to depend upon their own investigations in solving the problem 
of the airship. We behold here another aspect of the ages 
old diff'erence between theory and practice, between fact and 
principle, between thinking and doing. 

In the social order, theories are aristocratic while facts 
are plebeian. Call any plausible guess by the name hypothesis 
or law or theory or principle and at once it moves about like a 

1 An cITnrt Is nuiclc lii this study to describe conservatism and radicalism as 
social tendencies, and to call attention to popular estimates of them which fail to 
take account of moral and spiritual values. Once the social mind surrenders belief 
In objective truth and separates striving for Justice fiom the divine law of Justice, 
the basis of tiie spiritual Judgment of life Is lost. Ihe writer hopes to complete 
this study by a later article on the place of the Church in the soilil order. As 
a spiritual, moral and social force she touclies all social interests and olfers the 
basis upon which we rest the solution of our social problems. Her belief In ob- 
jective truth and In the inviolable supremacy of the moral law has far-reaching 
social consequtMices. It is in this nlone that we may And guidance between the 
extremes of conservatism and radicalism which are ever recurrent In human society. 

The term "radicalism** is used to indicate the general tendency toward changes 
in the social order rather tluin the Irmentable extremes which are now so lawless 
and fbumerous. 1*lie term ^'conservatism** relates to views and standards wliich 
develop in tlie ortii.iarj' processes of social and political life, seen as such. The 
term "theory** is tal^en to indicate any view accepted or proposed as the basis of 
• sfH*iaI Institution. In this sense It may be false or true. Many of tlie theories 
of Indiviiliuilism once accepted as true, are now repudiated as false. 

Copyright. I»a0. The Missionaby Society of St, Pavl tub Apostls 



i:< TBI State of New Yobk. 



fOi^ CZ* 8' 



I 



578 THE CONSERVATIVE MIND [Feb^ 

grand seigneur. It mounts a throne and, in LowelPs phrase, 
asks facts to pause and do it courtesy as they pass by. A the- 
ory cannot harm a fact, but the tiniest fact may upset a whole 
philosophy. Hence, when a fact threatens a view, one who 
holds to the latter feels an impulse to deny the former. A 
scholar was asked how he accounted for a certain well- 
authenticated fact which was at variance with his philosophy. 
He answered quite directly and simply, ^1 do not attempt to 
account for the fact. I deny it." 

A taste for theories disturbs one's liking for facts and 
tends to interfere with one's judgment of them. This occurs 
because theories or generalizations do not take hold of entire 
facts. They touch them only at points; whereas it is in the 
nature of a fact to insist on plenary recognition. Theories 
avoid detail. Yet there is nothing in the universe except de- 
tail. Facts burden the mind and memory, overwhelming them. 
The mind has devised generalizations by which it can handle 
enormous quantities of facts with greatest ease. The Infinite 
does not generalize. It sees comprehensively every item in the 
universe. 

Nature knows well that both theory and fact are es- 
sential in social life. Hence, she has wisely provided types 
of mind with a liking for each.V The coi^eryative J3 ihe apos- 
tle of^fact; the radical is the apostle of theory! The con- 
servative sees while the radical interprets. Each dislikes the 
other and mistrusts him. Each is the only medicine that can 
correct the constitutional disorders of the other. Each is com- 
plete in structure, but incomplete in function. Each is, to 
borrow Emerson's phrase, ''a good half but an impossible 
whole.*' Functionally the conservative mind just as it is, is 
of fundamental importance to our institutions. Since this is 
the case, the value of the conservative mind does not depend 
on its ability. An infant king sleeping in the royal cradle is 
just as useful in maintaining the stability of institutions as a 
philosopher, because the king is a symbol as well as person- 
ality. It is not alone conviction or ability makes the conserva- 
tive mighty. His greatness is derived also from his function. 

Nature works with a high factor of safety, hence she does 
not trust the security of institutions to the outcome of debate. 
In times of revolution, institutions are tested more or less by 
debate; hence, the peril of revolutions. What would become 



1920.] THE CONSERVATIVE MIND 579 

of the stability of the social order, of sanctions, standards and 
parties, of the varied institutions of property, of the settled 
adjustments of thought and feeling which is the social order, 
if one could by reasoning alone unsettle the conservative mind? 
Nature is deeply interested in the conservative attitude, but 
she is less concerned about conservative arguments. It is vital 
that radical changes be resisted in order to slow them down. 
Civilization has established a speed law for reform which the 
radical constantly violates. It is imperative that change be 
opposed. That it is opposed sometimes unfairly, sometimes 
with strange dullnesss, intolerance and delusion, is of no par- 
ticular consequence to nature, whatever be the judgment of 
logic about such things. Logic is petulant with conservatism 
because it argues badly at times, but nature does not worry. 
The conservative may be wrong to his heart's content in argu- 
ment if he be right in his attitude. 

Nature must protect conservative leaders against their 
own limitations. If President Wilson could be swayed and 
compelled by the arguments of Mr. Gompers, if Mr. 
Gompers could be bested in argument by Mr. Debs, and 
if Mr. Debs could be argued out of his radicalism by a single 
taxer, our institutions would melt into hopeless confusion. 
The foundations of the social order are not made out of 
syllogisms. They are constructed from convictions. Hence 
we find the value to civilization of the organic and persistent 
repugnance that the conservative mind feels for all that the 
radical is, and for much that he represents. Were the situa- 
tion otherwise, our safety would lie only in suppressing 
all radicals who could argue well. Where the earth is per- 
fectly flat, surface waters, unless they are absorbed, become 
stagnant and offensive. Nature provides against this diflB- 
culty by varying the smf ace of the earth in order to insure 
satisfactory drainage. The waters flow with the slant of the 
surface. Nature gives a slant to the human mind. Arguments 
flow in obedience to a law of mental gravitation along oiur 
mental slants. Prejudice, illusion, philosophy, fixed concep- 
tions of loyalty to a policy, a conviction or a leader, as these 
are found in the conservative mind, protect it effectively 
against the floods of argument poured upon it by the radical. 
Thus the argument of the radical as it affects the conservative 
may be described in the happy mixed metaphor of a popular 



680 THE CONSERVATIVE MIND [Feb^ 

orator, as resembling ^'water on a duck's back, in one ear and 
out the other.'* 

**Congress believes in what is and is opposed to what ought 
to be," said a United States Senator some years ago in address- 
ing a convention of architects. This statement gives us the sit- 
uation in a nutshell. The conservative is the prophet of es- 
tablishment, of the fact, of what is. Logic, theories and 
ideals, marshal their forces and attack him but he remains 
unfearing and undisturbed. His attitudes are deeper than the 
penetrating power of any adverse argument. They are below 
the frost line. Hence, surface variations of heat and cold do 
not reach them. The conservative mind is the safety deposit 
vault of civilization with a time lock which nature herself 
opens with slow caution. The conservative is door-keeper of 
the temple of progress. He feels that he is the trustee of civil- 
ization, the sealer of the ethical weights and measures in the 
terms of which the transactions of life must be conducted. 

The practical conservative does not see any particular rela- 
tion between the truth of a statement and the proof of it. After 
all, as the world goes, debate consists largely in measuring 
your information against mine. It is a comparing of items of 
knowledge in order to determine him among a number who 
has the greater amount and the better command of it, just as 
boys count and compare their marbles. The winner is secure 
until another boy with more marbles joins the circle. The 
conservative has power of attorney conferred upon him by 
nature, but she revokes it at will. He is essentially pragmatic. 
Institutions have worked; therefore they are right. Institu- 
tions are working; therefore the presumption is in their favor. 
No institution is universal in its effects; therefore, we must 
be tolerant of much of our failure and we must make supple- 
mentary provision for the situations in which we fail. 

The radical on the contrary, sees a profound relation be- 
tween the proof of a statement and the truth of it. On this 
account he loves to argue. He thinks that all of his mental 
processes obey syllogisms as loyal subjects obey a king whom 
they love. Hence the radical believes in debate, loves it» chal- 
lenges the conservative to joint debate on evei'y possible occa- 
sion. Yet it is all illusion, for the mental processes of the radi- 
cal obey his mental slant with the uniformity of a law. Nature 
has provided a mental watershed which divides the processes 



1920.] THE CONSERVATIVE MIND 581 

of the conservative and the radical minds in just as marked 
a way as a range of mountains determines the flow of waters. 
The radical is always an impulsive dreamer. Bulwer Lytton 
says in Kenelm Chillingly, "Moral philosophers have so mud- 
dled their brains with the alcohol of new ideas that their moral 
legs have become shaky and the humane would rather help 
them to bed than give them a licking." This expresses with 
fair accuracy the judgment that the conservative makes of 
the radical in general. 

Conservatism requires scholarship in order to prove its 
case, because ability to prove it has undeniably its place in the 
scheme of life. The radical has need of feeling rather than of 
scholarship. He knows the aspirations of humanity much 
more thoroughly than he knows its history, and he voices 
those aspirations with teUing effect. The general tendency 
of scientific training moves in the direction of a radical habit 
of mind. And yet with the tremendous emphasis given to 
education, nature has taken care to keep an abundance of 
live conservatism on hand. Bancroft writes of Virchow, who 
had a passion for politics, that he was a radical "as true men 
of science naturally would be." The words of Professor Clark 
are much to the same effect. *The scientific habit of thought 
makes one hospitable to new ideas. A man who cultivates 
that habit is open to conviction where an ignorant person is 
not so. He is accustomed to pursue the truth and let the quest 
lead him where it will. He examines evidence which appears 
to have force even though the conclusion to which it leads may 
be new and unpleasant." If memory be not at fault, Hohen- 
lohe was afraid of the great school system which Germany 
had developed, and he proposed to make the conditions of ad- 
mission to schools still more exacting, lest the Fatherland find 
a learned radical proletariat on its hands. In the same spirit 
Louis Blanc, who was one of the first radicals to enter the 
French parliament in 1848, admitted without reserve the dan- 
gers of general education to the stability of institutions. 

Secular education is accompanied by increasing inde- 
pendence of mind, increased capacity for doubt, the depend- 
ence of assent upon evidence regardless of consequences. 
Education aims to extend and make more secure the domin- 
ion of reason in the life of man. Now the great danger against 
which the social order must be protected is found in reason. 



582 THE CONSERVATIVE MIND [Feb., 

Reason has its dangers no less than has ignorance. Morley 
speaks as follows in writing of Edmund Burke: **If you en- 
courage every individual loose upon all subjects without any 
restraint from a sense of his own weakness and his subordin- 
ate rank in the long scheme of things, then there is nothing of 
all that the opinion of ages has agreed to regard as excellent 
and venerable which would not be exposed to destruction 
at the hands of rationalistic criticism.'* Furthermore, it is the 
clear teaching of Burke himself that civil institutions may not 
be measured by the tests of pure reason and that logical con- 
clusions may be the most mischievous. Mallock has a similar 
thought in The Immortal Soull 

If logic, if reason, if evidence were the sole support of faith* 
the old faiths by which men have lived would decompose far 
more rapidly than new faiths could construct themselves. 

It is worth while here to quote a remarkable paragraph 
from Leckey*s History of European Morals, which offers cor- 
roboration of these views : 

It would be difficult to overestimate the number of those 
whose genuine convictions are due to the unresisted bias of 
their interests. By the term "interests" I mean not only ma- 
terial well-being but also all those mental luxuries, all those 
grooves or channels for thought which it is easy and pleasing 
to follow and painful and difficult to abandon. Such are 
the love of ease, the love of certainty, the love of system, 
the bias of the passions, the associations of the imagination 
as well as the coarser influences of social position, domestic 
happiness, professional interest, party feeling or ambition. 

The stability of institutions and of civilization rests on the 
certainty that human nature cannot be entirely educated, that 
it will never be entirely rational. The mental luxuries which 
Leckey catalogues, love of ease, love of certainty and system, 
associations of the imagination and affection, have been more 
powerful in human history than argument and independence 
of mind. Much of the alleged action of reason incidental to 
widespread education is harmless and, on the whole, illusory. 
Sumner remarks to the point in his Folkways, 'The most elab- 
orate discussion only consists in revolving on one's own axis. 



1920.] THE CONSERVATIVE MIND 583 

One only finds again the prepossessions which he brought to 
the consideration of the subject, returned to him with a little 
more intense faith." Lowell calls attention to the same gen- 
eral truth in his lines: 



This world were doomed 
Should dullness fail to tame 
Wit's fettered heels 
On the stern stocks of fact. 

(The conservative mind is contemplative while the radical 
mind is analytical.] When we analyze social facts one part of 
our minds beholds one aspect of things. In contemplation, 
however, we are submerged in vision, and reasoning tends 
but to disturb the comfort of our position without adding to 
its strength. The radical mind consumes its energy in taking 
attitudes with vehement attachment; hence, it is that so many 
analytical minds are irritable, and radical movements are 
nervous, intolerant and difficult to put up with. Ruskin was 
right when he said to Norton, "Analysis is abom^ble busi- 
ness." Strangely enough, those statements are/only partly 
true. The conservative is a contemplative when he looks at 
reality but he is analytical when he looks at the copiplete ideal. 
He analyzes it, resists it, and even argues against it. On the 
other hand, the radical is analytical and rebellious in the face 
of the established order, but he is an indiscriminate contem- 
plative when he looks toward the ideal. The conservative 
takes ideals seriously but he keeps them at a distance from 
which they give him light, comfort and inspiration. The radi- 
cal approaches so near to the ideal that his mind catches fire 
which resembles the prairie fires of the West. Imagination 
enables the radical mind to bound over obstacles and to fly 
past the problems of the real as a high speed train flies past 
the telegraph poles along its pathway. The conservative re- 
sembles the track walker who plods along and looks at the 
roadbed, instead of the horizon, and gives detailed care to the 
maintenance of way on which the safety of the high speed 
train depends. 

The radical mind is briUiant and facile when dealing with 
generalization, ideal or axiom, while the conservative mind 
is slow and glued to earth. The latter will work painfuUy 



584 THE CONSERVATIVE MIND [Feb^ 

and patiently to gather the facts by which to impress an audi- 
ence, but the radical will trust to a dozen assumptions and 
his splendid pictures of the ideal when he wishes to win an 
audience. He strews his principles and generalizations before 
the timid conservative and dares the latter to walk over them 
as over a bridge between the fact and the ideal. The conserva- 
tive, however, with the caution of the ponderous elephant, tests 
every plank carefully before trusting his weight upon it. Since 
the conservative finds that the planks bend under his weight, 
he wiU ordinarily refuse to take the risk. A statistical 
table furnishes safer footing for him. 

Architecturally, the radical mind shows Gothic character- 
istic of mass without weight. Twenty facts burden a man and 
hinder his steps, but principles are imponderable. Twenty 
are not heavier than one. The construction of the radical and 
the conservative minds shows well the wisdom of nature. 
The conservative mind is like an apartment house, while the 
radical mind resembles an auditorium, the aede^ of the Ro- 
mans. Life is full of inconsistencies. Controversies exist 
everywhere within our institutions. Interests of the most 
divergent kinds are forced into nearly every individual life. 
As a result we discover that consistency is often impossible 
and nevertheless we strain after it. Brockelhurst says in lane 
Eyre, that consistency is the first of the Christian duties. It 
is in any case difficult. Life produces inconsistencies. Na- 
ture produces a type of mind that can tolerate them and dwell 
among them. The conservative mind can do this. It can 
place its different opinions in separate apartments. They live 
near one another, but they need not meet any oftener than 
do the residents of any apartment house. When inconsist- 
ent views do meet, conventional forms of greeting are suffi- 
cient to avoid friction. Thus, for instance, a man's political 
opinions may say a pleasant Good Morning or Good Evening 
to his religious opinions as they meet in the corridors. Possi- 
bly, they could not live in the same apartment at all. One's 
business views may act in a surly manner when they meet 
one's moral principles. The method of separate apartments 
for opinions is resorted to very largely in this life, howsoever 
we may dislike and regret it. 

Undoubtedly, the ideal life is unified and consistent and 
it places moral and spiritual standards in their rightful su- 



1920.] THE CONSERVATIVE MIND 585 

premacy. But we are dealing with facts and wayward pro- 
cesses of mind now, and not with moral laws. As a matter of 
fact, life is full of inconsistencies and nature has prepared 
the conservative mind to bear them. George Eliot calls the 
brain *^a congenial nidus of inconsistent beliefs.** Classic il- 
lustration of conservatism's inconsistency is found in its atti- 
tude toward revolution. The conservative mind is an advocate 
of the last revolution, but a determined enemy of the next one. 
It does not admit the principle of revolution except in retro- 
spect. It admits only revolutions in which it is not interested 
or the one revolution which produced it. On the other hand, 
the radical asserts the principle of revolution. When the next 
one establishes him, he too will deny that principle. 

The radical mind is architecturally unlike the conserva- 
tive mind. It is not an apartment house, but rather one vast 
room with cold severe lines, unbroken by cozy corner or any 
inviting recess. There is no privacy. All opinions, emotions, 
views and systems must live together in the full sight of one 
another all of the time. The radical mind escapes none of the 
unreasonable extremes of consistency. This condition causes 
a wear and tear on the radical's nervous system which gives 
us far-reaching insight into the psychology and the law of 
revolutions. Logical codrdination, consistent unity, rigid 
syllogisms, system, flourish with irresistible vitality. Every- 
thing must be in harmony with everything else. Thus, for in- 
stance, when the radical mind admits Socialism into its cham- 
ber, former attitudes tend to disintegrate and Socialism starts 
the work of complete and unified mental reconstruction. Very 
often it despises religion, denounces marriage and parental 
authority over children and loses itself in mad dreams. 

Consistency of truth with truth is not an acquired taste. 
It enables us to proceed from known to unknown truth. The 
scholastic philosophers were fond of the principle Verum vero 
vere nunquam repugnat But consistency in social relations 
and everyday life is another thing. If a conservative finds 
that a fact contradicts a theory, he drops the theory and 
accepts the fact. The radical prefers to drop the fact. The 
conservative with his taste for inconsistency, can compromise 
and easily does so. The radical while he remains radical, 
cannot compromise mentally at all. Hence, he loses his sense 
of humor and the conservative finds it The latter goes through 



586 THE CONSERVATIVE MIND [Feb^ 

life with double joy and the former with double loss. The 
radical is, as Goldsmith found Burke, 'Too fond of the right 
to pursue the expedient." The conservative mind has only 
such emotions as its opinions produce while the radical mind 
has only such opinions as its emotions produce. The former 
is organized by its opinions while the latter is governed by its 
emotions. The radical accuses the conservative of dishonesty 
while the conservative declares that the radical is dangerous. 
Without a doubt, both of them are somewhat in error. The 
great mistake of the radical lies in confusing consistency with 
l\onesty. Consistency touches the relations of opinions among 
themselves, while honesty affects one's relations to one's ex- 
pressed opinions. We can be consciously inconsistent, but we 
cannot be consciously dishonest within our minds. The rela- 
tion of the conservative mind to its own expressed opinions 
is usually honest enough, while the greatest inconsistency may 
be found in crossing lots from one opinion to another. It is 
difficult to be patient with the one-sided estimate of conserva- 
tism to which Oliver Wendell Holmes once gave expression. In 
his mind, to be a conservative ""is to let all the drains of thought 
choke up and keep all the souFs windows down — to shut out 
the sun from the east and the wind from the west — to let rats 
run free in the cellar and the moths feed their fill in the cham- 
bers and the spiders weave out their lace. before the mirror 
till the soul's typhus is brought out of our neglect and we begin 
to snore in its coma or rave in its delirium." Such a view is 
its own refutation. It is utterly unworthy of a scholar. 

After the worst has been said against the conservative, it 
remains still his supreme role ''to recognize the precedence of 
the facts of morality and conduct, of the many interwoven 
affinities of human affection and historical relation over the 
unreal necessities of abstract logic," to quote Morley again. 
The conservative sees a situation as a highly complex adjust- 
ment of life. To the radical a situation is merely a series 
of orderly definitions. One can change a definition in a min- 
ute, but one would labor a lifetime in changing a situation. 
The philosophy of the conservative is summed up in the strik- 
ing statement of Falkland, "If it is not necessary to change, it 
is necessary not to change." The radical believes that it is 
necessary to change and that, therefore, change must be made. 
Change is a problem to the conservative. It is an axiom to 



1920.] THE CONSERVATIVE MIND 587 

the radical. A problem must be studied while an axiom need 
but be followed. Hence, the aptness of words written years 
ago in the Atlantic Monthly and modified to suit the thought. 
**Given a problem before which wise men have pondered and 
waited long to determine the safest line of approach, up comes 
the radical along any line which he occupies at the moment, 
suddenly running, his head low down . . . and the problem 
has vanished." 

The attitudes of the conservative and the radical minds 
toward change are characteristic and interesting. The con- 
servative mind has an organic repugnance for the new. What 
is new is wrong. Innovation is the original sin of society. **The 
idea is new, but excellent,'' said a typical conservative recently 
when discussing a harmless innovation. Lowell caught the 
thought admirably in his lines: 

So I turn Tory for the nonce 
And think the radical a bore, 
Who cannot see, thick-witted dunce, 
That what was good for people once 
Must be as good forevermore. 

The conservative mind is timid before new thoughts as a 
little girl is shy in the presence of strangers. There is a heavy 
import duty on new ideas at all conservative ports. In many 
cases, the duty amounts to practical exclusion. This happy 
metaphor, whose authorship escapes memory, pictures the sit- 
uation exactly. The construction of the social order is a mar- 
vel of achievement. To organize the feelings, judgments, as- 
I>irations and aims of miUions of persons and to secure like 
attitudes among them on the more important interests of life, 
is a miracle of human accomplishment. There is no social 
order until men think and feel and judge alike, until they co- 
dperate with one another and trust one another. Now, the 
emotions, standards and terms in which vital interests are ex- 
pressed, and proportions by which life is guided, must be rela- 
tively stable else confusion awaits us. A long, painful and un- 
certain process must be gone through before a social order 
can be established. Mirah says in Daniel Deronda, "I like what 
I have always seen there because it brings back to me the 
same feelings — the feelings that I would not part with for any- 



588 THE CONSERVATIVE MIND [Feb^ 

thing else in the world/* Now a new thought, a new fundamen- 
tal theory, challenges the entire established order. If nature 
were indifferent to that change, there would be no safety for 
civilization. It is imperative that innovations be bad form. 
Nature, at least, has said so. All of the accumulative fear of the 
unknown is heaped upon the soul of the social order when a 
radical change is proposed. **There is a great caving-in of the 
social crust,** says Baldwin, "when a new thought comes.** 
Hence, the striking praise of stupidity which Bagehot uttered. 
He held that it is the basis of all stable public opinion since it 
"chains its gifted possessor mainly to his old ideals.** *The 
best security for fixedness of public opinion is that people 
should be incapable of comprehending what is to be said on 
the other side.** Belloc reminds us that, "great institutions in 
a state breed around them an atmosphere, or what I may call, 
a halo of illusion.** Is not the halo stronger than any argmnent? 
Stupidity is by no means the possession of ignorant people. 
A learned professor may be a stupid politician. A capable 
theologian may be a poor statesman. Coventry Patmore said 
of Tennyson: "He had a singular incapacity for receiving at 
first hand and upon its merits, any new idea.** Hence the typi- 
cal conservative mind tends to take on a moral antipathy for 
what is new. The new seems wrong; hence it is not debatable. 
Here nature works with a high factor of safety again. After 
conservatism fixes the charge of moral error upon a new 
thought, its progress is delayed and its proportions are nar- 
rowed greatly by the time that it has refuted the charge. After 
that it can force debate to the point where the conservative is 
forced to accept it instead of condemning it. But, generally 
speaking, conservatism opposes innovation for so long a time 
that new thought becomes old and then it becomes safe. Theo- 
logians devised a remarkable series of phrases, beginning with 
innovation and ending with heresy, by which phrases one*s 
exact position might be determined if one started downward 
from orthodoxy toward heresy. These distinctions were made 
in order to be fair and truthful in dealing with the innovator. 
Yet as phrases they exerted no control over the emotional atti- 
tudes of observers. The feeling against innovation of any kind 
is usually warranted for many reasons. Saintsbury in 
writing of Defoe says that observers have frequently noticed 
among the English, "a tendency to drag in moral distinctions at 



1920.] THE CONSERVATIVE MIND 589 

every turn, and to confound everything which is novel in ex- 
perience, unpleasant to the taste and incomprehensible to the 
understanding, under the general epithets of wrong, wicked 
and shocking.** Whatever be the terms in which we describe 
the situation, it seems that the initial impulse of conservatism 
to confound the new with the wrong, has an important function 
in compelling radicalism to clarify its own ideas, to understand 
their limitations and to tone down the hatred which its first 
utterances usually express against the established order. ^ 

We have, of course, attempted to describe types rather 
than individuals, and they have been described with some ex- 
aggeration in the hope of stimulating attention. To complete 
the study we should take the type that is partly conservative 
and partly radical. Probably most of us belong to this class. 
One can understand the description of Maddox Brown, the Pre- 
Raphaelite: 'In passions and emotions he was an old-fash- 
ioned Tory. His reasoning, however, and circumstances made 
him a revolutionist of the romantic type.** The work of de- 
scribing this type would be less interesting because it is less 
extreme. There is, however, a further phase of the radical 
mind which might be mentioned by way of conclusion. When 
the radical is lifted into power, his new environment sets in 
motion a series of mental processes which tend to make him 
conservative. If the conservative falls into weak positions in 
society, the process of radicalism begins to work on him, but 
he offers a less tractable field. We are told that in Germany 
radicals were sometimes placed in positions of responsibility 
in the hope that they would become conservative. Responsi- 
bility sobers. The newspapers told us some years ago that 
Aristide Briand ''was big enough to throw consistency to the 
winds" in handling the great French strike which confronted 
him. He went against his well-known views and associates 
the moment that he faced the threatening complexities of an 
acute national situation. Looking upwards toward institutions 
which crush us, gives us one point of view. Looking back- 
wards from the security of exalted situation, gives us another. 
When a revolution has killed the conservatives which stood in 
its way, it turns around to kill or suppress the new radicals 
which threaten it. Revolution when successful always outlaws 
counter-revolution. 

The conservative mind is the organ of responsibility and 



590 THE CONSERVATIVE MIND [Feb., 

caution in human society. In it the spirit of a nation finds 
lodgment and reverent guardianship. The conservative mind 
is the trustee of civilization and the defender of its continuity. 
The radical mind with its acute sensibilities to injustice and 
with its fearless welcome for new thought and new ideals, 
prepares the way for the progress which is the law of life. 
Of course, no one forgets the mistakes of conservatism or of 
radicalism. Each needs the other. Each is a positive danger 
without the other. Both are truth-seekers, but they differ in 
their understanding of the truth and of the seeking. The 
merits and the mistakes of each, their limitations, conflicts, 
defeats and victories have a place in nature's cosmic plans. 
Not past but present wisdom can secure to conservatism 
the confidence that the multitude insists upon placing some- 
where. Just now, the tempered radical mind seems to have the 
best of it. Perhaps, the fact that our chief executive has called 
himself "an animated conservative,'* conveys hope if not prom- 
ise that the conservative mind of the nation will do its duty 
in the face of our problems, rather than force the trusting 
multitudes to place their hopes in that radicalism that destroys 
the world. 



99 




''BENEFICENT AMERICA. 



BY ONE IN THE GOVERNMENT SERVICE. 

N a classical work on the immigration problem, 
my attention was called to the following passage : 
**The immigration of foreigners into the United 
States has been long recognized as one of our im- 
portant social and political problems. Perhaps no 
other question has aroused more bitter feelings at times, or has 
called out more lofty sentiments of altruistic purpose. On the 
one hand, our government has been besought to protect our 
people from the degrading influence of the immigrant. On 
the other, it has been declared that our doors should never be 
closed against those suffering from religious or political perse- 
cution. Generally speaking, there has been little difference of 
opinion regarding the latter sentiment. There has been great 
difference of opinion, however, relative to the effects, eco- 
nomic, social and moral, of immigration upon American 
standards of living." * 

The immigration problem has a moral aspect. '*Do the 
foreign immigrants imbibe the spirit, the sentiments, the ideals 
of America? These strangers of all races and nations who 
come and go, will they help to make our history and shape our 
destinies?" The question was unanswered before the War. 
Now, that the storm is ovjer, we reply in the affirmative. The 
constant unity of purpose of all the sons of America, both by 
birth and by adoption, has shown the groundlessness of the 
opponents of immigration. 

The War has truly marked the greatest victory of Amer- 
ican idealism. It has brought into full light the magic power 
of what may be called the fascination of America. As soon 
as the trumpet was sounded, all racial hatreds, religious anti- 
nomies, class struggles of alien inunigrants, have been super- 
seded. The vision of America drawing the sword to fight 
for the dearest liberties of mankind, and the onward sweep 
of democratic institutions filled all hearts and minds. The 
national consciousness of all Americans, both native and for- 

> J. W« Jenks and W. J. Lauck, The Immigration Problem, New York, 1917, p. S. 



592 . ''BENEFICENT AMERICA'' [Feb^ 

eign born, shone forth in broad daylight. The alien immi- 
grants instinctively felt that it was an honor to carry arms 
under the American flag, for the War waged by America 
marked a new era in the history of the ceaseless efforts of the 
human race towards a wider brotherhood of peoples and 
nations. 

The World War has brought into full light this fact : that 
when the hour of danger strikes, America can trust all the 
members of her great family. Those whom the migratory 
movement brought from old Europe into the healthy organic 
life of America democracy, have been Americans of spiritual 
lineage on the bloody battlefields of France, Belgium, Italy 
and Russia. America is indeed the only nation that possesses 
spiritual energy in the assimilation of foreign elements to such 
a high degree as to transform them into flesh of her flesh and 
bone of her bone. 

In translating the foreign correspondence of the Bureau 
of War Risk Insurance, the writer of tliese pages came to realize 
the success of the Americanization of alien immigrants in this 
country. By the term Americanization, I mean the spiritual 
evolution which relieves the immigrants from the burden of 
racial prejudices, manners and customs brought from the Old 
World, and imbues them with the American ideal of freedom 
and the political institutions which embody it. In the letters 
of the foreign born who have been serving under the Amer- 
ican flag, the spiritual Americanization alluded to presents it- 
self as an accomplished fact. They breathe the purest love 
for their American ideals. Moreover, through the Bureau of 
War Risk Insurance the relatives of those soldiers have felt 
the generous hand of America, and thus the spirit of Amer- 
icanism has expanded beyond its political frontiers. In the 
hearts of many who have never come to this country, America 
is looked upon as the nation predestined to weave the golden 
bonds of international love. 

The foreign correspondence of the Bureau of War Risk 
Insurance is handled by a few translators, who, after a short pe- 
riod of inevitable groping, found their way and fulfilled their 
task to the best of their capacity. The earliest documents 
translated by them were written in French, Spanish, Italian. 
Soon, however, the philological task of the Bureau increased 
its area. Letters came from Greece. Slav soldiers, or their 



1920.] "BENEFICENT AMERICA" 593 

relatives, used their own languages in communicating with the 
Bureau. Their example was followed by the immigrants from 
the Scandinavian or Eastern countries. It soon became neces- 
sary, therefore, to increase the staff. 

The foreign correspondence of the Bureau of War Risk 
Insurance embraced letters written in thirty different lan- 
guages. We may group them under several headings, as 
follows : 

1. Latin correspondence. Letters written in the romance 
languages form the bulk of all the foreign correspondence; 
chiefly Italian, French and Spanish. We have received letters 
in Portuguese and Rumanian, and have translated numerous 
oflicial documents from ecclesiastical Latin. 

2. The Slavic correspondence. All the Slavic languages 
are represented. The writer has handled letters and documents 
written in Russian, Polish, Bohemian, Slovak, Ruthenian, 
Slovene, Serbian, Bulgarian, and Paleoslav (Liturgical Sla- 
vonic). To these languages, Lithuanian may be added, because 
of its geographical position, although it is not a Slavic tongue. 

3. The Scandinavian correspondence. Letters and docu- 
ments in Danish, Norwegian and Swedish are grouped under 
this heading. 

4. The Ural — Altaic languages, embracing letters written 
in Finnish, Esthonian, and Hungarian. 

5. The Greek correspondence. This is one of the most im- 
portant of the Bureau, and comes next in volume after the 
Italian correspondence. 

6. The Germanic correspondence. Letters and documents 
written in German, Dutch and Flemish. 

7. The Semitic and Armenian correspondence, embrac- 
ing letters and documents written in rabbinical Hebrew and 
Yiddish, and in Armenian and Arabic. 

8. The Far-Eastern correspondence. It embraces letters 
and documents written in Japanese, Chinese and Hindustani. 
These languages are handled outside of the Bureau's staff of 
translators. 

9. Malayan langugages and Hawaiian. Hawaiian letters 
and others in Tagalos, Vizcayan, Bicol, Ilocano; and other 
Philippine dialects have been received. 

A simple enumeration of these languages shows that the 
Bureau of War Risk Insurance is in touch with the most remote 



594 "BENEFICENT AMERICA" [Feb., 

countries of the worid. Within its narrow limits, it feels the 
throbbing pulse of all the peoples who aligned themselves with 
America in the giant struggle against militaristic autocracies. 
Its staff hears, in the most varied languages, the same voice of 
the "champion of free mankind." 

It is not an easy task to translate the documents the Bureau 
receives from its foreign correspondents, many of whom are 
illiterate. The Italians, who are exceedingly numerous, write 
in almost all the dialects of their provinces. According to their 
geographic position, the Greeks intersperse their common 
tongue with Turkish words, or they cull from their classical 
writers the gaudiest blossoms of style. The Slavic writers, 
especially the Poles, seem to have entirely forgotten the rules 
of the national orthography. The letters in the Slavonic lan- 
guages put to the test, not only the grammatical and legico- 
graphical learning of their translators, but also their patience. 

I happened once to pore over a letter whose strange words 
were variagated with a frequent "i;an." •The writer is Dutch,*' 
I said to myself. But, to my great surprise, I found myself 
unable to extract the hidden meaning of that unusual 
language. The words looked like Finnish, but the Finnish 
dictionary threw no light on the mystery of the apocalyptic 
sheet. It was unveiled, however, as soon as I read the first 
lines of the letter aloud. The writer had written in plain 
English, but took the liberty of transcribing English words ac- 
cording to Dutch pronunciation. 

In their rude and uncouth style, these foreign letters have a 
great human value. They show, as it were, that even the most 
illiterate among the soldiers perceived the basis of a most 
profound philosophy of the War. Far from being the "dumb 
bayonets*' of whom a Russian General once boasted, the sol- 
diers enlisted in the American armies, from whatsoever corner 
of the world they came, are men who knew for what they 
fought and why they were morally bound to fight. They sac- 
rified their lives willingly for the freedom of all peoples and 
for a better social organization. Their letters breathed se- 
renity, confidence, even when death lay in wait for their 
writers in the mud of the trenches. "We are fighting for 
America,** say proudly these sons of the last hour, and they 
are happy because their adopted land has provided for their 
mothers, wives or children in the old country. The first im- 



1920.] "BENEFICENT AMERICA" 595 

pression, therefore, we receive, when reading these foreign 
letters, is the moral conquest by American idealism of alien 
elements, whom economic reasons, rather than religious or 
social ones, compelled lo seek refuge on the hospitable soil 
of America. 

"Dear sister," writes a Scandinavian, "I am now a soldier 
for* Uncle Sam. I suppose you do not understand why I am 
going to the front when I do not have to, but this is a good and 
a free country, and worth fighting for. What would I have been 
if I had been in Denmark now ? I will give all I have to this coun- 
try or for this country, and the only thing I have worth talking 
about is my life, which is no better than that of anyone else. 
There are many married men that are going. I did not have 
to go but I wanted to go and I went. Remember America did 
not enter the War for gain! No! It is to make the world a 
good and safe place to live in; it is to protect the small coun- 
tries in Europe and for the future generation; it is for my 
own sister that 1 and all the American soldiers fight, and I 
do not think we will slop before we reach Berlin and capture 
the Kaiser and the men he lias around him. My dear sister, 
I have taken out, or rather Uncle Sam has given me, an insur- 
ance policy which you, my own darling girl, shall have in case 
I shall be killed. . . . After the War, I will come home lo see 
you and, if you want lo go, 1 will take you back with me lo the 
far West, to the beautiful and free country, the only free coun- 
try in the world, which has been much better to me than 
Denmark ever was or ever will be." 

Greek soldiers express the same feelings. The War that 
demands of some of them the supreme sacrifice is a War of 
redemption. "I am sure," writes one to his father, '•if any- 
thing should happen to me that you will receive the news with 
the heroism of a true Greek and that you will not be sorry 
if you lose your son, who is fighting for the safely of humanity, 
for Greece, and America, and France." Another Greek letter 
says : "I wish to inform you that I am a soldier in the Amer- 
ican army. I know that you will be sorry, as you are my 
parents, but think how the world is suffering today from the 
German menace. Everybody must doliis bit. We must keep 
the Germans from attempting to dominate the world; they 
have to understand that they are going to be defeated. We 
must let them know that small nations have equal right to 



596 ''BENEFICENT AMERICA'' [Feb^ 

live with the big nations, and we must no longer have the 
German sword hanging over our heads.*' 

Liberty is a gift from God to humanity and nobody has 
the right to deprive men of it. The quotation that follows 
blends harmoniously the ancient ideals of classic Greece with 
the modern aspirations of the genuine American spirit. **The 
American Government, with great energy, is preparing a big 
army, and every soldier expects to be sent over soon to fight 
the Hun. In their patriotic speeches, the ofiQcers mention our 
country, Greece, as being the first democracy in the world, 
from which the American democracy is derived. Such kind 
words make me proud of my native country and I am ready to 
give everything for my adopted one.'* 

In another Greek letter we read: "I want to tell you that 
I am a soldier in the American Army, and I am very much 
satisfied. In a short time I will be sent to France to fight for 
justice, and if my destiny has reserved the honor of my death 
there, you will remember that at least I have done something 
in this world, that I have fought for the liberty and rights of 
mankind." 

Let us quote also from the letters of American soldiers 
of Italian descent. In a witty fashion, one of them describes 
the hardships of the military life: "We are obliged to cook 
our meals without fire and our shoes are in bad shape, with 
the soles broken, but, after all, we are happy to fulfill our 
duty towards our American flag." Others, and they are legion, 
lay stress upon the glory of being called to fight for the de- 
fence of civilization, of freedom, and above all of America, the 
country where they have found what the old Europe could 
not grant to them, democratic liberty. 

There is much in common in these letters. The words 
are diff^erent, but they express the same feelings. An exalted 
patriotism is not the monopoly, so to speak, of native Ameri- 
cans. It is vigorous in the souls of those who by the constant 
accretions of immigration are toiling and moiling to achieve, 
in its minutest details, the magnificent building of American 
democracy. One recalls the phrase of a keen observer who 
wrote: "A man may be a good and patriotic citizen of the 
United States even though he knows no English. Like Francis 
Lieber, his heart may long have learned to throb American 
pulsations, though his lips may still be refractory in national- 



1920.] ''BENEFICENT AMERICA'' 6»7 

izing themselves." The truth of this remark is evident in read- 
ing the letters of the soldiers of foreign descent, and m the 
study of their simple language. I believe there is no ground 
to fear a lessening of American ideals because of the streams 
of alien immigration. A subtle spiritual force works out the 
miracle of transforming the illiterate, raw material coming 
to us into a virile manhood. New elements of life are added 
to the store of American vital power; that those elements are 
mostly sound and morally strong, we may infer from this for- 
eign correspondence. Like native Americans, they have fought 
for the same American ideals, with the same enthusiasm and 
the same gallantry. The moral fascination of American ideal- 
ism has been more powerful than racial antipathy, religious 
animosity, and social inequality. 

The second impression received in translating the letters 
of the foreign allottees is of the supreme exaltation of mother- 
hood. The great services rendered by the women of the Allied 
countries in the final crushing of German militarism have 
been chronicled everywhere. We are better acquainted, how- 
ever, with how much the women have done, than with how 
much they have suffered. The inner tragedies of mothers' 
hearts have perhaps not been put into such high relief. They 
are the heroines of the World War. They have refrained 
from tears and have smiled to imbue their sons with the love 
of sacrifice. Whether Greek or French or Italian or Slav, the 
mothers of the American soldiers of foreign descent have ut- 
tered, in their simple style, words that have stirred up the most 
generous feelings in their sons' hearts. 

Their language at times reminds us of the noblest expres- 
sions of the Spartan mothers. They are poems of truly tragic 
sublimity. In a short sentence they tell the story of endless 
martyrdom. "I have received the news of the death of my 
son," writes an Italian mother. "My heart bleeds to death, 
but I feel in every fibre that I have fulfilled my duty in allow- 
ing my son to be immolated for a loftiest and holiest cause." 
A Greek mother of Sparta shows in the following extract the 
genuineness of her Spartan lineage: "As the ancient Spartan 
mothers used to send their sons to war with joyful songs, so 
do I, my son, from the sweet country of liberty, Greece, I send 
you my blessings and motherly kisses, JBOid I pray to God and 
our Virgin to strengthen you in your fight against German 



598 ''BENEFICENT AMERICA" [Feb., 

brutality. Do not come back without the laurels of victory.*' 
A mother of the island of Crete, the nursery of the pioneers of 
Greek independence, bravely calls her son to face death: "I 
know, my boy, that you are not strong enough, but gallant 
soldiers when in the thick of the battle don*t think of anything. 
They draw strength from the sacred conviction that they are 
facing death for safety of mankind, and then they are 
strong as lions, and endure their sufferings without murmur. 
As a mother, of course, I shed tears, my son, but on the other 
hand I am proud to offer the life of my life upon the altar 
of liberty.** 

I remember a letter of a Polish mother who, in a moment 
of despair, had claimed the immediate release of her son from 
the army. She was dying of sorrow, of anger, of desolation. 
Two days after sending her first letter, she wrote again to the 
Bureau : "I wish to revoke what I explained to you yesterday. 
When I think of so many victims which the War has taken, 
and how terrible are its ravages, I am ashamed of myself. 
For the moment I was demented by a feeling of egotism, and 
I wished to have my son back. Let my son fulfill his duties as 
it behooves a faithful son of my country. I will never be 
against anything which the War makes necessary, and es- 
pecially what is required by such a great President as Wilson. 
I am ready to endure the most cruel torments, and I ask your 
forgiveness concerning my previous mistake, which I commit- 
ted in a moment of despair.*' 

The counsel that mothers give their sons is full of lofty 
ideas, and noble concepts. Note the language of an Italian 
mother: **We learn that you have been serving in the army 
for the rights of justice and freedom, for our love and dignity, 
for the greatness of America. I know this, because in spite of 
the fact that we are so far beyond the ocean, we wish you to 
give help with your youthful courage, and crush and trample 
down forever our earthly enemies. No fears, no sighs escape 
from our bosom, but though boundless space divides us from 
you, our encouragement and perennial blessings will be always 
with you.*' 

The third feeling awakened in me by reading the foreign 
correspondence of the Bureau of War Risk Insurance is grati- 
tude to America. All the letters coming from foreign coun- 
tries exalt the generosity of "the nourisher of starving peoples," 



1920.] "BENEFICENT AMERICA'' 599 

to ^uote the expression of a Greek writer. Thousands of 
families, hundreds of thousands of women and children, have 
been saved from starvation by the payments of the Bureau 
of War Risk Insurance. I quote from the letter of an Italian 
mother: '^My entire family united with myself, pray God that 
war may end with victory for America, because America has 
practised the seven works of mercy. She has given food to the 
starving, and distributed bread. Surely, God will protect all 
Americans, and they will be honored throughout the world. 
My prayer will be heard before God, and victory will be for 
America." 

The characteristic qualities of Sicilian vivacity and Italian 
deference find expression in a letter to President Wilson from 
an Austrian-hater of Palermo : "You cannot imagine the hap- 
piness that the little, old Italian father of a soldier feels after 
reading your magnanimous words, and of the good that you 
are doing for all the people of the whole world, and of the 
peace that will be bestowed by God through so worthy a per- 
son. I read these words on a picture of your handsome and 
gracious person — 'We will win the War for world peace.* I 
do not care for the fact that my son was able to send me 
twenty-five or thirty dollars a month before his enlistment, 
provided we shall be able to destroy the tyrant, and cry aloud: 
Long live President Wilson ! Long live the Army ! Long live 
America !*' 

Some of the Italian letters are impregnated with the most 
delicate feelings of maternal love and religious gratitude. "I 
have received your money, dear, dearest son. I have kissed it. 
I went to church to light candles before the image of the Blessed 
Virgin. I have thought of the days when I have denied to 
myself a morsel of bread to nourish you. My blessings upon 
you, dearest son! May they be as numerous as the drops of 
milk I gave you. I shall not squander the money which gen- 
erous America grants you. I am satisfied with a piece of bread. 
I will wait for you, and keep your money, and when you will 
come back, crowned with the laurels of victory, I shall accom- 
pany you to the church; we shall pray together, and adorn 
the altar of the Blessed Virgin with flowers and candles." 

But enough of quotations ! They speak more fully of the 
Bureau of War Risk Insurance than the most eloquent self- 
eulogy. In a recent address to the employees of the Bureau of 



600 THE LAMB [Feb^ 

War Risk Insurance, Colonel Henry D. Lindsley said: •The 
work in which we are engaged is one of the most remarkable 
undertakings in all history, both in magnitude and purpose. 
The War Risk Insurance Act is a monument to civilization, 
and those who are privileged to help in its administration, 
are rendering a social service that is the highest expression of 
the humanity which our soldiers and sailors fought to save.'* 
This is not only the verdict of native Americans, but the 
plebiscite of all the nations. No doubt, when fulfilling, their 
task, when weary of their labors, when meeting with obstacles 
in their mission, the tireless workers of the Bureau of War 
Risk Insurance think of the many tears that have been dried 
by their toils; they feel deeply the nobility of their calling, and 
the honor that is theirs of writing the brightest page in the 
history of Beneficent America. 



THE LAMR 



BY FRANaS CARUN. 



I AM the Son of Man and I 
Am the Son of God Who came to die; 
And, having died for men astray, 
I am the Light and so the Way. 

I am the Lamb of God Who bears 
The sins of cockles, wheat and tares; 
Since flesh is grass; and so 1 am 
The humble Scapegoat, I, the Lamb. 

I am the Lamb of God, being of 
The Sire Eternal and the Dove; 
For I am God, yet of the Three 
The Lamb of God's HumUity. 




THE "OPEN BIBLE" IN PRE-REFORMATION TIMES. 

BY J. M. LENHART, O.M.CAP. 

NE of the stock-in-trade grievances against the 
Catholic Church is the "alleged" fact that the Bible 
was withheld from the laity in pre-Reformation 
times. The story has been repeated for fom- hun- 
dred years, with countless variations, by Protes- 
tant writers. Not only third and fourth rate popular polemic 
tracts gave expression to this, as they supposed, frightful in- 
crimination in virulent language, but also seemingly sober 
scholars have rarely failed to brand the Church with the crime 
of hiding the Bible from the laity. Hence the notion has 
taken hold of the Protestant mind that an "open Bible has 
always been taboo** in the Catholic Church. 

We may pass by the false assumption underlying this 
charge — namely that the reading of the Bible is necessary for 
eternal salvation. If such were the case, what would have 
become of the millions who lived before the Bible was accessi- 
ble; what of the millions of illiterates today? The assumption 
is absurd. From her earliest years the Church has guided 
the life of her children by the teachings of Scripture through 
oral instructions, since printed or written characters were un- 
intelligible to them. And her teachers and preachers were 
aided by many ingenious devices of signs and symbols which 
conveyed to the minds of the illiterate the truths of the Bible 
in a striking manner. By these helps people who could not 
read the printed or written Word of God, were made familiar 
with its content to a remarkable extent. The walls of the 
churches spoke eloquently through Biblical representations to 
unlettered men and women of the great truths of creation and 
redemption, so much so that the Protestant antiquarian, A. Rob- 
ertson, published his description of the Biblical sculptures and 
mosaics in St. Mark*s Church, Venice, under the significant 
title of The Bible of St. Mark} Indeed, every church was an 
"open** Bible to the pious worshipper within its walls. And on 
the low walls of the dwelling of the peasant and artisan were 

^Londoo, 1898. 



602 THE ''OPEN BIBLE'' [Feb^ 

rude prints representing scenes from the Scriptures and lives 
of the saints which brought home to him daily the reality of the 
holy living and holy dying of the Saviour and His most faithful 
disciples. There are still preserved 1,697 of such Biblical im- 
ages or pictures, the small remnant of a very large mass. 

**The paintings upon the walls of the churches," remarks, 
pertinently, G. E. Woodberry, a non-Catholic,* "conveyed more 
noble conceptions to the peasant and artisan than their slow 
imagination could build up out of the words of the preacher. 
Like children, they apprehended through pictures, they 
thought upon all higher themes in pictures rather than in 
words; their ideas were pictorial rather than verbal; paint- 
ing was in spiritual matters more truly a language to them than 
their own patois. It is difficult for a modem mind to realize 
the place which pictures filled in mediaeval life, before print- 
ing had brought about the great change which has resulted in 
making books almost the sole means of education." And those 
hundreds of thousands of Biblical prints given lavishly to un- 
lettered people by the monks and friars were ever so many 
pages of an **open" Bible read by both the illiterate and edu- 
cated man and woman by the wayside as well as at the hearth 
with unflagging eagerness. 

At a time when means for intellectual instruction were 
rare, not every school child could be furnished with requisite 
books. Yet the problem of teaching Bible history to children 
without using the printed text was most ingeniously solved by 
the production of illustrated abridgments of Scriptural history 
and Biblical doctrines which have puzzled the scholars of our 
own times. These learned authors inform us that the so-called 
Biblia Pauperum, and kindred artistic productions of pre- 
Reformation times, served to take the place of the Bible among 
the poor clergy or were intended to aid the poor people in 
understanding what was preached to them or were made for 
the use of such poor people who could not afford to buy com- 
plete copies of the Bible or, again, served as models for artists. 
But all of these views are but fanciful assumptions which fail 
to grasp the real purpose of these artistic productions. 

These illustrated works are nothing else but mnemonic 
Bible helps, ordered by schoolmasters from the artists and 
used in common schools as a means for teaching Bible history 

'Historg of Wood Engrauing, New York, 1S83, p. 28. 



1920.] THE "OPEN BIBLE" 603 

and doctrine. We still possess copies once the property of 
schoolmasters, bound up with similar mnemonic schoolbooks, 
of morals, history, and natural sciences. Copies of no less 
than eighty-two different editions printed from 1460 till 1520 
are still preserved, attesting the great care taken in pre- 
Reformation times to impart a thorough Biblical knowledge to 
school children. At least 3,500,000 children had been educated 
in the schools during the sixty years preceding 1520. From 
these mnemonic Bible helps and both handwritten and printed 
Bible manuals, these millions of pupils had acquired a better 
knowledge of the lessons of the Bible than do millions of chil- 
dren in these days of the much vaunted "open'* Bible. For the 
ignorance of Bible knowledge now rampant would have been 
branded as criminal in pre-Reformation days. From the 
mnemonic Bible helps, likewise, additional millions of chil- 
dren, who never received a regular school education, were in- 
structed in Scriptural history and doctrine. In 1520 the last 
edition of these mnemonic Bible helps appeared in print. 
These were replaced by an uninterrupted series of Pictorial 
Bibles which completely discarded the useful mnemonic de- 
vices of former days, substituting more artistic representations 
with a short text at the bottom. The older and ruder produc- 
tions had outlived their usefulness, since the printed text was 
placed in the hands of the pupils; the pictorial "open** Bible 
manual gave place^ in the schools, to the textual "open" Bible 
history. 

The reading public, both cleric and lay, was likewise sup- 
plied with an amazing multitude of Bibles and parts of the 
Bible, handwritten as well as printed, in pre-Reformation 
times. We still have copies of two hundred and thirty-nine 
different editions of the whole Bible printed in nine different 
languages between 1450 and 1520. The number of editions of 
portions of the Bible printed within the same period, runs into 
thousands. They are literally countless. These tens of thou- 
sands of Bibles and parts of the Bible were printed to be sold 
to, and read by, Catholics. The Catholic printers of this great 
mass of Bibles made a living by publishing copies of the Bible, 
conducting a regular trade on strict business lines, an impor- 
tant aspect of the question generally overlooked by writers on 
the subject. The production of those Bibles, like the book- 
market in general, was regulated by the law of- supply and de- 



604 THE ''OPEN BIBLE'' [Feb^ 

mand. With the exception of Bibles donated to friends by the 
printers and copies destroyed by reckless shipping, all printed 
Bibles were eventually bought by Catholics in pre-Reformation 
times, so that there is almost a complete equation between de- 
mand and supply, the cases of over-production having been 
quite rare. Think you that printers would have published so 
many editions of the Bible, if there was no likelihood that they 
would readily be sold? Would any modern publisher reprint 
successively, year after year, a work which was not selling? 
Truly, the Bible was an "open" book in pre-Reformation 
times: it was printed everywhere in large numbers. 

Several classes of people, however, made no demand for 
printed Bibles. The dignitaries of the Church, the monks of 
the large monasteries, the rich noblemen, and the wealthy 
burghers were the happy possessors of libraries well stocked in 
artistic manuscript Bibles. The quaint Bibles in handwritten 
characters had cast a personal spell upon these Bible-readers 
so that printed Bibles had no attraction for them. No less 
than eight thousand manuscript copies of the Latin Bible are 
still preserved in the public and private libraries of Europe 
and America, a small remnant of a large mass which has per- 
ished by the ravages of time. Likewise there are still extant 
two hundred and two manuscript German Bibles out of a total 
number of 3,600 copies of handwritten Bibles in Germany 
which had existed in pre-Reformation tinfes. This is stated 
by William Walther, a Protestant scholar of unquestionable 
authority. Since the fastidious lovers of superbly illuminated 
manuscript Bibles looked askance at the productions of the 
printer's press, a lively trade in beautiful manuscript copies of 
the Bible was carried on for a long time after the invention of 
printing. Even printed Bibles were re-written by copyists in 
the time-honored style. An instructive example of this kind is 
the so-called "Stratter Bible" in the University library at Gratz. 
It is a verbal transcript of the German Bible printed at Stras- 
burg in 1466, and was executed by Erasmus Stratter by order 
of Archbishop Bernhard Rohr of Salzburg (died 1487). So 
the handwritten Bibles entered into sharp competition with the 
printed copies on the market, and the printers had a hard 
struggle, at first, with the text writers resulting eventually in a 
falling-off of the total output of printed Bibles for the time 
being. 



1920.] THE ''OPEN BIBLE'' 605 

It was to the material interest of printers, as well as copy- 
ists, to multiply copies of the Bible in pre-Reformation times: 
they made a living by selling them in the market. The earli- 
est printers were also booksellers, with traveling agents 
to extend their sales. Antony Koberger of Nuremberg 
had in 1490 agents for the sale of his books in every larger 
city of Christendom. The itinerant book agent never 
failed to frequent the fairs in the towns and larger vil- 
lages, where he took his place among the stall-keepers and sold 
Bibles. 

Large advertisements in folio size were displayed on walls, 
while smaller hand bills, in quarto or octavo, were lavishly 
distributed all over the town or city. Some of these smaller 
hand bills were eventually pasted on the inside of the cover of 
the books bought, and were thereby saved to posterity. 

Again the itinerant book agent would go out of the beaten 
roads to monasteries nestling in secluded valleys or hidden 
away in dense forests, where some of his best customers dwelt. 
Here he would deliver the. books ordered by the monks on his 
last trip, would offer new ones for sale and receive new orders. 
An instance of this kind is a Latin Bible, still preserved, which 
was sold August 8, 1487, to the Benedictines at Montebourg in 
France by the book agent Janicart, as an inscription at the end 
of the volume informs us. In this way numerous book agents 
carried the Bible from village to village, hamlet to hamlet, 
settlement to settlement, and even into the lonely huts of the 
backwoods. 

Book selling was also conducted, then as now, by dealers 
in cities and towns who were wholesalers as well as retailers. 
The book trade was centred in certain parts of the cities, par- 
ticularly in the vicinity of churches and colleges or universi- 
ties. In Strasburg the book shops were grouped around the 
Cathedral and the Imperial Palace, in Paris around the Uni- 
versity in the Rue St. Jacques, in Leipzig around the colleges 
in the neighborhood of St. Nicholas Cemetery, in fact, in every 
city the trade of bookselling thrived in a comparatively narrow 
compass. Certainly things have changed during the last three 
centuries. Yet there is nothing in the annals of bookselling 
so remarkable as the conservatism of the dealers at London. 
Until within the past few decades, the book trade was almost 
entirely confined to a radius of half a mile, taking St PauFs 



606 THE ''OPEN BIBLE'' [Feb.. 

Cathedral as the starting point. Literature and Paternoster 
Row have always been almost synonymous terms. From the 
cities and towns the book trade spread into smaller villages, 
where printing could not thrive. We know about 1^0 print- 
ing houses had been doing business at about two hundred and 
twenty different places previous to the year 1520. Yet the 
number of booksellers who opened shops in very small locali- 
ties cannot be reckoned. 

The early publishers and sellers of Bibles, whether fixed 
or migratory, always found a ready market for their goods. 
They were constantly meeting actual demand and hence were 
trading on safe ground. The result of their business activities 
was a surprisingly large circulation of the Bible among peo- 
ple of all classes. The humanist, Sebastian Brant, stated in 
1494 that all lands were full of copies of the Scripture. At 
about the same time the anonymous author of the Dutch 
Chronicle of the Countries of Overmaas declared that ""books 
and Bibles are found everywhere and are very cheap, so that 
a very good printed Bible is sold for three Rhenish florins and 
less." A few years later the humanist, Conrad Celtes (died 
1508), informs us that the ""priests could find a copy of the 
Bible in every inn, if they chose to look." This remark is very 
striking; for the inns were the places where the migratory 
book agent sold his goods to the peasant and artisan of 
the small villages. And furthermore the inns occupied the 
place of literary club houses in those days, as they still do in 
many localities of Europe. If an ""open" Bible was found in 
the smallest villages, as Celtes assures us, there was surely 
no scarcity of Scriptures in the larger towns and cities. 

But some Protestants still cling to the old story that the 
Reformation first ""opened" the hitherto concealed treasures of 
heavenly wisdom to the laity by translating the Bible into the 
vernacular tongues and placing it in the hands of the common 
people. Happily this crude misconception is fast losing 
ground even in Protestant circles. In face of the multitude of 
vernacular Bibles produced in pre-Reformation times, no se- 
rious Protestant historian will uphold any longer the old claim. 
We even owe to Protestant scholarship some of the best his- 
torical studies on this subject. Modern researches have estab- 
lished the fact, that long before the Reformation of Luther, 
the people of almost every country in Europe had the Bible 



^cfc, 1920.] THE "OPEN BIBLE" 607 

to already translated into their own tongues. In most nations, 

\k there was in circulation not one, but many different versions, 

both handwritten and printed. There are still preserved 
seventy-five handwritten Bibles and portions of the Bible in 
German dating from the fourteenth century and one hundred 
and twenty-eight written before 1500. 

The first printed edition of Scripture in the vernacular 
was issued at Strasburg in 1466, a Bible in High-German. From 
1466 till 1520 were printed forty-seven editions of the vernacu- 
lar Bible: seventeen in German, thirteen Italian, twelve 
French, two Bohemian, one Dutch, one Spanish, and one Rus- 
sian for the Catholic Ukrainians and Ruthenians. These num- 
bers do not include the edition of the Bible in Bohemian for 
the Hussites, printed at Venice in 1506. These forty-seven 
editions comprised no less than 25,000 single copies of the 
whole Bible. The number of portions of the Bible in the ver- 
nacular printed from 1462 to 1520 may run up to one hundred 
thousand single copies; they were never properly estimated. 

Not only was the laity supplied with vernacular Bibles, but 
the Latin Scriptures were more plentiful still, a fact over- 
looked quite frequently even by Catholic authors. From 1453 till 
1520 no less than one hundred and ninety editions of the Latin 
Bible were issued comprising a sum total of at least 120,000 
single copies, not counting copies of parts of the Bible. Be- 
sides these, two issues of the Bible in Greek appeared in print 
consisting of about 1,700 copies. All in all, four times as many 
complete Bibles were printed in Latin as in the vernacular 
languages. It is a mistake to suppose that this mass of Latin 
Bibles was published exclusively for the clergy. 

Even if the Catholic Church had given the Bible to the peo- 
ple only in the Latin version, she would not have concealed it 
from the laity: nor would it have remained "an unknown 
book" among lay people. A Latin Bible was no sealed book 
to the laity as such. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, 
and for two centuries afterwards till up to the middle of the 
eighteenth century, Latin was the language of science, of theol- 
ogy, of philosophy, of legislation, of history, and of medicine. 
"Latin," writes Macaulay,' "was in the sixteenth century the 
language of court as well as of schools, the language of diplo- 
macy, theological and political controversy. A person who 

■**BsMy oo Bacon." 



608 THE ^'OPEN BIBLE'' [Fcb^ 

did not read Greek and Latin could read nothing or next to 
nothing. It was absolutely necessary to be uneducated or 
classicly educated.*' In Germany, three times as many Latin 
books were written and printed annually during the Reforma- 
tion, till the year 1580, as books in German or other languages. 
Latin works on jurisprudence exceeded in number German 
works year after year till as late as 1750, and Latin medical 
books exceeded such in German till up to 1706. These Latin 
legal and medical tomes were surely not written by Catholic 
priests, but by laymen. Catholic as well as Protestant. Condi- 
tions were the same in other countries of Europe. These 
facts clearly demonstrate, that every educated lay person 
could read, write and speak Latin both before, and for two 
centuries after, the Reformation. The majority of Latin 
Bibles were printed both before and after the Reformation for 
these educated lay people. This is expressly stated by the 
author of the preface to the German Bible printed at Cologne 
in 1480. **The educated people may read Jerome's Vulgate 
(Latin Bible), but the unlearned and simple folk of the clergy 
and the laity should use this edition which is in good 
German." 

Educated lay people not only read Latin Bibles piously, 
but even prayed in Latin and from Latin Bibles. Certain por- 
tions of the Latin Bible were printed separately to serve as 
prayer books for the educated laity. It would detain us too 
long to give a complete enumeration of the various extracts 
from the Latin Bible arranged in the form of prayer books 
and widely used in pre-Reformation times. I only point out 
one striking case of this kind. The ordinary prayer book used 
by the laity in England was the Primer made up of Psalms and 
short extracts from various other Biblical Books. No less than 
one hundred and twenty editions and 100,000 copies appeared 
in print from 1478 till 1535, all in Latin. The first English 
edition was published in 1535. Yet the Primer was a layman's 
book of devotion for private use at home and in church. In 
Italy there were published eleven editions or 10,000 copies of 
this book in Greek for the use of educated lay people who pre- 
ferred to pray in the language of ancient Greece. In face of 
these facts it is sheer folly to assert that a Latin Bible was a 
sealed book to the laity in pre-Reformation days. 

Readmg the partisan histories of the Reformation, we 



1920.] THE "OPEN BIBLE" 609 

must needs conclude that the Latin Bible was doomed, as soon 
as the great Reformer had placed an "open" Bible in the 
hands of the laity. But no such thing happened. The demand 
for Latin Bibles increased after the Reformation. From 1521 
tiU 1600 no less than three hundred and eighty-two editions 
of the Latin Bible were printed, just twice as many as during 
the seventy preceding years (1450 to 1520) ; from 1601 till 1700 
we count two hundred and sixty-two editions; from 1701 till 
1800 one hundred and ninety-two editions, and in the course 
of the nineteenth century one hundred and thirty-three edi- 
tions. These figures show that the sixteenth century was the era 
of the Latin Bible. And Protestants printed Latin Bibles in the 
same way as Catholics. Already as early as 1522, the very 
year when Luther's German Bible first appeared in print, the 
Protestant Osiander published a Latin Bible. Seven years 
later Luther and Melanchthon issued a Latin Bible at Wit- 
tenberg. Still later the followers of Luther, Calvin, and 
Zwingli edited Latin Bibles, each giving expression to the va- 
rious doctrinal divergencies of their particular sect. We may 
fairly put the question, why so many Protestant editions of the 
Bible in Latin? The answer is easy. The Protestant theolo- 
gians who were expounding the teaching of their church in 
ponderous Latin tomes could not do without a Latin Bible, 
and the educated Protestant layman gave preference to a Latin 
Bible just as the Catholic lay people had done both before 
and after the Reformation. Every one who is familiar with 
the Latin Bible will eventually share their predilection. More- 
over, we must not overlook the patent fact that a great preju- 
dice against vernacular literature existed in educated circles 
both before and long after the Reformation which prevented 
many from using vernacular Bibles. In September, 1545, Con- 
rad Gesner, a Protestant, published the first history of litera- 
ture ever written. As a matter of course in those days, it was 
written in Latin, a ponderous tome of one thousand two hun- 
dred and sixty-two pages. Gesner states on the title-page that 
literature includes only works written in Latin, Greek and 
Hebrew, the rest being "barbarous books.*' An author, there- 
fore, who wrote a book in the vernacufar or translated the 
Bible into the language of the people was performing an 
inglorious work; he was not entitled to a place in the catalogue 
of illustrious writers. Educated readers who laid claim to 

TOL. GZ. if 



J 



610 THE ''OPEN BIBLE'' [Feb., 

genteel breeding, regarding the vernacular books very much 
as trash unfit to be read by refined people. Vernacular Bibles 
were good enough for half-learned women and peasants, but 
not for men of learning. We must guard against the error 
quite often committed by authors who apply the modem stand- 
ard of valuation to these literary productions of former cen- 
turies. We now praise what cultured men of past ages slighted. 
These facts clearly prove that the Latin Bible was the *'open'* 
Scripture for the educated laity in a better way than the vernac- 
ular Bible was for the less educated lay people. 

Yet the claim is still proudly upheld by some that the Ref- 
ormation first gave an "'open Bible*' to the people, no matter 
how many Bibles may have been written and printed by Catho- 
lics. It is a foregone conclusion that ^neither after nor before 
the invention of printing was the Bible a free book and that the 
Church uniformly set itself against the circulation of the Bible 
among the laity." * As evidence the various prohibitions issued 
by the Church against indiscriminate dissemination of vernac- 
ular printed books are brought forth. After the invention of 
printing and the subsequent large circulation of printed books, 
the harm done by pernicious works increased in a manner 
hitherto unknown. The Church was forced to take precaution- 
ary measures by insisting on a preventive censorship of all 
printed works. Bibles as well as other books. This was first done 
thirty-four years after the invention of printing, in 1479. In 
a Brief of March 18, 1479, Sixtus IV. granted the fullest powers 
of censorship to the University of Cologne, and praised it for 
having hitherto checked with much zeal the printing and sell- 
ing of irreligious books. 

But this cannot, by any possibility, be interpreted as a 
prohibition of printing or reading the vernacular Bible for the 
simple reason that no vernacular Bible had been printed yet in 
the Low German dialect spoken by the people of Cologne; 
the seven editions of the Bible in High German printed from 
1466 till 1479 were as unintelligible to them as the Latin Bible. 
Moreover, immediately after this supposed prohibition two 
editions of the Bible in Low German were published, in 1479 
and 1480, at Cologne, by the printer of the University, Henry 
Quentel. Obviously the University did not ask for powers of 
censorship to suppress German Bibles. Those powers, in fact, 

*Scliaff, BUtorg of the ChrUtUui Church, Tol. t., p. 722. 



1920.] THE ''OPEN BIBLE'' 611 

were applied for and granted to check the cu'culation of Latin 
pernicious pamphlets, as modem researches have revealed. 
Preventive censorship laws were enacted for the diocese 
of Wiirzbm-g (1482), Mayence (1485), Cologne (1487), Trier 
and Magdeburg (1501), and the Republic of Venice (1491). 

Finally, on May 3, 1515, the first Papal censorial decree 
was given for the entire Church and universally accepted, 
whereby all writings without exception were subjected to cen- 
sorship. These laws dealt with the printing and selling of 
Bibles, and did not prohibit reading the Bible. A licensed 
Bible is not a prohibited Bible. Moreover, these laws do not 
aim primarily at restricting the circulation of vernacular Bi- 
bles, but only secondarily; they prohibit printing heretical and 
incorrectly translated theological and irreligious books in 
general. As for the reading of the Bible, the Universal Church 
never prohibited the reading of the Scriptures. 

It is a misstatement to say that Latin Bibles were printed 
exclusively for those poor ecclesiastics who could not afford 
to buy a handwritten copy. Poor ecclesiastics were all well 
provided with extracts from the Bible in the form of breviaries 
and, in case they needed a complete Bible, they could easily 
borrow one from their church library. This had been a stand- 
ing practice before the invention of printing and was con- 
tinued long after the press had turned out thousands of printed 
Bibles. True, many printed Bibles were purchased by clergy- 
men. Yet the greatest bulk was secured by educated lay people 
of both sexes. Protestant historians paint the minor ecclesias- 
tics in the blackest colors as a set of lazy and ignorant people. 
This is more than an exaggeration. Yet every candid historian 
will admit that many of these clergymen did not invest their 
rather slim income in printed Bibles. And the rich ecclesiastics 
of higher rank and the monks of the larger monasteries, were 
so wedded to their handwritten Bibles that they looked dis- 
dainfully upon the productions of the press. Hence the Latin 
Bibles were the Scriptures for the educated laity. These Latin 
Bibles circulated freely among laymen, and no Catholic has 
ever yet been prohibited from reading the Scriptures in Latin. 

It is evident, therefore, to prohibit the reading of vernacu- 
lar Bibles would have been merely to withhold the Scriptures 
from a small minority of half-educated lay people^ a class 
least prepared to derive the greatest benefit from the pious 



612 THE "OPEN BIBLE" [Feb., 

reading of the Bible. Nothing is more subversive of faith 
than shallow enlightenment and a smattering of knowledge. 
Shallow draughts of knowledge intoxicate the brain. Hence 
indiscriminate reading of the Bible by half-educated people 
has been quite often not for their best interests. The Church 
had witnessed in her long career many lay people perverting 
the sacred text to defend their errors. She had to safeguard 
the truth against men who wantonly misinterpreted the Bible 
in order to support a variety of heretical doctrines. Quite 
naturally she warned her children against erroneous inter- 
pretations and abuses of the Scriptures. There were prelates 
and theologians who did not favor the movement to place 
the vernacular Bible in the hands of half-educated people, 
too ignorant to read the Scriptures in Latin. In 1530, the ma- 
jority of Catholic bishops and priests in England declared 
that it was not necessary to have the Scriptures in the English 
tongue, and in the hands of the common people, and that, 
considering the unsettled state of things at home, the circu- 
lation of an English Bible among the people would rather tend 
to confusion than to edification. And those EngUsh prelates 
and priests could have found the best justification for their 
attitude in the development of the Reformation in Germany. 
Bibles in the vernacular were circulating in Germany 
without opposition from the Church in pre-Reformation times. 
As soon as the translation was found to be correct, it could 
be printed and spread without hindrance. But this German 
Bible was grossly abused sometimes by half-educated people. 
Some of them found in their Bibles the revolutionary doc- 
trines which Luther later, in 1520, set forth in his virulent 
pamphlets on the Reformation of the Christian State, Baby- 
lonish Captivity and Christian Liberty. Clear-sighted theo- 
logians like Geiler were wide awake to the dangers threatening 
the faith and warned the people against the seductive teachings 
of self -constituted lay expounders of Scripture. Yet there was 
not a single theologian in Germany who would have advo- 
cated the complete suppression of the vernacular Bible. 
Protestant historians completely overlook this revolutionary 
tendency of the great class of readers of the vernacular Bible 
in Germany on the eve of the Reformation, when they blame 
the Church for introducing preventive censorship. In 1479, 
this measure was first resorted to in order to check the cir- 



1920.] THE ''OPEN BIBLE'' 613 

cuIatioD of certain Latin pamphlets which advocated the 
spoliation of the **rich" Church. It was a contest between the 
clergy and the burghers. Six years later the Archbishop of 
Mayence introduced censorship in his diocese to check "books 
about the rights of the clergy and the deepest problems of 
faith which had been translated from the Latin." And yet 
this mandate of 1486 is, in the eyes of Protestant historians, a 
prohibition of printing the vernacular Bible. It was aimed 
not at the Bible, but at pamphlets that used the Bible to prove 
their destructive errors. The Catholic Church never made any 
restriction as to reading the Bible in the vernacular, before 
the flagrant abuses of the Bible by the Reformers and their 
disciples called for pertinent regulations. The first restrictive 
law in this matter was passed as late as the year 1564, when 
the Council of Trent had closed its session. But even this 
restriction was not an absolute prohibition, since everyone 
was permitted to read Bibles translated into the vulgar 
tongues by Catholic authors, as soon as he had received a 
special permission from the bishops to do so. This disciplin- 
ary regulation, therefore, was no prohibition, but a necessary 
supervision. 

However, the annals of history do show one unqualified 
prohibition forbidding lay people to read the Bible in the 
vernacular. This prohibition was not made by the Catholic 
Church, but by Protestant England. On July 11, 1533, Henry 
VIII. was excommunicated. Three years later, August, 1536, 
Cromwell, the King's vicar-general, ordered English Bibles to 
be provided in the churches for anyone to read, an injunction 
re-issued on September 5, 1538. But it was not long before 
Protestant England experienced the sad consequences of such 
indiscriminate Bible reading. As early as April 12, 1540, Crom- 
well stated in Parliament: "'When the King had granted that 
the Bible might be read in the vernacular, the privilege was 
wretchedly abused, some turning it to the support of heresies 
and some of superstitions. The King was determined to pre- 
vent abuses and punish irreverent treatment of the Bible. 
For these objects he had selected certain bishops and doctors 
who should set forth what Christian people have to know.'** 

The mediaeval Church had witnessed the same abuses of 
Bible reading time and again, and had employed the same 

■ Gairdner, English Church in ihe Sixteenth Centurg, p. 215 et $eq. 



614 THE ''OPEN BIBLE" [Feb^ 

means for checking them. 'Experience has made it mani- 
fest," wrote the committee of Catholic theologians which is- 
sued the first restrictive law in 1564. *Hhat the permission to 
read the Bible indiscriminately in the vulgar tongues has from 
rashness of men done more harm than good.** Nevertheless, 
the Catholic Church did not forbid the reading of vernacular 
Scriptures. She left this questionable honor to Protestant 
England. In 1543, Parliament passed an ""Act for the Advance- 
ment of True Religion," which sets forth that •'many seditious 
people, arrogant and ignorant persons have taken upon them, 
not only to preach, teach, and set forth the Scriptures by ser- 
mons, but also by printed books, whereupon diversity of opin- 
ions, tumults and schisms have sprung and arisen among the 
subjects; that a great multitude of subjects, most especially 
of the lower sort, have so abused the Bible in the English 
tongue that they have thereby grown in divers erroneous 
opinions and fallen into great division and dissension among 
themselves." These official statements are the best vindica- 
tion of the attitude of the Catholic clergy, in 1530, as to the 
translation of the Bible into English. The gloomy forebodings 
of the heads of the Catholic Church in 1530 that ''at this junc- 
ture the English Bible would rather tend to confusion than to 
edification" had come true in 1543. 

The repressive measures taken by Parliament to remedy 
said abuses went beyond the wise regulations made by the 
Church in that matter. They were nothing short of an absolute 
prohibition to read the vernacular Bible for certain classes of 
lay people. Parliament enacted in 1543 that "from and after 
the first day of July next no women, nor artificers, prentices, 
journeymen, serving-men of the degrees of yeomen or under 
husbandmen, nor laborers shall read within this realm, or in 
any other of the King's dominions, the Bible or New Tes- 
tament in English to himself or to any other privately or 
openly upon pain of one month's imprisonment for every time 
offending contrary to this act. Persons other than women, 
artificers, prentices, journeymen, serving-men of the degrees 
of yeomen or under husbandmen, and laborers may read to 
themselves and not to none other any text of the Bible and 
New Testament. Likewise every noblewoman and gentle- 
woman may read to themselves alone and not to others any 
text of the Bible or New Testament. Again every nobleman 



1920.] THE ''OPEN BIBLE" 615 

and gentleman being a householder may read or cause to be 
read by any of his servants in his house and to his family quietly 
and without disturbance any text of the Bible or New Testa- 
ment. Yet every merchantman, being a householder was al- 
lowed to read to himself privately the Bible and New Testa- 
ment. But no person was permitted to read, preach or teach 
openly to others the Bible or any part of Scripture in English.** 
The annals of the Catholic Church know of no restrictions of 
this kind throughout the nineteen centuries of her existence. 
These minute injunctions surely do not bear out the Protestant 
contention that the Reformation gave an ''open** Bible to the 
laity. 

Even less ''open** was the English Bible in Virginia in the 
seventeenth century. Sir William Berkeley, Governor of Vir- 
ginia for thirty-eight years (1642-1680), wrote to the Lords 
Commissioners of Foreign Plantations in one of his dispatches : 
"I thank Grod, we have not free schools nor printing, and I hope 
we shall not have these hundred years. For learning has 
brought disobedience and heresy and sects into the world, and 
printing has divulged them and libels against the Grovern- 
ment. God keep us from both.*** No Catholic ever penned 
such a sweeping indictment against education and printing. 

Printing and publishing of the English Bible has always 
been a prerogative of the Crown which granted exclusive privi- 
leges or patent rights to certain parties for the purpose. But 
those monopolists, or King*s printers, raised the price of Eng- 
lish Bibles sometimes to exorbitant sums, and devised all ways 
and used all means to quash competition from Dutch printers. 
Because of them the English Bible was not allowed to be 
printed in the American Colonies, so that, from 1639 till 1782, 
only four editions of the Bible were issued in North America, 
one in an Indian dialect and three in German. The printers 
of Catholic Bibles were not hampered by such commercial 
monopolies. Before May 3, 1515, every printer could publish 
any amount of Bibles at any place, outside five German dio- 
ceses and the Republic of Venice, unhampered by any laws 
of censorship or patent rights. Since May 3, 1515, the editions 
of Bibles are subjected to censorship. As soon as the censor 
has finished examination, he is to give approbation free of 
charge and without delay, and this under pain of excommuni- 

'Henlng*! Statutes at Large of Virginia^ yol. xtI., p. 2, par. 517. 



616 THE ''OPEN BIBLE' [Feb^ 

cation.^ A printer who has once obtained the necessary ap- 
probation is in no wise restricted; he may publish as many 
Bibles as he sees fit. But it was otherwise with the printers 
of English Protestant Bibles. They were bound to print the 
Authorized Version in the same way as the Catholic printers 
the Approved Version, and needed, moreover, a special license 
from the Crown. Since these patent rights are granted to but 
few printers, it is evident that the Catholic vernacular Bibles 
are a much more **free" book than the English Bible. 

The American Revolution made the English Bible a '^free** 
book on this side of the Atlantic. As soon as independence was 
secured, Robert Aitken printed the first English Bible on this 
soil at Philadelphia in 1782, a great folio Bible. To the Catho- 
lics, however, belongs the honor of having published eight 
years later the first quarto Bible in English in this country, 
printed by Mathew Carey at Philadelphia in 1790. 

Our inquiry reveals the fact that the Bible was an "open** 
book in pre-Reformation times, and in many ways more **free*' 
in Catholic countries than in Protestant England. '^Whether 
the Catholics in the Middle Ages could read or not,** writes 
Father Graham,' "I do not hesitate to assert that, with few 
exceptions, they had a personal and intelligent knowledge and 
a vivid realization of the most necessary facts in the Sacred 
Scripture and in the life of Our Divine Lord to an extent which 
is simply not to be found among the millions of our nominal 
Christians in this country today.** It simply is not true that 
the Reformation first gave an "open** Bible to the "Scripture 
thirsty** lay people. 

V Bull of Leo X., Hay 3, 1515. * Where We Got the BibU, p. t8. 



THE CHESTERBELLOC. 



BY THEODORE MAYNARD. 




IV. 

The Personauties* 

MIGHT be inclined to exaggerate if in order to 
counteract the prevailing opinion of Chesterton 
and Belloc, I went out of my way to show how 
different they are from each other; but even 
if I did my worst and wildest in an attempt to 
accentuate the differences between the two men, I would be 
certain to be nearer the truth than are those who imagine unity 
of philosophy to imply identity of character. That strange ani- 
mal, the Chesterbelloc, has a duality of personality as marked 
as that in Stevenson's description of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I 
do not mean, of course, that Belloc displays a brutality opposed 
to Chesterton's angelic benevolence. There is no antagonism; 
the conflict is not between light and darkness; but there is a 
contrast as unmistakeable as that of red and blue — ^which are 
complementary colors. I could write at length, as they do 
in the dull though clever psychological novels, to emphasize 
the fact that Gilbert Chesterton is dreamy, indolent, mystical, 
unfathomably simple, where Hilaire Belloc is wide-awake, 
active, practical, rationalistic and not a little sophisticated. It 
would be possible, if I wanted such sport, to run the matter to 
earth and find the secret of Belloc in his French blood and of 
Chesterton in his English temperament. A hundred personal 
details could be worked in — on the one hand Belloc's actuality, 
his love of the concrete, for ^11 1 know his preference of mar- 
malade to jam, and on the other hand Chesterton's fantas- 
ticality, his extravagance, and his possible gluttonous passion 
for jam. I would enjoy such a method of criticism and if I 
do not propose following it in detail, the reason is that I can 
make my point more briefly and quite as picturesquely by 
saying that Chesterton differs from Belloc as completely as a 
statue in Notre Dame differs from a statue in the Parthenon. 



618 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Feb^ 

Phidias might not have accepted Belloc as a model for a Greek 
god, and it is hardly polite to say that Chesterton would have 
been a first rate gargoyle, but the special qualities of each are 
as distinct as the special genius of romanticism and classicism. 
In their attitude of mind, which I have tried to illustrate by 
the rival statues, the one man has a sensationalism very for- 
eign to the other. There is certainly something very great in 
the serene symmetry of Milton, but Browning is not less of a 
poet for being grotesque. Belloc admires Milton though he 
is incapable of appreciating Browning. He is Latin; and 
where he fails to see the fomi and regularity demanded by 
the canons of antiquity, is inclined to reject as mere barbar- 
ism the rugged violence he is unable to admire. The Elgin 
marbles and the verse of Racine are enduring things, but they 
do not sum up the whole of art. The North has to learn of the 
South, from whence all its standards come, but it has a pow^ 
of expressing mystery and astonishment which the South has 
never learned. The remedy is not a modification of each, 
rounded by a sterile compromise, but the development of the 
peculiar gifts of each along its own lines. The Grothic and the 
classical do not coincide — they complete one another; and 
the energy of their excesses may be controlled by encouraging 
both. 

Before we pass to a consideration of biographical facts 
concerning the Chesterbelloc, it would be as well to observe 
their personalities as reflected in their styles. There are some 
writers who conceal themselves in their books; Chesterton 
and Belloc belong to the other sort who reveal themselves. To 
read them is to hear them speak, and those who know the men 
will catch the tone of their voices and the sound of loud and 
frequent laughter. So I take passages of poetry and prose, 
which are, simply because of their excellence, not the best ex- 
amples which might be given of the distinctive marks of style. 
They are, however, characteristic enough, I think, to illustrate 
my argument as to the classical method of Mr. Belloc and the 
incurable romanticism of Mr. Chesterton. 

First then, I have been in some doubt whether or no to 
quote the fine dedicatory poem of The Man who was Thwrsday, 
which reminds Mr. Edmund Clerihew Bentley of his revolt in 
company with G. K. C. against the decadence of the eighteen- 
nineties. 



1920,] THE CHESTERBELLOC 619 

Fools as we were in motley, all jangling and absurd, 

When all church bells were silent our cap and bells were heard. 

After some hesitation I have decided upon the lyric sung by 
the impossible Irishman Dalroy as he draws up the army of 
the English democracy, unstirred since Wat Tyler*s day, for 
the final assault upon an alien tyranny, Mohammedism vic- 
torious in England: 

Lady, the light is dying in the skies, 

Lady, and let us die when honor dies; 

Your dear, dropped glove was like a gauntlet flung 

When you and I were young. 
For something more than splendor stood; and ease was not 

the only good. 
About the woods in Ivywood, when you and I were young. 

Lady, the stars are falling pale and small. 
Lady, we will not live if life be all. 
Forgetting those good stars in heaven hung. 

When all the world was young; 
For more than gold was in a ring, and love was not a little 

thing. 
Between the trees in Ivywood, when all the world was young. 

Compare with this lyric, Mr. Belloc's magnificent sonnet, which 
appeared, like so much of his verse, embedded in an essay. 
He had written of a priest who once preached a sermon on 
the text "Abba Father," and whose eyes were illuminated by 
the vision of something distant; of rest as soldiers know it 
or writers when they end their books; of the tides of salt water 
and of death, the final rest. Then he concludes with this mov- 
ing and magnificent sonnet: 

We will not whisper: we have found the place 
Of silence and the ancient halls of sleep 
And that which breathes alone throughout the deep 

The end and the beginning; and the face 

Between the level brows of whose blind eyes 
Lie plenary contentment, full surcease 
Of violence, and the ultimate great peace 

Wherein we lose our human lullabies. 



620 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Feb^ 

Look up and tell the immeasurable height 

Between the vault of the world and your dear head; 

That's Death» my little sister, and the Night 
That was our Mother beckons us to bed: 

Where large oblivion in her house is laid 

For us tired children now our games are played. 

I daresay that better examples of prose could be found in 
books abounding in splendid passages than the two I have 
chosen almost at random — ^but they will suffice for my purpose. 
The first is from that early collection of Mr. Chesterton's essays 
entitled The Defendant, where he found more exciting adven- 
tures in defending good traditions and even good conventions 
than the bohemians find in their attack upon them. In this de- 
fence of rash vows he declares the rashest of all vows to be that 
made in marriage whose very rashness is its strength: 

There are thrilling moments, doubtless, for the spectator, 
the amateur and the aesthete; but there is one thrill that is 
known only to the soldier who fights for his own flag, to the 
ascetic who starves himself for his own illumination, to the 
lover who makes finally his own choice. And it is this trans- 
figuring self-discipline that makes the vow a truly sane 
thing. . . . All around us is the city of small sins, abound- 
ing in backways and retreats; but surely, sooner or later, 
the towering flame will rise from the harbor announcing 
that the reign of the cowards is over and a man is burning 
his ships. 

Mr. Belloc's style has at its best, as in this quotation from 
his Life of Danton, a slow, solemn, processional effect. In the 
same book he marshals the long line of the French kings to 
ride in cavalcade in ghostly glory. The prose takes on the 
ring and rhythm of poetry as the pageant of history moves 
in stately pomp across the printed page. Macaulay had a 
panoramic trick he often used; so also had de Quincey; but 
no other man has possessed Hilaire Belloc's power in this sort 
of writing. 

But with the false step that produced civil war, that made 
of the ardent and liberal West a sudden opponent, that in 
its final effect raised Lyons and alienated half the southern 



1920.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 621 

towns, that lost Toulon, that put the extreme of fanaticism 
in the wisest and most loyal minds — such a generous and easy 
war was doomed, and the Revolution was destined to a more 
tragic and to a nobler history. God, who permitted this proud 
folly to proceed from a pedantic aristocracy, foresaw things 
necessary to mankind. In the despair of the philosophers 
there will arise on either side of a great battle the en- 
thusiasms which, from whenceever they blow, are the fresh 
winds of the soul. Here are coming the heroes and the epic 
songs for which humanity was sick, and the scenes of one 
generation of men shall give us in Europe our creeds for 
centuries. You shall hear the Chant du Dipart like a great 
hymn in the army of the Sambre et Meuse, and the cheers 
of men going down on the Vengeur; the voice of a young 
man calling the grenadiers at Lodi and Areola; the noise 
of the guard swinging up the frozen hill at Austerlitz. Al- 
ready the forests below the Pyrenees are full of the Spanish 
guerillas, and after how many hundred years the love of the 
tribe has reappeared again above the conventions that cov- 
ered it. There are the three colors standing against the trees 
in the North and the South; and the delicate womanly face 
of Nelson is looking over the bulwarks of the Victory, with 
the slow white clouds and the light wind of an October day 
above him, and before him the enemy's sails in the sunlight 
and the black rocks of the coast. 

Such a mastery over verse, such a command of noble prose 
has naturally given the Chesterbelloc an immense literary 
reputation. In order to comprehend the magnitude of its 
power, we must remember how varied its books have been, 
in what widely separated fields its campaigns were fought and 
its laurels won. Gilbert Chesterton and Hilaire Belloc have 
between them covered practically the whole scope of literary 
activity. Indeed I think that if we except drama (which Belloc 
for some odd reason has omitted to touch) it will be found 
that each of them has excelled in half a dozen completely 
different forms of writing. They have suffered as such men 
must from their generous refusal to become specialists, just 
as Robert Louis Stevenson suffered by his wide interests and 
the variety of his work. The world, which is a dull dog, can- 
not understand the genius of a man who is great enough to be 
at once poet, novelist, biographer, critic, historian, essayist, 
theologian, philosopher, and pamphleteer. That Belloc can. 



622 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Feb^ 

according to Mr. Thomas Seccombe, write a sonnet while 
waiting for his companion to finish his drink is a reason — a 
very bad reason — ^for believing that the sonnet must be very 
bad. It undoubtedly is true, however, that talent of this order 
is likely to dissipate itself; for while a constriction of effort 
brings less enjoyment it is likely also to achieve a more lasting 
success. 

The Chesterbelloc has chosen rather to enjoy itself, to 
fight, to drink, to laugh and be happy, careless of that future 
fame which is the preoccupation of small minds. Mrs. Ches- 
terton once told me a story of how her husband spent an hour 
with a publisher outlining the scheme of a book he proposed 
to write, and was asked what sum of money he thought he 
ought to receive for his labors. "Oh, I don't know,'* he replied, 
"about twopence I suppose." He is utterly regardless either 
of cash or credit. Full of fine writing as his books are, few of 
them, I think, will live long, though they have frequently 
double the merit of work which has double their chance of 
longevity. This is because they are crammed with allusions to 
the most ephemeral modem philosophies; many a joke good 
when made, will be unintelligible in twenty years time, simply 
because the occasion which called it forth will be forgotten 
long before then. To give an example that occurs to me. Is 
any one of the coming generation likely to recognize the name 
of Mr. McCabe? Yet G. K. C. devotes whole pages to that gen- 
tleman. And precisely who is Mr. Salt? G. K. C. went cru- 
sading against him two years ago and oblivion has already 
washed his memory away. 

Admirers of the Chesterbelloc will agree with its detrac- 
tors on the point of certain irritating tricks only too conmionly 
employed by it. There is about Belloc frequently a madden- 
ing habit of reiteration, an expansive elaboration of simple 
points, which has grown upon him lately and which has been 
very much in evidence in his articles written upon the War. 
He can be painfully dull; and if Belloc's work at such mo- 
ments is full of a peculiar logical monotony, Chesterton is apt 
to weary the reader with tricks of another kind. Antithesis 
becomes mechanical and paradox after paradox clicks out with 
the regularity of clockwork. A great deal of this is due, no 
doubt, to the fact that a harassed journalist writing with the 
printer's devil at his elbow, finds it easier to get through his 



1920.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 623 

work quickly if he imitates himself. But the deeper reason 
is that which he himself gives in excuse for a similar fault in 
Browning: ^*In many of the comic scenes of Shakespeare we 
have precisely this elephantine ingenuity, this hunting of a 
poem to death through three pages. In the Elizabethan dram-4 
atists and in Browning it is no doubt to a certain extent the 
mark of a real hilarity. People must be very happy to be so 
easily amused." 

G. K. C. is amused easily, and has the ability of a child to 
amuse himself. He may occasionally tire us with paradox 
because he is tired himself and acts, as tired men do, by habit. 
More frequently, I imagine, we are tired because he isn't tired, 
and his high spirits are as distressing to us only for the same 
reason that a rowdy boy is distressing to his sick mother. 

If Belloc's chief fault as a writer is a provoking pomposity 
and Chesterton's chief fault a provoking playfulness, these 
are, when one comes to think of it, the signs of middle-age 
and of youth. Indeed they are the signs of that innocence and 
experience, which I picked up in groping round for a key to 
the Chesterbelloc, and which has fitted the lock better than I 
had dared to hope. Nowhere does it fit better than into the 
spiritual history of the two friends. 

Going back to where we began with the early volume of 
G. K. C.*s poems we will see a very young man, hardly more 
than a boy fresh from an English public school (where ex- 
travagant devotions are, to put it mildly, not encouraged) on 
his knees in wonder before a blade of grass. The sense of 
stark astonishment had taken the juvenile atheist so strongly, 
the indifference of men to the world they lived in, appeared so 
horribly unnatural that he seemed ready to starve and scourge 
himself to call attention to what others ignored. 



I stood and spoke a blasphemy — 
"Behold! the summer leaves are green!' 



Gilbert Chesterton did not see then why his attitude of ex- 
travagant humility was right, but he passionately proclaimed 
that it was the right attitude. His pagan joy was compelling 
him to a Christian asceticism. For he had already discovered 
the doctrine which was and which remains the centre of his 
philosophy, that the fullest possible enjoyment is to be found 



624 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Feb., 

not by extending our ego to infinity but by reducing our e^ 
to zero. He found later, to his intense surprise, that Chris- 
tianity had discovered this doctrine before him — and that the 
only people who ever inherited the earth have been the meek ! 
He had discovered why one should be humble. 

In the same way he felt the need for ownership in his 
bones years before he saw its necessity in economics. As a 
child he deUghted in drawing pictures of a man surrounded 
by as many personal belongings as could be crowded upon 
the drawing paper. His favorite book was Robinson Crusoe, 
because the shipwrecked sailor saved his goods and enjoyed 
them on a desert island. But like all the sensitive and honor- 
able young men of his day he, who had not an atom of tem- 
peramental desire for public ownership, recited the solemn 
formula about the socialization of all the means of produc- 
tion, distribution and exchange — simply because he was hor- 
rified by the poverty of the slums and saw at the time no other 
means of removing it except collectivism. Then (this is how 
Mr. Chesterton has described to me what happened) he found 
that the innocent fairy tale he had made up about an im- 
possibly beautiful person called a peasant-proprietor was con- 
firmed by the facts of experience. Chesterton had imagined 
such a being and wished that he existed. Belloc, whom he 
met at that moment, was able to assure him that the peasant- 
proprietor did exist in thousands! 

Again, G. K. C, in his fantasia. The Napoleon of Notting 
Hill, invented for himself a patriot whose patriotism only ex- 
tended to the fourth lamp post of the next street, and who 
for that tiny country was ready to die. Suddenly the expe- 
rience of the Boer War confirmed Chesterton's innocence. A 
Semitic sneer taught him what imperialism thought of a small 
republic, and he joined the stafif of the Speaker with Hilaire 
Belloc, to expose the shame which was being brought upon 
his people. 

To take a fourth instance. Gilbert Chesterton had imag- 
ined the rod of authority descending with noise like thunder 
into the hand of an ordinary man. Adam Wayne, the king 
in The Napoleon of Notting Hill, was representative simply be- 
cause he became king by chance, in the way that a demo- 
cratic House of Commons might be got together by taking 
the first six hundred and seventy men one met walking up 



1920.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 625 

Charing Cross Road. G. K. C. had even dared to think of this 
careless democracy as existing in the highest spiritual tri- 
bunal — and then he discovered that the Papacy was founded 
not only upon a rock but upon Peter : 

When Christ at a symbolical moment was establishing His 
Great Society, He chose for His corner-stone neither the bril- 
liant Paul nor the mystic John, but a shuflQer, a coward, a 
snob — in a word, a man. And upon this rock He has built 
His Church, and the gates of Hell have not prevailed against 
it. All the empires and kingdoms have failed, because of 
this inherent and continual weakness, that they were found- 
ed by strong men and upon strong men. But this one thing, 
the historic Christian Church, was founded on a weak man, 
and for that reason it is indestructible. For no chain is 
stronger than its weakest link.^ 

The mention of Peter brings me to a point where I must 
ask a question which many people are asking about Gilbert 
Chesterton. How is it that, holding the briefs he does, he has 
not become a member of the Catholic Church? Hilaire Belloc 
everyone, of course, knows about. He is vehement in his re- 
ligion and public in his profession of it. But Gilbert Chesterton 
is a mystery. I am constantly meeting people who believe him 
to be a Catholic (I use the word of course in its true sense of 
Roman Catholic), having gathered that much from his writ- 
ings, and who are greatly surprised to be told that he is still 
a member of the Church of England. There are men, of whom 
Mr. W. H. Mallock is an illustrious example, who admit the 
logic of the Catholic position, and who even urge it against 
all other philosophies, while remaining outside the Catholic 
Church. This assent is purely intellectual, lacking the super- 
natural element of faith. With Gilbert Chesterton it is other- 
wise. He does not merely state the Roman doctrine of author- 
ity with the impartiality of Mr. Mallock. He writes about it 
casually and appears to take it for granted as a practical ne-^ 
cessity. What is more striking, he possesses that thing so diffi- 
cult for the highest Anglicans to catch, the authentic Catholic 
note. He moves in the Catholic atmosphere. Why does he 
not submit to Rome? 

I do not like to discuss the subject and only do so because 

* George Bernard Shaw. 
VOL. OL 40 



626 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Feb^ 

I cannot ignore it My opinion is that Gilbert Chesterton has 
not acted upon his conclusions, because of his dislike of crises. 
There are probably a few subtle and strong reasons for him 
to stay where he is, but these would not, I think, hold him 
unless there were also certain roots of sentiment which could 
only be dragged up with pain. In Orthodoxy he promised to 
write another book on Christian authority as soon as anyone 
challenged him to do so. Many people have thrown out the 
necessary challenge, but Chesterton has shown a ciurious re- 
luctance to answer it. His sincerity is unquestionable and if 
he has been silent on one highly important point, the reason 
must be that he does not wish to declare himself before he is 
completely certain. The hero of so many fierce controversies is 
entitled to this much spiritual quiet untouched with the dust 
and din of debate. The end is inevitable. It will probably be 
postponed as long as possible, but there is only one end. Has 
he not assured us, in the monograph on Blake, that every man, 
if he could live a thousand years, must become either a com- 
plete Catholic or a bottomless skeptic? 

Such brief biographical facts as I must record are these: 
Gilbert Keith Chesterton was bom in Kensington oh May 29, 
1874. His father was an estate-agent, whose interests were 
artistic rather than commercial, and his mother has been de- 
scribed as the cleverest woman in London. Both are alive. 
G. K. C. went, as did his brother Cecil, to St. Paul's School, 
Colet's famous foundation, and left it to study art at the Slade 
School. There he met the lady who later became his wife. 
Chesterton, though he possesses considerable talents for black 
and white drawing and has illustrated several books with 
sketches of a striking originality, was not perfectly fitted for 
an artistic career; so, after a short period as a reader in a 
publisher's office, he definitely became a journalist. From the 
Speaker, where in company with Belloc, he had brilliantly 
attacked the Boer War, and where many of his early essays 
and poems appeared, Gilbert Chesterton passed to the staff 
of the Daily News. The sole bond between him and the group 
of radical Nonconformists who owned the paper was anti- 
imperialism, and in the last years of G. K. C.'s connection with 
their paper his position upon it was, to say the least, anom- 
alous. Yet week after week he wrote upon such subjects as 
came into his head — and varied as were these subjects they 



1920.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 627 

nearly always were such as would shock the conscience of most 
of their readers. There is a story told of how Mr. Cadbury, 
the chief proprietor of the Daily News, expressed a wish to 
meet G. K. C. "Ah, Mr. Chesterton !" he said, kindly beaming 
upon him, "I have often wondered where you wrote your little 
articles and what your inspiration is." "Well," was the reply, 
"I generally write my little articles in a pub and my inspira- 
tion is beer. If that doesn't work I try more beer !" The Daily 
News showed towards its great contributor a more than Chris- 
tian patience, but in the end the long connection was broken, 
and G. K. C. felt himself a free man. Though shortly after- 
wards The New Witness provided a personally controlled plat- 
form for the Chesterbelloc, I think that Chesterton was never 
more truly himself than in the old days when he publicly bias-* 
phemed the god of LitUe Bethel in LitUe Bethel itself. Though 
G. K. C. no longer walks Fleet Street where his height and 
breadth of body, his great black ulster and wide hat were as 
well known as the might of his pen; though Beaconsfield con- 
tains him as the cave contains the anchorite; though even his 
editorship of The New Witness rarely brings him to town, his 
spirit lives in that old haunt where it was most at home. He 
is an incurable journalist. 

Hilaire Belloc was- bom on July 27, 1870, in his 
grandmother's house in Versailles. This lady was a daughter 
of Colonel Swanton, an Irishman who held a commission in 
Napoleon's armies, and wife of Hilaire Belloc, the painter 
whose work is now in the Louvre. On his mother's side, the 
Hilaire Belloc we know was descended from Dr. Priestly, the 
famous chemist In 1880, Hilaire Belloc was sent to the Ora- 
tory School at Birmingham, where he was under the eye of 
Cardinal Newman; and, leaving in 1887, studied mathematics 
for a few months in Paris. Later, he went on to a Sussex farm 
for a year; did some writing in London and in his twentieth 
year traveled to Colorado and California. Upon his return the 
French Army claimed him, and Hilaire Belloc served his time 
with the English Regiment of the French Artillery in garrison 
in Toul. These experiences furnished him with the matter for 
several fine essays, and a speech with which he held the House 
of Conunons spellbound. 

Leaving the French Army, Belloc went to Balliol College, 
Oxford, where he took the senior Historical Scholarship and a 



628 THE CHESTERBELLOC [Feb,, 

first class in Honor History Schools in the summer of 1895, 
after being president of the Union. The next year he married 
a Califomian lady, but stayed on at Oxford for the fellowship 
which he naturally expected. No man with such a record 
was ever denied a fellowship, but though Belloc stayed on for 
four years, growing poorer and poorer, not even a tutorial post 
was offered him. At the age of thirty he found himself with 
a young family, with no profession, with no fortune of his own, 
and unable to make a living at Oxford. The consciousness 
that his religion was the cause of the injustice of the treatment 
he received, made his sense of that injustice the more bitter; 
and despair and stark necessity drove him to London to live as 
best he might by writing. None of his books, though he had 
already written Danton and The Path to Rome, had a popular 
sale, nor could he obtain anything better than a subordinate 
place upon the Speaker at £150 a year. London was too ex- 
pensive, so he tried, in 1905, the experiment of a farm house 
in Sussex. 

Mr. Belloc was elected to Parliament as a member for South 
Salf ord in 1906, having previously been refused as a candidate 
on account of his religion by five constituencies to which he had 
been proposed, including Dover and Croydon. The election 
was quite accidental, the understanding being that his candi- 
dature should not involve any chance of election. Once in 
Parliament Belloc proposed certain reforms, the most notable 
of which was the auditing of the Secret Party Funds, the cor- 
ruption of which he exposed. He was, therefore, abandoned 
by the official machine, which had supported his first election, 
but stood without the intention of continuing in Parliament, 
having found his membership of no service to the political 
ideas he had at heart. He intended to resign at the first elec- 
tion; hearing, however, that certain wealthy subscribers to 
the Secret Party Funds had challenged his reelection, he was 
at the pains of standing again for the same constituency of 
South Salford in which he had created a large body of inde- 
pendent opinion and was reelected, though by a reduced ma-* 
jority, in the election of 1910. This second election had been 
undertaken only as a challenge and without the intention of 
taking further part in Parliamentary action, which he had dis- 
covered to be futile. He refused to stand a third time, though 
strongly pressed to do so within the constituency and else-* 



1920.] THE CHESTERBELLOC 629 

where. In his last speech in the House he told that assembly 
that he proposed to attack them from without, as he found 
reform of their corruption from within to be impossible. 
Hence the founding of the Eye Witness, which became and 
remains under the name of The New Witness, the organ of 
the Chesterbelloc. 

To see Belloc is to be aware of his enormous energy; to 
read his load of books is to be astounded at the many-sided 
activity that has made them possible. What gives them their 
value is something greater than the literary or scholarly quali- 
ties of which they are full — that is their actuality, for Hilaire 
Belloc has, above all things, an appetite for reality. In his 
practicality, his logic and his irony he is thoroughly French. 
Yet with gifts greater, I sincerely believe, than those of any 
other living man, Belloc has, despite his vivid sense of actual- 
ity, a touch of the pedant in him and, at times, an unfortunate 
preference of tactics to strategy. 

When the worst has been said, there is a greatness about 
the Chesterbelloc which is not easily paralleled in our day. 
Indeed that is to put it inadequately, for that body of doctrine 
to which the Chestertons and Belloc have given life is the hope 
of the modem world. Amid lesser men these have swung their 
swords like heroes, and their trumpets have summoned what 
is no less than a complete Catholicism in action throughout all 
the spiritual and secular affairs of society. This is ^she that 
Cometh forth as the morning rising, fair as the moon, bright as 
the sun, terrible as an army set in array.'* I cannot venture 
to speak of my personal gratitude to the Chesterbelloc for so 
great a thing. 



AN IRISH PILGRIMAGE. 



BY E. J. OUIGLBV. 



iHE best known of all pilgrimages was Canterbury, 
sung in immortal language by Chaucer. Since 
his day millions have read of the pious Canter- 
bury pilgrims of old Catholic England. Today, 
millions in England never heard of the holy spot, 
ot Its niurlyr saint, of its historic pilgrimage; for the pilgrim- 
age died in Lutheran times, and its resurrected form is pale 
and* weak and ghostly. In the sister island, in Ireland, is a world- 
famous pilgrimage, dating from the days of St. Patrick, a 
pilgrimage often prohibited by state law, a pilgrimage whose 
holy places were laid desolate by the state spoiler, but never 
deserted, never abandoned by the people of Ireland. The fame 
of St. Patrick's Purgatory in Donegal spread through mediieval 
Europe, and the visits of great numbers of foreign pilgrims 
are recorded. But more interesting than the visitors and their 
pious records of fasts, prayers and visions are the many refer- 
ences in European literature to the holy isle and its wondrous 
cave in lone Lough Derg in County Donegal. To that lonely 
island went, legend tells us, St. Patrick, to spend Lent in pen- 
ance and solitude. To it, in after days, went the missionary 
saints of Ireland; and from them the peoples of Europe first 
heard of the wonderful cave on the little island, where peni- 
tents entered to finish their penitential exercises, and where 
many saw weird sights of suffering souls, in purgatory and in 
hell. From nearly every nation in Europe came pilgrims. 
With footsteps strong and bosom brave. 
Looking for that mysterious Cave 
Where the pitying heavens still show 
How my salvation I may gain 
By bearing in this life the purgatorial pain.' 
From England came Alfred the Great, back to the land of 
his youthful studies. From Wales came the knight Owen 
about the year 1153. The wonders seen by him in the cave 
may be read in several contemporary writers. They are found 
in the Chronicle of Roger of Wendover. From Italy came 

■ Caldr«n'( Purvalorto dt Son PatrieUt. HcCMtbj^a Tniulmtliw. 



1920.] AN IRISH PILGRIMAGE 631 

Guarino da Durrazzo and Godalth (1248). The old French 
version of their travels and visit to the holy isle, and their 
visions, is preserved in the Royal Library of Turin. From 
Flanders came Le Sire de Beaujean, in the year 1305. In the 
cave he had a vision of the souls in hell, some of whom he 
recognized. In 1353, George Crissaphan, a Hungarian knight, 
visited the sainted isle; and his record of his twenty-eight 
weird and wonderful visions is prolix. An account of four 
of his visions was reprinted in 1871 in the Hungarian maga- 
zine SzcLzadok. They are marvelous and detailed. In the 
same century (1358) Louis de Sur visited St. Patrick's Purga- 
tory. He wrote his account in barbarous Latin, and students 
of things medis&val may read it in Codex 3160 in the Palatine 
Library in Vienna. Two years later, among other noted 
names, we find Fra Tadio of Pisa, Lector of the Ara Coeli in 
Rome, visiting the Purgatory of St. Patrick. Another Roman, 
a Carthusian, Giovanni by name, sought permission to visit 
the famous spot; but permission being refused, the good man 
must have been moved by a letter from St. Catherine of Siena 
counseling him to submission and obedience. 

But the most interesting pilgrim of mediaeval times was 
Chiericati, the Papal nuncio, who visited the Purgatory in 
1515. He tells us that he and his companions arrived at the 
lake shore in the evening, and by blowing a horn and waving 
a flag they got from the island the needed boat, which was 
made from a huge beech trunk, hollowed in the centre. Each 
of the passengers paid a penny to the ferryman. He describes 
the acts which were recognized as **making the station'' or ful- 
filling the pilgrimage; the fast, the night vigil in the church, 
the long prayers said by the pilgrims bareheaded and bare- 
footed round the hard rocky "beds." •'Behind the church,'* 
writes the nuncio, "is the Piu^gatory. The door which is made 
of iron is about three cubits from the ground. The Purgatory 
is a grotto made in the rock, on the level of the ground. It 
enters so far that twelve persons can stand at their ease in it. 
It is two and a half cubits wide. It is true that at the back the 
grotto turns aside for two cubits, where they say St. Patrick 
slept." Chiericati tells us that he was afraid to enter; but he 
watched the canons carrying torches to conduct the ingoing 
penitents. Two of his companions, accompanied by five pil- 
grims, spent a night in the cave. The names of all the pilgrims 



632 AN IRISH PILGRIMAGE [Feb^ 

were recorded in a huge book. The nuncio examined it and 
noticing the name Guarino da Durrazzo, concluded that it 
must be a forgery or a joke. Later he saw this pilgrim's 
^journey described in an ancient manuscript** and knew the 
signatures to be genuine. 

It is quite possible that there may have been exaggeration, 
if not fabrication, about the wonderful visions in the famous 
cave. We have nothing save the testimonies of scores of pil- 
grims and writers for the existence of these wonders. But in 
the very sober, though very unreliable, history of Ireland, by 
Blessed Edmund Campion (1552-1588), the Martyr, we notice 
a less credulous note than that found in the records of the 
pilgrims quoted. Campion wrote, ^^Devout persons have re- 
sorted thither for penance, and reported at their retiu'n strange 
visions of peace, of pain and of bliss appearing to them.** 

But the story of the pUgrimage, its penances and its Pur- 
gatory, appear in all European literature, pre-Ref ormation and 
even post-Reformation. Thus in No. 87 of the Early English 
Text Society Series we find the Early South English Legendary^ 
giving a long account, by a thirteenth century writer, of the 
famous isle of penance. Adown the centuries, in English lit- 
erature there are references to St. Patrick's Purgatory. Even 
Fox, the pseudo-martyrologist, gives it a passing sneer. In 
old French stands the thirteenth century poem of Marie de 
France, Expurgatorie St Patriz. Wonderful old Rabelais 
(1483-1553) gives the Purgatory two commemorations in his 
witty filth. A contemporary of his, Etienne Forcatel, in his 
De Galliorum Imperio et Philosophia, weaves a romance which 
introduces the holy shrine of Donegal. In the Escurial Library 
in Spain, an old Catalan manuscript and a Latin one in the 
national library of Madrid give the Spanish mediaeval ideas 
of the pilgrimage. But in the works of Juan Perez de Montal- 
van (1602-1638), who has been called **the first-bom of Lope 
de Vega*s genius,** we find a learned priest-poet writing with 
true sympathy, with a knowledge of things sacred, and with 
poetic genius, the praises of St. Patrick*s isle of penance. This 
work was famous and had a great influence on the many Span- 
ish writings on this favorite theme. Today it is little read, for 
the Vida y Purgatorio de S. Patricio of Montalvan was eclipsed 
by the Purgatorio de St. Patricio of Calderon (1600-1681). It 
is one of Calderon*s finest pieces, and is the incomparable work 



1920.] AN IRISH PILGRIMAGE 633 

on the theme. It was translated with care and genius by the 
Irish poet, D. F. McCarthy. 

That Dante owed some of his inspiration to the accounts 
which he had read in Italy about the holy isle and holy cave in 
Ireland, is admitted by Dante scholars. For, this theme was 
sung by Uberti in his Dittamondo, before Dante had written 
a line. Nor were these the sole Italian singers of the Purga- 
tory. Ariosto in Orlando Furioso (1474-1553) wrote: 

And next to Ireland shaped his course; 
And saw the famed Hibernia, where 
The godly sainted elder made the cave 
In which men cleansed of all offences are; 
Such mercy there, it seems, is found to save. 

As I said before, state laws ordered the pilgrimage to 
cease. The buildings on the holy island were leveled, its 
churches defiled, its chalices stolen, its altars profaned and 
destroyed; and yet in no year was the holy spot without its 
pilgrims. Even when persecution was at its highest pitch. 
Lough Derg was frequented by the pilgrims of Ireland, pray<« 
ing to their patron and to their God. 

Thirty years ago three thousand pilgrims visited the island 
during the season from the first of June to the fifteenth of 
August. In 1918 nearly twenty thousand made the exercises. 
Daily, at the little railroad station of Pettigo, might be seen 
crowds of pUgrims alighting from trains, to journey on foot 
or on motor or on Irish jaunting car, the three miles of road 
to the lake shore. What a medley they were ! And how they 
will increase in the coming day of Ireland's freedom ! What a 
great democracy is the Catholic Church ! For here were the la- 
borer, the school teacher, the city doctor, the famous lawyer, 
the farmer's wife and daughter, the carpenter, the priest, the 
grandsire, the shop-assistant, the nurse, the high government 
official, the postman, the baker, the judge of the high court 
the friar, the smith, the city merchant — all children of the one 
family, all earnest about the one thing necessary — salvation; 
and salvation by prayer and penance. 

'*No longer visions of the other world, no longer revela- 
tions, but prayer and austerities under the patronage of the 
nation's AposUe. This is all that is left of the practices of the 
ancient pilgrimage." ' 

•Pte* Dtlahajr*, 8 J., BoUandUt, Anta§9ta BQilmu^tmnm, torn, iiitl. 



FRENCH CATHOLIC SCHOLARS. 

BY WILLIAM P. H. KITCHIN, PH.D. 

I HERE is an unlovely form of intellectual snob- 
bery which ignores or decries the work of Catho- 
lics, and which assumes that the heterodox alone 
hold the gates of knowledge and occupy the fort- 
resses of accomplishmeDt. Far be it from us to 
minimize our separated brethren's achievements. Jealous de- 
preciation of others' gifts and graces is a loathsome vice, and 
is bound in the long run to recoil on the detractor himself. 
Moreover, several non-Catholic theologians, exegetists and his- 
torians have accumulated materials that will ever be useful 
to the Christian in his contest with unbelief. The writings 
of Lightfoot, Westcott. Swete, Ramsay, Farrar and Creighton 
contain admirable pages, that Catholics might cordially sub- 
scribe to. But while we generously admit and admire the 
beauties of our neighbors* estates, we should not be blind to 
the magnificences of our own. The present article is confined 
designedly to one language, French, and in that one language 
alone we shall find that Catholic scholarship need not blush 
for its upholders, their labors and results. 

Today, as in earlier times, the chief assaults of unbelief 
are concentrated on our blessed Lord's divinity. Prove that 
Jesus was not God. and the foundations of Christianity are 
sapped. Elevate Him as far as human imagination can reach; 
make Him super-man and super-angel as well. All of no 
avail; that transcendent being, who still falls immeasurably 
short of infinity, is not the God I long to adore 1 and His 
"Come to Me all ye who labor and are burdened," is only the 
hollow dream of magnanimity, it is not the merciful revela- 
tion of beneficent power. Such has been the efi'ort of rational- 
istic exegesis during the past century, and such are its aims 
today. Such is the deadly poison hidden under the specious 
nectar of Renan's honeyed phrases.' 

* Paul Claudel hai given another pnxif of the pllaDcr of hli muK to the itrlldDg 
llnei In which he b»% pilloried theu learned hereafei In hit Chemta d* Croix: 
U n'cit pa* 1> ChrlBt U n'eit P«i le Fill de I'Uomme. a n'eit pa« DIen. 
Son iranslle est menteur et ion Ptre n'eit pas aiu deux. 
C'est un fou, c'est un Imposteurl Qu'll parlcl Qali M talMl 
La Talat d'Anna la loutBetle et Rcnan la balaa. 



1920.] FRENCH CATHOLIC SCHOLARS 635 

As an antidote we have Abb^ Fouard's Vie de Jisus, which 
has reached in French twenty-four editions, and has been 
translated into several other languages as well.' The liter- 
ary flavor of this work is high, as evidenced by the curious 
fact that after the Imitation of Christ it was the favorite book 
of EmUe Faguet, and always lay on his writing table. But its 
scholarship is none the less competent, accurate and wide. 
Fouard is perfectly acquainted with all the literature bearing 
on his subject; while his numerous sojourns in Palestine en- 
abled him to give an actuality and color to his narrative that 
mere book-learning would be incapable of furnishing. His 
entire life was devoted to studies on the beginnings of Chris- 
tianity, and he produced in addition to the above a life of St. 
Peter, of St. Paul in two volumes and of St. John, published 
posthumously. 

Written about the same time, written too along similar 
lines but more abundantly, is the Vie de Notre Seigneur of 
Bishop Le Camus.' Le Camus is as good a scholar as Fouard, 
but not nearly as good a writer. He has not the simple yet 
dainty vocabulary, the artistic phrasing, nor that intangible 
deftness which floods old scenes with new lights and frames 
them in fresh perspectives. A work of more popular appeal, 
but not nearly so learned, is Father Didon's Jdsus Christ.^ 
Didon was a remarkable preacher, a still more remarkable let- 
ter writer — his letters to Mile. Th6r6se V are now in their 

fifty-first edition — and in the life of Our Lord, too, one often 
hears the intimate, personal note sounding. Abb^ Fillion*s 
recent volume, JSsus Christ d'aprds les £vangiles, although the 
work of a very great scholar, is written expressly for a popular 
audience; and it has reached its public. In one year five 
editions were called for. 

A marvelous mine of information, which contains also 
the answers to the latest objections and a r^sum^ of the most 
recent publications on the subject, is the magnificent article, 
JSsus Christ, in the second volume of the Dictionnaire Apolo- 
gitique.^ It is from the pen of the Jesuit, Father L^once de 

*A11 Abb^ Pouard's works are translated into English, and published by Long- 
manst Green ft Co., New York. The English version of Ills Life of Christ has 
reached eight editions. 

'Three yolomes. TweWe editions in French. English version published by 
Cathedral Library Association, New York. 

* Forty editions in French. English version in two volumes. Kegan Paul, 
Trench ft Co., London. *Coll. 1288-1538. 



636 FRENCH CATHOLIC SCHOLARS [Feb., 

Grandmaison, the editor of Les Etudes, and is truly an honor 
to Catholic competence and erudition. But more telling and 
more authoritative, too, than any eulogy I might pronounce 
is the praise of an avowed opponent and somewhat bitter 
critic. In the Hibbert Journal for July, 1916, Professor J. F. 
Bethune-Baker undertakes a detailed criticism of this article. 
*There is much in it to admire,'* he writes. "Of the vast litera- 
ture of the subject M. de Grandmaison seems to have an easy 
control. ... He marshals the materials which his vigilant 
and accomplished scholarship has collected with the skill of 
an experienced general.'* The critic then proceeds to find 
fault with the author because the latter does not admit the 
modernist theories, bcause he believes in the historicity of the 
Gospel narratives, because he clings to miracles and other 
things no Catholic could dream of allowing slip. He con- 
cludes: *Though I differ profoundly from M. de Grandmai- 
son ... I cannot take leave of him in any but the most 
respectful way." The painstaking and thorough studies of 
Abbe Lepin, Jisus Messie et Fits de Dieu and Jisus Christ, Sa 
Vie et Son CEuvre, also deserve mention. 

Only second in interest to the Divine Founder of Chris- 
tianity are the Gospels that tell His life, and the apostolic 
writings that set forth His doctrine. German criticism, often 
the docile handmaiden of German philosophy, has weighed 
every sentence, examined and put on the rack every word of 
these writings. It has striven to prove them mere pious leg- 
ends, or chains of interpolations, or party pamphlets published 
in the interests of God knows what obscure sects, or the residua 
of furious personal controversies, or anything and everything 
but what they are. The Gospels and the apostolic writings 
may be called the Verdun of the Higher Critics, where these 
shock troops of the pen were foiled. An admirable exposition 
of Gospel problems and controversies in brief compass and 
the simplest possible form is found in Monseigneur Batiffol's 
Six legons sur les Evangiles.^ His view of the synoptic ques- 
tion as set forth in his third lesson is, that Mark is the oldest 
writer, Luke the most recent and Matthew comes between the 
two; while a more ancient document *Hhe sayings of the 
Lord" in Aramaic was the source on which the Evangelist 
partly depended. Such a simple theory can scarcely explain 

• ElereB edltioiu. 



1920.] FRENCH CATHOLIC SCHOLARS 637 

the curious coincidences and divergences of the Evangelists. 
But then the brief character of this volume, and the fact that 
it was originally a course of lectures given to the young ladies 
attending the Institut Catholique of Paris, precluded the 
author from indulging in very recondite developments. 

The synoptic problem receives fuller consideration and 
more elaborate treatment in the recent work of Abbe Levesque, 
No8 Quatres Euangiles. He regards the Synoptics as the crys- 
tallization of the first elementary oral instructions given by 
the Apostles; that instruction being modified somewhat to suit 
the particular audience, Jewish (St. Matthew), Greek (St. 
Luke), Roman (St. Mark), to whom it was delivered. More- 
over, he believes that for purposes of convenience in oral 
teaching the Apostles had divided the career of Our Lord 
into four periods: (1) His baptism; (2) Galilee; (3) the last 
week in Jerusalem; (4) Christ's death and resurrection. This 
division, consecrated by primitive usage, the Evangelists ad- 
hered to scrupulously, although awkward and unsuitable from 
a historical standpoint.^ In fact, extraordinary though it ap- 
pears to our minds, the Evangelist rather than break this 
fourfold division, preferred to displace certain actions of our 
Saviour and even to omit some altogether." The theory is novel, 
seductive and argued cogently, but Qui lo sa? No less fresh 
and interesting is the closing chapter of his book, *'Some Lit- 
erary Devices of St. Matthew.'* There he examines thoroughly 
the five great discourses in St. Matthew. The curious formula 
closing them, **and it came to pass when He had finished," 
Abb^ Levesque thinks was the consecrated formula used by 
the first preachers at Jerusalem.® The discourses themselves 
consist invariably of a fundamental point or doctrine around 
which are grouped other teachings of the Master given at dif- 
ferent times and places, but closely connected with the central 
theme. As with the discourse so with the facts of Our Lord's 
life, St. Matthew is not guided at all by chronology. Rather 
he groups the facts to uphold a thesis, namely that Christ is 
the Messiah. The stereotyped formulas "at that time," "then," 
"behold that" are again the consecrated formulas of the earli- 
est preaching used to direct the attention of the hearers to the 
public life of Jesus.*® 

Few, if any, questions relating to the New Testament are 

* Pace 5. " Pages 53-75. • Page 275. » Page 805 c< $eq. 



^ rATHOUC SCHOLARS [Feb. 

FRENCH CATH^^"^ 

d exact history of Abbe Jacquier, 

omitted in the ^^^^ J^ouveaa Testament^ The detaUed 

ffistoire des lii^res ^^ ^^^^ comprises some two hundred 

Bnalys^ ^ioSy^^^*^^ P^^" ^^^"^ exposing a bewilder- 
^"^ ^er of hypotheses on the formation of the Synoptics* 
^* ^^thor concludes that no theory renders a really satisf ac- 
f'X^ccount of the facts. He thinks, however, that the Evan- 
aelists utilized some older written documents and also relied 
to some extent on oral tradition. Abbe Jacquier devotes his 
fourth volume exclusively to the writings of St. John. With 
full and ample knowledge of (he delicate problems involved — 
linguistic, textual, literary, theological — ^he examines the mani- 
fold difficulties proposed and concludes in the traditional and 
Catholic sense. Very noteworthy on the same theme are Abb^ 
Lepin*s conscientious and thorough studies, UOrigine du Qua- 
triime Evangile and La Valewr Historique du QuatriSme 
EiHingile. M. Lepin has compressed the marrow of these 
books into his able article on St. John in the Dictionnaire 
Apologitique^^ After a full weighing of the difficulties and 
theories of our opponents he formulates his serene and lumin- 
ous conclusion: *lt is then with full certainty that we can 
proclaim the Fourth Gospel the work of the Apostle St. 
John." " 

Another favorite thesis with unbelievers is that the faith 
of the early Christians is not the faith of today. Such was 
the position the rebels of the sixteenth century adopted to 
justify their revolt; such is the assertion of contemporary 
infidels to discredit the Church. They maintain that Chris- 
tian doctrine has ^'developed'* so radically that it has under- 
gone a complete metamorphosis, and that the teaching of the 
twentieth century has no kinship whatever with that of the 
first. An adequate answer to this contention will be found 
in Abbe Tixeront's Histoire des Dogmes. These three volumes 
trace, with immense learning and diligence, theological 
thought in the formative ages. They show how under the 
pressure of heresiarchs and heresy the Church was led to 
make an inventory, so to speak, of the riches she possessed; 
and how successive Councils undertook to formulate her 
creed with scientific exactness. 

^ Four Yolumes. x Vol. li, pp. 235-282. 

u Vol. !., coU. 1599-1750. ^« Ibid., vol 1., colL 1749, n. S2S. 



1920.] FRENCH CATHOLIC SCHOLARS 639 

The scope of this work is not primarily apologetic, much 
less polemic. Its aim is objective.* It exposes the controversies 
and provisional solutions that eddied about great problems, 
until some religious genius, an Athanasius, a Cyril, a Hilary 
or an Augustine, put the question in its true focus and indicated 
the methods and elements of explanation. And it shows, too, 
how the early Fathers had literally to forge the language of the- 
ology; and how these subtle Greeks and Orientals, less fortun- 
ate than the Scholastics, were hampered sometimes by a total 
lack of terms to express their far-fetched concepts, and some- 
times by the imprecision and vagueness of the words they were 
obliged to use. Only little by little and at the price of many ten- 
tatives and trials did theology fashion for herself a language of 
scientific exactness and accuracy and withal flexibility. I may 
remark in passing that Tixeront maintains there is not the 
slightest connection between the logos of Philo and the Logos 
of St. John.^* His three volumes cover from the beginnings of 
Christianity up to 800, the last heresy exposed being the Icono- 
clastic. Two supplementary chapters set forth the theology 
of St. John Damascene and the fortunes of theology under 
Charlemagne. After reading that immense repertory of eru- 
dition, one realizes the hoUowness of Harnack's learned sneer, 
that Catholicism in philosophy is simply Christianized Platon- 
ism and in organization, Roman imperialism. 

Monseigneur Batiffol's books on Christian origins are di- 
rected especially against Harnack and his school. The first 
volume, UEglise Naissante et le Catholicisme,^^ shows that the 
creed of the first converts did not differ materially from ours. 
One hundred and seventy pages are devoted to the examina-^ 
tion of apostolic times. The author proves that Christianity 
was not merely a spiritual movement, not merely an associa- 
tion for mutual assistance, but a true and admirably organ- 
ized society. The basis of this society was the apostleship, 
the principle of unity and authority established by Christ Him- 

^HUtorie des Dogmea, vol. 1., p. 55. (In English, History of Dogma, B. Herder, 
St Loiilg.) See also Br^hier. Let idie$ philosophique$ et religleuies de Phtlon 
d*Alexandrie. Brthler shows that St John's Logo$ and Phllo's agree only in name. 
Herriot, another valiant Catholic, who, as mayor of Lyons, was a tower of strength 
to his fellow dtixens daring the War and signalized himself by his charitable 
endeavors. Is also an authority on Philo. His volume is called Philon le Jnlf. 

^Pive editions in French, translated into English and German. The English 
version, Primlitpe CathoHclsm, is published by Longmans, Green ft Co., New York. 



640 FRENCH CATHOLIC SCHOLARS [Feb^ 

self. But Christianity is also a system of doctrine, which pro- 
poses articles of belief and rules of obedience. The Gospel 
is a divine message to which the convert gives his allegiance. 
The initiated have certain forms of prayer and sacrifice, in 
which they alone have the right to participate. But the scoflfer 
and evil-doer must not be tolerated in the Christian commun- 
ity. In epch city the faithful formed an "assembly" or church, 
ruled b^ an elder, whose authority, directly or indirectly, had 
been transmitted by the Apostles. This "overseer" gave unity 
to each church; and Jesus Christ gives unity to the Church: 
conclusion, the budding Church of the early centuries was 
Catholic, corpus sumus de conscientia religionis et disciplines 
imitate et spei foedere, says Tertullian. 

A later volume La Paix Constantinienne et le Catholicisme 
treats of the relations between Church and State, and extends 
from the days of Septimus Severus to those of Pope Liberius. 
In his second chapter Batiffol approaches the interesting prob- 
lem of ecclesiastical organization. The Church did not imi- 
tate the priestly colleges of pagan temples in its hierarchy; 
on the contrary, certain Emperors, Maximin Daia and Julian 
the Apostate strove to copy the organization of the Catholic 
priesthood. Nor does he admit that the creation of ecclesias- 
tical provinces is due even to the Council of Nice. Its rulings 
applied only to the East; did not affect Africa, Gaul, Spain 
or Italy. Moreover, Christianity had its roots in a past extend- 
ing far behind the administration and administrative changes 
made in the Empire by Diocletian. "The word 'province' is 
consequentially Catholic, and likewise the thing itself and all 
is old." The last chapters describe the csesaro-papism of Con- 
stantius II., who by deceit, violence and threats succeeded in 
imposing an Arian creed on the astounded and horrified 
world.*^ But Pope Liberius did not yield. Outwitted and put 
to all appearances in the wrong by the slippery sovereign and 
his still more slippery and unscrupulous advisers, the Pontiff 
was true to his duty and his office, Liberius immaculatus Papa. 
A further volume, announced but not yet published, will re- 
count the history of the foiu*th and fifth centuries, to be called 
Le Catholicisme Romain de S. Damase a S. Leon. 

All this early period is covered from a hagiographic stand- 

" St. Jerome's magnificent phrase is one of the winged words of history and 
literature. Ingtmuit totut orbit $t Arianum te et8$ miratus est. 



i 



1920.] FRENCH CATHOLIC SCHOLARS 641 

point by Paul AUard.^* He was a pupil of de Rossi, and im- 
bued by that illustrious master with an ardent love of the 
early heroes of our Faith, the martyrs and confessors of the 
first three centuries. In five magnificent volumes AUard has 
told the moving story of the martyrs of the Roman empire. 
Three volumes on Julian the Apostate describe^ that prince's 
belated attempt to galvanize moribund paga;ii:>4.vinto some- 
thing dimly simulating life. Nearly all AUard's numerous 
subsequent writings have reference to the martyrs, and he had 
just finished the opening chapter of a new volume on their 
glories when the Master called him home. I notice that the 
Anglican dean of Gloucester (England) in his interesting 
work entitled The Early Christians in Rome, relies mainly on 
Roman Catholic authorities, and most of all on Allard, for 
whose work he cannot find sufficient words of praise. Dean 
Spence-Jones admits fully that the number of the early mar- 
tyrs was very large. He' admits also that Marcus Aurelius 
was a bitter opponent of the Faith, and that the philosophic 
emperor must have known of some of the victims of his cruel 
laws. But most wonderful of all he admits that St. Peter 
lived and taught in Rome, for not otherwise could the Apostle 
have become such a preponderating force in the church of the 
metropolis. How far has not this dean drifted from old moor- 
ings 1 Time was when the martyrs were represented as a few 
impossible fnnntirf^ m^rmg^ .tQ tjig patTlotif poliry of a wise 
government. J3c^f ar has he not traveled from the contemp- 
tuous scc^ of Gibbon, and even from the superior, academic 
fi^'^^^iicle tolerance of Lecky! 

History during the past twenty-five years has been as- 
[duously cultivated by French Catholic scholars, and well- 
nigh countless are the books produced dealing with various 
periods of the Church's existence and activities. Among the 
notable numbers of Gabalda*s Bibliothique de VHistoire Ec- 
cldsiastique may be mentioned : L'Eglise Byzantine by Father 
Pargoire, who traces the fortunes of the Eastern Church from 
527 to 847. This book, within its narrow limits (only three 
hundred and eighty pages of text), is an admii:able study of 
the period. 

The literary history of early Christian Greece, from the 

^Only a few of AlUrd's minor works hare appeared in R n tfUh, e.g.. Ten 
LeetartM on the Martyrit R. ft T. Waahboume, London. 

cs. 41 



i 



642 FRENCH CATHOLIC SCHOLARS [Feb. 



apostolic writings to Justinian, is narrated in Monseigneur 
BatifTors Litterature Grecque.^^ The author limits himself 
to classifying, dating and valuing the remains of the first five 
centuries of Greek Christian literature. His judgments are 
personal, his criticism sober and restrained. But he does not 
read into these sometimes very uninspired writers, merits 
which they never possessed: see, for instance, his verdict on 
fourth and fifth centiwy poetry.*® When dealing with polemical 
authors his own acciu^ate scholarship and wide knowledge of 
the questions at issue, enables him to view the controversy from 
the correct perspective and judge its literature accordingly. 

Les Croisades, by Louis Br^hier, describes the heroic ef- 
forts of mediaeval Europe to drive back the Moslem hordes, 
and tells also the deplorable jealousies and strifes that ended 
in the failure of these expeditions. The bibliography ap- 
pended to the chapters of this book is particularly full. Le 
Schisme Anglican is studied by J. Tr6sal. His work is substan- 
tial, and puts forward interesting views. But unconsciously 
this book suffers from the tacit comparison one makes of it 
with the exceptionaUy competent and absolutely impartial 
study of the same period by James Gairdner, The English 
Church from Henry VHL to the death of Mary. Dom Le- 
clercq tells of L'Espagne Chritienne and UAfrique Chritienne. 
In the latter work his abundant knowledge overflows into two 
yolum^s^^ may be al- 

leged in excuse. Jean Guiraud writes on U^gli^e Romaine et 
les Origines de la Renaissance. This study reached' four edi- 
tions and has been crowned by the French Academy. " 

Entirely polemic is the tone of another of M. Guiraud's 
works— i/i5foire Partiale, Histoire Vraie.^"^ The first two vol- 
umes after reaching thirty-four and thirty-one editions respec- 
tively are at present out of print. The third and fourth vol- 
umes treat of VAncien Rigime. The former discusses two prob- 
lems: (1) the edict of Nantes; (2) Catholic philanthropy in \ 
the eighteenth century. The latter is devoted entirely to the 
Jesuits. These books have acquired enormous popularity in 
France, and must have done untold good there. But a certain 
narrowness in their plan militates against their usefulness and 

"Four editions. "Page 263 et seq. 

"Four volumes. Some of Gulraud's works have been brought out in English 
by R. St T. Washboume, London. 



1920.] FRENCH CATHOUC SCHOLARS 643 

diffusion elsewhere. The author gave up to France what was 
meant for mankind — I mean his aim is throughout to refute 
French anti-Catholic writers, particularly writers of educa- 
tional works. He quotes, therefore, very often obscure bigots, 
pernicious, no doubt, at home, but unknown to the outer 
world. 

Far more elaborate than any of the foregoing is Pierre de 
la Gorce*s Histoire de la Rivolution Frangaise.^* The author 
shows how the pre-revolution clergy, with few exceptions, had 
high ideals of duty. The bishops, even of the smaller sees, 
used to distribute thousands of dollars in charity yearly. 
Some abbeys supported as many as fifteen hundred poor. 
Numerous religious orders and congregations made benevo- 
lence the rule of their lives. And when the upheaval came, 
which broke down all the conventions and shelters and safe- 
guards of life; when great spiritual lords woke one day to find 
themselves outlaws and pariahs, most bowed to their fate with 
stoic dignity, and no insignificant number won the martyr's 
crown. How the victims of the September massacres prepared 
themselves for death, how the deported priests bore the hor- 
rors of their exile and imprisonment is as tragic and as lumin- 
ous a story as is found in Church history, and is admirably 
recounted by M. de la Gorce." The same author has written 
also a long history of the second empire, each volume of which 
has had eight and nine editions, while the seventh and last 
volume has been crowned by the Academy. 

The affairs of Russia, both civil and religious, are re- 
corded by A. Leroy-Beaulieu in his L'Empire des Tsars et les 
Russes.^^ It is hardly necessary to recaU that M. Leroy-Beaulieu 
is also an eminent authority on social questions and political 
economy. Georges Goyau has written the history, mainly from 
the religious standpoint, of modern Germany. His Allemagne 
Religieuse *' has been crowned by the Academy. He describes 
forcibly the shipwreck of faith under the dissolving; acids of 
Kantian and Hegelian philosophy. He shows how clerics 
reared in that unhealthy atmosphere do not hesitate to hold 
lucrative posts and to teach officially doctrines they have long 

"Two large octaTo Tolumes. Ten and seven editions respectlTely. Some of 
Goree's works have also been put Into English. R. ft T. Washboume, London. 

■Vol. 11., pp. 244-324. >• Three volumes. 

"Five volumes, seven editions. R. ft T. Washboume, London, has brought 
out a few of his minor works In English. 



644 FRENCH CATHOUC SCHOLARS [Feb^ 

ceased to believe. M. Goyau is also responsible for four vol- 
umes, Autour du Catholicisme Social, in which he sketches 
Catholic workers and movements of the nineteenth century. 
His gallery of portraits includes Leo XIII., Cardinal Manning, 
Comte de Mun, 011^-Laprune. But M. Goyau is just as much at 
home writing ancient history. His study of the Vatican, its 
masters and inmates, written in collaboration with MM. Fabre 
and Perat^ is splendid; while his life of St. Melania, a popu- 
larization of Cardinal RampoUa's learned work on that saint, 
is a little gem. 

This brings us to another series of Catholic handbooks 
also published by Gabalda, Le$ Saints,^^ to the production of 
which many laymen as well as clerics have contributed. The 
aim of the series is to present a short account, generally lim- 
ited to two hundred pages, of the saint and his period, written 
by a thoroughly competent specialist — an expert, who should 
be able to condense into a few pages deep research and pro* 
longed study. Nearly a hundred of these lives have appeared, 
of which I have read perhaps a score. Certainly the most 
difficult life of all to recount is the Blessed Virgin's, on ac- 
count of the sublimity of the subject and the paucity of the 
material; but if I am not entirely devoid of taste. Father R^ne 
de la Broise's monograph is an unqualified success. Paul 
AUard produced two lives, S. Basile and S. Sidoine Appollin- 
aire. Godefroid Kurth was responsible for S. Boniface and S. 
Clotilde; Petit de JuUevile, Jeanne d'Arc; Aim^ Puech, S. 
Jean Chrysostome; Abb^ Vacandard, S. Victrice. The editor 
of the series, Henri Joly, wrote an introductory volume. La 
Psychologic des Saints,*^ and the lives of St Ignatius, St 
Teresa and the Venerable Eudes. M. Vianney*s life of his 
saintly relative, the wonderful Cur6 d*Ars, reached twenty- 
seven editions. 

Not a^ belonging to the same series but to the same order 
of ideas the very remarkable Life of St Bernardin of Siena 
by Paul Thureau-Dangin^^ deserves mention. The same writer 
produced La Monarchic de Juillet twice crowned by the 
Academy, and La Renaissance Catholique en Angleterre au 
dix-neuviime siicle.^^ 

** Of this series some thlrty-flye or forty numbers have been Englished. Benclger 
Brothers, New York. 

*v Eleven editions. **Six editions. 

»An English edition Is published by Longmans, Green ft Co., New York. 



1920.] FRENCH CATHOUC SCHOLARS 645 

Long vistas of other scholars still open before me, e.g., 
Imbert de la Tour, Monseigneur Baudrillart, Fathers Yves de 
la Bri^re and A. Brou, but I must conclude; yet not without 
mentioning, at least, the great Benedictine savants. Abbot 
Cabrol and Dom Germain Morin. Abbot Cabrol is the di- 
rector of the Dictionnaire d'Archiologie Chritienne et de 
Liturgie, of which some fifty parts have appeared. Dom Ger- 
main Morin is one of the highest authorities on patristic litera- 
ture. He is as keen on the scent of a lurking manuscript as 
a bloodhound is on the trail of its quarry, and has made some 
wonderful discoveries in these fields. His "find" of 1917 fully 
equals, if it does not outshine, his past explorations. Buried 
in a manuscript of the ninth century, the property of the 
Wolfenbiittel Library, he found no less than thirty-three 
hitherto unknown sermons of St. Augustine, and three or four 
miscellaneous pieces which he also ascribes to St. Augustine. 
The discovery of a new sermon of the Bishop of Hippo is at 
least as important to patrologists as the location of a new 
shoal or island to navigators. 

The savants of the Catholic Church are fully equal to those 
of other creeds. Their Faith is to them a guide, not a hin- 
drance. It saves them from fantastic speculation; it preserves 
them from the subtle idolatries of self. It ever directs their 
attention to the wonderful legend of Augustine musing on 
the Trinity and meeting the little child, who wished to pour 
the ocean into a hole scooped on the strand; and so it im- 
presses on them the pitiful limitation of human minds before 
the boundless realms of knowledge. It would be shameful if 
we, through mere indifference, blinded ourselves to their very 
splendid achievements. 



A SEVENTEENTH CENTURY HOHENZOLLERN. 

BY MABY J. MAIXOY. 

j HERE is silence dow in the dark eyrie of the 
Hohenzollem eagles; their nest is empty, their 
brood dispersed. Their parting cry is already 
i faint in the unheeding ear of a new time and 
I century that has put down the Brandenburg from 
d broken the sceptre of his power. And yet in the 
abode of that race there was, every now and then, a softer 
note than the scream of its warrior bird, a wing more tender, a 
flight less abhorred of its fellow-creatures — a rara avit, in- 
deed, of Hohenzollern blood and bone, but not of Hohen- 
zollem hardness of heart or poverty of spirit. 

I. 

Marianne Fran^oise de Hohenzollern, bom in 1611, was 
the daughter of John George, Prince of Hohenzollem, head of 
the only Catholic branch of the House of Brandenburg, and 
President of the Holy Roman Empire — that abstraction which 
has been pithily characterized as neither holy, Roman nor an 
empire. Her mother was Fran^oise de Salins, a cousio of the 
Duke of Lorraine; the families of both parents were inti- 
mately allied with most of the sovereign houses of Europe. 
Marianne was held at the font by the Empress Anne, wife of 
that Matthias of Austria in whose reign the Thirty Years* War 
commenced, and received the name of her imperial godmother. 
The Empress was deeply attached to her little namesake, mak- 
ing almost an idol of her as she grew; but her sudden death, 
followed closely by that of the Princess of Hohenzollern, threw 
the care of Marianne's rearing and education entirely upon 
the Princess of Furstenberg, her sister, who was much older, 
and looked upon her rather in the light of a daughter. 

Marianne was possessed of such unusual talent and in- 
telligence for her years that her masters frankly acknowledged 
their wonder. Surrounded by flattery and adulation on all 
sides, of a budding beauty that promised even richer develop- 
ment, her early life was simply a passage from one delight to 



1920.] A XVII. CENTURY HOHENZOLLERN 647 

another. Fortunately, perhaps, for the young girl, she found, 
in one of her sister's chaplains, a friend as judicious as kind. 
A man of great piety and learning, he undertook the direction 
of her studies, and under his enlightened guidance she made 
such solid progress that she was laughingly styled La docte 
Catherine of the seventeenth century. All the while, through 
the same fostering care, the character of the youthful Princess 
was emerging, beautiful and singularly unspoiled, from the 
crysalis of worldly trappings. 

Music was her passion. She lost no opportunity of gratify- 
ing her taste for it, and became a proficient herself in the art. 
Her great pleasure was to visit certain religious houses where 
the service was particularly fine, to mingle her own voice with 
that of the nuns. This led to what seems a rather singular 
proceeding on the part of Marianne. It is said that she fre- 
quently sang a canticle of her own composition at the Conse- 
cration on Sundays and festivals, endeavoring in this way to 
render a formal public homage to God. 

The habit of visiting these convents led to a gradual and 
quiet observation of the lives of their inmates. The impression 
made became a very deep one. She at last determined to obey 
the call she was sure she heard in the depths of her soul. But this, 
she knew, could not be done without great opposition, if, in fact, 
she succeeded at all in accomplishing her desire. A letter writ- 
ten to a friend on the subject fell into the hands of her brother- 
in-law. Prince Furstenberg. He was furiously angry, at once 
forbade all further intercourse with the nuns, declared she 
should never become one, and ended by informing her that 
"she had no say whatever in the matter, or as to her future life. 
A person of her rank was not permitted to dispose of herself 
at pleasure." 

Poor little Marianne ! She had neither the spirit nor power 
to oppose a man like her brother-in-law — a pleasant person 
he must have been to live with. Obliged to submit, at least 
outwardly, to his will, she took her place in his court as he 
desired, fulfilling the duties of her rank and station with a 
grace and sweetness that ought to have softened him. But the 
life was very irksome; she seized every opportunity to with- 
draw as much as possible from it, and lead a more retired and 
congenial existence. This did not please Furstenberg at all; 
his next step was to deprive her of her director, whom he 



648 A XVIL CENTURY HOHENZOLLERN [Feb^ 

believed encouraged her desires, and to take her with his wife 
and himself to the Diet of Ratisbonne, whither he was sum- 
moned in 1630. In this city, Marianne charmed every one who 
saw her. Her beauty, talents and amiability drew all hearts 
to her. It was not long before a number of suitors for her 
hand presented themselves; but she paid them no attention, 
receiving their compliments with such indifference that more 
than one German princelet left her presence indignant, to 
nurse a deeply-injured self-love, more real than affection. 

But on this point her inclinations were not consulted. Mar- 
ried she must be, it was decided; and timid, unsupported, 
deeming it a duty to obey her family, she finally consented 
to accept the hand of Ernest V., Prince of Isenberg, selected 
as her spouse for reasons of state. The bridegroom was a 
man considerably older than herself; he bore a great name 
for his military achievements in the service of Austria, and 
stood high in the esteem of the world. '"But grave suspicion 
attached to his private character," says a contemporary. *'His 
first wife, Caroline d'Arensberg, died suddenly — the cause was 
never known, and it was said that happiness was not an in- 
mate of his dwelling." 

It was to this man that Marianne was yielded up. It was 
thought her charm, her youth and beauty, would conquer his 
heart; but it was a victim whom he led to the altar, and the 
marriage blessing was a knife of sacrifice. 

Their nuptials were celebrated at Brussels, with only less 
magnificence than those of the Emperor himself, at Vienna. 
Prince Isenberg appeared delighted with his young bride; but 
in her heart there was fear and foreboding. She betrayed 
nothing of these feelings in public, however, and played her 
part with all the ease and grace expected of her. 

Not long after their marriage, the Prince was sunmioned 
to the war between the Emperor and Gustavus Adolphus of 
Sweden. Although so short a time her husband, the seeds of 
suspicion and jealousy had already been insidiously sown in 
his mind in Marianne's regard by the evil influence of some 
about him who hated the young wife. They persuaded him 
that her reserve was in reality exaggerated melancholy, and 
attributed it to base causes. Leaving the Princess at Cologne, 
Prince Isenberg pereniptorily forbade her to go elsewhere dur- 
ing his absence, and surrounded her, to her great discomfort. 



1920.] A XVII. CENTURY HOHENZOLLERN 649 

with numerous spies and useless attendants. Her chief friend 
and comforter in her distress was the Carmelite Prioress of 
Cologne, whose counsel and sympathy were towers of strength 
to her. 

Notwithstanding the retired and even secluded life she led, 
respect and admiration found her out. Her unworthy hus- 
band, becoming acquainted with this fact, made himself still 
more obnoxious and disagreeable to his girl-wife. He would 
permit no word in her praise to be spoken before him, and 
resented the slightest interest shown in her. The Infanta 
Clara Eugenia, the famous Governor of the Low Countries, 
formed a great attachment for her and endeavored to draw 
her to her court, invoking for this purpose the influence of 
her nephew, the King of Spain, with Prince Isenberg; but he 
was obdurate: leave Cologne she should not. 

All these trials Marianne endured patiently, till finally ''a 
bad woman,** as the old Visitandine Annals of Alby naively 
and rather inadequately hand the lady down to history, re- 
solved to make the separation of husband and wife final. To 
this end she brought false charges and even forged letters to 
the Prince, and when she had succeeded in inflaming his pas- 
sions against his wife, she informed the latter that her hus- 
band was contemplating her death, producing a poison as 
having been ordered by him to be administered. 

Such was the story told Marianne. Seeing no other way 
of escape, she resolved on flight. This could be to France only, 
as neither Spain nor Germany would afiford her asylum, on 
account of the estimation in which the Prince was held in those 
countries. Accompanied by a few ladies, two gentlemen of 
Languedoc, one of whom held the office of her page, and 
several devoted servants, she secretly withdrew from the city, 
under cover of night. In spite of the precautions taken, how- 
ever, their flight was almost inmiediately discovered by the 
wretched creature who was the cause of it. It did not take her 
long to send the news, highly colored at that, to the Prince. 
Infuriated at the flight of his wife, and ignorant, it would 
seem, of the foul accusation brought against him, he set his 
people at once upon the track of the fugitives, intending to 
wreak signal vengeance upon the unfortunate girl whom he 
had taken a most unregarded oath to "love and cherish.** 

The small band was overtaken, and the Princess would 



650 A XVII. CENTURY HOHENZOLLERN [Feb,, 

have fallen into the hands of her relentless pursuers if it had 
not been for the generous self-sacrifice of her page. Alone, 
he faced four of the Prince's men, delaying them with a valiant 
struggle until the others had made good their flight. He paid 
for his heroism with his life — ^but the Princess reached Paris 
in safety. 

This city did not afford her the refuge she hoped. It was 
impossible to remain there for any length of time without be- 
ing recognized, rendezvous as it was for all Europe. She 
found shelter, however, in a remote old country house in 
Languedoc, where for two years, under an assumed name, 
unknown to her neighbors, she was the good angel of the 
peasantry for miles around. 

n. 

Into this new stage of her career, she threw herself with 
all the abandon of a soul set free. Amidst the pomp of courts 
she had tasted nothing but misery. The darling of an em- 
press, rich, beautiful, uncommonly gifted in both mind and 
person, she had found, in her hour of need, no more comfort 
or solace than the poorest beggar who came to her for assist- 
ance. And deep down at the bottom of all was the sting of 
her own infidelity to the real Bridegroom of her soul. This 
was the great weakness of her life, and one deplored until its 
end. But in serving her Lord in the persons of His poor. His 
sick and His afiOicted, she at last found true happiness. The 
wrongs she had suffered at the hands of her miserable hus- 
band were now forgotten, except as occasions of prayer for 
him. 

Two peaceful years thus passed away. So far, she had 
been successful in hiding from the world; but the secret of 
her identity was finally disclosed by the ingratitude of one 
whom she had befriended and benefited — no uncommon oc- 
currence in a world where a good deed seems somehow to be 
often more rigorously punished than a bad one. Summoned 
before the Parliament of Toulouse by a lawsuit brought by 
this party against her, she was obliged to reveal her name, 
rank and motive for seclusion. The result must have caused 
her a fleeting smile. The magistrates, overcome at their own 
temerity in calling before their bench one in whose veins 
flowed the blood of sovereigns, exhausted themselves in apolo- 






1920.] A XVII. CENTURY HOHENZOLLERN 651 

gies; the principal ladies of the town hastened to offer their 
civilities; privacy was no longer possible — ^her dear life of 
retirement, "the world forgetting, by the world forgot," was 
at an end. 

The secret of her whereabouts was now fully made known, 
and everybody had a great deal to say about it. One of her 
sisters, the Princess of Baden, inmiediately came forward to 
offer her a shelter from which she declared no power of Prince 
Isenberg should tear her. Others of her family made the 
same offer. Those who had so easily allowed her to be sacri- 
ficed in the first instance, vied with each other, now, in per- 
suading her to abandon the home of her choice and resume 
her exalted station, with the assurance of being effectually 
protected from the anger of her husband. 

She listened to none; she took a resolution that was not 
so easily to be combated as that first one which had suc- 
cumbed to the attacks of the world upon her inexperienced 
youth. She sought an interview with Monseigneur Gaspard de 
Lude, Bishop of Alby, in Languedoc, begging him to obtain 
for her a retreat in some convent of his diocese. The Bishop, 
knowing her pitiful story and compassionating her misfor- 
tunes, willingly granted her request. At his instance, she 
found shelter with the Visitandines of his city, who received 
her with the greatest kindness and sympathy. Her joy was 
so intense that, on entering the convent for the first time, she 
kissed over and over again the walls which were to hold her 
a voluntary prisoner for the remainder of her life. 

A strange thing happened. Prince Isenberg had under- 
gone a wonderful change of heart — a very cataclysm indeed; 
for it must have been with stupendous throes that such a heart 
as his was awakened to better feelings. Realizing at last the 
worth of Marianne, and how wholly undeserving he was of 
the treasure he had thrown away, he would place no obstacle 
in her path, as she feared, leaving her entirely free to follow 
her own desires. **0h, let me enjoy my happiness," she cried 
to her importunate relatives, "do not try to draw me away 
from itl" 

Soon after taking up her abode in the Visitation Monas- 
tery, she asked to be allowed to lead the life of a postulant, 
as she could not, of course, become a nun. This favor was 
granted her. For two more years, she lived among the Sisters 



652 A XVII. CENTURY HOHENZOLLERN [Feb^ 

quietly and contentedly; then the news came that Prince 
Isenberg had fallen in battle, fighting gallantly against the 
foe. She was free at last! 

Marianne lost not an instant in begging admission into the 
Conmiunity. On January 7, 1644, she received the habit, and, 
says the chronicler of the convent, **She seemed now to really 
begin to live — all her sorrows were forgotten/' Preparations 
were making for her profession, at the end of the year of 
probation, when she suddenly received intelligence that her 
husband was not dead, as reported; he had been grievously 
wounded and left for dead, even entirely lost sight of for some 
time, but had now recovered, and taken his place among men 
again. How was it that these tidings were so late in reaching 
the unhappy Princess? -One fact remained: her hopes were 
fatally blasted, and for twenty long years she remained in 
the monastery of Alby leading the life of a religious with 
superhuman fidelity, just as if she were really the nun she had 
longed to be. 

It does an unregenerate reader of her story good to learn 
that the Prince did really die at last, in 1664, begging the par- 
don and prayers of Marianne with his last breath. And it will 
astonish no student of human nature to hear that she gave 
him both, and — ^with the amazing inconsistency of the femi- 
nine heart that its Creator alone, perhaps, can fathom — ^the 
tribute of a few tears, which he certainly did not in the least 
deserve. 

The long-delayed profession took place. Marianne Fran- 
(oise de Hohenzollem, Princess of Isenberg, became simply 
Sister Marianne Francois, and the world knew her no more. 
She died in 1670, at the age of fifty-nine, "beloved and deeply 
regretted by the Sisters with whom she had been united in 
religion for thirty years, although but six professed.** 




THE LOST MANUSCRIPT OF FATHER KINO. 

BY MARGARET HAYNE HARRISON, M^. 

MANUSCRIPT of priceless value to historians 
was discovered a few years ago when Dr. Her- 
bert Bolton, of the University of California, 
searching through the Mexican archives, came 
upon the original historical memoir of Father 
Kino, the great Jesuit pioneer of our Southwest. It has given 
to the world the best account we shall ever possess of the be- 
ginnings of California, Sonora and Arizona, during the years 
between the period of 1683 and 1711. The manuscript has been 
translated, edited and annotated by Dr. Bolton, and it has 
been published recently under the title. Kino's Historical Me- 
moir of Pimeria Alta. The original Spanish title is Fauores 
Celestiales. 

That such a manuscript had existed was known through 
references to it in the works of the early Jesuit historians of 
the West and Southwest These references to an Historia or 
Relacion by Father Kino were most certainly not to any of 
Kino's known writings, which consisted of a diary, three 
relaciones, two or three letters and a map. In the Prologue 
to Venegas' Noticias de la California, completed in Mexico in 
1739, the editor states that *Tather Venegas, to write his his- 
tory, had present the manuscript history of the Missions of 
Sonora by Father Eusebio Francisco Kino." It was used by 
Father Alegre in his History and by Father Ortega in Aposto- 
licos Afanes. Bancroft refers often to Father Kino's man- 
uscript, although he was not aware that the document con- 
tinued to exist. For a century and a half the work lay ne- 
glected and forgotten in the archives of Mexico City until its 
fortunate discovery eleven years ago. There is no question as 
to its authenticity. 

Father Kino, who is to the Southwest what Father Juni- 
pero Serra is to California, was bom near Trent, in the Aus- 
trian province of the Tyrol in 1644. His family was most 
probably of Italian stock. He studied in the universities of 
Ingolstadt and Freiburg, and when still a very young man, 



654 THE LOST MANUSCRIPT [Feb^ 

on recovering from a serious illness, he resolved to become a 
missionary and dedicate his life to religion. Indeed in Favores 
Celestiales, Father Kino writes that he owes to San Francisco 
Xavier many blessings — his recovery, his entry into the Com- 
pany of Jesus and his journeying to these far-off missions. 

Father Kino set out for the New World in April, 1678, but was 
delayed in Seville, and did not arrive at Vera Cruz until the 
spring of 1681. Not only as a fearless and ardent missionary 
and explorer, but also as an expert cartographer and ranch- 
man, he became widely known and beloved among the natives 
of arid Lower California, where his first work lay. First win- 
ning the confidence of the natives with gifts of maize and other 
eatables, he taught them the Spanish language, the use of cloth- 
ing, the art of singing, the simple elements of the Faith and 
the recitation of prayers. He watched over his people in all 
things and was ever ready to defend them against false 
charges. He was the greatest favorite with the Indian boys and 
one might often see him starting out on horseback for a long 
trip, followed by a crowd of them — one or two mounted be- 
hind him as a reward for good conduct 

The urgent request for half a million dollars from the 
Spanish Government, together with an order, dated Decem- 
ber 22, 1685, to suspend the conquest of California because of 
a recent native revolt, put an end to all California mission- 
ary enterprises until they were revived, twelve years later, by 
Fathers Kino and Salvatierra. On learning that the conquest 
of California had been suspended. Father Kino was given a new 
field of work with his assignment of Pimeria Alta, in 1687. 
Here, in the country of the Upper Pimas on the Sonora River 
near the present Arizona line, he founded the Mission of Dol- 
ores, which was his headquarters for nearly twenty-five years. 
The ruins of Dolores, the mother mission, are still standing, 
and are the oldest mission ruins in Arizona and Northern 
Sonora. Under the shadow of this dear home was written 
the Favores Celestiales. With Dolores as a base, a score of 
missions were established on both sides of the Sonora Arizona 
line, and starting out from Dolores, Father Kino made over 
fifty journeys inland, among wild tribes, through desert wastes 
where no white man had ever dared to go, crossing and re- 
crossing all of the country between the Magdalena and the 
Gila, the San Pedro and the Colorado. He worked with suc^ 



1920.] THE LOST MANUSCRIPT 655 

cess among the wildest and most untamed savages. No cow- 
boy of today could excel him in the saddle, his average trip 
being thirty miles a day for weeks and months. 

Truly he seemed a Fra Angelico reincarnated and turned 
pioneer. His companion for eight years. Father Luis Velarde, 
writes of him that he was an ascetic in his daily life and would 
often pass whole nights in prayer; he never slept in a bed 
and Father Velarde once saw him being flogged mercilessly 
as a penance. '*He was merciful to others but cruel to himself. 
While violent fevers were lacerating his body, he tried no rem- 
edy for six days except to get up to celebrate Mass and to go 
to bed again. And thus by weakening and dismaying nature 
he conquered the fevers.** It is now two hundred years since 
this intrepid pioneer established stockraising in the valleys of 
the Magdalena, the Altar, and the Santa Cruz, where it has 
flourished ever since. He started stock ranches all . about the 
region, to furnish a food supply for the Indians of the Mis- 
sions, and to enable his missions to have a secure basis of 
economic prosperity and independence. As the ^'Celestial 
Favors** he desired most, he asked only that his missions 
should prosper and be rich in souls. 

Favores Celestiales opens with a dedication to the very 
Catholic Majesty of Our Lord, Philip V., and consists of five 
parts, of greatly unequal lengths. It is a history of the main 
part of Kino*s life — his life and labors in Pimeria Alta, with 
much attention also to affairs in California. Part I. is a history 
of affairs in Pimeria Alta, now the land known as Southern 
Arizona and Northern Sonora, with a discussion as to whether 
California was a peninsula or an island, always one of the 
most absorbing topics of Father Kino*s life. He enters into 
a discussion of the benefits — spiritual and temporal — which 
might be obtained from further conquests in '"this most exten- 
sive part of North America which is the largest and best por- 
tion of the earth.** Parts II., III. and IV. cover the years from 
1700 and 1707, with emphasis on Father Kino's own explora- 
tions in Pimeria Alta, along the Gila and Colorado Rivers and 
along the Gulf Coast. Part V. of the manuscript, incorporated 
during Father Kino*s last days, as a fitting conclusion, is a re- 
port to the Spanish King, arguing for further conquests in 
California with the idea of establishing a new kingdom to be 
known as New Navarre. The general nature of the Favores 



656 THE LOST MANUSCRIPT [Feb^ 

Celestiales is official, being written at the request of the Father 
General of the Jesuit Order. Compiled at various times over 
a period of ten years, it was all written at the mother mission 
of Nuestra Senora de los Dolores. 

In the University of Ingolstadt Father Kino had been 
taught that California was a peninsula, but after his journey 
there, he changed his mind and wrote that it was the largest 
island in the world. After his visit to the Gila River, however, 
he went back to the peninsula theory because of the gift of 
some blue shells, which were exactly similar to certain other 
blue shells he had seen in 1685 on the Pacific Coast of the Pen- 
insula of California, and there only. He argued thai if the blue 
shells had come to the Yumas from the South Sea, there was 
probably some land connection with California and the ocean, 
by way of the land of the Yumas. He at once resolved to trace 
the "blue shell" clue down. He journeyed to San Xavier del 
Bac to found a mission there and also to call a convention of 
the principal governors and captains for more than forty 
leagues around, to find out whether the blue shells presented 
to him could have come from any other region than the op- 
posite coast of California. They all asserted that there were 
none like them in this nearest sea of California, and that only 
along what they called the South Sea could such shells be had. 
The next year he made a trip as far as the Gulf of California 
and learned that he had come to the head of the Gulf. He 
found the natives in that region greatly resembled the Cali- 
fomians in the dress of the men and women. Here, as in 
California, the men cut their hair one way, and the boys an- 
other. Lastly, there were many trees there native to California, 
"such as the incense tree and the tree bearing the fruit which 
they called medesse/* , 

In 1701, Father Juan Maria de Salvatierra, founder of the 
permanent Jesuit missions in California, who was a great per- 
sonal friend of Father Kino, and who owed his inspiration for 
that work to Father Kino's unfailing enthusiasm and encour- 
agement, came by sea from California to the Pimeria missions 
to discuss with his friend the advancement of spiritual and 
temporal conquests and new missions in California. His visit 
over, he decided to attempt to return home by the land route, 
in spite of the open hostility of the Apaches on the frontiers 
of Sonora. Starting from the pleasant mission of Dolores, 



1920.] THE LOST MANUSCRIPT 657 

Father Salvatierra set out first, and Father Kino overtook him 
later. At thirty-one degrees latitude, they arrived at the Sea of 
California, but finding a sand dune more than sixty leagues 
around, situated at the head of the sea, and their pack animals 
being exhausted, they returned, having twice sighted Cali- 
fornia. Father Salvatierra went on through La Concepcion del 
Cabotca. As they parted company Father Kino writes : "The 
question then arose whether the Father Rector (Salvatierra) or 
I should carry the beloved picture of Our Lady of Loretto, and 
although I should have been content to have the Father Rector 
carry that great consolation with him, his Reverence deter- 
mined that we should draw lots by writing on two little papers 
^north' and ^south;' and as on drawing the little papers the 
one for the *north* fell to me, to me fell the joy of carrying this 
great Lady of Loretto in the north of this Pimeria, she being 
our North Star." 

He then describes a subsequent journey to the Quiquimas 
nation of California Alta. Reaching the top of the California 
Sea, he passed over to the other side, towed on a raft by the 
Indians and sitting in a basket, ^Haking only my breviary, some 
trifles, and a blanket in which to sleep, and afterwards some 
branches of broom weed which I wrapped up in my bandana 
to serve me as a pillow." The road led by many small and 
pleasant rancherias, where the people received him with great 
hospitality, and listened to his preaching with the keenest in- 
terest. The natives were lighter in hue than those he had met 
previously. The land was most fertile; he saw beautiful fields 
well cultivated with crops of maize, beans and pumpkins, with 
large drying places for the pumpkins. Among other gifts 
Father Kino received, were the famous blue shells from the 
opposite coast of California and from the South Sea. 

In 1702, Father Kino was at last perfectly convinced that 
California was a peninsula. He again returned to the Yuma 
Junction, descended the Colorado to the Gulf, and saw the sun 
rise over its head. Father Kino's work as an explorer is re- 
markable in that instead of being accompanied by hundreds 
of horsemen in his expeditions, as were De Soto and Coronado, 
he traveled almost without military escort, often without any 
white men; sometimes, as on his three trips to the Gila River, 
with only his Indian servants. 

Kino never failed to be impressed with the fertility and 

a. U 



658 TUB LOST MANUSCRIPT [Feb^ 

beauty of the California lands. To him they seemed a verit- 
able garden of the Lord, with large and spacious plains, beau- 
tiful meadows and fertile valleys. Everywhere abounded 
grain and fruit. 'In order that sugar . . . may not be lacking 
to the Calif omians, heaven provides them with it in abundance 
in the months of April, May and June, in the dew which at that 
time falls upon the broad leaves, where it hardens and coagu- 
lates. They gather large quantities and I have seen and eaten 
it." Father Kino planted pumpkins, melons and watermelons 
in California, and the plants bore fruit sometimes three times 
a year. The pearls of this favored land also made her famous 
throughout the world. It was indeed a case of pearls before 
swine as far as the Califomians were concerned, for he calls 
them a race "who live satisfied with merely eating." They 
slept in caves in winter, all huddled together, and in summer 
they took their rest lying under the shade of the trees. He 
recognized that their minds were quick and alert and capable 
of better things with training. The chief occupation of the 
men, as well as the women, was the spinning of thread and 
fibre, fine and coarse, of which they made bags and nets for 
fishing; of grasses the men wove baskets which served many 
purposes — ^plates for eating, hats for the women, and drink- 
ing glasses. 

Father Kino was most zealous in bringing the Spanish 
Government to a realization of the immense and glorious 
field, both spiritual and temporal, which it possessed in the 
Pimeria district and in the Califomias. The disaffected in his 
province hindered him by spreading false reports of revolts 
and all kinds of disturbances, which made the Government 
very loath to send more missionaries to aid his work. The fact 
was that the Pimeria was a comparatively peaceful district, 
and yet Father Kino complains that in the twenty-three years 
preceding his writing, false rumors had been a terrible hin- 
drance to the good work. An interesting argument for the 
conversion of California was that a great port of call could 
be established there to receive ships from China, and to suc- 
cor the many persons sick from scurvy which they usually had 
on board. He further remarks that in both the Califomias and 
the Pimeria, the natives were easy to convert, as they had no 
particular sect or idolatry difficult to eradicate, such as polyg- 
amy, nor bonzes as in Japan or China, "and although they 



1920.] THE LOST MANUSCRIPT 659 

greatly venerate the sun as a remarkable thing, with ease one 
preaches to them, and they comprehend the teaching that God 
Most High is the All Powerful and He Who created the sun, 
the moon, and the stars, and all men, and all the world, and 
all its creatures." He also writes the King of Spain that in the 
twenty-one years since conversions began, more than 30,000 
souls have been brought into friendly relations with the 
Fathers, and to the desire of receiving the Catholic Faith. He 
means in the region between the Pimas, Yumas, and Quiqui- 
mas alone. 

The value of the Favores Celestiales as a source may be 
judged from the fact that Father Kino quotes from about two 
hundred documents, drawing upon the correspondence of many 
years. The larger portion of the documents quoted are let- 
ters from his superiors, associates and friends, such as Father 
Salyatierra, the founder of the permanent Jesuit Missions in 
California. Seven diaries of exploring expeditions are also 
cited at considerable length. Professor Bolton says that nearly 
all of these diaries, and the whereabouts of quite all, have been 
hitherto unknown. The discovery of the manuscript further- 
more discloses the chief source of extant secondary works; 
Ortega's Afanes, from which all information concerning the 
history of this period in the Pimeria region has hitherto been 
drawn, is merely a summary of Father Kino's Favores Celes- 
tiales. From the founding of Mission Dolores in March, 1687, 
to January, 1691, very little has been known of Father Kino's 
doing. Again, from April, 1701, to Father Kino's death, in 1711, 
there had been a complete lack of primary sources. In fact the 
Favores Celestiales puts the early history of a large part of 
our Southwest on a new basis. Professor Bolton, whose edit- 
ing and translation is an admirable piece of scholarship, opens 
his preface by saying that in publishing Father Kino's great 
work, he is carrying out a wish expressed in 1705 by Father 
Tamburinji, Father General of the Society of Jesus. Thank- 
ing Father Kino for his noble work, he acknowledged receipt 
of the first part of Favores Celestiales: "I heartily rejoice that 
your Reverence may continue your treatise on those missions, 
entitled Celestial Favors, the first part of which you sent us 
here. I hope to receive the other two parts which your Rever- 
ence promises, and that they may all be approved in Mexico, in 
order that they may be published." 



660 BEAUTY [Feb. 

The work should be of interest to all students of American 
history, and of intense value to scholars of the past of our 
Southwest. Aside from historical considerations, it is valu- 
able as a personal portrait of one of the greatest of our pio- 
neers, who stands revealed in this autobiography. In all his 
splendid work as missionary, church builder, pioneer explorer 
and ranchman. Father Kino never loses sight of the ideals 
which brought so many of his Order to the New World as our 
first agents of civilization — the knowledge that there was but 
one thing in this world worth striving for — the saving of im- 
mortal souls. 



BEAUTY. 

BY ARMEL O'CONNOR. 

. . . and The Good, which lies beyond is the Fountain at once 
and Principle of Beautg: the Primal Good and the Primal Beautg 
have the one dwelling-place atid, thus, alwags, Beautg's seat is 
There, — ^Plotinus. 

The sun shines bright in many places. 

Beauty stoops into the vault; 

One Light illumines many faces, 

Shows perfection through the fault. 

And every mountain, sky or river 

Holds one heavenly reply 

To my questions, from the Giver 

Of the Gift that cannot die. 

Yet I destroy my purest pleasure 

While I hesitate, compare. 

God is the undivided Treasure . . . 

Timeless Beauty is my share. 




THE LOYALIST. 

BY JAMES FRANCIS BARRETT. 

Chapter III. 

N imposing spectacle greeted Marjorie's eyes as she 
made her way, in company with the Shippen girls, 
into the ballroom of the City Tavern. The hall was 
superb, of a charming style of architecture, well 
furnished and lighted, and brilliantly decorated with 
a profusion of American and French flags, its atmos- 
phere vocal with the strains of martial music. Everywhere were 
women dressed with elegance and taste. The Tory ladies, gowned 
in the height of fashion, were to Marjorie a revelation at once 
amazing and impressive. 

On a raised dais sat the Governor in his great chair. He 
was clothed in the regulation buff and blue uniform of a Major 
General of the Continental Army. On his shoulders he wore the 
epaulets and about his waist the sword knots General Washington 
had presented to him the preceding May. He bore also upon his 
person the most eloquent of martial trophies, for his leg, wounded 
at Quebec and Saratoga, rested heavily on a small cushion before 
him. 

Marjorie, who saw him for the first time, was attracted at 
once by his manly bearing and splendid physique. His frame 
was large, his shoulders broad, his body inclined to be fleshy. 
His presence, however, was magnetic, his manner simple and with- 
out affectation. He looked the picture of dignity and power as he 
received the guests in turn and greeted each with a pointed and 
pleasant remark. 

*'Isn't he a handsome figure?" whispered Peggy to Marjorie 
as they made their way slowly to the dais. 

Marjorie acquiesced in the judgment. He was still young, 
hardly more than thirty-five, his weather-beaten face darkened 
to bronze from exposure. His features were large and clean-cut 
with the power of decision written full upon them. A firm 
and forcible chin, with heavy lines playing about his mouth, eyes, 
large and black, that seemed to take toll of everjrthing that 
transpired about them, suggested a man of extravagant energy, of 
violence and determined tenacity in the face of opposition. No 
one could look upon his imposing figure without calling to mind 



662 THE LOYAUST [Feb^ 

his martial achievements — ^the exploits of Canada, of the Mohaifiic, 
of Bemis Heights. 

**So this is your little friend," said he to Peggy, eyeing Bfar- 
jorie as she made her presentation courtesy. He was now stand- 
ing, though resting heavily on his cane with his left hand. 

**Mistress Allison, this privilege is a happy one. I under- 
stand that you are a violent little patriot" He smiled as he gently 
took her hand. 

*'I am very pleased, your Excellency," softly answered Mar- 
jorie. 'This is an occasion of rare delight to me." 

"And are you so intensely loyal? Your friends love you for 
your devotion, although I sometimes think that they miss Gen- 
eral Howe," and he smiled in the direction of Peggy as he turned 
to her with this remark. 

"You know. General," artfully replied Peggy, "I told you that 
I was neither the one nor the other; and that I wore black and 
white at the Mischienza, the colors now worn by our American 
soldiers in their cockades in token of the French and American 
alliance." 

"So you did. I had almost forgotten." 

"And that there were some American gentlemen present, as 
well, although aged non-combatants," she continued with a sub- 
tle smile, 

"For which reason," he responded, "you would I suppose 
have it assume a less exclusive appearance." 

"Oh, no ! I do not mean that. It was after all a very private 
affair, arranged solely in honor of General Howe." 

"Were some of these young ladies at the Mischienza? And 
who were they that rewarded the gallant knights?" he asked. 

"Well, the Chew girls, and my sisters, and Miss Franks. 
There was Miss White, and Miss Craig," she repeated the list 
one after the other as her eyes searched the company assembled 
in the hall. "And that girl in the corner. Miss Bond, and beyond 
her, her sister: then there was Miss Smith. Miss Bond I am told 
is engaged to one of your best generals, Mr. John Robinson." 

"We are accustomed to call Mr. Robinson, General Robinson 
in the army," he ventured with a smile. 

She blushed slightly. "We call him Mr. Robinson in society 
or sometimes Jack." 

"And who might have been your gallant knight? May I ask?" 

The Honorable Captain Cathcart," she proudly replied. 

'And who has the good fortune to be your knight for this 
occasion?" he questioned, seeking in their hands the billet of the 
evening. 



««r 



1920.] THE LOYAUST 663 



"We do not know/* Marjorie murmured. "We have not 
as yet met the Master of Ceremonies." 

He looked about him, in search evidently of someone. 
"Colonel Wilkinson!" he called to a distinguished looking oflBcer 
on his right, "have these fair ladies been assigned their partners?" 

The Colonel advanced and presented them with their billets, 
which were numbered and which bore the name of the partner 
who was to accompany them during the entire evening. Peggy 
opened hers and found the name of Colonel Jean Boudinot, a 
young French officer. Marjorie saw written upon hers a name 
unkown to her, "Captain Stephen Meagher, aide-de-camp." 

"Captain Meagher!" exclaimed the Governor. "He is one of 
General Washington's aides, detailed for the present in the city. 
Do you know him?" 

"No," replied Marjorie timidly, "I do not, I am sorry to say. 
I have never had the privilege of meeting him." 

*There he is now," said he, indicating with a gesture of the 
eyes a tall young officer who stood with his back toward them. 

Marjorie looked in the direction indicated. A becomingly tall 
and erect figure, clad in a long blue coat met her gaze. Further 
scrutiny disclosed the details of a square cut coat, with skirts 
hooked back displaying a buff lining, and with lappets, cuff-linings 
and standing capes of like color. His bearing was overmastering 
as he stood at perfect ease, his hand resting gently on a small 
sword hanging at his side; his right wrist showed a delicate 
lacen ruffle as he gestured to and fro in his conversation. As he 
slightly turned in her direction, she saw that he wore his hair 
drawn back from the face, with a gentle roll on either side, well 
powdered and tied in a cue behind. His features were pleasant, 
not large but finely chiseled and marked with expression. Mar- 
jorie thought what a handsome figure he made as he stood in 
earnest conversation, dominating the little group who surrounded 
him and followed his every move with interest and attention. 

"Let me call him," suggested the Governor to Marjorie who 
at that moment stood with her eyes fixed on the Captain. "I am 
sure he will be pleased to learn the identity of his fair partner," 
he added facetiously. 

"Oh ! do," agreed Peggy. "It would afford pleasure to all of 
us to meet him." 

The General whispered a word to an attendant who im- 
mediately set off in the direction of the unconcerned Captain. 
As the latter received the message he turned, looked in the direc- 
tion of the dais and gazed steadily at the Governor and his com- 
pany. His eyes met Marjorie's and she was sure that he saw her 



664 THE LOYAUST [Feb^ 

alone. The thought thrilled her through and through. He excused 
himself from the company of his circle, and as he directed his 
footsteps towards her» she noted his neat and close fitting buff 
waistcoat, and his immaculate linen revealing itself at the throat 
and ruffled wrists. Nor did she fail to observe that he wore a buff 
cockade on his left breast and gilt epaulets upon his shoulders. 

**Captain Meagher/' announced General Arnold. *'I have the 
honor of presenting you to your partner for the evening, Mistress 
AUison.*' 

Marjorie courtsied gracefully to his courtly acknowledg- 
ment. 

*'And the Misses Shippen, the belles of the Mischienza!" 

Stephen bowed profoundly. 

*'I was just remarking. Captain, that General Washington has 
honored you with a special mission, and that you have run away 
from your duties tonight to mingle with the social life of the 
city." 

*'Or rather. Your Excellency, to acquaint myself with its 
society," good naturedly replied Stephen. 

*Then you do not relax, even for an evening," inquired Peggy, 
with a coquettish turn of the head. 

''It is the duty of a soldier never to relax," answered Stephen 
naively. 

"And yet one's hours are shortened by pleasure and action," 
continued Peggy. 

"As a recreation it is far sweeter than as a business. It soon 
exhausts us, however, and it is the greatest incentive to evil." 

"But you dance?" interrupted the General. 

"Oh, yes. Your Excellency," replied Stephen, "after a 

fashion." 

"Well, your partner is longing for the music. Come let ye 
assemble." 

And as the dance was announced, the first one being dedi- 
cated to "The Success of the Campaign," Stephen and Marjorie 
moved off and took their places. Peggy and her sisters were soon 
attended and followed. They were lost at once in the swirl of ex- 
citement among the throng. 

"And you live alone with your father and mother?" 
Marjorie and her partner were sitting in a distant comer 
whither they had wandered at the conclusion of the dance. 
Stephen began to find himself unusually interested in this girl 
and was inquiring concernedly about her home life. 

"Yes. Father's time is much consumed with his attention to 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 665 

the shop. Mother and I find plenty to occupy us about the house. 
Then I relieve father at times* and so divide my hours between 
them," quietly answered Marjorie. 

"You have not as yet told me your name/' observed Stephen. 

"Marjorie," was the timid reply. 

"Marjorie Allison," repeated Stephen. *That sounds like a 
Catholic name." 

"It is," replied Marjorie. "Our family have been Catholic for 
generations." 

"Mine have, too," volunteered Stephen. "Irish Catholics who 
have left a history behind them." 

"Is your home here?" asked Marjorie. 

"Here in this country, yes," admitted her escort. "But I live 
in New York and it was there that I volunteered at the outbreak 
of the war and saw my first service in the New York campaign." 

"Are your parents there too?" inquired the girl. 

And then he told her that his father and mother and only 
sister lived there, and that when the war broke out he determined 
to enlist in company with a number of his friends, the young men 
of the neighborhood; how he took part in the campaign about 
New York and his "contribution to our defeat," as he styled it; of 
the severe winter at Valley Forge and his appointment by Wash- 
ington to his staff. She listened with keen interest but remained 
silent until the end. 

"And now you are in the city on detailed duty?" 

"Yes. Work of a private nature for the Commander-in- 
Chief." 

"It must be a source of satisfaction to be responsive to duty," 
observed Marjorie. 

"It is God's medicine to detach us from the things of this 
world. For, after all has been said and done, it is love alone 
which elevates one's services above the domain of abject slavery. 
In such a manner do the commands of heaven afford the richest 
consolations to the soul." 

"And still, a certain routine must weary at times." 

"Not when the habit is turned to pleasure." 

**You are a philosopher, then?" 

"No. Just a mere observer of men and their destinies." 

"Have you included the duration of the war in your legitimate 
conclusions?" 

"It is not over yet, and it will not terminate, I think, without 
an improvement in the present condition of affairs. The pro- 
posed help from France must become a definite reality of no ordi- 
nary proportion, else the discordant factions will achieve dire 



»»» 






666 THE LOYAUST [Feb.. 

results. Tell me/' he said, suddenly changing the topic of conver- 
sation, ''were you in attendance at the Mischienza?' 

"No, I did not care to attend.'* 

1 would I had been present' 

'Tou would have been expelled in your present capacity.' 

"Ah yes! But I would have affected a disguise." 

"You would expect to obtain important information?" She 
fingered her gown of pink satin as she spoke, oblivious of every- 
thing save the interest of the conversation. 

"I might possibly have stumbled across some items of value." 

"None were there save the British oiOGicers and their Tory 
friends, you know." 

"A still greater reason for my desire to be present. And why 
did you not dance attendance?" he frankly asked. 

"Do you really want to know my sole reason?" She looked 
at him somewhat suspicious, somewhat reliant, awaiting her 
womanly instinct to reveal to her the rectitude of her judgment. 

"I should not have asked, otherwise," Stephen gravely replied. 

"Well, it was for the simple reason that my soul would bum 
within me if I permitted myself to indulge in such extravagance 
and gayety the while our own poor boys were bleeding to death 
at Valley Forge." 

Stephen grasped her hand and pressed it warmly. "You are 
a true patriot," was all he could say. 

Whether it was his emotion for the cause of his country or 
the supreme satisfaction afforded him by the knowledge that 
this girl was loyal to the cause, Stephen did not know, nor did 
he try to discover. He knew he was thrilled with genuine grati- 
fication, and that he was joyously happy over the thought which 
now relieved his mind. Somehow or other he earnestly desired 
to find this girl an ardent patriot, yet he dared not ask her too 
bluntly. From the moment she had entered the hall in company 
with the other girls, he had singled her out in the midst of the 
company. And when the summons came to him from the Gov- 
ernor, he had seen her standing at the side of the dais, and her 
alone. Little did he suspect, however, that she bore his billet, 
nor did he presume to wish for her exclusive company for the 
evening. 

She danced with grace and was wholly without affectation. 
How sweet she looked, and how interesting her conversation, yet 
so reserved and dignified. But she lived in the city and the city, 
he knew, teemed with Loyalists. Was she one of these? He 
dared not ask her. To have her declare herself a patriot, enrap- 
tured him. She was one of his own after all. 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 667 

Moreover she was one with him in religious belief — ^that 
was a distinct comfort Catholics were not numerous, and to 
preserve the Faith was no slight struggle. He was thoroughly 
conversant with the state of affairs in the province of New York 
where Catholics could not, because of the iniquitous law and the 
prescribed oath of oflBce, become naturalized as citizens of the 
State. He knew how New Jersey had excluded Roman Catholics 
from office, and how North and South Carolina had adopted the 
same iniquitous measure. Pennsylvania was one of the few col- 
onies where all penal laws directed against the Catholics had been 
absolutely swept away. To meet with a member of his own 
persecuted Church, especially one so engaging and so interesting 
as Marjorie, was a source of keen joy and an unlooked-for 
happiness. 

*Tou will not deny me the pleasure of paying my respects 
to your father and mother?" Stephen asked. 

She murmured something as he let go her hand. Stephen 
thought she had said: "I had hoped that you would come." 

'Tomorrow?" he ventured. 

*'I shall be pleased to have you sup with us," she smiled as 
she made the soft reply. 

'Tomorrow then it shall be." 

They rose to take their part in the next dance. 

As the evening wore on Peggy, wearied of the dance, sought 
a secluded corner of the great room to compose herself. She had 
been disappointed in her lottery, for she detested the thought of 
being a favor for a French officer and had taken care to so ex- 
press herself at home long before. She could not rejoice at Mar- 
jorie's good fortune, as she thought it, and found little of interest 
and less of pleasure in the evening's doings. 

She was aroused from her solitude and made radiant on the 
instant at sight of the Military Governor, limping his way across 
the hall in her direction. He had seen her seated alone, and his 
heart urged him to her side. With the lowest bow of which he 
was then capable, he sought the pleasure of her company. Her 
color heightened, she smiled graciously with her gray blue eyes, 
and accepted his hand. He led the way to the banquet room and 
thence to the balcony, when they might hear the music and view 
the dancing, for his lameness made dancing impossible. 

*'I hesitate to condemn a young lady to a prison seat, when 
the stately minuet sends a summons," he said as he led her to 
a chair a little to one side of the balcony. 

'Tou should have thought of that before you made us cast 



668 THE LOYAUST [FA, 

lots," she replied quickly. "I was wearying of the rounds of 
pleasure.'* 

"Is the company then, all too gay?" 

"No, rather extravagant" 

'Tou insisted on the Mischienza ladies being present." 

"And can you not distinguish them? To what better ad- 
vantage do they not appear than the others? Their gowns are 
superior, they give evidence of more usage in society, their head- 
dress is higher and of the latest fashion." 

"And their hearts, their hopes, their sympathies! Where 
are they?" 

"You know where mine lay," she adroitly replied. 

'True, you did wear a French cockade," he laughed. 

"Please do not call it Trench.' I scorn all things Trench.' " 

"They are our allies now, you must know." 

"For which I am most sorry. I expect no mercy from this 
scheming Papist country," she replied bitterly. 

"But they have lent us much money at a time when our 
paper currency is practically worthless, and the assistance of 
their fleet is now momentarily expected," the General went on 
to explain. 

"And to what purpose? Lord North has proposed to meet 
our demands most liberally and with our constitutional liberties 
secured, I fail to see why further strife is necessary." 

"But our independence is not yet secure." 

"It was secure after your brilliant victory at Saratoga. With 
the collapse of Burgoyne, England saw that further campaigning 
in a country so far removed from home was disastrous. It only 
remained to formulate some mutual agreement. We have tri- 
umphed. Why not be magnanimous? Why subject the country 
to a terrible strain for years for a result neither adequate nor 
secure?" 

She talked rapidly, passionately. It was evident from the 
manner of her address that the subject was no new one to her. 

"You can be court-martialed for treason," he remarked with 
a slight smile playing about the heavy lines of his mouth. 

"Is it treason to talk of the welfare of the country? I look 
upon the alliance with this Catholic and despotic power as more 
of an act of treason than the total surrender of our armies to 
King George. To lose our independence is one thing; but to 
subject our fair land to the tyranny of the Pope and his emissary, 
the King of France, is a total collapse. Our hopes lie in Eng- 
land alone." 

The Governor was struck by this strange reasoning. Why 



1920.] THE LOYAUST 669 

had this mere child dared to express the very thoughts which were 
of late intruding themselves upon his mind, but which he dared 
not permit to cross the seal of his lips? She was correct* he 
thought, in her reasoning, but bold in her denunciation. No one 
else had dared to address such sentiments to him. And now he 
was confronted with a young lady of quick wit and ready re- 
partee who spoke passionately the identical reflections of his 
more mature mind. Clearly her reasoning was not without some 
consistency and method. 

"I am afraid that you are a little Tory." He could not allow 
this girl to think that she had impressed him in the least. 

''Because I am frank in the expression of my views?" She 
turned and with arched eyebrows surveyed him. "Pardon me, 
if you will, but I would have taken no such liberty with any other 
person. You gave me that privilege when you forbid my allud- 
ing to your former exploits." 

"But I did not want you to become a Tory." He spoke with 
emphasis. 

"I am not a Tory I tell you." 

"But you are not a Whig?" 

"What, an ordinary shop maid?" 

"They are true patriots." 

"But of no social standing." 

"Tell me why all the Mischienza ladies courtsied to me after 
so courtly a fashion," he asked. 

"They like it. It is part of their life. You must know that 
nothing pleases a woman of fashion more than to bow and cour- 
tesy before every person of royalty, and to count those who pre- 
cede her out of a room." 

"Surely, Margaret, you are no such menial?" He compressed 
his lip as he glanced at her sharply. He had never before called 
her by her first name nor presumed to take a liberty. It was 
more a slip of the tongue than an act of deliberate choice, yet he 
would not have recalled the word. His concern lay in her manner 
of action. 

"And why not a menial?" Evidently she took no notice of 
his presumption, or at least pretended not to do so. "Piety is by 
no means the only motive which brings women to church. Posi- 
tion in life is precisely what one makes it" 

"Does social prestige appeal to you then?" 

"I love it." She did not talk to him directly for her attention 
was being centred upon the activities on the floor. "I think that a 
woman who can dress with taste and distinction possesses riches 
above all computation. See Mrs. Reed, there. How I envy her!" 



670 THE LOYAUST [Feb^ 

"The wife of the President of the Council?" he asked, ap- 
prehensively bending forward in the direction of the floor. 

'The same. She enjoys a position of social eminence. How 
I hate her for it." She tapped the floor with her foot as she spoke. 

"You mean that you dislike her less than you envy her 
position?" 

Just then her young squire came up and she gave him her 
hand for a minuet, excusing herself to the Governor as graciously 
as possible. 

Scarcely had she disappeared when he began to muse. What 
a fitting companion she would make for a man of his rank and 
dignity! That she was socially ambitious and obsessed with a 
marked passion for display he well knew. She was not yet twenty 
but the disparity in their ages — he was about thirty-seven and 
a widower with three sons — would be offset by the disparity of 
their stations. No one in the city kept a finer stable of horses 
nor gave more costly dinners than he. Everybody treated him 
with deference, for no one presumed to question his social pre- 
eminence. The Whigs admired him as their dashing and per- 
haps their most successful General. The Tories liked him be- 
cause of his aristocratic display and his position in regard to the 
Declaration of Independence. Why not make her his bride? 

She possessed physical charms and graces in a singular de- 
gree. She dressed with taste; her wardrobe was of the finest. 
Aristocratic in her bearing, she would be well fitted to assume 
the position of the first lady of the town. Peggy, moreover, pos- 
sessed a will of her own. This was revealed to him on more than 
one occasion during their few meetings, and if proof had been 
wanting, the lack was now abundantly supplied. She would make 
an ideal wife, and he resolved to enter the lists against all suitors. 

Her mind was more mature than her years, he thought. 
This he gleaned from her animated discussion of the Alliance. 
And there was, after all, more than an ounce of wisdom in her 
point of view. Mischief brewed in the proposed help from a des- 
potic power. His own signal victory ended the war, if only the 
Colonists would enter into negotiations or give an attentive ear to 
the liberal proposals of Lord North. The people did not desire com- 
plete independence and he, for one, had never fully endorsed 
the Declaration. Her point of view was right. Better to accept 
the overtures of our kinsmen, than to cast our lot with that Catho- 
lic and despotic power. 

His musings were arrested by the arrival of an aide, who an- 
nounced that he was needed at headquarters. He arose at once 
to obey. 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 671 

Chapter IV. 

Stephen awoke late the next morning. As he lay with eyes 
closed, half asleep, half awake, the image of his partner of the 
evening sweetly drifted into his dreamy brain, and called up a 
wealth of associations on which he continued to dwell with rare 
pleasure. But the ominous suggestion that her heart could not 
possibly be free, that perhaps some gay oflBcer, or brilliant mem- 
ber of Howe's staff, or a gallant French oflBcial, many of whom 
now infested the town, was a favored contestant in the field, 
filled his mind with unwholesome possibilities, and chased away 
the golden vision that was taking shape. He sat upright and, 
pulling aside the curtains of the little window that flanked his 
bed, peered into the garden behind the house. The birds were 
singing, but not with the volume or rapture which is their wont 
in the early morning. The sun was high in the heavens and 
flung its reflecting rays from the trees and foliage; whence he 
concluded that the morning was already far advanced and that 
it was well past the hour for him to be astir. 

And what a day it was! One of those rare July days when 
the tints of the earth and the hues of the sky, though varied in 
color, seem to blend in one beautiful and harmonious whole. 
The cypress and the myrtle, emblems of deeds of virtue and 
renown, had already donned their summer dress. The many 
flowers bowed gently under the weight of the fitful butterfly 
or the industrious bee, or tossed to and fro lightly in the arms 
of the morning breeze. Overhead maples, resplendent in their 
fabric of soft and delicate green, arched themselves like fine- 
spun cobwebs, through which filigree the sun projected his rays 
at irregular and frequent intervals, lending only an occasional 
patch of sunlight, here and there, to the more exposed portions 
of the garden. 

But nature had no power to drive Majorie's image from his 
mind. Try as he would, he could not distract his attention to 
the many problems which ordinarily would have engaged 
thoughts. What mattered it to him that the French fleet was 
momentarily expected, or that the Continental Congress was 
again meeting in the city, or that he had met with certain sus- 
picious looking individuals during the course of the day ! There was 
yet one who looked peculiarly suspicious and who was enveloped 
as far as his knowledge was concerned, in a veil of mystery of 
the strangest depth. She was a flower too fair to blush unseen 
or unattached. His own unworthiness confounded him. 

Nevertheless he was determined to call that very day, in re- 
sponse to her generous invitation of last night, and in accordance 



672 THE LOYAUST [Feb^ 

with the custom of the time. He would, perchance, learn more 
of her, of her home, of her life, of her friends. But would he 
excite in her the interest she was exciting in him? The thought 
of his possible remoteness from her, pained him and made his 
heart sink. The noblest characters experience strange sensations 
of desolation and wretchedness at the thought of disapproval and 
rejection. Esteem, the testimony of our neighbor's appreciation, 
the approval of those worth while, these are the things for which 
we yearn with fondest hopes. To know that we have done well 
is satisfaction, but to know that our efforts and our work are 
valued by others is one of the noblest of pleasures. Stephen 
longed to know how he stood in the lady's esteem, and so her 
little world was his universe. 

Dispatching the day's business as best he could, the expec- 
tant knight set out to storm the castle of his lady. Ere long the 
little white house of her describing rose before him. He had seen 
it many times in other days, but now it was invested with a new 
and absorbing interest. There it stood, plain yet stately, with a 
great pointed and shingled roof, its front and side walls unbroken 
save for a gentle projection supported by two uniform Doric pil- 
lars which served as a sort of a portal before the main entrance. 
Numerous windows with small panes of glass, and with trim green 
shutters thrown full open revealing neatly arranged curtains, 
glinted and glistened in the beams of the afternoon sun. The 
nearer of the two great chimneys which ran up the sides, like 
two great buttresses of an old English abbey, gave indications 
of generous and well fed fireplaces recessed in the walls of the 
inner rooms. The lawns and walks were uncommonly well kept, 
and the whole atmosphere of the little home was one of comfort, 
simplicity and neatness, suggesting the sweet and serene happi- 
ness reigning within. 

Stephen closed the gate behind him. A moment later he 
had seized the brass knocker and delivered three moderate blows. 

"Captain Meagher!" said a soft voice. "I am so pleased you 
have come." 

"Mistress Allison, the pleasure is indeed mine, I assure you," 
replied Stephen as he grasped her hand, releasing it with a gentle 
pressure. 

She led the way into the narrow hall. 

"Mother!" shK addressed a sweetly smiling middle-aged 
woman who now stood at her side, "I have the honor of present- 
ing to you. Captain Meagher, of the staff of General Washington, 
my partner of last evening." And she betrayed a sense of pride 
in that bit of history. 



1920.] THE LOYAUST 673 

Stephen took the matron's hand, for among the Americans 
the custom prevailed of shaking hands, albeit the French visitors 
maintained that it was a '*comic custom.** Stephen thought it 
democratic and in keeping with the spirit of the country. 

The parlor opened immediately to the right and thither 
Stephen was conducted without further ceremony. Mr. Allison 
would be in shortly; he was as yet busied with the trade at the 
shop. The old clock at the corner of the room with its quaint 
figure of Time adorning the top, and its slowly moving pendulum 
proclaimed the hour of five, the hour when the duties of the day 
came to a close and social life began. The old fireplace, black 
in this season of desuetude, but brilliant in its huge brass and- 
irons like two pilasters of gold, caught the eye at the extreme 
end of the room, while, in the corner near the window, a ma- 
hogany round tea-table stood upright like an expanded fan or 
palm leaf. 

Stephen seated himself in a great chair that lay to one side 
of the room. 

"I had the good fortune of being your daughter*s partner 
for the evening, and I am happy to be enabled to pay my respects 
to you.'* He addressed Mrs. Allison, who was nearer to him on 
his left. 

**Marjorie told me. Captain, of your extreme kindness to her. 
We appreciate it very much. Did she conduct herself becom- 
ingly? She is a stranger to such brilliant affairs.*' 

^'Splendidly!** answered Stephen. ''And she danced charm- 
ingly," and he glanced at her as he spoke and thought he de- 
tected a faint blush. 

"I did not attend on account of its extravagance,** remarked 
Mrs. Allison. "I had duties at home, and Marjorie was well 
attended.'* 

Indeed!" pronounced Marjorie. 

It was magnificent, to be sure,** went on Stephen, "but it will 
excite no uncertain comment. Repiiblican simplicity last night 
was lost from sight.** 

"Which I scarce approve of,** declared Marjorie. 

"You did not suit your action to your thought,** smiled her 
mother. 

"True,** replied the girl, "yet I told you that I was anxious 
to attend simply to behold the novelty of it all. Now that it is 
over, I disapprove of the splendor and extravagance especially in 
these times of need.'* 

"Yes,** volunteered Stephen, "she did voice similar senti- 
ments to me last evening. Nevertheless she is not alone in her 

?0L. GE. 43 



"1 

««1 



674 THE LOYAUST [Feb^ 

criticism. The Gazette today publishes a leading article excoriat- 
ing the Military Governor for his use of the teams, which he had 
commanded under pretence of revictualling the army» for the 
transportation of his private effects to and from the City Tavern. 
It spells dissatisfaction at best/' 

'There has been dissatisfaction from the first day on which 
he took up residence at the Slate Roof House/' said Mrs. Allison. 

The figure of Mr. Allison appeared in the room to the rear. 
Stephen rose quickly to greet him, expressing his extreme 
pleasure. 

It was a great day for a tradesman when an oflSlcer of the 
Continental Army supped at his table. The house was in a mild 
uproar since Marjorie announced the coming distinction, on her 
return from the ball. From the kitchen chimney went up a pillar 
of smoke. Mrs. Allison and two of her neighbors, who were 
proud to lend assistance on such an important occasion, could 
be seen passing in and out continually. A large roast lay sim- 
mering in the pan diffusing savory and provoking fumes through- 
out the house. And it was with distinct pride that Mrs. Allison 
announced to the company that they might take their places about 
the festive board. 

The discourse bore on various matters, prominence being 
given to politics and the affairs of the army. Mr. Allison took 
care to ask no question that might embarrass Stephen. The com- 
plaints of the tradesmen, the charges of the Whigs, the mur- 
murings of the Tories and the annoying articles in the morning 
Gazette, all were touched upon in the course of the meal. 
Stephen volunteered the information that Conway and Gates 
were in hiding and that Clinton was driven to New York, where 
Washington was watching his every move, like a hawk, from the 
heights of Morristown. 

''General Washington holds General Arnold in the highest 
esteem," remarked Mr. Allison. 

"As the bravest General in the Continental Army," quietly 
replied Stephen. 

"He would make a poor statesman," went on the host 

"He is a soldier first and last/' 

"Should a soldier be wanting in tact and diplomacy?" 

"A good soldier should possess both." 

•Then General Arnold is not a good soldier," declared Mr. 
Allison. 

"A criticism he hardly deserves," was the simple reply. 

•Tou saw the Gazetted 

*Tes. I read that article to which you undoubtedly refer." 



1920.] THE LOYAUST 675 

"And you agree with it?" 

••No. I do not." 

••I am sorry about it all. Yet I am inclined to hold the Gov- 
ernor responsible to a great extent. He would be an aristocratf 
and it is the society of such that he covets." 

••Perhaps jealousy might inspire criticism. Envy, you know, 
is the antagonist of the fortunate." 

••But it is not his deeds alone that cause the unrest among 
our citizens. It is not what he does but what he says. It helps 
matters not in the least to express dissatisfaction with the man- 
ner of conducting the war, neither by criticizing the enactments 
of the Congress, or vehemently opposing the new foreign alliance. 
This does not sound well from the lips of one of our foremost 
leaders and we do not like it." 

••I was not aware that he voiced any opposition to the fur- 
therance of the alliance with France," declared Stephen. 

••He might not have spoken in formal protest, but he has 
spoken in an informal manner times without number," rieplied 
Mr. Allison. 

••I am sorry to hear that. I did not expect such from Gen- 
eral Arnold," muttered Stephen. 

Marjorie had as yet taken no part in the conversation. She 
was interested and alive, however, to every word, anxious, if pos- 
sible, to learn Stephen's attitude in regard to the common talk. 
She took delight in his defence of his General, notwithstanding 
the overwhelming evidence against him, and was proud of the 
trait of loyalty her guest disclosed in the face of her father's 
opposition. 

Mrs. Allison and Marjorie participated in the conversation 
when the topics bore, for the most part, on current events, un- 
interesting to Mr. Allison, who munched in silence until some 
incomplete sentence called for a remark or two from him by way 
of a conclusion. Stephen's animated interest in the more com- 
mon topics of the day, led Mrs. Allison and Marjorie to the con- 
clusion that he was a more practical and a more versatile man 
than the head of their own house. 

All in all he made a profound impression on the family, and 
when the repast was finished and the table had been cleared, they 
sat long over the fruit and the nuts, before retiring to the sitting 
room for the evening. 

•Tou are not in the habit of frequenting brilliant functions?" 
Stephen asked of Marjorie when they were quite alone. It was 
customary for the older folks to retire from the company of the 
younger set shortly after the dinner grace had been said. Of 



676 THE LOYAUST [Feb^ 

course* grace had to be said; Mr. Allison would permit no bread 
to be broken at his house without first imploring benedictions 
from heaven, and, when the formalities of the meal had been 
concluded, returning thanks for the good things enjoyed. 

*'I never have attended before,*' answered Marjorie, smooth- 
ing out a side of her apron with her hand. 

'Ton are quite friendly with the Shippen family, I under- 
stand." 

"Oh yes! For several years we have been united. I am in- 
vited to all their functions. Still I am not fond of society.*' 

"And you spend your time alone?" Stephen was persistent 
in his questions. He sat opposite to her and studied her expres- 
sion. 

"Between here and the store, and perhaps with Peggy. This 
is about all, for I seldom visit. I am hopelessly old-fashioned 
in some things, mother tells me, and I suppose you will say the 
same if I tell you more,*' and she looked at him with her head 
half raised, her lips parted somewhat in a quizzical smile. 

"Not at all! You are what I rather hoped to find you, al- 
though I did not dare to give expression to it You can, possibly, 
be of some assistance to me." 

"Gladly would I perform any service, however humble, for 
the cause of our country." Marjorie sat upright, all attention 
at the thought. 

'Ton remember I told you that I was detailed in the city on 
special work," Stephen went on. 

"I do." 

'^ell, it is a special work but it is also a very indefinite 
work. There is a movement afoot, but of its nature and purpose 
I at this moment am entirely ignorant. I am here to discover 
clues." 

"And have you no material to work on except that? It is 
very vague, to say the least." 

"That and suspicion. Howe found the city a nest of Tories; 
but he also found it swarmed with patriots, whose enthusiasm, 
and vigor, and patience, and determination must have impressed 
him profoundly as portending disaster for the British cause. 
With the morale of the people so high, and renewed hope and 
confidence swelling their bosoms, a complete military victory must 
have appeared hopeless to the British General. What was left? 
Dissension, or rebellion, or treason, or anything that will play 
havoc with the united determination of the Colonists." 

She breathed heavily as she rested her chin on her hand 
absorbed in the vision that he was calling up. 



1920-] THE LOYALIST 677 

*' Arnold's victory at Saratoga has convinced Britain that the 
war over here cannot be won,'* he continued. *' Already has Lord 
North thrown a bomb into the ranks of the proud Tories by his 
liberal proposals. Of course they will be entirely rejected by us, 
and the war will continue until complete independence is 
acknowledged. True, we had no such idea in mind when we 
entered this conflict, but now we are convinced that victory is on 
our side and that a free and independent form of government 
is the most suitable for us. We have enunciated certain prin- 
ciples which are possible of realization only under a democratic 
form of government, where the people rule and where the rulers 
are responsible to the people. Such a system is possible only in a 
great republic, and that is what England must now recognize. 
Otherwise the war must go on." 

''Have our aims taken such definite form? I know — " 

**No! They have not," interrupted Stephen, "they have not 
and that is where trouble is to be expected. But such is the state 
of mind of many of the more experienced leaders and their opin- 
ion will bear much scrutiny. But it is because all are not united 
in this, that there is room for treason under the motive of mis- 
guided patriotism. And it is to scent every possible form of that 
malignancy that I have been sent here; sent to the very place 
where the Tories most abound and where such a plot is most 
liable to take root" 

"And you expect me to be of assistance to you," asked Mar- 
jorie, proud of the confidence which she so readily gained. 

"I expect much. But perhaps nothing will eventuate. I can 
rely on you, however. For the present, naught is to be done. 
When the time comes, I shall tell you." 

"But what can I do. I am but a mere girl." 

"Did I think you to be ordinary, I might not have asked 
you," quickly exchanged Stephen. 

Marjorie dropped her head and began studying the stitches 
in her gown. But only for a second for she as quickly raised 
her head and asked: 

"Wherein then can I be of service to you?" 

"Listen!" He brought his chair to a point nearly opposite 
hers. She was seated on the settee, yet he made no attempt to 
share it with her. 

*Tou are friendly with the Shippen family," he went on. 
"Now, do not misinterpret me. I shall require no betrayal of 
confidence. But it is generally known that the Shippens are 
Tories, not avowedly so, yet in heart and in thought. It is also 
generally known that their house was the centre of society dur- 



1 



678 THE LOYAUST [Feb^ 

ing the days of the British occupation* at which all maimer of 
men assembled. The walls of that house, could they but speak, 
are able to relate many momentous conversations held over the 
teacups, or in quiet corners. The family themselves must know 
many things which might be invaluable to us." 

"And you want me to learn that for you?'* inquired Marjorie, 
in alarm, as the horrible thought forced itself upon her. 

''I want you to do nothing of the kind," quickly answered 
Stephen. 'Tar be it from me to require you to barter your 
benevolence. I should deplore any such method as most dis- 
honorable and unworthy of the noble cause in which we are en- 
gaged. No! I ask this, simply, that through you I might be per- 
mitted the honor of visiting the home of Miss Shippen and that 
by being acquainted with the family I might acquire a general 
entree to the Tory social circle. In this way might I effect my pur- 
pose and perchance stumble across information of vital impor- 
tance. Thus, can you be of great assistance to me." 

"I shall be delighted to do this, and I shall tell you more — 
perhaps you may ask me to do something more noble — some- 
time — ** She hesitated to express the wish which was father 
to her thought. 

"Sometime I expect you to be of real service to me and to 
our country — sometime — ** 

Marjorie did not answer. She knew what she would like to 
say, but dared not. Why should he unfold his mission to her at 
this, almost their first meeting? And why should he expect her 
to be of such assistance to him first, and then to the country? 
And then, why should she feel so responsive, so ready to spend 
herself, her energy, her whole being at the mere suggestion of 
this young man, whom, until last evening, she had never thought 
to exist. She felt that she was as wax in the hands of this soldier; 
she knew it and enjoyed it and only waited the moment when 
his seal would come down upon her and stamp her more to his 
liking. She was slightly younger than he, and happily his con- 
trary in nearly all respects. He was fair, she was dark ; his eyes 
were blue, hers brown; he was lusty and showed promise of 
broadness, she was slender. 

Twice she opened her moulh as if to speak to him, and each 
time she dropped again her head in reflective silence. She did not 
talk to this young man as she might to any number of her more 
intimate acquaintances. Even the very silence was magnetic 
Further utterance would dispel the charm. That she would enlist 
in his service she knew as well as she knew her own existence, 
but that he should arouse so keen an interest in her, so buoyant 



1920,] THE LOYAUST 679 

an attitude, so secure an assurance, amazed her and filled her 
with awe. She had never before experienced quite the same 
sensation that now dismayed her, nor had any one ever brought 
home to her her worth as did this young soldier. Yes, she would 
help him, but how? 

So they sat and talked. They soon forgot to speak of His 
Excellency, or the Army, or the Shippens. Neither did they re- 
solve the doubts that might have been entertained concerning the 
manner of men who frequented the home of Peggy and her sis- 
ters; nor the Alliance which had just been established, nor the 
vital signification of the event. They just talked over a field of 
affairs, none of which bore any special relation to anyone save 
their own selves. At length the old clock felt constrained to speak 
up and frown at them for their unusual delay and their profligate 
waste of tallow and dips. 

Stephen rose at once. Marjorie saw him to the door, where 
she gave him her hand in parting. 

"We have indeed been honojjg^p'f^BI^ay, Captain, and I trust 
that the near future ^^^'^^^^S^^Sretu^ of (he same. I am entirely 
dl/n^rjpC^spered Marjorie wondering why the words 

"L^STto her more reajily. .^. 

l</r»'«^n the contrary. Miss AlUson. it » ^ ^°^^ ,.. He bowed 
|?ed My humble respects to yonr parents. Adieu, 
•^cef uUy! -l^eeled. and went out the door. 

[TO BE CONTINUED.J 






! 



' I 



J 



flew ISoofts. 

ST. JOAN OP ARC. The Life Story of the Maid of Orleans, By 

the Rev- Denis Lynch, S.J. New York: Benziger Brothers. 

$2.50. 

The canonization of Joan of Arc is the occasion of this pub- 
lication. Moreover, the searching examination of her process, has 
resulted in setting the personality, the purity, the sanctity of the 
Maid of Orleans in such high relief as to attract biographers. 

Joan has never lacked admirers — admirers of her chivalrous 
career, her courage in devoting herself to all her nature shrank 
from, at the call of God; men not always of her own faith, but 
capable of appreciating nobility wheresoever found, such as de 
Quincy, Lang, Clemens, Quicherat; to name but a few. But the re- 
searches of the last fifty years have brought to light many new 
documents, all tending to the honor of Joan. In this task of 
investigating the true sources of her life, the narnieTOf Pfere Ayroles, 
SJ., is prominent. If history is often a conspiracy algai^st the 
truth, it would seem that the worst enemies of the God, W]^ ^^ 
Truth, is the hypocrite who lies. The task of investigating db^ 
truth with regard to Joan, was made more onerous by the sup-^ 
pression or destruction of testimony. It is hard enough to un- 
earth documents, but it becomes well-nigh impossible when they 
have been tampered with by those who, not content to blacken 
a reputation for their own day, were so wise in their generation 
as to leave little trace of their treachery. Joan's worst enemies 
were not, to our mind, the violent English, but the traitorous 
Burgundians, the supine French, who lifted not a finger to save d 

their own champion, and, worst of all, the tribunal masquerading 
as the Church, which condemned her. Her death was a foregone 
conclusion. Arrayed against her were the hatred of the enemy, 
the fanaticism of the University of Paris and the traitor's fear 
lest his victim escape to tell the tale. 

Chapter III. gives us a depressing view of the state of France, 
nor must we forget that Joan's lot was cast towards the close of 
the Middle Ages — she died in 1431. On page forty-seven some 
error has crept in concerning a date, 1812 — ^probably a misprint. 
In Chapters XIX. and XX. one is struck by the fact that the same 
ground fought over by our soldiers in the late War, was contested 
by Joan, and for the same prize^ — the possession of Paris. 

Few of the actors come out of the story with much honor. 



r" 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 681 

save their victim; but we think the blame has not been quite 
fairly apportioned* and the defence of Cliarles VII., St. Joan's 
'"gentle Dauphin," is not conspicuous for its success. 

THE REFORMATION. By Rev. Hugh P. Smyth. Chicago : Ex- 
tension Press. $1.25. 

In a modest preface, the author states that his book was pri- 
marily designed to meet a local need, to combat the partisan teach- 
ing of history in the public schools. Since this same difficulty is 
multiplied throughout the country, the book also fills a very defin- 
ite, universal need. It is one of the sanest and soundest, as well 
as one of the most readable commentaries on the Reformation 
and its connection with modern American Protestantism that we 
have seen. It appraises fairly and intelligently the natural good 
consequent on the advent of Protestantism and at the same time 
spares no denunciation of the great harm it has done. It is a 
vigorous attack on the Reformers and their systems, but shows 
no bitterness. To belie any criticism as to its truthfulness, it 
proves its contentions and statements by numerous quotations, 
almost exclusively from recognized Protestant sources. 

The scope of the book is wide, while its bulk is comparatively 
small. After an enlightening chapter on the causes of the Ref- 
ormation, or more properly religious Revolution, it sketches the 
Reformers and their systems as they developed in ten various 
countries. It then analyzes the tenets and expansion of the mod- 
ern American Protestant sects. We confess that we are particu- 
larly partial to the chapters on Protestantism, taken collectively. 
The author has clearly sensed its weaknesses, and as clearly and 
forcibly exposed them. The book will prove helpful to all who 
are called upon to answer "the constant and unabashed misrep- 
resentations of Catholic doctrine and history, of which local 
schools have been persistently guilty.** 

THE MIND OF ARTHUR JAMES RALFOUR. By Wilfrid M. 

Short New York: George H. Doran Co. $2.50. 

It is a reverent mind, a large and luminous intelligence oper- 
ant in the domain of religion, philosophy, science, letters, politics 
which is here revealed. The volume, consisting of comprehensive 
selections from the writings and speeches of Mr. Balfour, covers 
every phase of his keen mental activity exercised through several 
decades on the supreme concerns of humanity. His two chief 
works, A Defence of Philosophic Doubt, and The Foundations of 
Belief are especially laid under contribution. The passages 
chosen are at once a record and a memorial of noble service ren- 



682 NEW BOOKS [Feb., 

dered the cause of Theism against the systems of Naturalism, 
Positivism, and Evolution. The relations of reason and authority, 
of science and religion are definitely elucidated; the philosophy 
of aesthetics is made the subject of incisive discussion. 

In other departments we witness the same virile play of mind 
— on problems of education, of eugenics, of medical and psychic 
research, and on diplomatic and political issues of the day, in- 
volving the alliance with America, and the War with Germany. 
The exquisite sense of form evidenced throughout these pages, 
and the justness of the estimates in the literary papers testify 
what a litterateur was lost in Mr. Balfour, whose distinction in so 
many different fields of endeavor entitles him to be regarded as 
'"one of the most able and unusual intellects of our day." 

POEMS. By Theodore Maynard. New York: Frederick A. 

Stokes Co. $1.35 net 

It is scarcely more than a year since life, for the present 
scribe, was made considerably more joyous by the duty of re- 
viewing a small volume entitled Folly, by a young English poet 
named Theodore Maynard. If we remember rightly, we hailed 
him straightway as one of the blithe band of "modern mediaeval- 
ists," and were carried on to declare that the book seemed des- 
tined not only to provide beautiful things for the present but to 
promise great things for the future. 

And now this future — or rather this reviewer — or rather, in- 
deed, this poet — is more than justified, not by new work, but by 
a much richer, fuller and fatter gathering of his past achieve- 
ment. For the present volume contains the lovesome Patmorean 
dedication and nearly all of Folly, with what the author himself 
thinks best worth preserving from his two earlier books. Drums 
of Defeat (1915) and Laughs and Whiffs of Song (1917). It also 
carries the strong and sonorous introduction, which Gilberi Ches- 
terion contributed to one of the former volumes, and which drew 
immediate attention to the fervid and colorful work of the young 
poet. Altogether it is a precious book — a book in the main new 
to American readers, and one which no lover of the best in mod- 
ern poetry can afford to be without. 

Not, indeed, that its contents are all in the poet's best vein — 
no volume from a youthful and living poet is ever, probably, 
wholly in his best vein. But it is splendidly a part of the vital 
man — and the not less vital child — who happens to dwell in Theo- 
dore Maynard. There are rumors of the "Chesterbelloc" in many 
of the charming ballads, and the poem 'Tolly" will inevitably 
recall Joyce Kilmer's "heart-remembered" lyric of the same title — 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 683 

in spirit if not in letter. But there is a distinctly new voice and 
a new mystical vision in such poems as '* Apocalypse/' or the 
''Divine Miser/' or in that ringing song of Gothic spaciousness and 
bold final couplet, his song of ''Laughter." To voice and to vision, 
here's hoping a long life — and in all seriousness, a merry one! 

LO, AND BEHOLD TE! By Seumas MacManus. New York: 

Frederick A. Stokes Co. $1.60 net. 

In these tales culled apparently at random from the stores of 
Irish legend and Irish experience, we have Seumas MacManus at 
his best — high praise for even a good book. In their unforced 
drollery, their quaint, elfin, tongue-in-the-cheek wisdom that will 
have its laugh in the end at human nature, they seem the very 
embodiment of the mother-wit of this people, above all laughable 
and above all lovable, whom this native author knows so well. He 
tells his stories in the manner that best of all matches their ma- 
terial — the leisurely manner which suggests boundless time and 
limitless good nature, the straight-faced manner of the rogue who, 
with a perfectly grave countenance, presents to you the astound- 
ing adventures of Billy Burns on the moon, the irresistible man- 
ner which somehow manages to convey the radiance, the un- 
quenchable happiness of the Irish temperament. The tales are 
delicious throughout, and the book might well be suggested as a 
general antidote to certain types of "realistic" fiction. 

AMERICAN PAINTING AND ITS TRADITION. By John C. Van 
Dyke. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. $2.50 net. 
The nine painters, to each of whom Professor Van Dyke de- 
votes a chapter of his volume, are Innes, Wyant, Martin, Homer, 
La Farge, Whistler, Chase, Alexander, and Sargent. He treats 
each one sympathetically, partly from the point of view of the art 
critic, partly from that of the biographer. One could wish that 
certain other painters had been included, and that the develop- 
ment of each of those selected for treatment had been pointed out 
in more detail. Little is done to trace the continuity and growth 
of American art traditions. The book is rather a series of separ- 
ate chapters sufficiently isolated to have appeared as a series of 
readable magazine articles. 

Readers of The Catholic World will be interested to know 
that Homer Martin was a Catholic and for years lived and worked 
in a house adjoining the Paulist Fathers* House, and that John La 
Farge, for whom Professor Van Dyke feels keen admiration, did 
extensive and remarkable work in the Church of St. Paul the Apos- 
tle in New York Qty. Of Homer Martin, Professor Van Dyke well 



684 NEW BOOKS [Feb^ 

says: ""His landscapes were deserted of man; they were silent, 
forsaken places, with a solemn stillness about them. Only God and 
Homer Martin had seen them/* Professor Van Dyke treats La 
Farge enthusiastically : "'In the arts he was our first great scholar 
and spoke as one having authority. With his learning, his imag- 
ination, and his skill he gave rank to American art more than any 
other of the craft For that reason he is today hailed as master, 
and written down in our annals as belonging with the Olympians. 
He deserves the title and the separate niche." 

Not the least valuable of Professor Van Dyke's chapters is 
that on James McNeil Whistler, whose Ten O'Clock and Gentle Art 
of Making Enemies exacted the penalty by their amazing bril- 
liance of winning him repute as a wit who happened to paint, in- 
stead of as an artist who achieved an occasional witticism. 

As Professor Van Dyke had a personal acquaintance with all 
the painters of whom he writes, there is about his studies an air 
of intimacy which lends charm to the volume. The reader on 
laying it down may feel that the last word on the traditions of 
America painting has by no means been said, but he will have 
learned much of value regarding a select and brilliant group of 
American painters. 

A SUBJECT-INDEX TO THE POEMS OF EDMUND SPENSER 

By Charles H. Whitman. New Haven : Yale University Press. 

$3.50. 

As one of the soundest of American Spenserians, Dr. Whit- 
man has long been known and widely honored by scholarly stu- 
dents of earlier English literature. This fine Index to his favorite 
poet's works is the fruit of years of careful investigation and inti- 
mate loving knowledge of Spenser's text, and of painstaking analy- 
sis of the results achieved by other scholars. The author has been 
able to revise his manuscript since the recent publication of Pro- 
fessor Osgood's fine Spenser Concordance. In these two works 
the student of the great Elizabethan poet has now a splendid ap- 
paratus with which to approach his task. 

This Subject-Index is at once an index and a dictionary. "'It is 
an index," writes Dr. Whitman, "in so far as it includes the names 
of persons, places, animals and things; whatever, in fact, has a 
function and a definite meaning — whatever, in the compiler's 
judgment, would be likely to prove of interest to the student of 
Spenser and his age. It partakes also of the nature of a diction- 
ary in that it includes brief explanations, allegorical and otherwise, 
whenever such explanations seem necessary." Like so many of 
the more valuable results of American scholarship in the field of 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 685 

English, this Index owes its inspiration to» and was undertaken 
at the suggestion of. Professor A. S. Cook of Yale. 

From recent indications it is not, perhaps, rash to predict for 
Spenser a growing constituency among modern readers of poetry. 
Too long has he been regarded solely as **the poet's poet." Much, 
of course, yet remains to be done for his elucidation. As Dr. 
Whitman points out, there is need of a Dictionary of Spenser 
as complete and definitive as Toynbee's magisterial Dante Dic- 
tionary. One might add also that the time is surely ripe for an 
extended treatment of Spenser's mind and art such as Sir Sidney 
Colvin has lately done for Keats. Cory's recent book is unsatisfac- 
tory, and unworthy of Spenser's genius. Meantime Dr. Whitman 
is heavily the creditor of all who love poetry and appreciate sound 
and vital scholarship. 

MY ROSE AND OTHER POEMS. By Euphemia Macleod. Bos- 
ton: The Four Seas Co. $1.25. 

The present volume has imaginative quality, and its author, ex- 
cept for occasional slight metrical lapses, is mistress of the finely 
cadenced line. She has what seems to be rare for poets in these 
days, a spiritual outlook, and — ^which is rarer still — spiritual in- 
sight. A number of the poems are written in behalf of dumb 
animals or in protest against vivisection, but unlike many anti- 
vivisectionists. Miss Macleod does not restrict her tenderness sim- 
ply to the brute creation. Though in several places she would 
appear to disclose a distinct pantheist tendency, her work as a 
whole betokens what our Anglican friends call the ''sacramental- 
ist attitude." One of the most charming poems in the collection 
is 'The Word Made Flesh," a colloquy between the Blessed Mother 
and the Divine Infant. Other pieces of distinction are: "'My 
Rose," ''Communion," 'Tour Little Flower," and the sonnet 
'Triendship." In the long poem "The Spell of Casals," there are 
passages showing, in cadence and phrasing, the influence of 
Francis Thompson. 

OUR AMERICA. By Waldo Frank. New York: Boni & Liveright. 

$2.00 net. 

The author tells us in a foreword that he has written this 
book to interpret America to France. It is a unique work, prob- 
ably without competitors; most Americans would scarcely know 
themselves in its mirror. To say that it is without interest would 
be to say what is not true ; to say that it is thoughtlessly written 
would be a hasty comment on an author whose work ever3rwhere 
evidences the pale cast of thought. It is, indeed, an interesting. 



686 NEW BOOKS [Feb-, 

thoughtful book, written in an easy» somewhat emotional style. 
But it is nothing if not pessimistic in its historical backward 
glancing and in its view of the present. And it is often lacking 
in a sense of perspective and proportion. Of the old school of 
writers Mr. Frank has little to say, but he is full of the Spoon 
River Anthology, of Dreiser, Anderson and Frederick Booth. 
New England is redeemed in Thoreau and Robert Frost and Amy 
Lowell, who is, by the way, 'Hhe first true man of letters of our 
America." And "the song of Whitman's vision was the orchestra 
of life." 

There is much to be gained by a perusal of Mr. Frank's in- 
terpretation of Our America. But in reading the book we cannot 
help being careful in the matter of where we place the emphasis. 
Perhaps the author will agree that the pronoun in his title is im- 
portant. He surely does not say that he is speaking of your 
America. And if your conception of America in history and art 
and literature differs at all from his, well, you are not of the elect 
of whom he is the prophet. What could be simpler? 

DAVID BLAIZE AND THE BLUE DOOR. By E. F. Benson. New 

York: George H. Doran Ck). $2.00 net. 

The David Blaize, to whom Mr. Benson introduced his read- 
ers some months ago, was such a lovable little fellow it is not 
strange his creator should cling to him. Many would have wel- 
comed his second appearance under conditions more or less like 
those of the first, for David Blaize was an interesting picture of 
life in an English public school. Mr. Benson has not followed 
this plan, however, but presents his hero at the age of six and 
leads him through a blue door of phantasy into a fairy tale. The 
story is told in a manner that so strikingly resembles Lewis Car- 
roll's, it is hard to believe the likeness unintentional. The in- 
evitable comparisons thus challenged are not favorable to this 
book, which is scarcely to be counted among Mr. Benson's most 
successful achievements. His qualifications are many and in- 
creasingly command respect; but to hit the mark in this special 
line of endeavor requires a touch of unanalyzable magic which 
we do not find in David Blaize and the Blue Door. 

IBSEN IN ENGLAND. By Miriam Alice Franc Boston: The 

Four Seas Co. $2.00 net. 

Miss Franc writes with a refreshing vigor and although she 
admires the Norwegian dramatist, her admiration has nothing of 
the hectic about it. Her book involved a considerable amount of 
research which has been carefully done. Miss Franc brings into 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 687 

sharp contrast the two seemingly irreconcilable groups of English 
critics ; the one led by William Archer, who was among the earli- 
est heralds of Ibsen, the other by Qement Scott, who saw in 
Ibsen *'a foe to decency and a reviler of sacred things." As Miss 
Franc pictures the situation one is reminded of an exciting Rugby 
game with the critics fighting vigorously on opposing teams, the 
great theatre-going public looking on, and the Norwegian dra- 
matist playing the unenviable part of the football. 

The question as to whether Ibsen belongs with Sophocles and 
Shakespeare or whether he sinned against truth by portraying 
psychological anomalies instead of real men and women is one 
which remains unanswered, even after a perusal of Miss Franc's 
volume. To the minds of many the laudations of Mr. Archer and 
the pro-Ibsen critics prove nothing except that a cult may arise, 
and the clamorous insistence of its worship may win a reverent 
hearing and a large adherence. Whether for good or ill Ibsen's 
influence, as Miss Franc points out, has shown itself unmistak- 
ably in the work of Pinero, Jones, and George Bernard Shaw. 

One does not need to be a devotee of Ibsen to appreciate this 
interesting volume, which is unquestionably a worth-while addi- 
tion to the history of modern day drama. 

TROUPING FOR THE TROOPS. By Margaret Mayo. New York: 

George H. Doran Ck). $1.25 net. 

Much has been said of that new element introduced into the 
War, the employment of the actors' art for the preservation of 
morale among our troops; but little of this has come at first hand 
from any member of the profession whose name has long been 
proverbial for swift answer to appeals of charity, and is now no 
less honorably associated with ideals of patriotism, fervent and 
practical. This slender volume is Miss Mayo's personal account 
of the adventures that befell her and her fellow-players on their 
mission of entertainment at the front. There is not the slightest 
trace of exploitation of anyone concerned in the undertaking; it 
is a straightforward narrative of what they did and saw, light and 
amusing in its general tone. Yet, though its seriousness is re- 
served for the distressing scenes witnessed, its lively wit is exer- 
cied mainly upon the hardships endured by the performers. It 
is clear that this contribution of gayety was made at the cost of 
sacrifice. Response to the significance underlying its humor is 
aroused by the remark of the young actress whom Miss Mayo 
cites as having, midway on the return journey from a specially 
exhausting experience, revived sufficiently to sigh her thankful- 
ness that she had only one life to give for her country. 



688 NEW BOOKS [Feb^ 

FRENCH WATS AND THEIR MEANING. By Edith Wharton. 

New York: D. Appleton & Co. $1.50 net. 

Here, in subject-matter at least, is an appropriate counter- 
blast to Madame de Treymes, the brilliant novelette of French 
life with which Mrs. Wharton gratified some of her ardent readers 
and piqued other some, perhaps a dozen years ago. The earlier 
book presented an interpretation of the French moral and social 
code which was certainly anything but flattering. Even 
those who suspected that the sinister and all-devouring fam- 
ily depicted so tellingly in Madame de Treymes represented, in 
reality, a few instances erected into a generalization against whose 
darkness the simple Anglo-Saxon virtues of the hero might shine 
the more resplendently, could hardly have been indifferent to the 
result. Mrs. Wharton is so completely the master of her effects 
that one puts down the book, half convinced, at least imaginative- 
ly. In this present volume of studies, a totally different reading of 
the same society is presented — ^a reading which appeals to one as 
being probably much more faithful to reality. It leaves us in a 
mood which, if not always understanding, is, for the most part, 
profoundly respectful of a heroic, disciplined race, at once bril- 
liantly homogeneous and brilliantly varied. Mrs. Wharton is par- 
ticularly worth reading on the nature of French civilization. 

THE GROPER. By Henry G. Aikman. New York: Boni ft 

Liveright. $1.60. 
SINGING MOUNTAINS. By A. B. Cunningham. New York: 

George H. Doran Co. $1.50 net. 

These two novels are minor examples of a type of literature 
very prevalent in our country at present, and always deserving of 
respectful consideration — the class of writing which strives to 
present honestly and lucidly some particularly phase of our na- 
tional existence. The Groper has its locale at and near Detroit, 
and traces the fortunes of a rather unusually sensitive youth who 
comes to that city just as the automobile business has begun its 
boom. The struggles and initial failures of Lee Hilquit, the sor- 
did avenue by which he finally arrives at success, his presump- 
tuous and windy folly as a millionaire, and the salutary crash 
with which the book closes, are told with a good deal of fidelity 
to fact, and some considerable humor. The book does not, as the 
saying is, ''get anywhere," in spite of its faint flavoring of didac- 
ticism, however, and it leaves one in a state of uncontented specu- 
lation as to what particular significance the life of its chief char- 
acter can have had to its author, to spur him on to record with 
so much truth a career which seems, after all, to have no message 
of permanent, or even passing, value. 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 689 

Mr. Cunningham's novel is much more of a success. His 
chapters, in mere outline, ^ould make tiresome reading, it is true. 
Their incident would never seem to rise above the level described 
in The Vicar of Wakefield — "all our migrations were from the 
blue bed to the brown." And yet, unremarkable as it is for either 
fine writing or inventiveness of plot, his book possesses a sort of 
homespun distinction quite unusual among novels of its class. 
This quality is partly a reflection of the native wholesomeness 
of the characters with whom he deals, and proceeds partly from 
his ability to deal with them convincingly and truly. Into his 
rambling account of the fortunes of the family of Peter Rhodes, 
the Baptist minister of Barren Rocks, of their calm existence in 
which squirrel hunts and prayer meetings furnish an exhiliration 
almost too lively to be seemly, going away to school becomes a 
dark and daring adventure, and seeking a job in Charleston takes 
on the aspect almost of a cataclysm — into his chronicle of this 
rude and patriarchial existence Mr. Cunningham has infused a 
refreshing reality. He knows not merely his background here, 
but his human beings as well. The book is good — not excitingly 
good, but good enough to leave on the reader a pleasant and 
unqualified impression of restfulness and sincerity. 

A HISTORY OP THE NEW THOUGHT MOVEMENT. By Hora- 
tio W, Dresser. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Co. $2.00. 
The "New Thought" is known to one outside the fold rather 
by parody of it than by its cardinal principles. Because of the 
decidedly superior attitude of its devotees and its insistence on 
mind-power over physical realities, it offers an easy target for 
the humorist. Such a volume as the present, therefore, detailing 
the historical as well as the philosophical development of the 
movement, will prove interesting to those who wish to know, 
seriously, in what the New Testament consists. It is no easy task 
to compass, within definite and dogmatic limits, a system whose 
basis is intellectual irrestraint and in which each succeeding 
author, disclaiming his master, asserts his own originality. Mr. 
Dresser, however, who has been identified with the movement 
almost since its inception, endeavors to discover the connecting 
link between the various divergent stages of opinion. The move- 
ment had its origin some sixty years ago, when P. P. Quimby 
discarded the mesmerism he had been practising, and discovered 
in the Bible the validity of the mental cure. After the death of 
Quimby, Rev. W. F. Evans found an affinity between Quimby*s 
teaching and that of Swedenborg, and later prepared the way 
for the incorporation of Fichte and Hegel's philosophy. About 



690 NEW BOOKS [Feb^ 

this time, the commercialism of Mrs. Eddy created a schism in 
the ranks of the mental healers. Though her branch is the better 
known, it was from the more liberal wing of the movement that 
the New Thought, in the early nineties, began to take form. 
Gradually it spread throughout the United States and in some 
foreign lands, until, in 1915, an International New Thought Alli- 
ance was founded. The modern movement is a far call from 
the doctrine first enunciated by Quimby. It is a distortion of 
some few psychological truisms, an exaggeration of false idealis- 
tic philosophy in which the mind is deified, and an arrogant 
assumption that it alone has the true interpretation of Christ's 
mission and spirit. Its appeal is to those choice spirits of the 
day who are hungry for something esoteric and distinctive. 

SWEDEN'S LAUREATE. Poems of Verner von Heidenstam. 

Translated with an Introduction by Charles Wharton Stork. 

New York: Yale University Press. $1.35. 

That interest in pure literature has survived the pressure of 
war-times; that the student and singer, like the poor, are always 
with us even in our worst catastrophes, we have evidence in Mr. 
Charles Wharton Stork's translations from the Swedish of the 
poems of Verner von Heidenstam. "As a poet of content rather 
than of form, Heidenstam loses a little in transmission," we are 
told on the jacket of the book; yet there may be some ques- 
tion whether Mr. Stork's rather acrobatic performances in English 
verse are altogether warranted by the original verses he is trans- 
lating. The volume shows Heidenstam to be well worthy of a 
place in English. He is strong, noble and sensible enough to avoid 
red outbursts and patchwork philosophies. This selection of Hei- 
denstam's poetry for English translation continues the fashion set 
by Mr. Stork in his Swedish Anthology, followed in Jessie La- 
mont's versions from Rainer Maria Rilke and in Thomas Walsh's 
announced volume, the Hispanic Anthology. 

EUNICE. By Isabel C. Clarke. New York: Benziger Brothers. 

$1.75. 

Eunice, one of Miss Clarke's most perfect heroines, is the 
daughter of a Protestant English officer in the Indian service, who 
has the lucky chance of being brought up in the pure atmosphere 
of a perfect Catholic home. Both boys of the house fall in love 
with her, and they have as a rival a Protestant suitor who almost 
carries off the prize. She breaks off her engagement at the last 
moment to care for her mother — a worldly, immoral drunkard. 
After years of sacrifice her tender solicitude wins the grace of 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 891 

repentance for her dying mother, and her own eyes are opened 
to the light of the true Faith. The playmate of her early years 
wins her hand at last, although, as ever, the path of true love is 
not at all smooth. 

It is a story of infinite charm, perfectly told, and remarkable 
for its clear cut drawing of the contrast between the spirit of this 
world and the spirit of the Church of God. 

THE SHAMROCK BATTALION OF THE RAINBOW. By Matthew 

J. Hogan. New York: D. Appleton & Co. $1.50 net. 

This is the story, as the title imparts, of the old Sixty-ninth 
Regiment and the valorous part it played in the recent War. Its 
author was only seventeen when recruits were sought to swell the 
ranks of the famous Irish unit. He aged himself by a year and 
was accepted with other striplings somewhat derisively by the 
drill sergeant because of their youth. 

However, what he and his fellows did is now a matter of his- 
tory that is magnificent in its great lines of courage, sacrifice and 
power. It is a story that cannot be told too often, especially when 
given in the simple, manly fashion that marks this volume. The 
book is splendid in every way and deserves the highest commen- 
dation. 

The reviewer can pay no higher compliment than to say that 
Corporal Hogan writes as well as he fights — and that is high 
praise, indeed. 

MODEL ENGLISH. Book 11. By Francis P. Donnelly, S.J. New 

York: AUyn & Bacon. $1.20. 

The first book of this series concerns the earliest problems 
confronting the young idea, which is invention; this second book 
treats of the qualities of style which the author holds are best 
learned by imitation. Accordingly he has placed before the stu- 
dent approved masters of various styles of narrative, description, 
exposition, argumentation and persuasion. These lessons are in- 
culcated, roughly speaking, by the choicest examples of the best 
writers of the last two centuries. The models selected are the 
result of a wide acquaintance with the greatest speakers and 
writers of an extremely prolific period, and form a literary educa- 
tion, even should the student fail to profit by the method of imi- 
tation. These model passages are chosen from seventy-two auth- 
ors, twenty-one of whom are American, the rest British. 
Though the writer nowhere states for what age he writes, the 
book would seem best fitted for the last two years of high school 
and the first college year. 



692 NEW BOOKS [Fcb^ 

MARRIAGE WHILE YOU WAIT. By J. E. Buckrose. New York: 

George H. Doran Co. $1.60 net. 

This is the story of a war marriage which, contrary to the 
usual run of its kind, deals with the working out of the marital 
problem, rather than ending with the soldier-husband's return 
from France. The couple whose fortunes we follow, marry on 
short acquaintance, the bridegroom leaving immediately for the 
front. Their ultimate happiness in mutual confidence is not 
quickly or easily won, but is frequently jeopardized during the 
course of events that lead, at last, to full understanding of each 
other, as a basis for their love. 

There is acceptable originality in the main proposition, the 
tale is plausible and the characters well indicated. The novel 
has interest, even though it must be confessed that something 
is missing of the quiet humor and charm we are accustomed 
to receive at Mrs. Buckrose's hands. 

t 

WALLED TOWNS. By Ralph Adams Cram. Boston: Marshall 

Jones Co. $1.25. 

We are all somewhat discontented nowadays with what we 
see about us. The rather general idealism of the war days has 
gradually lessened, save in the case of those to whom it was native. 
All the world is crying out against the evils which seem to be as 
encircling as the cannon at Balaklava. Everybody has something 
to rail against, and from which to seek escape. A lodge in some 
vast wilderness, or a town walled against the foes of happiness — 
either would seem a desirable refuge. Mr. Cram chooses the 
latter and writes down his ideas in a purple-covered book which 
is a delight to the eye. The walled town he would build is not 
another San Gemignano, or Rothenbourg, or olden Oxford, but 
one something like them in efifect. Justice would reign there, as 
in Camelot. Production would be for use, not for profit. Mental 
and physical labor would divide all the profits of industry over 
and above a limited interest on capital. Hours of employment 
would never exceed more than thirty a week. All the dwellers 
in any one town would be members of the same religion; and 
religion would enter into all the affairs of life as it did in pre- 
Reformation times. Society would be organized under the guild 
system. In the system of education, primary schools would be 
^'conducted largely along the lines first developed by Doctor 
Thomas Edward Shields in the early twentieth century.'* 

It is a charming picture, and has the possibilities of becom- 
ing as real as we wish to make it. It is a plea for the simpler 
life, the return to days when our cravings were satisfied without 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 895 

the vanities and useless toys now deemed so vital and necessary. 
Doctor Cram has love and praise for mediaeval days, and for the 
monks, who formed centres of righteousness and beauty and sal- 
vation, which "radiated circle after circle of ever-widening influ- 
ence." So now, he argues, the walled towns are needed to re- 
deem the world from selfishness and greed and all the ills that 
are bred in the lure of gold. 

SMALL THINGS. By Margaret Deland. New York. D. Appleton 

& Co. $1.35 net. 

The author of The Iron Woman will always have readers 
for whatever she chooses to write. This present volume, however, 
will probably cause a good deal of murmuring, even among the 
faithful. It gives the effect of having been written while the 
writer was very much "on the spot" — that is, while she was seeth- 
ing with the emotions inspired by her first-hand encounter with 
the realities of the War in France, and before she had had the 
leisure to think out, or through, her reactions and establish their 
relation to her philosophy. A few memorably vivid bits reward 
our perusal, but the main part of the book leaves an impression 
on the mind of insignificance and confusion. Certainly it seems 
to be true that the best novelists have not invariably produced the 
best war books. 

"MY LITTLE BIT." By Marie Corelli. New York: George H. 

Doran & Co. $1.75 net. 

This title is unduly unpretending, for when culled from the 
various periodicals in which they appeared before and during 
the War, and bulked together into one volume, these essays make 
quite a big "bit." To be exact, they add three hundred and 
eighteen rather long pages to our contemporary literature of 
ejaculation — certainly not a contribution to be despised when 
one realizes the pitch of vivacious enthusiasm or resentment 
which Miss Corelli sustains almost unbrokenly throughout. The 
essays cover a wide field, ranging from the nature of war to the 
glory of Shakespeare; but whether she be lauding the sea-power 
of England or animadverting upon the Christian Church, the 
writer's lively personality forces her to lean heavily upon the ex- 
clamation point in order to make the intensity of her emotions 
clear. Some of the essays, dealing with the work of women in 
war, the crime of hoarding, and so on, must undoubtedly have 
proved very useful at the time of their first appearance. It is a 
question, however, whether any great service has been done either 
writer or reader by this cold dishing-up of war-time fare. 



894 NEW BOOKS [Ftb^ 

FIELDS OF VICTORY. By Mrs. Humphrey Ward. New York: 

Charles Scribner's Sons. $1.50 net. 

This volume, together with England's Effort and Toward the 
Goal, make up the trilogy which Mrs. Ward has dedicated to re- 
cording England's service in the Great War. As we should ex- 
pect from a writer of her attainments, her style and her power 
of vitalizing her material, make the book first-class reading. Un- 
doubtedly she will find dissenting voices raised against her pro- 
nouncement on "Who won the War.'' It is a pity that that puer- 
ile question should continue to be agitated, and an especial dis- 
appointment to find it raised (and answered, of course) in the 
course of any writing which has the generous breadth and dis- 
tinction of Mrs. Ward's. 

STORM IN A TEACUP. By Eden Phillpotts. New York: The 

Macmillan Co. $1.60. 

Mr. Phillpotts has written another striking story of Devon 
and its dull, drab Protestant workers. The reader is initiated 
into all the mysteries of paper making and is introduced to a 
number of well-drawn characters who act on impulse and are 
swayed by the most primitive passions. The tragedy of the tale 
centres around a wife who tires of her husband, and thought- 
lessly deserts the home to live with a former suitor. She finally 
realizes her mistake, although the immorality of her conduct does 
not bother her in the least An old friend of the family succeeds 
in bringing her back to her husband — and the storm blows over. 
It is at best a most improbable and unconvincing tale, and is 
characterized by the worldly and pagan philosophy that dominates 
all the author's novels. As a piece of character drawing the book 
is perfect, although it leaves a bad taste in the mouth. Some 
of its realistic pages are worthy of the most decadent of the 
French novelists. 

IRON CITY. By M. H. Hedges. New York: Boni A Liveright. 

$1.75. 

The late Randolph Bourne, so the publisher asseverates on 
the paper wrapper of this book, considered Iron City "the finest 
first novel he had ever read, and one of the few great American 
novels." With this amazing verdict we are decidedly not in ac- 
cord. Mr. Hedges recounts, without distinction of style, the story 
of his hero's experiences as an instructor in a small denomina- 
tional Middle- Western college, situated in Iron City, where he is 
brought into contact with various manifestations of social and 
industrial unrest. "In the end," the publisher's announcement 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 695 

dithyrambically proceeds, *'he flings everything into the great ad- 
venture of the generation — a dauntless quest for some solution 
of the world's ills, the remaking of the world's life." We grow 
weary of these youthful remoulders of the universe. 

THE LADY OF THE CROSSING. By Frederick Niven. New York : 

George H. Doran Co. $1.50 net. 

The Lady of the Crossing, whom the hero loves at first sight, 
turns out to be a heartless girl without one redeemable trait. 
Luckily he finds this out in time, and the perfect maiden appears 
on the scene just as the woman of his dreams marries the de- 
tested rival. The story is rather a commonplace story of life in 
a boom town of Western Canada. It may be founded on 
facts, as the author hints, but they are most trivial and 
uninteresting. 

A KNOWLEDGE of the Psalms and thoughtful consideration 
of their exceeding spiritual treasures is one of the great 
blessings, as well as one of the most fruitful exercises of the Chris- 
tian soul. The Rev. Ronald A. Knox has just given us, through 
Longmans, Green & Co., New York ($1.25 net), a small volume 
of instructive, practical meditations on a number of the Psalms, 
and we earnestly wish for it a wide circulation. 

The arrangement is according to a plan that proceeds from 
the lower to the higher levels of the spiritual life. The leading 
idea of each Psalm is taken, and upon this are ofiFered enlighten- 
ing suggestions that stimulate both thought and action. The 
text is printed on one page : the meditation on the opposite. The 
Douay Version is used throughout. But Dr. Knox's small vol- 
ume is but another evidence that the present Douay text should, 
at least in a few instances, be clarified and simplified. The reader 
will vrish that an index were added to enable him to find, at once, 
a particular psalm. 

LOST WITH LIEUTENANT PIKE, by Edward L. Sabin (PhUa- 
delphia: J. B. Lippincott Co.), is an addition to The Trail Blazer 
Series, and, as its name indicates, is concerned with the great 
peak which bears Lieutenant Pike's name. The volume contains 
adventure a plenty to satisfy the most exacting, and many lessons 
in the endurance and self-control so absolutely necessary for the 
formation of a hero. The Lieutenant himself is a fine type of a 
soldier, and the lad who has been adopted by the Pawnees is the 
hero, who makes abundantly clear his appreciation of the honor 
of being 'lost with Lieutenant Pike." 



696 NEW BOOKS [Feb^ 

PRIESTS and seminarians who have advanced to the higher 
courses in moral theology will find of special benefit The 
Epitome of Moral Theology, by Dr. Carlo Telch, published by 
Frederick Pustet & Co., New York, price $1.50. The volume is 
handy in size, covers in a summarized way the entire range of 
moral theology and has a very satisfying index. Much of it is 
taken from the well-known work of Father Noldin, S J. The little 
work is up-to-date, well printed, and well bound. 

THE sketch of Mother Anne of Jesus, of the Congregation of 
the Servants of the Most Blessed Sacrament, published by The 
Sentinel Press, 185 E. 76th Street, New York Qty, (55 cents) tells 
the story of a hidden but fruitful life. Anna Marie Pineau, born 
in 1854, devoted her days to the adoration of Jesus in the Blessed 
Sacrament. She joined the Congregation when it was still in its 
early years and spent her life in its beautiful work till 1911, when 
the Master called her home. Externally her life was uneventful, 
but the riches of her harvest, none may reckon save the Lord, at 
Whose feet her days were passed, in Whose service her lamp 
burned unfailingly, to win light for souls seated in darkness and 
in the shadow of death. 

A WORLD OF WINDOWS, Charles Hanson Towne's new col- 
lection of poems (New York: George H. Doran Co. $1.25 net), 
is described by the publisher as "every day life through a poet's 
eyes." But it is precisely the property of the poet's eyes that 
every day life takes on distincton and poignancy while passing 
through them. Much of the life here described is shaken by the 
winds of the Great War. To its interpretation the poet brings 
warm sympathy, a scholarly and experienced facility of expres- 
sion, and that eternal rightness of vision which one has learned 
to associate with his name. 

NOT the least of the many evils incident to the War is the high 
cost of books. Popular series at popular prices have become 
unpopular series by reason of their unpopular prices. But books 
are still sold, and will continue to be. The International Pocket 
Library (Boston: The Four Seas Co. 25 cents each) has entered 
the field with the challenge of low prices, a chaUenge which is 
bound to attract attention. The plan of the new venture calls 
for modem classics rather than the veterans, and a glance at the 
books in their heavy, waterproof paper covers shows how modern 
they are. Many people will surely believe many of them to be 
classics as well. It is certainly an interesting array of authors 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 697 

and titles which the initial offering presents. Guy de Maupassant, 
almost an ancient now» is on the list with a selection of tales; as 
are Kipling and Hardy and Poe. A. E. Housman's A Shropshire 
Lad rubs elbows with Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest; 
there are five tales from the Russian; there is a collection of five 
stories by the now well-known Ibanez; three short tales by the 
less well-known John Trevens; and the present list is complete 
with the Gitanjali of Tagore. While there is bound to be a dif- 
ference in taste in the matter of selecting a series of this kind, 
the idea of publishing low-priced paper-covered volumes is a good 
one, and the second offering will be awaited with interest. 

IN POEMS, by Francis X. Doyle, S.J., we have collected, in a little 
volume, many short lyrics, meditative or religious in tone, some 
of which have appeared in Extension, Ave Maria and other Cath- 
olic periodicals. Father Doyle modestly styles himself a "weaver 
of words," but he does not forget that even simple words may 
bear ''God's gold" about with them. (Philadelphia: Peter 
ReiUy. $1.00.) 

ROBERT BURNS, by Edward Winslow Gilliam (Boston: The 
Cornhill Co. $1.25) is a four-act play, more painstaking than 
dramatic in quality, covering the life of the Scottish poet from his 
peasant youth, through the dissension raised by his work in the 
"Auld" and "New" Light Kirks, up to the moment of his trium- 
phant social d^but at the Duchess of Gordon's home in Edinburgh. 

AMONG the pamphlets of the Catholic Truth Society of special 
interest are The Will to Believe, by B. Gavan Duffy, SJ., an 
admirable exposition of the right attitude toward truth in a very 
readable up-to-date story form; Religion, by Rev. R. Traill, which 
builds up simply and clearly the scheme of religion as revealed 
and understood by the Catholic Church. Two stories of conver- 
sions printed for the Catholic Guild of Israel : The Conversion of 
Jules Lewel and The Conversion of Isadore Goschler, two Jewish 
students at the University of Strasbourg, are remarkable chapters 
in the story, ever old yet ever new, of the wonderful workings 
of Divine grace. 

FOREIGN PUBLICATIONS. 

From the Libraire Gabriel Beauchesne: 

Le Dieu Vivant, La Riu6lation de la Sainte Triniti dans le Nouveaa 
Testament, by Jules Lebreton. After having treated the Origines du 
dogme de la Triniti in a large work well known to theologians, M* 



698 NEW BOOKS [Feb^ 

Lebreton has now taken up the same subject briefly in a volume in- 
tended for all believers. 

Leaving aside the study of the Hellenic and Jewish milieus, and 
the discussion of real or supposed antecedents of the Christian dogma, 
he clings solely to the doctrine of the New Testament; he explains 
it according to an entirely different plan from that followed in the 
earlier work, and eliminates aU technical discussions which, although 
indispensable for the theologian, are a burden for the ordinary reader. 

Every Christian who wishes to nourish his faith will find interest- 
ing matter in this book; he will learn to know better the mystery 
he believes, to cling to it more closely, to desire more earnestly to 
contemplate it in heaven. 

Le Gouvernment de VEglise, by Gustave Neyron, SJ. The chap- 
ters composing this volume appeared, at somewhat rare intervals, in 
the Etudes: hence they lack continuity, but, at least, they turn about 
one central idea — the Government of the Church — ^the excellence of 
which the author shows by considering its different aspects. He writes 
to defend the Church, and as he defends it with arguments borrowed 
from reason, rather than from revelation, he performs to a certain 
extent the work of an apologist. His views are very conservative, and 
many will not agree with him on all points, although the work, as a 
whole, is highly commendable. The author is especially fortunate in 
the chapter on the centralization of the power of the Church. 

Two appendices, one on the Vatican Council, and the other on 
Tolerance, serve to complete the ideas explained in the chapter on 
the Church and the government of thought. 

From Pierre T6qui: 

Consignes Catholiques (Sociales, Pidagogiques, Patriotiques) , 
by Monseigneur Tissier. With this volume of Consignes Catholiques the 
Bishop of Ch&Ions closes his pastoral teaching of War time. It is made 
up of allocutions, letters and discourses delivered before audiences of 
every description: peasants, laboring men, soldiers, school teachers, 
and priests. While its contents are interesting chiefly to French Cath- 
olics, the pastoral: "Sur les pas da Mattre" might be read with profit 
by anyone. 

The Librarie Bloud et Gay presents, in brochure, the Discours de 
Reception of Monseigneur Baudrillart delivered before the French 
Academy and the Riponse of M. Marcel Provost, the Director of the 
Academy. The former gives an intimate picture of M. de Mun, Mon- 
seigneur Baudrillart's predecessor. M. de Mun's high-minded and pro- 
gressive efforts for industrial organization and the awakening of social 
conscience were potent in averting Socialism in France, and hence 
of interest to American Catholics in this time of reconstruction. Also 
M. Provost's summary of the past relations of Church and State in 
France and his earnest and hopeful prognosis of future relations. 



IRecent Events. 



The successes of the Bolshevists continued 
Russia. during the past month. They succeeded in 

sweeping their adversaries back on thrte 
fronts to the south and east. These successes constitute the most 
decisive turn in the Russian situation since Lenine and Trotzky 
came into power. 

In Siberia the Soviet armies have advanced over six hundred 
miles west of Kolchak's capital, Irkutsk. In Turkestan they have 
taken Bokhara, seat of the most powerful of Tartar emirs, situated 
only two hundred miles from the Afghan frontier. They have 
made important gains on the Caspian coast, where their advance 
is menacing Persia. In Southeastern Russia they inflicted what 
S(*ems a telling defeat on the volunteer army of Denikin, captured 
Novo Cherask, capital of the Don Cossacks, and a line of other 
cities on the Sea of Azov. As a partial offset to Bolshevist vic- 
tories in the east, southeast and south, the combined Lettish and 
Polish armies have dislodged the Bolshevists in the northwest 
from the important river fortress of Dvinsk, thereby establishing 
the superiority of the anti-Soviet forces in the Baltic region. 

Dispatches received in the Allied countries admit the fatal 
character of the blows inflicted by the Bolshevists on Kolchak 
and Denikin. The former is variously reported as having been 
captured by the Bolshevists and as having been deposed and 
made prisoner by Col. Victor Pepaliaeff, the new premier of the 
AU-Russian Government. Whatever his individual fate, it seems 
certain that his army has been decisively beaten and is now prac- 
tically out of the field. In less than two months the Bolshevists 
have swept from the frontier of European Russia eastward along 
the Siberian Railway, captured Omsk, the original seat of the Kol- 
chak Government, and advanced beyond Irkutsk, whither Kol- 
chak's headquarters had been removed. The precarious situa- 
tion of the latter was turned into disaster, particularly through 
the failure of the Czecho-Slovak troops, who had originally helped 
him to secure power, and the revolt of Social Revolutionaries 
(formerly the adherents of Kerensky) in Vladivostok, Irkutsk and 
other towns. Thus the hope that Kolchak would be able to make 
a stand at Lake Baikal was shattered, and the rescue of Trans- 
vaikalia and the Pacific provinces of Asiatic Russia would now 
seem to devolve entirely on the Japanese. 

Whereas the weakness of Kolchak's position was apparent 



700 RECENT EVENTS [Fcb^ 

ever since last August and his elimination reckoned with, the 
hopes of anti-Bolshevist Russia were built upon the strength of 
General Denikin's volunteer army, holding Southeastern Russia 
and supported by substantial shipments of tanks, munitions, and 
other war material from the British. At the time of the evacua- 
tion of Omsk last November, Denikin was making gains against 
the Bolshevists in the Ukraine. His position was undermined, 
however, by desertions, and chiefly by disorders and banditry 
prevailing in his rear, and rendering his disproportionately long 
lines of communication nearly untenable. In the last month. 
Kief, the capital of the Ukraine, was reconquered by the Bolshe- 
vists; Rostov-on-Don, formerly Denikin's seat, was taken also, 
and the fall of Novo Cherask, Berdiansk, Mariaupol and Taganrog 
followed. According to unconfirmed reports Denikin himself has 
been ousted by a coup of his followers. His successor in supreme 
command is variously reported as the Cossack General Romanov- 
sky and General Wrangel, but this report has been denied. 

As against the Bolshevist conquests in the east and soutli, 
some solace is offered by the apparent consolidation of the anti- 
Bolshevist Western front. The capture of Dvinsk by the Poles 
and Letts now establishes a line running from Courland to the 
Western Ukraine, where the Poles possess the railway line, in ap- 
parent agreement with the Ukrainian directorate. 

The situation thus created has a bearing reaching far beyond 
the immediate fortunes of the opposing parties in the Russian 
civil war. It indicates a general change in Bolshevist strategy, 
both political and military. Briefly, the events of the last month 
signify that the Bolshevists have abandoned the hope of settling 
accounts with their enemies in the west, and are concentrating 
all their efforts and energies in establishing their power in the 
east, vnih a southward sweep through Afghanistan and an in- 
vasion of India as a possible ultimate goal. 

The Bolshevists seem to have adopted the German plan of 
trying to smash their most powerful enemy. Great Britain, by a 
blow directed against India. This design has been evidenced for 
some time by their negotiations conducted with the Emir of Af- 
ghanistan, an implacable enemy of England, and their campaign 
among the tribes of Turkestan and in Persia. The conquest of 
Bokhara, only two hundred miles from the Afghan frontier, would 
indicate the ripening of the Bolshevist plans in this direction. 

Politically the result of the month's disasters has been to 
necessitate a new orientation in the Russian policy of the Allies, 
and within the next month definite steps towards at least a partial 
rapproachement with the Soviet Government may be expected. 



1820.] RECENT EVENTS 701 

The most stubborn opponent of any plan for negotiations or truce 
with the Bolshevists has been France, and more particularly 
a^menceau, who was holding out for the total defeat of the Bol- 
shevists and the reconstitution, if possible, of Russia on the All- 
Russian plan of Kolchak. The reason for this policy was the 
large number of Russian bonds and other investments held in 
France, and the repudiation of former governmental obligations 
by the Soviet Government. Great Britain, on the other hand, has 
always tended toward a more conciliatory policy. Now that C16- 
menceau has been eliminated from the direction of affairs by his 
recent defeat for the French Presidency and by his retirement 
from the Premiership, and also because of the collapse of the 
Kolchak and Denikin offensives, the indications are strong that 
English views will prevail, and that there will soon be a more or 
less complete change of attitude towards the Bolshevist Govern- 
ment and at least a partial lifting of the Russian blockade. 

Beyond the Polish-Lett success against the Bolshevists re- 
ferred to above, there has been no great change in the Baltic 
situation. The armistice between the Esthonian and Russian 
Soviet Governments still continues, and negotiations preliminary 
to peace are expected soon to reach a successful conclusion. Re- 
cently, however, Esthonia sent representatives to Helsingfors, 
Finland, to join in a conference with Letvia, Lithuania, Poland, 
and Finland, which is expected to have an important effect on the 
Rumanian situation. The principal aim of the conference is to 
discuss organization by all five states of a defensive alliance 
against Soviet Russia, and a second defensive alliance against 
Germany. It appears, however, that Finland will not be a party 
to the second project, believing that, owing to her geographical 
position, she has nothing to fear from German encroachment in 
the Baltic. Moreover, it is declared, Finland feels such gratitude 
toward Germany for aid given in the spring of 1916 in saving 
Finland from the "Red" Terror, that she could not join in a 
movement which might be regarded by Germany as hostile. 

Withdrawal at an early date of the American Expeditionary 
forces from Siberia has been definitely determined on by the United 
States Government, and official notification of this fact has been 
communicated to the Japanese Government. The American forces 
were sent into Siberia for the stated purpose of aiding the Czech 
forces to make their safe exit out of Siberia, at a time when the 
Bolshevists were trying to impede their progress eastward more 
than a year ago, and secondly to assist in keeping open the Trans- 
Siberian railroad and to protect certain supplies. The situation 
has reached a point where, with the repatriation of the Czechs 



702 RECENT EVENTS [Feb^ 

and the withdrawal of the Stevens Siberian Railway Commission, 
the purpose for which the expedition was sent into Siberia will 
have been fulfilled. There are approximately 9,000 American 
regulars in Siberia, all the drafted men having been replaced. 

The two outstanding features of the 
France. month's news in France have been the de- 

feat of Cl^menceau for the Presidency, and 
the final ratification of the Peace Treaty with Germany, to- 
gether with the setting up of the League of Nations and various 
other business consequent on the ratification of the Treaty. 

Premier Cl^menceau, who only a few days before the elec- 
tion of the President on January 17th declared his candidacy, 
and had been considered as an easy victor for that office, was 
defeated by Paul Deschanel, President of the Chamber of Depu- 
ties. The presidential electors in France consist of the three 
hundred Senators and six hundred and twenty-four Deputies, 
who were elected in December, independently of any presidential 
issue. It appears that Deschanel had the support of the Left, 
including not only the conservative Socialists, but the radicals 
as well, with whom Cl^menceau was extremely unpopular. From 
this it must not be inferred that Deschanel is a radical, or that 
he leans that way, but merely that the radicals were willing to 
do almost anything to defeat Cl^menceau. Deschanel received 
support also from the left wing of the Centre, the Centre being 
composed of the Bloc National which controls both the Chamber 
and the Senate. DeschaneFs candidacy had the backing of former 
Premier Briand, Edouard Herriot, the new President of the Radi- 
cal party, and Andr6 Lefevre, Vice-President of the Chamber. 

The World War ended formally on January 10th, when rep- 
resentatives of the Powers which had approved the Versailles 
Treaty deposited their certificates of ratification and signed the 
proceS'Verbal which put the Treaty into effect. The signatories 
were the fourteen Allied and Associated Powers on the one hand 
and Germany on the other. 

After the documents were signed, a letter from the Supreme 
Council was handed to the German representative, Baron Kurt 
von Lersner, promising that the Allies would reduce from 400,000 
to 275,000 tons their demand for maritime equipment to pay for 
the Scapa Flow sinking. This was in reply to the German con- 
tention, that the enforcement of the Allies' original demand would 
have vitally affected Germany's economic interests. 

The United States took no part in the ceremony, and is at 
present the only nation in a state of war with Germany. For- 



1920.] RECENT EVENTS 703 

mal notice has been served on Germany by the American State 
Department that conditions of the armistice still govern rela- 
tions between the United States and Germany. 

In answer to the call of President Wilson, the first meeting of 
the League of Nations opened in Paris on January 16th. Eng- 
land, France, Italy, Japan, Spain, Belgium and Brazil are the 
nations comprising the Supreme Council of the League. L£on 
Bourgeois, representative of France, presided at the first session. 
The general opinion of the European Press seems to be that the 
League will be a failure without the active cooperation of America. 

One of the most significant things that has happened since 
the signing of the German Treaty is the continuance of the high 
command of Marshal Foch. The functions of Marshal Foch as 
Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Armies automatically lapsed 
when the Peace Treaty went into effect, but immediately after- 
ward the French, British, and Italian Governments — with which 
Belgium will probably be associated — decided to continue the 
Military Council of Versailles, with Marshal Foch as President, 
and to extend his sphere of activity. The Military Council will 
be concerned not only with the general application of the Treaty, 
but with questions of general interest, such as the menace of a 
Red Crusade from Bolshevist Russia, and though its powers at 
present are purely consultative, French observers see in it "the 
embryo of an inter-allied military organization about which may 
be formed a solid alliance of France, England, Belgium, and 
Italy as a beginning.*' 

After a month of agitation over Fiume, lat- 
Italy. est advices indicate that the prospect for 

an agreement on the Adriatic question has 
been accepted by Italy. The agreement, which was the result of 
deliberations by Lloyd George and Cl^menceau with the Italian 
Premier Nitti, has been handed also to the Jugo-Slavs, who have 
forwarded the text of the accord to Belgrade. 

It is understood that this plan will make a free city of Fiume, 
placing it on much the same footing as Danzig, under the control 
of the League of Nations, and will give to the Jugo-Slavs a strip 
running between Fiume and Trieste, the latter of which will be 
Italian. It is understood further that it provides for the division 
of Adriatic islands between Italy and Jugo-Slavia. In return for 
concessions Italy would get a mandate over Albania. Minor geo- 
graphical adjustments are now in progress, and in addition the 
Premiers are hearing the claims of the Greeks, who now desire to 
get some share in the Adriatic division. 



704 RECENT EVENTS [Feb., 

The settlement is understood to represent the limit of Italian 
concessions, and Premier Nitti places the responsibility for fur- 
ther difiBcuIties on the Jugo-Slavs, who, at present, have the plan 
under consideration. Certain sections of Italian opinion believd 
that acceptance of the plan will mean the fall of the Nitti Govern- 
ment, but it is held, nevertheless, that Italy will have to agree to 
any settlement reached at this time. One interesting feature 
stands out, and that is, if Italy does not get Fiume — and it 
seems certain now that she will not — the French project of an 
alliance of England, France and Italy will have to fight its way 
in the Italian Parliament. 

This invitation to Italy to participate in the Peace Alliance 
with Great Britain and France suggests not only the conclusion of 
reciprocal military and naval agreements between the three coun- 
tries in the event of armed aggression, but also a definite re- 
shaping of Italian policy on lines affecting the common interest 
of the three great Western powers. The acceptance of such a 
proposal would involve also a formal pledge from Italy that she 
will persevere steadfastly in her after-war political tendencies by 
more effective cooperation in the solution of national questions, 
colonial problems and economic difficulties. 

Meanwhile d'Annunzio after his agreement last month with 
the Italian Government for withdrawal from Fiume, and the re- 
placement of his troops by Italian regulars, has announced that 
he would resist any efforts that might be made to expel him from 
Fiume. Two plebiscites have already been held in the city, but 
these have been declared unsatisfactory by d'Annunzio, and a 
new plebiscite ordered by him to determine the future status 
of the city. The National Council of Fiume has reversed its 
previous decision to accept the Government's proposal, and has 
voted to support d'Annunzio, who says he has come to the con- 
clusion that the guarantees offered by the Government were in- 
sufficient to warrant his leaving. The general opinion of the Press 
and the Government, however, is that d'Annunzio has ceased to 
be an important factor in the problem and that, in the event of 
the acceptance of the new plan by Jugo-Slavia, he vnM be removed 
vdthout much difficulty and without serious disturbance to Italian 
popular feeling. 

Despite labor disorders and the recent success of the Socialists 
at the elections, close observers are of opinion that Italy affords 
a poor ground for Bolshevism, and it is said that the chance of 
a revolution in Rome is less than in any other great capital 
The success of the Italian loan is taken as one indication of the 
failure of revolutionary sentiments to take deep hold of the people. 



ig20.] RECENT EVENTS 705 

The subscriptions at the end of the first week passed the 8,000t- 
000,000 lire mark, and it is believed the total will exceed 15,000,- 
000,000 lire, the amount set as the goal. That the Italian work- 
ing people are animated by the spirit of thrift, is further shown by 
the fact that 13,000,000 lire has been deposited in postal savings 
banks and small popular banking institutions. 

Premier Nitti at present is the nation's big man and enjoys 
the same advantage as Lloyd George in England — there is no one 
in sight to succeed him. His chief concern is to put Italy in train 
for economic and industrial revival and development, and he 
believes that, within a short period, interest in war questions 
will give place to a keen spirit of business enterprise and that 
Italy will experience great industrial activity. He has somewhat 
placated the Socialists by consenting to the abolition of the oath 
of allegiance to the King, and has promised to present a bill by 
which the King will be deprived of the right to declare war, re- 
serving it exclusively to the Italian Parliament. This means a 
radical change in the Italian Constitution. The Premier added 
that not only the declaration of war, but the conclusion of treaties, 
must be submitted to Parliament 

Of all the suffering European countries 
Austria* Austria, and more particularly Vienna, 

seems to be in the worst material plight, 
and conditions there during the last several months have grown 
steadily more desperate, till, at last accounts, the people were 
literally on the verge of starvation. The following has been 
given as an authentic picture of the situation: 

For a year the 2,250,000 population of Vienna has been ex- 
isting on a dole of bread a day. One hundred grams of bread 
and seven grams of fat have been the daily ration. Theoretically 
every person was allowed one hundred grams of meat every 
three weeks, but, in nine cases out of ten, it was impossible for 
the people to get it for their coupons. Of late conditions have 
become even worse, so that the population has undergone a re- 
duced ration which allotted each week 1,027 grams (about two 
pounds) of bread and one hundred and twenty-five grams (one- 
fourth of a pound) of cooking flour to hard workers, and five 
hundred and eighty-seven grams (a little over one pound) of 
bread and one hundred and twenty-five grams of cooking flour 
to other people. The fuel ration has been eighteen pounds of 
coal a week per family, but the supply has fallen so low that 
only a small percentage of the population has been able to ob- 
tain its share. The people have stripped Vienna, and every other 

imm GZ. 45 



\ 



706 RECENT EVENTS [Feb., 

large city in the country, of every combustible article — sign- 
boards, park benches, fences, everything that will burn. Daily 
there is a huge exodus of miserable, pinched creatures, young 
and old, men and women, armed with hatchets, axes, and saws, 
who pour out of Vienna and swarm over the countryside, 
cutting down trees for firewood. They will walk ten to twenty 
miles, then carry back all the fuel they can bear. They have cut 
down thousands of fruit trees, and shade trees which line the 
great highways. The starving population has long ago consumed 
all animals in the country. The people have ^aten their pets — 
dogs, cats, even canary birds and gold fish. They hunt rats and 
eat them, and horse meat is a luxury which few can afford. 

Children are dying of hunger and cold. The infant mor- 
tality rate in Vienna is sixty per cent, and eighty-five per cent of 
those between nine months and three years of age are suffering 
with rickets. The majority of women in childbed die, while 
among those who survive, the loss of weight is serious, result- 
ing in diminution of the nursing capacity. It is affirmed that sta- 
tistics show that in Vienna alone there were 150,000 deaths from 
starvation in 1919. 

^s a result of Chancellor Renner's pleas for relief before 
the Supreme Council, the Allies in the middle of December 
decided to go to the aid of the starving people. They agreed to 
the delivery of 30,000 tons of grain from Trieste, the granting 
of a credit to Jugo-Slavia to send a further quantity of grain to 
Austria, and permission to Austria to continue negotiations with 
Holland for a loan of thirty million guilders, for which the Aus- 
trian tobacco monopoly is to be set free from the general pledge 
of Austrian assets to the Reparations Committee. Later reports 
are to the effect that of the 30,000 tons of food at Trieste, only 
16,000 had so far been made available, due to transportation 
difficulties, and it was said that at the present rate of consumption, 
Austria would be able to feed her people only to the end of Jan- 
uary on half rations. After that, if nothing is done meantime, 
it was declared the nation would face absolute starvation. Among 
other relief measures, Italy recently received at Trieste one 
thousand Viennese children, to be assigned to Trieste families 
for care and possible adoption. 

Of course the industrial and economic life of the nation 
has come to similar desperate straits. The lack of coal is as bad 
as the food shortage and has stopped nearly all manufacturing. 
Austria is buying wherever it can, but is manufacturing noth- 
ing. As a result its currency has continuously fallen, and the 
banks are imposing further and further difficulties in the way 



1920.] RECENT EVENTS 707 

of such trade as is still possible. Paper notes still circulate in 
the country but at steadily decreasing values, the Austrian crown 
now being worth about one-thirtieth of its normal value. 

Of course the most important German 
Germany. event in the past month was the final rati- 

fication of the Peace Treaty at Paris the 
middle of January, but nothing particular occurred to mark the 
occasion in Germany itself. The press comments were bitter or 
gloomy, but the general opinion seems to be that Germany must 
make a combined and determined effort to carry out the terms 
of the Peace Treaty, no matter how severe they may be, and that 
if only the Government can establish internal order, the country 
will be able to bear the economic conditions imposed. 

Serious disturbances occured in Berlin on January 13th when 
a mob of communists and radicals endeavored to storm the Reich- 
stag buildings on the occasion of the second reading in the Upper 
House of an act creating factory councils. The police at first 
tried to hold off the rush, but shots were fired by the mob and 
finally the guards were compelled to retaliate. In the ensuing 
struggle forty-two persons. were killed and one hundred and five 
wounded. 

The original cause of the riot was the dissatisfaction of the 
Independent Socialists over the failure of the Government to pro- 
vide a method for the establishment of the workmen's councils 
called for by the Constitution, but the immediate cause was in- 
dignation at the attitude of the Government towards strikers. 
This resulted in the organization of the demonstration in front 
of the Reichstag building. The violence that followed, however, 
is declared to have been due to Communist agents, who took ad- 
vantage of the assemblage and worked on mob psychology to 
start the riot. The firm conduct of the Government has appar- 
ently checked the spread of disorder. 

The beginning of the new year was signalized by strikes and 
lockouts, chiefly among railway and telegraph employees. The 
Independent Socialists and Communists are charged with respon- 
sibility for the strikes, which, while they are ostensibly economic 
measures are, in reality, it is declared, political measures to ac- 
complish the introduction of an industrial system on the Com- 
munist plan. There are also other causes at work, notably the 
unparalleled rise in the prices of all foodstuffs and other com- 
modities in consequence of the continued depreciation of the 
mark. The United States War Department has fixed its official 
rate of exchange for all army accounting purposesr f et January, 






708 RECENT EVENTS [Feb., 

at two cents. Moreover, the lack of raw materials and coal has 
compelled many factories to close against the will of their own- 
ers, though there are plenty of orders to fill. 

Evacuation of the first zone of the Province of Schleswig has 
been started by Germany, as required by the Peace Treaty, pre- 
liminary to the plebiscite there to determine whether the province 
shall be reunited vnih Denmark. The International Schleswig 
Commission, which left for its headquarters at Flensburg on Jan- 
uary 18th, has appointed prefects to administer the five adminis- 
trative districts in the first zone. 

Great Britain, France, Italy and Japan are reopening their 
diplomatic relations with Germany as a result of the exchange of 
ratifications of the Treaty of Versailles and the restoration of 
peace between them and Germany. The United States is not re- 
opening diplomatic relations at this time, and will not be able 
to do so until after a formal peace has been concluded with Ger- 
many. Secretary Lansing, however, has announced the appoint- 
ment of an American Commissioner at Berlin. 

Since Hungary was last treated of in these 
Hungary. notes, a new Hungarian Cabinet has been 

formed with representatives of all political 
parties. The Christian Socialist, Karl Huszar, is Premier, while 
his predecessor, Freidrich, to whose government the Allies ob- 
jected, has been given the post of War Secretary. As a result 
of this change, the Supreme Council on January 15th finally re- 
ceived Count Albert Apponyi, head of the Hungarian delegation, 
and presented to him the Hungarian Peace Treaty, which has 
been ready for months, but has been held in abeyance because of 
the lack of a government at Budapest in which the Allies had 
confidence. Hungary is accorded fifteen days to consider the 
Treaty and send its reply to Paris. 

The Treaty provides that Hungary shall formally waive claim 
to Fiume and nil the former Austro-Hungarian territories awarded 
to Italy, Rumania, Jugo-Slavia and Czecho-Slovakia. Hungary 
must adhere to the clauses of the Treaty with Austria, signed 
at St. Germain, concerning national minorities. Under the terms 
of the Treaty the Hungarian army must not exceed 35,000 men, 
with guns of not more than ten centimetre calibre. Hungary is 
to assume a proportional share of the Austrian debt. 

Most of the remaining clauses of the Treaty are similar to 
those oS the Treaty of St. Germain. A special economic clause 
provides iJ^t an arrangement shall be made for the exchange of 
foodstuffs, ]:;§S2:jBAterials and manufactured goods between Aus- 






1920.] RECENT EVENTS 709 

tria and Hungary. By the provision of this clause Hungary 
undertakes not to restrict the export of foodstuffs to Austria, 
and insures to Austrian purchasers terms as favorable as those 
given to the Hungarians. 

A great contrast exists between the formerly united coun- 
tries, the social-democratic Austria and the strongly monarchist 
Hungary, and particularly between the capitals, Vienna and Buda- 
pest. In Vienna the Government stands more through the gen- 
eral apathy of the country than through vigorous measures of 
its own, but in Budapest the reaction from Bolshevism and the 
departure of the Rumanians have induced a strongly national, 
even a chauvinistic temper among the people. Large sections 
of people, including even business men, speak freely of the in- 
evitable revanche against the Rumanians and of certitude that 
the Slovaks vnSX soon come back automatically to Hungary. It 
was for this reason that, among the conditions of recognition 
of the Huszar government. Sir George Qerk, the Allies' repre- 
sentative, stipulated that the Hungarians were to abstain from 
making any attack upon their neighbors, and were to respect the 
provisional boundaries of the country, pending the final delimita- 
tion by the Peace Conference. 

An indication of the reaction from Bolshevism is the re- 
peated demand on Austria for the extradition of Bela Kun, the 
former Communist dictator of Hungary, whom the Austrian 
Chancellor so far refuses to give up, his reason being that the 
removal of Bela Kun from Austria would be the signal for the 
wholesale murder of Austrians in Soviet Russia. It is said that 
nearly ninety-five per cent of the Hungarian people would vote 
for the return of a monarchy, a plan to which no objection is 
anticipated from the Allies, with the possible exception of Italy, 
but it is still uncertain who will become king. 

In Budapest the food conditions seem to be better than in 
Vienna, though reports are conflicting as to the actual difference. 
The poor do not get a regular supply of bread and sugar, and 
potatoes are practically unobtainable, but there is a sufficiency 
of vegetables and other farm products, and meatless days are 
unknown. 

January 19 th. 



With Our Readers. 

SINCE the ending of the War we have on more than one occa- 
sion referred in these paragraphs to articles in different periodi- 
cals on the relation between religious belief and military service. 
"The Christian Under Fire," "The Religion of the Trenches," 'The 
Failure of Christianity" are sample titles of such articles. The 
uniform trend of them was one of doubt, of questioning, and 
even of pessimism. "The Failure of the Churches" might be an 
appropriate title for a volume that would gather them together. 
This failure of the churches was almost synonymous with the 
failure of Christianity itself, for according to such onlookers and 
critics, men in the service, brought face to face with reality, saw 
the emptiness not only of the preaching "back home," but of all 
and everything resembling Christian dogma and definite belief 
about Christ and His teachings. Their new experience, in the 
judgment of these critics, had made the men not only more care- 
less about, but also indifferent to religion. It is perhaps needless 
to state that all of these criticisms mentioned were from Protes- 
tant sources. Indeed they furnished a very strong indictment 
of the Protestant churches from the pen of their own members, 
and a true indictment, since the observers and critics were evi- 
dently sincere and spoke from what they had seen or heard. 

Confirming such criticism there has now appeared the Gen- 
eral Report made by the chaplains of the British Army and en- 
titled. The Army and Religion, which gives no comforting or 
hopeful view concerning the influence on the non-Catholic sol- 
dier of his religious belief. 

♦ ♦ ♦ i> 

THIS report did not include any account concerning the Catholic 
soldiers. Father Plater has just edited and issued a volume 
which fills the gap. It is entitled. Catholic Soldiers bg Sixtg 
Chaplains and Mang Others. Its inquiry is concerned almost 
entirely with the Catholic soldiers in the service of Great Britain, 
Ireland, Australia, New Zealand and Canada. Definite questions, 
so framed as to bring out information on the particular effect of 
his religious belief on the man in service, were sent out by Father 
Plater. Sixty chaplains and a number of officers answered. 
Thousands of letters, written by Catholic soldiers, containing 
evidence to the point have also been used in the compilation. 
The very wording of the questions shows a spirit and an outlook 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 711 

different from the non-Catholic criticism on the soldiers' religion 

which has appeared in the magazines. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

RELIGION here is something real. The horror of battle makes 
it more real. Religion is a power that draws the soul to God. 
There in the crowded battle-front or in the lonely watch, religion 
brings a man nearer to God. Religion elevates and sustains 
standards. It helps us resist and conquer the strong lustful ap- 
peal of the flesh; it gives the sinner hope; it sustains even the 
hero; it comforts the wounded; it throws the light of heaven on 
this otherwise darkened world. It is real : a living force, all but 
tangible. It is not a vain aspiration: a sentiment and an emo- 
tion that begin and end with desire, and have no sure eternal 
foundation. It is as evident as the hills and as impregnable; 
it is as certain as the sun and equally illuminating. It is as 
nourishing as food, and as refreshing as drink, and more necessary 
than either. It shows the hand of death parting the curtains of 

heaven, and makes direct the now obscured vision of God. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

BUT this, it will be said, is religion as it ought to be: such a 
power in the world all men's souls would yearn to possess. 
If anyone will read this book by Father Plater, he will see this 
religion consistently illustrated in the standards, the failures, the 
penance, the self-discipline, the heroism of men. There is i^o 
question here of mere speculation nor of anxious worrying about 
Christ and His truth. Conviction: certainty and peace attain- 
able are reechoed here in the answers to the questions of how 

the Catholic Faith influenced these men. 

♦ i> ♦ i> 

TO the question has the War created any difficulty for the men's 
faith, the full answer is, '"Not one clear case appears in 
all the reports and letters in which a Catholic soldier has been 
unsettled in his belief in God by the War." Indeed, a chaplain 
who saw four years of service at more than one point states: 
"On the whole the War has probably increased the faith ... of 
the average Catholic soldier. It has deepened his perception of 
the spiritual, the immortal, and the eternal." Another, of three 
years' service, says of the Catholic soldier: "His faith becomes 
a philosophical necessity to him, and he gets deep insight into 
it from his own experience. And another of two years' expe- 
rience, whose testimony is supported directly by eight other 
chaplains, writes: "Actual warfare increases the faith of Cath- 
olics. They are pleased to manifest it. They vrill go to con- 
fession in trenches and open places." 



712 WITH OUR READERS [Feb., 

In some letters there are illuminating sentences telling elo- 
quently of the grandeur of the writer's faith : "I am the only Cath- 
olic boy in this hut. When I go to early Communion, I have to 
listen to sneers, but I don't mind if I can only love God, and make 
myself humble to Him." And another, a private, writes: "I 
should say one's faith is deepened, and the sense of the presence 
and the nearness of God increased. When in danger I often had 
the feeling that the Holy Family were walking a few yards ahead 

of me, and any minute I might find myself in their presence." 

♦ ♦ i> ♦ 

THEIR faith was a thing alive : they were the brothers of Christ : 
the sons of the eternal Father. " 'God's vrill,' is the clear 
settler of all their 'fates' in the minds of our Catholic men. It 
comes out again and again in their letters home, in talking over 
the prospects of going over the top, in speaking of their com- 
rades who were killed and in every other way. Their attitude is 
in sharp contrast with the impersonal fatalism of so many non- 
Catholics to whom the question of their own or their comrades' 
deaths is just as insistent when living under shell fire." This 
from a chaplain who had served for five years. 

Nor did the Catholic soldier manifest any superstitious de- 
pendence on medals, rosaries or other articles of devotion. The 
chaplain last quoted testifies: "It (the article) did not give him 
an assurance that he was safe from shells: but it was for him a 
continued, unconscious prayer for safety: and if he was to 'be 
taken' (not 'go West') he was comforted to think that his soul 
would leave a body that bore on it the badge of the Sacred Heart 

and Our Lady's medal and scapular." 

1$ ^ ^ m 

THE training of the Catholic school bears its fruit in the testi- 
mony furnished by this book. The majority of these Catholic 
soldiers, drawn from every walk of life, were "fairly well in- 
structed in their religion." A chaplain who had served four years 
writes: "The greatest consolation I have had is to find our men 
so well instructed in their religion. They generally know all the 
essentials, how to hear Mass, go to the Sacraments, pray, etc.; 
and I take this to be a great tribute to our Catholic schools, and 
a reward for our labor and sacrifices in erecting, maintaining 
and defending them." 

Of course this encouraging picture has its dark shadows, but 
it has its high lights. "One Manchester lad spent an hour at a 
barn chapel every night and received Holy Communion. He 

used to come two miles to get there." 

* m ^ m 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 713 

WITH regard to moral falls, the majority of chaplains, judging 
from the years of service with the troops, state that they do 
not believe that such falls were more frequent in military than in 
civil life. Almost all testify to the fact that when such falls did 
occur, they were followed quickly by repentance and that contin- 
ued falls were the rare exception. In this chapter an officer con- 
tributes a paragraph which is singularly important in view of 
the various pleas, other than religious, used by many and es- 
teemed by them as effective. "Catholicism," he writes, ''stands 
as something unique, as the only system capable of influencing 
in every aspect man's motivation. Various influences may act as 
powerful deviating influences in some one especial direction. 
Patriotism for example, or esprit de corps may make a man do 
brave things, the instinct of self-preservation may make him 
appear a Paladin of courage. Love of a woman may keep him 
chaste, or ambition may compel him to put forth his best efforts. 
But the one thing which can and does energize that infinitely 
faceted thing, motive, which can and does make a man brave, 
courageous, chaste, or painstaking, is Catholicism. It is my can- 
did belief that, in the acts of men, Catholicism and its teaching 
acts as often as a motivating factor as all other influences added 
together: more than that, its influence is always towards what 

is best." 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

<<r|^HERE are many real saints among the men," wrote Father 
1 Doyle : and one most encouraging portion of this report is that 
which tells of the return of many Catholics to the practice of the 
faith. The section on "Prodigals and Saints" should rouse every 
reader of it to a more intelligent appreciation of his faith and 
to increased personal devotion. 

In the chapter on "The Wounded" a chaplain cites the fol- 
lowing as one example out of many hundreds: "I was called to 
a cellar in the line, which was being used as a medical aid post. 
A young soldier had had his leg half torn away. It was necessary 
to amputate. When I got to the place, the surgeons were already 
operating. I gave conditional absolution, and waited, holding a 
candle for them to work by. After about three hours, the young 
fellow came to. He was in dreadful agony, and I said a few 
words of sympathy. *Are you a priest?' he said, Tes.' 'Well, 
Father, I am suffering terribly, but Jesus Christ suffered on the 
Cross far more than I am doing.' Then in a moment: 'I want 
to go to confession and Holy Communion.' The confession over, 
I hurried away to fetch the Blessed Sacrament, some miles away. 
I got back, and there in that deep cellar, lying on a stretcher, 



1U WITH OUR READERS [Feb.. 

that young soul received his Viaticum. Never a word of com- 
plaint on his lips, but just the holy names of Jesus and Mary, 
uttered in little gasping sobs, with wonderful devotion. An hour 

after he was dead." 

♦ i> ♦ i> 

THE faith of the Irish soldier stands out in preeminent splendor. 
He has an intelligent understanding of it. A chaplain of four 
years experience, comparing the soldiers of different countries, 
gives Ireland first place for religious instruction : "In Ireland prac- 
tically every one (is instructed)." Another chaplain writes: **Th6 
difference between the Catholics of an Irish battalion and an English 
one is startling. As a rule, the former come to confession, and 
know how to make it, the latter have to be hunted up, and if, 
after much pressure, they do consent to make a confession they 
have to be helped considerably. Naturally, there are exceptions.*' 
And another chaplain: ''Ninety-nine out of a hundred Irish 
would explain correctly the Immaculate Conception, the differ- 
ence between the Resurrection and Ascension, who was Pontius 
Pilate, how do you baptize — in fact everything." "I remember," 
writes another, "giving Holy Communion one morning in a village 
church to nine hundred men of the Connaught Rangers. The 
curi, with tears streaming down his cheeks, helped me. At the end 
he said : 'Those strong men have all the faces of children as they 
kneel to receive their Lord in Holy Communion.*" Of the 
"saints" another states: "If I said hundreds, you would think 
I was exaggerating, but Fm not Young, innocent boys and old 
soldiers from India, living the holiest, most supernatural lives, de- 
voted to the Blessed Sacrament, men of prayer. I admit they 
are mostly Irish or Scotch-Irish, but there are some English as 
well, and, as usual, I exclude Lancashiremen, who count as Irish.** 
Their faith was astounding and their gentleness amazing. 
"They apologize to doctors for trouble given, and thank them. 

Most wounded men seldom get out of themselves so far.'* 

♦ ♦ ♦ i> 

THIS volume does not seek to present anything like full testi- 
mony with regard to the American Catholic soldier and his re- 
ligious faith. But from the limited testimony it does furnish, 
the American Catholics may well glory in the faith of their own. 

"It is my opinion," writes an American chaplain, "that the 
faith of our Catholic soldiers in the ranks of the American Army 
has been strengthened, rather than otherwise by their experiences 
in the War." The highest praise is accorded to the Catholic 
American soldier for the faithful practice of his religion. 'The 
Americans of New York,** writes a British chaplain, "whom I saw 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 715 

whilst in training, before they had seen the line and afterwards 
in hospital, were all well instructed and very fervent." 

The volume makes us only the more eager to see in print the 
full glorious record written by our American Catholic soldiers, 
under the inspiration of the Cross, in the service of our Country. 



AT a meeting held in Cleveland, Tuesday, December 30, 1919, 
some sixty Catholic writers and students of history formed 
a new national historical society which henceforth will bear the 
name — ^The American Catholic Historical Association. The object 
of the new Association is to promote study and research in the 
field of Catholic history. 

The reawakened interest in international politics which the 
World War has aroused, has contributed very largely to a better 
appreciation of the part the Catholic Church has taken in the 
march of civilization. Students and teachers of history realize 
that the War has added vastly to the significance of the Church's 
presence in the world; and there is a greater desire on the part 
of all who labor in the field of history to approach the problem 
of Catholicism, in the past and in the present, with a more honest 

and a more sincere critical spirit. 

♦ ♦ i> ♦ 

THE centre of world politics has been changed from the capi- 
tals of Europe to the capital of the Republic, which our 
fathers, as the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore said, builded 
vdser than they knew, the Almighty's hand guiding them. 
America has passed beyond her growing years and her destinies 
are for the future in the world-stream of humanity, where alone 
national character can be formed. To open any volume of this 
historic past is to read another page of the history of the Catholic 
Church. Civilization, progress, idealism, all are interwoven vntb. 
the Catholic Church; and in the same measure as new demands 
will be made upon our educators to interpret to us the back- 
ground of our history, so in like measure will American Catholics 

be expected to know the Catholic past of the world. 

^ m ^ m 

SUCH an Association as the one just founded, makes it possible 
to bring into one body all the Catholic historical scholarship 
of the United States. There are six local Catholic historical so- 
cieties (those of New York, Philadelphia, Portland, Me., St. Louis, 
Chicago, and St. Paul), devoting their energies to local Catholic 
history. They are all publishing excellent historical quarterlies. 
We have also the Catholic Historical Review, published at the 



718 WITH OUR READERS [Feb^ 

Catholic University of America, wliich is now the recognized 
organ of all American Catholic historical activity. But all these 
publications are local or national in scope. What was needed 
was a society that would bring into one fold all those interested 

in Catholic history, without limit of time or place. 

♦ ♦ •♦ * 

IN October, 1919, letters were sent out to some seventy Catholic 
teachers of history in our Catholic Colleges, Academies, Sem- 
inaries, and Universities, and a response which surprised the one 
who had projected the Association, proved the opportuneness of 
the scheme. Accordingly, the meeting to organize the new so- 
ciety was called for Cleveland. Some sixty Catholic historical 
scholars were present. Papers were read by Rev. Dr. Guildi^ 
of the Catholic University of America, and by Dr. J. Franklin 
Jameson, on the scope of the new project. A constitution was 
adopted, and the following officers elected: President, Lawrence 
F. Flick, M.D., LL.D.; Vice Presidents, Rev. Richard H. Tierney, 
S.J., and Rev. Victor O'Daniel, O.P., S.T.M.; Secretary, Carlton 
T. H. Hayes, Ph.D.; Treasurer, Rt. Rev. Monsignor T. C. O'Reilly, 
D.D., V.G.; Archivist, Rev. Dr. Guilday. The Executive Council 
includes, with the above-named officers, Rev. Gilbert P. Jennings, 
LL.D., Rt. Rev. Monsignor Joseph F. Mooney, D.D., V.G., Rev. 
Dr. Souvay, CM., Rev. William Busch, S.T.L., and Rev. Zephyrin 
Engelhardt, O.F.M. 

A meeting of the Executive Council was held recently and it 
was decided to organize the 1920 meeting, which vnll be held 
during Christmas week at Washington, D. C, into four Sections 
or Conferences, dealing with Ancient, Mediaeval, Modern, and 
American Catholic history. The permanent headquarters of the 
Association will be the Catholic University of America, Wash- 
ington, D. C, but the annual meetings will be held in a different 
city each year. 



THE social value of spiritual qualities is admirably illustrated 
at this time when universal appeal is made for thrift. Thrift 
as an economic practice related to economic problems, whether 
individual or social, is much to be commended. But it does not 
begin and end with itself. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

IF we accept the spiritual values set for us by the Gospel and 
explained with compelling uniformity and clearness by spiritual 
writers, we learn to discipline wants, to practice renunciation, to 
be conscious of the claims of the needy and of our power to 
promote education and religion, and all of this is the result of 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 717 

spiritual vision and impulse. As we gain in spiritual understand- 
ing, we become conscious of release from the tyranny of material 
things. Simple wants, refined taste, subtle self-control, joy in 

intangible things become our portion. 

♦ ♦ i> ♦ 

IN this process thrift occupies a place, modest indeed, but im- 
portant. Those who believe in God and love His ways, find in 
the teaching of Christ and the practice of the saints, the secret of 
higher life. They love and do noble things, because these fit into 
the harmony of the spiritual life. Seen in this light, thrift is 
not an end but an incident. It is good socially and much to be 
commended. But we should believe in it and practice it as a 
phase of our spiritual growth and not merely as an economic 

virtue. 

♦ ♦ i> i> 

IF the national appeal now made can but convince the country 
of the foolishness of extravagance, it will serve an admirable 
purpose. Extravagance may have immediate social antecedents, 
but it, too, is a sign of the condition of one's soul. Sanctity 
moves always in the direction of simple taste, restrained 
desires, joy in renunciation and prompt acceptance of 
spiritual values. Extravagance knows nothing of these. We 
may bewail it as a social menace, but we must reject it 
infinitely more because it is a sign of spiritual decadence. 
We may borrow strength for the soul as well as for social life, 
from the remark of the good colored woman who said to a child 
in her care: ''Not wanting things is better than having them.'* 



OUR readers will recall that in his interesting article on "The 
Irish No Man's Land" in our November issue, Mr. P. G. Smyth 
deplores the ruin of Louvain which he thought involved the Col- 
lege of the Irish Franciscans, and consequently the tomb of the 
famous Archbishop of Tuam, Florence Conroy, the founder of the 
Irish College of Louvain. A letter from an interested reader, 
dated "American College, Louvain, December 8th," corrects this 
error and adds much interesting data concerning the relics of 

this foundation. We print it for the benefit of our readers. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

" p ORTUN ATELY the part of the city where the ancient College 
I of Irish Franciscans was located was spared the horrors of 
August, 1914. Prompted by the article in The Catholic World 
which referred to Archbishop Conroy, I made a pilgrimage there 
today. In the wall of the chapel is a stone bearing an inscription 
saying that Archbishop Conroy died in Madrid, 1629, in his 69th 



718 WITH OUR READERS [Feb^ 

year, the 21st year of his episcopate; that his remains were in- 
terred here (hie) 1654. 

"In the wall of the corridor adjacent to the Chapel are the 
tombstones of Dominic De Burgo, Episcopus Elfinensis, a native 
of Ireland, died 1704; of Fra Tully, 1715; Fratres O'Donnell, 
O'Reilly and Lynch all of the eighteenth century; also the tomb- 
stone of "Illustrissima Rosa Docharty," 1660. The Brothers (since 
1832 the house is occupied by the Brothers of Charity) knew little 
of the history of these relics. They had heard that these slabs, now 
cemented in the wall, were formerly in the floor of the chapel. May 
we believe then that the actual tombs are under the chapel? 

"A slab near the door of the chapel tells us that the first 
stone of the chapel (the present chapel) was laid by the Arch- 
duke and Duchess Albert and Isabelle, 1617. 

"Of the original walls one, facing the garden, is still stand- 
ing. On this wall between the narrow Gothic windows of the 
monks' cells is the date again, 1617. Finally to corroborate the 
reputation for learning that the college enjoyed, some of the 
tombstones give the degrees — obtained at the University by the 
monks: Lynch, Licentiate in Philosophy; O'Donnell, Bachelor 
Juris Civilis et Canonici. 

"So the tomb of the Archbishop of Tuam, as well as these 
other archaeological monuments, escaped the fate that destroyed 
so many other souvenirs of the past intellectual glories of 
Louvain." 



ALIGHT in the world of Catholic laymen went out with the 
waning of the old year. The death of the Hon. Thomas J. 
Lanahan of Albany on December 27th marks the earthly termina- 
tion of a notable career in the service of Church and State, such 
a career as it is useful to record and to meditate. The Catholic 
World mourns in him a faithful subscriber from its inception and 
a friend and admirer of its founder, Father Hecker. This sus- 
tained interest in Catholic literature was but an index of his 
whole-hearted and unflagging service in the Catholic cause. It is 
for us a satisfaction to quote some extracts from a summary of 
his life by those who knew and loved it in every detail — the 
Catholic press of the city where he was born and for eighty- 
three years gave example of what a Catholic layman may and 

should be. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

" LJON. THOMAS J. LANAHAN received his education in the 

il private school of Captain Michael O'Sullivan, in old St. 

John's parish. He was employed in the ofllce of the Albany 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 719 

Journal for several years after leaving school and later in the 
Merchants' Dispatch office. 

"In 1866 he was elected assemblyman from the first assem- 
bly district of Albany County and served until May, 1870, when he 
was appointed clerk to Mayor Thacher. Later he was appointed 
chief clerk of the board of contract and appointment, which was 
consolidated with the board of assessors, in which board he 
served until his recent illness. His service with the city of Albany 
lacked four months of completing a half century. 

"Through his entire life he was a leader in Catholic Church 
and fraternal circles, devoting his splendid talents unselfishly 

to their service. 

♦ ♦ i> ♦ 

<< JLM R. LANAHAN was not only renowned as a public speaker 
iVl and elocutionist, but also as a dramatist. He appeared 
many times on the stage with professional players, especially in 
1872, when he appeared with Walter Reeble as ghost in Reeble's 
Hamlet. He was a friend of John Albaugh, Frank Lawlor and 
many of the famous actors of that day. 

"Under his direction amateur theatricals were promoted in 
Albany academies and organizations. As an elocutionist he aided 
in the training of many speakers, and was often asked for assist- 
ance in the preparation of important addresses. His last great 
address was at the installation of Bishop Thomas F. Cusack four 
years ago. • . . His oratory was of the polished, graceful style 
of the great Daniel Dougherty, but there was a pathos and depth 
of feeling in his voice that was distinctly his own, and a fire 
which never failed to rouse his hearers to enthusiasm. He was at 
his best in the rendition of such poems as Mangan's 'Dark Rosa- 
leen,' which he interpreted with splendid effect." 

♦ i> ♦ ♦ 

THIS man of varied talents and multiple activities vnll be 
mourned in practically every parish of the diocese of Albany, 
for there are comparatively few places within its territory where 
his eloquent voice has not been heard, or which he has not 
visited. 



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THE 



{[Jatholic^rld 



MARCH. 1920 



THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL. 



BY L. B. BELXjUrn, SJ. 



E place events in this world's history by relating 
them to its central event. For instance, we say 
that the strange tale of the Doomed Prince was 
written about 1500 years before Christ, and that 
More wrote his Utopia about 1500 years after 
e Christ-Event is, by convention, the measure for 
human history, as of necessity it is the only measure of our 
history in the supernatural plane. Christ is the Supernatural 
Man. He comes to raise men above themselves by achieving 
their redemption. That redemption is His life-work— its start- 
ing point the Incarnation, its culmination the Cross, its tri- 
umphant integration, the Resurrection. For, in a sense not to 
be lightly set aside, the atonement belongs to the whole life, 
death and resurrection. In Our Lord's eyes it is one steep 
road from Bethlehem to that Calvary whose dark sununit is 
illumined by the after-glory of the resurrection, and always 
along that way His will is undeviatingly set. 

This view of an atonement, which is co-extensive with the 
whole of Our Saviour's life on earth, is familiar to St. Paul, 
as it is to us, too, in the prayer: "O God, Whose only-begotten 
Son by His life, death and resurrection has purchased for us 
the reward of eternal life . . ." "God," says the Apostle, *^a8 



722 THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL [Mar^ 

reconciled us to Himself by Christ . . . , for Grod indeed was 
in Christ reconciling the world to Himself."^ *'God being rich 
in mercy . . . even when we were dead through our sins 
quickened us to life together with Christ and raised us up with 
Him.*' ''Christ Jesus» . . . though He was by nature God, did 
not set great store on His equality with God: rather. He 
emptied Himself by taking the nature of a slave and becoming 
like unto men. And after He had appeared in outward form 
as man, He humbled Himself, by obedience unto death, yea 
unto death upon a cross."* We see from this that though 
Christ is always actively the Redeemer, yet His incarnation 
and life on earth are more correctly anticipatory of the atone- 
ment. The essential reparation and vital atonement must 
always be found in His sacrificial death: while our restora- 
tion to sonship is effected through His life-giving resurrection. 

That death is so full of meaning that we may well begin 
by summing up its value, and then clearing the ground of 
various misconceptions about it. It is a death both retro- 
spective and prospective; that is, its effects are to reach both 
those who have gone before and the generations yet to be. 
Its saving value is for all times and places. It can be viewed 
from every angle and flash fresh significances from each new 
facet. On the cross the dying Christ is mediating between God 
in heaven and men on earth. To ignore any one of the vital 
terms of this relationship of God and man through the God 
made Man must lead to inadequacy and misconception; even 
to stress one note of the truth beyond others disturbs that per- 
fect harmony. 

Because of this we find the Church refusing her whole- 
hearted approval to a teaching that would unduly extend 
man's bondage in sin into an enslavement by the devil, or 
again to an unbalanced rhetoric that would express God's 
loathing for sin by depicting the Father as waging war to the 
death against His Son — the substitutional Victim for our sins — 
and exercising a revengeful fury, as abhorrent as it is untrue. 
Yet an exaggerated idea of the devil's claims on us led to 
strange expressions on the lips of a Basil or a Gregory of 
Nyssa in the East, an Ambrose and an Augustine in the West, 
while equally forced presentments of God's anger against 
His Son, dying for us on the cross, may be culled by the 

' 2 Cor. V. 18, 19. • Phil. U. 6-8. Weitmlnster Version. 



1920.] THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL 723 

curious from the published sermons of Segneri, Bossuet, Bour- 
daloue, Monsabr^ and perhaps others.* 

Such phrases and sentiments, unfortunate even when 
taken in their context, give some color and may even be used 
to reenforce the hoary difficulty of Socinus, with which, in 
its modem garb, we are all so sadly familiar. *lt is urged 
that to suppose that Christ died for the remission of the sins 
of mankind is to suppose a thing revolting to all our ideas of 
the justice of God, since it means that in His wrath with men 
on account of their sins. He condemned the whole race to a 
cruel and unending punishment and was only induced to spare 
them ... by accepting His own innocent Son as a substitute 
for the guilty race, transferring His wrath to that Son as 
though He were the guilty person and in consequence in- 
flicting upon Him the cruel and revolting punishment of the 
crucifixion. How, they ask, can we believe in the goodness, 
still less the mercy, of such a God, all the more when, as the 
Catholic theologians agree in acknowledging, i7 was easily 
within GofTs power to forgive the sins of all men without ex- 
acting any reparation whatever, in short by doing Himself what 
He requires all His creatures to do in regard to offences they 
have sustained from their fellouM^reaturesI"^ 

Let us at once admit that the italicized words state the 
truth. God could have forgiven us all our sins and restored 
us to that lost pride of race, as easily at least as we, in our 
measure, forgive and are reconciled with one another. In 
fact. He did not do so, and the attitude that would demand so 
seemingly facile a reconciliation is born of human levels and 
is typical of a rationalism never more disastrously applied 
than when it is cramping and compressing the Godhead into 
some wretched pigeon-hole of our brain. The difficulty, how- 
ever, remains and resolves itself to these two propositions : 

I. So implacable is God in the punishment of sinners. 

II. That He consents to transfer that punishment and to 
exact it from His Divine Son. 

To this we reply is God so implacable? Sin is undoubtedly 
a violation of God's law and brings God*s anger down on the 
sinner, but while admitting the anger, we wrong God by blind- 
ing ourselves to the co-existence, too, of His love. We must 

■See RlTl^re's Atonement, toI. 1., p. 9/f.; toI. 11., p. 111/f.; Hu^n, p. 189 /f. 
« The Atonement, by S. Smltli* SJ. The Month, April, pp. 241, 242. 



724 THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL [Mar.. 

not forget that God never ceased loving man, even sinful man, 
and this before the atonement of Christ as well as after it; 
how otherwise explain His will to redeem Him? Grod*s love is 
always manifest. It is as certainly the reason as it is the result 
of the atonement 

Further, we could say that the manner itself of the atone- 
ment — the substitution and punishment of Christ for us — ^is 
the greatest proof of God's love. By the sin of our first parents 
our fallen nature, as we know it, was passed on to us, a nature 
which — even apart from inherited evil tendencies — could 
never lay the least claim to see God or be united with Him. 
But God's infinite love will not be satisfied — these are human 
words — with less than such a union. Hence the wide-flung 
scheme of redemption divinely decreed, and, in time, to be 
carried out by the Incarnate Son of God. The will to redeem 
is one Divine Will, the motive of redemption is one Divine 
Love. God the Father did not lay His command on an eternal 
and co-equal but unwilling Son. Heaven forbid we should 
contaminate our minds by imagining an inequality of gener- 
osity or love in the Divine Persons. They are united and 
"at one" in their desire for our at-one-ment — ^the radical mean- 
ing of this fine word should not be lost — ^united and at one in 
their choice of the manner of our atonement. 

The substitution of the innocent Christ for guilty man, the 
withdrawal of the Father's comforting presence, the desola- 
tions of Gethsemani and Calvary, the orgy of Jewish and 
Roman cruelty, the utter horror of the crucifixion have been 
decreed and embraced out of all time by the Divine Will, 
as in due time they are foreseen and embraced by Christ's 
human will, so much the more touchingly human for its 
successive ardors and reluctances and its unwavering fixity 
in the last abandonment. 

Set if you will against this the easy alternative — that God 
should have forgiven us our trespasses as we forgive them 
that trespass against us — (we owe these beautiful words to 
Christ, Whom, by hypothesis, we are trying to eliminate) — 
that there should have been no passion and death and logically 
no Incarnation, but that God's justice should have foregone 
satisfaction and forgiven our offences by a word just as we do. 
Would such a decree of mercy, such a single word, however 
mysterious and amazing in the ease of its pronouncement 



1920.] THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL 725 

and the fullness of its restoration, have appealed so forcibly 
to mankind, or taught us so much of the perversity of sin and 
the unaccountableness of God's mercy, or proposed to our 
imaginations the Divine Exemplar moving so gladly and sadly 
among men? 

The Redemption is a mystery of love, just revealed to us 
in the creative love of Grod, incarnated in the love of Christ 
and triumphant in the victory of love over death. It is the 
meeting point of all the mysteries, good and evil, life and 
death, failure and triumph, and always love has the last word. 

The Church and her accredited teachers, her bishops and 
priests, have always held and taught the clear facts of the 
atonement as revealed to us by Christ and set down in the 
inspired writings of the Apostles and Evangelists. Christians 
believed quite as explicitly in the first century, as they do in 
the twentieth, that men had fallen by original sin and needed 
a Messiah or Christ to save them and that, in due time, this 
promised Messiah came in the person of Jesus Messiah, God 
made Man. They believed, as we believe, that Our Lord and 
Saviour redeemed mankind, atoned for them and restored 
them to grace by the willing and obedient sacrifice of Himself 
on the cross, and by the inevitable complement and triumph- 
ant vindication of that sacrifice in His glorious resiurection. 

His own words in life, as He dies and when He is risen 
again, reveal this truth : **I have come that they may have life 
. • . The Son of Man is come to give His life for the redemp- 
tion of many. The good Shepherd lays down His life for His 
sheep . . . This is My blood of the covenant that is shed on 
behalf of many for the forgiveness of sins ... I lay down My 
life that I may take it up again. I am the Resurrection 
and the Life." And on the Cross the single word TST^Xcorac 
"It is done,'' that is "finished," "completed," "made perfect." 
I have completely washed away their sins in My blood; now 
they are able to receive My life in them; new creation is ready 
for instant birth. And on Easter Sunday evening. His rally- 
ing speech to that wistful confession of loyalty — "We had 
hoped He was going to redeem Israel," — "How slow and dull 
of you . • . was not Christ bound to suffer all this and so come 
into His glory?"* Why labor the obvious by further testi- 
monies from Gospels, Acts, Epistles to this revealed truth? 

•John X. 10, 11, 17; zl. 25; zlx. 80. lUtt zx. 2S; zxtI. 28. Luke xxly. 25, 20. 



726 THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL [Mar., 

To be Christians we must believe this, and be convinced that 
to desert, however momentarily, this age-trodden way of the 
cross is to be lost at once in the crowd of those who do not 
know Christ. Without His sacrifice all atonement is illusory, 
without His resurrection all faith is vain. 

Taking this conunon sum of revealed truth as their start- 
ing point, and holding steadily to the teaching of Christ and 
His Apostles in the Scriptures as assigning to them the limits 
within which their endeavors to explain the further signifi- 
cance of the atonement must be contained, the Fathers and 
Doctors and thinkers of the Church have gone on studying 
and restating and unfolding and developing part of the inex- 
haustible resources of this doctrine. Their faith — ^f ar from dull- 
ing — only added edge to their zest and sharpened their desire 
to search and probe amid the further perplexities. Every age 
has raised, in the measure proportioned to its needs, such 
grand inquisitors of Christian dogma — and they quasi cur- 
sores, vital lampada tradunt, and the Church, while blessing 
the inquiry, that is founded on faith, has guarded us as jeal- 
ously from loss as she has gladly adopted any permanent 
gain. She preserves the deposit of faith, teaching with author- 
ity what it definitely contains yet admitting quite frankly the 
limitations of revelation and its attendant obscurities. 

Even if the Scriptm*es themselves did not expressly testify 
to such an obscurity,® one would only have to read Our Lord's 
discourses, some of His parables and prophecies, parts of the 
Epistles of St. Paul and the other Apostles or St. John's Apoc- 
alypse to realize how diflScult it is to grasp the full meaning 
of many passages in the New Testament. "Nor will anyone 
be found to assert, even in our own day, after all that com- 
mentators have discussed and Church Fathers have explained 
and Councils have defined and the ordinary 'Magisterium* 
has taught, that we have now fathomed the depth of Christ's 
and the Apostles' teaching, that we already understand clearly 
and distinctly all the doctrines which they intended to convey 
and which are, in fact, contained in the language they em- 
ployed. It is not to be expected that we should. Our knowl- 
edge of God's visible creation is singularly limited. We ob- 
serve and codrdinate some facts; we rarely penetrate far 
beyond the facts themselves; it is only rarely, if ever, we can 

•2 Peter lU. 16. BCark iT. 34. Matt zUl. 10. 



1920.] THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL 727 

satisfactorily explain them. And if God wills graciously to 
reveal to us higher things concerning the Divine Nature, the 
Mysteries of Grace, His supernatural Providence for men; 
what wonder that His revelation should be more pregnant of 
meaning than any man or any generation of men can fully 
comprehend?"^ 

The conmion starting-point for any further consideration 
of the atonement must be the clear doctrine of Our Lord's 
sacrifice and death on the cross, and His glorious resiurec- 
tion. The meaning and value of that death and resurrection 
are clearly laid down in Scripture, and if we have here set 
them down very briefly it is because we assume that they are 
familiar concepts to the Catholic mind, as indeed they form 
an integral part of the Catholic faith. But much also of the 
teaching of Scripture on the atonement, while bearing a clear 
primary significance, implies conditions, reveals aspects, in- 
volves metaphors, and supplies considerations which are far 
from being so transparently clear. So, for instance, St. Paul 
tells us that we are **bought at a great price.** No one has any 
doubt about the surface meaning of such words, but we may 
be excused some hesitation when pressed with such questions 
as: Who was the buyer and who the seller; was the price 
paid to the seller; was this purchase indeed a contract, etc.? 
The direct answers to such questions as these are not always 
to be found in the Scriptures. In supplying answers, one is 
passing from the teaching of revelation and the clear light of 
faith to the realm of theological theory. It was part of the 
great work of the Fathers and Doctors of the Church to work 
out these theories, make these implications explicit and try 
to show how the various aspects and views of the atonement 
are integral parts of the doctrine and find a place in the con- 
structive whole. 

The cross pointing to heaven, planted in the earth and 
branching outwards, the whole setting of the drama of the 
atonement, is symbolic of these fuller aspects and develop- 
ments of the revealed doctrine. Christ on the cross is recon- 
ciling heaven and earth. To look at men on earth, the throng 
beneath the cross, is to see souls in bondage, enslaved to sin, 
about to be purchased or ransomed at a great price. To look 
at the heavenly Father is to be brought face to face with 

V Dtvine Faith, by P. Finlay, S J., pp. 228, 229. 



728 THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL tMar„ 

the root idea of the theory of satisfaction, exposed and 
vindicated by St. Ansehn. Finally, to rest our eyes on 
the central Figure poised between heaven and earth is to see 
in Him the substitutional Victim bearing the sins of the world, 
expiating for sin, propitiating Divine wrath, reconciling God 
and man. But further it is to see the inherent omnipotency 
of the atonement — God made Man uniting God and man, 
Christ the Head, Chief and Incarnate Representative of all 
humanity redeeming, atoning, wedding and incorporating 
that humanity into Himself. 

These four aspects, respectively styled the theories of ran- 
som, satisfaction, substitution and solidarity, and respectively 
stressing our bondage in sin, God's outraged justice. His me- 
diation through the union in Himself of the Divine and human 
natures, and, finally, the way our own humanity is caught up 
in Christ and saved by Him, do not exhaust the manifold im- 
plications of the atonement.^ But it is safe to say that they 
embody the most salient lessons of revelation as explicitly 
taught in the inspired text and gradually worked out, cor- 
rected and developed in the bosom of the Church. 

Often the atonement is spoken of as the redemption, a 
term by which we mean, that we are ransomed or bought 
back by Christ our Ransomer or Redeemer. The Epistles 
of St. Paul are full of the word and of kindred phrases. We 
are *l)ought at a price" — "at a great price;" we are "the 
Church of God which He acquired with His own blood" — "the 
blood of the immaculate Lamb, Christ." We are ransomed 
from "the bondage of sin," "delivered from iniquity." Sinful 
mankind are all "in captivity:" the Jews bound by the Law 
and cursed for their infractions of the Law, the Gentiles given 
up and handed over to the perversity of their lusts. Christ is 
the Ransomer of both Jews and Gentiles. The shedding of 
His blood is itself in the nature of a compensation or payment.* 

These root ideas of **bondage," "slavery," •'ransom," "pur- 
chase" and "price" were at one time elaborated by some few 
Fathers into what they thought might prove a harmonious 
theory of the atonement. Agreeing that we were all in bond- 
age to sin, they proceeded to suggest that we had given our- 

*Thus every view of sin has Its counterpart in the atonement, which canoels 
sin. Call sin our fall, our violation of God's Justice, our crime, debt, bondage, 
disease and death. The atonement is correspondingly our resurrection, satisfaction, 
expiation, ransom, deliverance, healing and life. 

*1 Cor. vi. 20; vii. 23. Acts xz. 28. Rom. vl. 6, 18-20; vii. 23. 



1920.] THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL 729 

selves up to our master, the devil. Consequently he might be 
said to have rights over us which he would only forego at the 
price of Christ's Life-blood. Willingly Christ paid the price 
at which we were valued, purchased us from our captor and 
so ransomed us and made us free. This exaggerated ampli- 
fication of the Scripture teaching on redemption into a so- 
called theory of the devil's rights, though championed by sev- 
eral advocates among the Fathers and Doctors in the fourth 
and fifth centuries, never won complete approval nor escaped 
damaging criticism in the Church. In fact, in the gross form 
in which it is here set down, it speedily lost general support. 
Yet it cannot be too strongly emphasized that there is a very 
true sense in which sin enslaves men and binds them to the 
devil in the bonds of a bitter apprenticeship and really puts 
them under his power. Equally truly the redemption is a ran- 
som or purchase and can be described under that figure, and 
though the devil could never be one of the high contracting 
parties (for the ransom is offered to God) yet by the shed- 
ding of Christ's blood the devil's power is broken, and **cap- 
tivity is taken captive"*® by Christ's rising from the dead. 
The very incompleteness of the ransom theory is precisely in 
this, that, as Christ does not offer His life in ransom to the 
devil but to God Himself, the theory offers no shadow of an 
explanation why God should accept and exact such a painful 
ransom from His sinless Son. Clearly this redemptive view 
of the atonement must be supplemented and find its logical 
integration in a proper understanding of the satisfactory 
nature of that atonement. 

The Scriptures also ascribe the atonement to the substitu- 
tional character of the mediation eflSciently exercised by Our 
Saviour on the cross. God takes the place of man. He suffers 
and dies for man and in the place of man. He is our proxy, 
the substitutional Victim Who takes on Himself the iniquities 
of us all. St. John the Baptist sees Our Lord in this char- 
acter from the very threshold of His public life and bids us, 
too, *%ehold the Lamb of God" (the sacrificial Victhn), "Who 
beareth the sins of the world."" "Him Who knew not sin," 
says St. Paul, "God made to be sin for our sakes;" and in an 
obviously parallel and substitutional sense he says of the Jews, 
speaking himself as a Jew, that "Christ redeemed us from the 

i^^pb. It. 8. Pa. IxvU. 19, Vulgate. ujohn 1. 29. 



730 THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL [Mar^ 

curse of the Law being made a curse for our sakes.'* 
Whether then Christ becomes sin for us or incurs the curse of 
the Law for the Jews equally, in either case. He is our sub- 
stitute, charging Himself with our debt and undergoing our 
punishment. 

Absolutely true within the limits just laid down, this doc- 
trine of Christ's penal substitution again affords only a partial 
and incomplete account of our revelation on the atonement, 
for while bringing into prominence the vicarious nature of 
Our Saviour's passion and death, it unfolds no principles by 
which we might explain to ourselves the infinite mercy that 
supports and transfigures that penal substitution. Indeed, if 
this teaching on Christ's vicarious sacrifice is considered apart 
and alone as some isolated and solitary fact, it is of all teach- 
ings most apt to lead to grave mistakes. Witness the painful 
development of the doctrine of atonement in the Reformed 
Churches. Yet, when we join to it the explanations already 
offered by the ransom-theory, it forms a solid basis and gives 
a firm Scriptural foundation to the widely-accepted and com- 
plementary teaching of the Doctors of the Church on the satis- 
factory nature of the atonement. 

To St. Anselm we owe the first reasoned explanation of 
the doctrine of Christ's satisfaction for us by His sacrifice on 
the cross. In his exposition, this great Doctor takes careful 
account of the root-ideas of sacrifice, redemption or ransom, 
substitution or vicarious suffering so clearly taught by St. 
Paul. He then proceeds to combine and weld them together, 
building them into a solid foundation for his logical and har- 
monious deductions. It is necessary to explain and stress this 
fact in view of such ciurent accusations as that of Auguste 
Sabatier, who has no scruple in saying that^' *'the Church's 
theory of expiation, far from translating the Apostle's thought, 
actually contradicts it." A few words on the Pauline approx- 
imations to St. Anselm's argiunent will serve to show the mis- 
leading character of this assertion, and may help us to realize 
that the undoubted development in doctrine expounded in St. 
Anselm's Cur Deus Homo neither implies nor demands a 
divorce from the, up to then, ciurent tradition of the Church. 

Briefly St. Anselm's argument amounts to this. As sin is 
an offence against God, which He in justice cannot allow to 

UA. SabAtler, VAp6trt Panl (1896), p. 323. 



1920.] THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL 731 

go unpunished here or hereafter, the sinner is a debtor till 
he has equivalently expiated for his offences. No mere crea- 
ture, however, can offer such equivalent expfation, for a 
creature's acts are, in virtue of its created nature, finite — 
save only in the case of sin which, by being directed against 
the Infinite Good, contracts a sort of infinite malice. Sinful 
man, is therefore, helpless, but God's love would not leave him 
so. Consequently God made Man, took sin upon Himself 
and became our substitute. By virtue of His inherent God- 
head, the human actions of Christ take an infinite value,^* 
while His willing sacrifice and death redressed by their loving 
obedience the wrong done to God by the mutinous revolt of 
humanity, superabundantly expiated for all our sins and re- 
stored God's violated honor in so far as we have, by our 
sins, detracted from that honor which is His due. 

The elements of this close-knit argument are Scriptural, 
but they also presuppose the divine plan of the Incarnation, 
while they involve a juridical principle, which is well outside 
the scope of both revelation and inspiration. The presupposi- 
tion is that satisfaction must needs be made, or punishment 
exacted, before sin can be forgiven. The juridical principle 
is, that while the extent of the injury is measured by the in- 
gratitude of the wrongdoer and the proportion of his de- 
pendence on the person he injures, the wrongdoer's capacity 
for reparation is measured by the extent of his independence 
and by the amount of compensation he can, of himself, afford 
to redress the disturbed balance. 

Clearly, if satisfaction is necessary for forgiveness, and 
man, of himself, can never satisfy God, the Incarnation be- 
comes inevitable. Yet, as Peter Lombard insisted, Christ's 
incarnation and death was not precisely the only way in which 
God could have saved man. St. Augustine's teaching on this 
subject had, we may be sure, already suflSciently expressed 
the mind of the Church. In the same sense, Alexander of 
Hales and St. Bonaventure toned down the excesses of a 
philosophical optimism which seemed to treat the Incarna- 
tion and atonement as just the logical outcome of God's desire 
to save fallen man, instead of reading in these mysteries above 
all else the free decree of His love. 

>*St Thomai. Supp. A. 76, a. 1. "The Divine operations wrou^t their effect 
throng Chritf • body as a mediating organ — a troth exemplified by St John 
Damascena in that physical contact by which Christ healed the leper." (Matt TiiL) 






732 THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL [Mar., 

Apart from this easily corrected presupposition and legal 
principle the entire content of Anselm's argument on satis- 
faction is rooted in the Scriptures and is their natural out- 
growth and development. It has the merit of combining the 
root-ideas of Holy Writ and helping us to understand more 
fully their meaning. 

Far from being in contradiction to St. Paul's teaching, or 
at least alien from it» this doctrine of a sacrifice of satisfac- 
tion most nearly comprehends the Apostle's mind on the 
atonement considered objectively and in itself. The Scrip- 
tural elements of the argument of St. Anselm are vital ele- 
ments of the Apostle's doctrine. Nowhere in the sacred text 
shall we find a firmer or more boldly-outlined summary of sin 
and its reparation than in the vivid list of contrasts drawn by 
St. Paul between the first Adam and Christ, the second Adam.^* 
The bondage of sinners to sin, God's aversion from them. His 
wrath. His abandonment of them to their perversities, the 
helpless state of fallen humanity, are stressed by St. Paul, 
if only to show forth in relief the benefit of Christ's mediation 
in payment of our ransom and to enhance the unrealizable 
value of His substitutional, obedient and loving sacrifice. In 
virtue of the atonement, we are reconciled to God through 
our union with Christ. ^'Scarcely for a righteous man will 
one die — ^but God commendeth His own love towards us in 
that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us. Much 
more then being now justified by His blood shall we be saved 
from the wrath of God through Him."" The very wealth of 
evidence in the Epistles on these heads makes any further 
Scriptural vindication of St. Anselm's views of satisfaction 
superfluous. 

We have shown how this holy Doctor's statement of the 
doctrine underwent careful scrutiny, and even some slight 
correction, at the hands of later theologians. St. Thomas 
Aquinas himself, while whole-heartedly accepting St. Anselm's 
doctrine, drew attention to its subjective value through the 
application of Christ's merits to the human race. Once, says 
St. Thomas, the Eternal Father has accepted the satisfaction 
made by Our Saviour He binds Himself equivalently to re- 
store men in the restoration of Christ, Who is the Representa- 
tive, the Chief, the Head of that Mystical Body of which we are 

"Rom. V. 12-21; 1 Cor. xv. 45-49. 

vRom. T. 8, 9. See also Epb. 1. 20-22; Rom. ill. 25. 



« 



I 



1920.] THE ATONEMENT IN ST. PAUL 733 

made members. In these words the Angelic Doctor is not 
merely echoing St. Paul but he is purposely directing our gaze 
to the most salient and faithful aspect of the Apostle's treat- 
ment of an atonement, by which we are made one with Christ 
through an absorption that gathers us up and incorporates 
us into His Mystical Body. And, indeed, however manifold 
and various the Apostle's premises, his conclusion is always 
this : that we are one with Christ. 

To St. Paul, dogma and devotion, objective truth and sub- 
jective application, the facts in themselves and their effective 
meaning for us, are hardly distinct and severed truths — though 
so, too, they may be considered — ^but just aspects of one truth, 
through the interaction of the human and the Divine in that 
unity in which we are one with Christ. They are as some 
divinely-governed ebb and flow, the flux of Christ to the Chris- 
tian and the reflux of the Christian to Christ. Once our human 
elements are vitalized and transfigured by the Christ-life, then 
are we one with Him, incarnated into Him, living in Him, suf- 
fering in Him, nay, making up in our own flesh what is want- 
ing in His sufferings, co-crucified with Christ, dying with Him 
in the flesh that we may rise with Him in glory. **Ye are 
bought," St. Paul assures us, **at a great price." The Apostle 
will not minimize the cost or slur over the pain. His is not 
the way of conciliation and compromise but the higher apti- 
tude for drawing out talent, good qualities, even unimagined 
heroisms, eliciting sympathy, quickening love, turning the 
will into the deed. 

In a further article the writer hopes to enter more fully 
into this specialized aspect of St. Paul's teaching on the atone- 
ment. That teaching has a unique claim on the attention of 
all Christians, not so much for the light it throws on the aton- 
ing value of Christ's death and resurrection in themselves, a& 
in the revealing way in which it explains how that atonement 
is extended to us. And as it is the inspired presentment of 
the truth falling from the lips of one in whom Christ lived 
and spoke, it is most expressive of that vital unity in which the 
suffering of the One is redemptive and atoning for many. 
It may lead us to verify more fully, perhaps, in our own 
experience what is so wonderful in the Story of Calvary. 



THREE NEW IRISH NOVELS. 
BY HENRY A. LAPPIN. 

I SHORT time ago there came into the hands of the 
present writer a copy of The Valley of the Squint~ 
ing Windows, the first novel of a new Irish 
writer, Brinsley MacNamara. Now there is not 
a single valid reason why this work of fiction 
should be recommended to any reader anywhere. As a piece 
of writing it is deplorably inartistic; perhaps the very worst 
example of pseudo-realism I have ever come across. In a 
grandiloquent prefatory note the author informs us that "the 
people of that part of Ireland with whom I deal in my writings 
became highly incensed. They burned my book after the best 
mediaeval fashion and resorted to acts of healthy violence . . . 
The country as a whole did not dislike my picture of Irish 
life or say it was untrue. It was only the particular section 
of life which was pictured that still asserted its right to the 
consolation of romantic treatment . . ." The hoary dodge Mr. 
MacNamara employs is to paint some of his characters very, 
very black, and others impossibly while. People in the small 
towns of Meath are, as human beings, not extravagantly dif- 
ferent from people in the small towns of Michigan or Mauri- 
tius, let us say. They probably talk about their neighbors — 
more or less charitably; it may even be that they are not 
wholly without interest in newcomers to their native scene. 
And skeletons in the cupboard are not confined to any par- 
ticular latitude. The inhabitants of this myopically-windowed 
valley, however, are altogether void of resemblance to any 
people anywhere, unless indeed it be within the walls of an 
asylum for pathological freaks. It is not to be wondered at 
that these Irish people whom the author has so monumentally 
traduced should have burned his book. It is rather a testimony 
to their heroic self-control that they refrained from burning 
him. 

And yet, the other day this book was being puffed ad 
nauseam as "the most realistic Irish novel of the decade, a 
merciless picture of Irish life, a biting and subtle analysis of 



1920.] THREE NEW IRISH NOVELS 735 

the rural temperament. The squinting windows are the eyes 
of the village through which every act is observed and treas- 
ured for gossip. The village watches unceasingly the three 
members of the Brennan f amily, who in turn spy upon and 
dissect every human secret, however sacred. And — as lilies 
grow in the muck — there arises from this background of small 
minds and petty acts a noble and ideal love. For superb 
realism and grim tragedy Mr. MacNamara's book is unex- 
celled in contemporary jBction. He has fused the great trinity 
of vital forces, love, work and sin into an absorbing history of 
human passion"^ 

As for the reviews of this egregious novel not many have 
departed widely from the convenient publisher's headline; 
and at least one sectarian periodical— from which more might 
very reasonably have been expected — ^was content to applaud 
Mr. MacNamara's lurid pages as an indictment of the priest- 
craft, under which some gloomy souls persist in maintaining 
that Ireland labors. But of the book's hopeless lack of artistic 
quality, of the wild melodrama, the sheer sordidness of it all, 
I have so far seen no word of condemnation in any of the 
book-reviewing periodicals. Many readers in America, led 
astray by the publisher's modest claim for it and by sundry 
reviews echoing the said claim more or less fulsomely, have 
bought or will buy The Valley of Squinting Windows. Not 
every reader will have had sufficient literary experience to 
recognize immediately that the book offends clamantly against 
every sound canon of the art of writing, and that as a presenta- 
tion of Irish human nature it is grossly libellous. There are 
many honest but imperfectly-informed people whose views 
about Ireland and the Irish it will seriously and unpleasantly 
affect And there are yet others, already holding distorted 
views, whose bias will unfortunately be reenforced when they 
read it. Not for a century has it been so essential that Amer- 
ica should view Ireland with unprejudiced eyes. The Valley 
of the Squinting Windows will do more injury than any half- 
dozen expert anti-Irish propagandists could possibly do in 
as many months. Had the author set out determined to harm 
Ireland as much as possible in the opinions of the unsophis- 
ticated American reader, he could not have more admirably 

> Italics are the reviewer's, who commends this utterance as the most beatlflcally 
absiint that ever appeared upon a publisher's wrapper. 



736 THREE NEW IRISH NOVELS [Mar^ 

succeeded than he has here. He has written a thoroughly 
vicious book. 

Glenmornan, by Patrick MacGill, is another new Irish 
novel, this time the work of a man who can write much better 
than Bfr. MacNamara, but who is, nevertheless, very far indeed 
from being an artist of distinction. ^'Romance glimpsed through 
Irish doorways" is one of the statements on the paper jacket 
Well, a glimpse through a doorway at any rate sounds more 
promising than a peep through ^'squinting windows." But 
why does this comparatively talented young writer serve up 
the ancient Michael J. McCarthy dish: the smug, self-pos- 
sessed priest who *Vas an over-fed blatant tyrant, whom the 
people obeyed like sheep! Poor people, poor silly, stupid 
people!" This is Mr. MacGill's not very prepossessing picture 
of the pastor of the Glen : **Devaney was a covetous and crafty 
man, holding unlimited control of his flock. Though the 
peasantry did not love him, they feared him and he played on 
that fear. The poor were his legitimate prey, and not a soul 
in the parish dared gainsay his wishes or disobey his com- 
mands. He kept the parish under his thumb." This priest 
from the altar several times held up to ridicule and contempt 
a very poor woman who, when he was building his new house, 
was unable to pay all the dues. "When young Reelan" — 
the woman's son — ^**came home and heard of this, he was very 
angry and went and saw Devaney about the matter. During 
the interview he lost his temper and knocked the priest down. 
For this Devaney had his revenge. He spoke about the affair 
from the altar, pointing out the evil of which the young man, 
who had struck his own priest, was guilty. Needless to say, 
the peasantry were indignant; the villagers wouldn't speak 
to the young man afterwards and the women of the parish 
would not buy at his shop.* In the end Reelan had to close 
up his business and leave the parish." Doalty Gallagher is 
preached against by this Father Devaney, or in the phrase 
of the Glen, ^Vead from the altar," in an illiterate and vulgar 
discourse which is reported in full, and from which one culls 
the following choice specimens: (1) **. . . all papers away 
abroad, have, for their first aim and object, the destruction iv 
the holy Roman Catholic religion." (2) ". . . as a priest I 
must read the papers, a thing that none iv ye must do, bear in 
mind, for ye have not been educated up to it and ye might 



1920.] THREE NEW IRISH NOVELS 737 

fall into sin if ye do things that yer priest forbids you to do.** 
When he writes like this, Mr. MacGill does a marked disservice 
to both his Faith and his native land. 

As for the sinister portrait he has drawn in "Devaney" 
— ^what is one to say in criticism of it? This: that to submit 
such a portrait to us as that of a representative Irish country 
parish priest is a most audacious piece of impertinence* The 
Irish peasantry look upon their priests as fathers and pro- 
tectors, as veritable ambassadors of Christ to them. They have 
always done so. It is not, perhaps, unlikely that, in the past, 
some of these priests have treated their unruly parishioners as 
many a tactless father has treated an unruly child. It is also 
possible that in more than one case real injustice to the par- 
ishioner may have resulted from such a kindly despotism. 
But Mr. MacGill's portrait is none the less a ruthless, even if 
unintentional, misrepresentation. Others who know the Irish 
priesthood much more intimately and thoroughly than this 
writer are urgent to deny the verisimilitude of the rela- 
tionship he depicts as existing between priest and people in 
the rural districts of Ireland. Again one insists that this is no 
time to indulge in a perversion of Irish realities. Ireland is 
jBghting for her life these days. In days to come it will not 
at all redound to any Irish writer's credit that in the dark 
hour of his country's agonizing struggle for justice and truth, 
he was numbered among those whose words strengthened the 
cause of her foes. 

It is at once a joy and a relief to turn to a third Irish 
novel of the present day, in which a faithful and beautiful 
interpretation of the Irish spirit is set forth. To this reviewer 
it has been a source of great surprise that more attention was 
not paid by American critics and readers to Daniel Corkery's 
The Threshold of Quiet, an amazingly fine book by a new Irish 
writer, which was published on this side the ocean in 1918. 
Over in Ireland, where they rarely fail to appreciate a good 
piece of writing when they see it, this novel was instantly 
and permanently successful. One of the most brilliant of the 
younger Irish critics, Mr. Peter McBrien, did not hesitate to 
hail it as the finest Irish novel that had ever been published. 
With this opinion I am in cordial agreement, and several of 
the best critics of this country, to whom I lent my copy, pri- 
vately expressed themselves with a like enthusiasm. "Daniel 

TQL. GZ. 47 



738 THREE NEW IRISH NOVELS [Mar^ 

Corkery," said Mr. McBrien, **has won the technique of the 
European masters, and at the same time caught the freshness 
and purity of the undying soul of Ireland.** Hardly less em- 
phatic was the verdict of Katharine Tynan: **He writes from 
the inside** — she declared — "and he sees within his people by 
the vision of genius.** Mr. E. A. Boyd, the able and acute 
historian of Ireland's literary renaissance wrote thus — with 
a sympathy not ordinarily characteristic of his references in 
this kind — of the Catholic spuit that breathes through the 
pages of this novel of Catholic Ireland: *The religious note 
is particularly delicate and beautiful, spontaneous and re- 
served, eloquent but never didactic.** There can, in short, be 
no doubt that The Threshold of Quiet was received more 
appreciatively by the Irish people than any novel that has 
appeared in years. And of all the generous commendations 
bestowed upon it there was no word that was not deserved. 

The book is a faithful and discerning chronicle of the 
quiet, almost cloistral, lives led by a small group of Irish 
people, of what used to be called "the lower-middle-class,** 
whose homes are in and around the second liveliest of Irish 
cities, Cork — ^hill-built above the pleasant waters of the River 
Lee — 

The spreading Lee that like an island fayre 
Encloseth Cork with his divided flood. 

The Threshold of Quiet is full of the tender mellowness 
and soft serenity of this ancient Irish city. The story of the 
book, as Mr. Boyd has remarked, "is almost purely cerebral, 
so carefully does the author restrict its movement to what is 
passing in the minds of his characters. When the book is 
closed all one has seen happening is the departure of Finbarr 
Bresnan for America, after a hesitation as to whether he had 
not a vocation for the priesthood; the tragic ending to the 
story of Stevie Galvin and his brother; the crossing of the 
'threshold of quiet* by Lily Bresnan when she finally feels 
free to enter Kilvirra Convent, renouncing life and the love 
of Martin Cloyne. Even these few dramatic moments are not 
developed, but just cause a slight stir of the deep waters of 
consciousness in which these lives are submerged.'* 

Mr. Corkery*s pages abound in the most magically beau- 
tiful evocations of the Irish scene. Of the lovely hillsides 



1920.] THREE NEW IRISH NOVELS 739 

around Cork, he writes: **Go but three steps up any of those 
old-time, wide-sweeping, treeless, cloud-shadowed hills and 
you find yourself even at mid-day in a silence that grows on 
you. You have scarce left the city, yet you raise your eyes, 
you look around and notice little gable ends that finish in 
little crosses of stone or arched gateways of sandstone or 
limestone, or both, or far-stretching garden walls that are 
marked with tablets of brass on which are cut holy emblems 
and sacred letters — and as you look the silence seems to grow 
deeper and deeper; indeed, you have come on the very 
fruitage of the spirit of contemplation — convents, monasteries, 
chapels, hospitals, houses of refuge. And to us these quiet 
hillsides are also Cork. Perhaps they are the quieter for the 
noise in the valley; perhaps, too, that little stir and bustle 
is quickened for those long slopes of quiet sunshine and 
peace." Mr. Corkery is nothing less than a most fastidious 
artist in language, and he invests everything he describes with 
a rare magic of words. This is only one of many of the beau- 
tiful minor nocturnes in a book the prevailing atmos- 
phere of which is delicately and softly crepusculine : *The 
September night had set in. Winter had blown its first breath 
against the stars, chilling them, brightening them; as yet 
there was no moon." The note of peace and calm sounded 
at the beginning and maintained so subtly throughout, is 
as much an achievement in atmosphere as anything in George 
Moore*s The Lake. The lovely Irish places-names, which the 
author so often mentions, enchant an exile's heart with their 
low chiming music: Clashavody, Shanabally, Curraghkip- 
pane, Knockahoogan, Youghal. What a litany I Out of the 
the mouths of his characters comes the pure Irish idiom of 
English, and in his own person he often writes a vivid and 
direct English as it is spoken in Ireland: ^hat letter he 
was after posting the very evening Martin and Finbarr visited 
him • • .*' (He speaks, too, of the **quenching" of a candle.) 
Readers who remember the fine Dominican Church at Cork 
will read with joy Mr. Corkery's description of the Christmas 
Crib there. The Threshold of Quiet is simply saturated in a 
tranquil and mournful beauty. 

And the characters of the story, the small handful of 
wayfaring souls we come to know with such affectionate in- 
timacy, are Irish of the Irish. One has met them again and 



740 THREE NEW IRISH NOVELS [Mar., 

again in Cork or Dublin. The gentle Lily, whose soul is a 
nun-like soul; *'for such a soul to stay in the world is to run 
the risk of losing its gift of spiritual joyousness;" Lily, torn 
in twain by her practical certainty that she had a religious 
vocation and her desire to stay "in the world.** "On the one 
hand, to stay and attend on her father and Finbarr was to 
choose the world. It seemed her duty to do so; no other 
course seemed reasonable; yet she leant greatly to the belief, 
common amongst Irish Catholics, that the right course in 
matters affecting the soul is that which does not seem to 
square exactly with what we call reason.** The interview 
between Lily and Father Cummins is a masterpiece in little: 
an infinitely more truthful portrayal of the tender relation- 
ship between an Irish soggarth and his spiritual child than 
anything else of the kind in the whole range of modern Irish 
fiction. Of Lily Mr. Corkery writes: "It had never struck 
her that she had been sent into this world to have a good 
time.** Self-sacrifice and the sense of duty to be done and a 
trust to be kept were ever the marks of Irish maidenhood. 
And when Lily and her friends talk in these pages, it is the 
talk of real Irish people we are listening to — not a literary 
confection of the MacNamara-McGill variety. "And so they 
continued, their method of talking about such subjects [re- 
ligious vocations] quite characteristic of Irish Catholics — 
seriousness covered over with banter, lest by any possible mis- 
hap it fall into the whine so relished of the Puritan, so in- 
stinctively abhorred of the Celt.** Mr. Corkery is obviously 
well aware that there is none more implacably realist 
than that same Celt I 

To the Irish people their ancient Catholic faith is neither 
a picturesque superstition nor a dull disease. Synge and 
Yeats, great artists as incontestably they were, failed ulti- 
mately as interpreters of the Irish because they thought that 
an Irishman*s religion was a fantastic and mythological affair, 
with no roots in his reason or will. They were not themselves 
Catholic and, therefore, they could not understand the souls 
of men and women who lived in and by the Faith. (Douglas 
Hyde, someone has truly remarked, was the only non-Catholic 
ever to bridge with full sympathy and comprehension this 
gulf of separation.) It takes a Catholic artist to understand 
and adequately to interpret Catholic life. Granted that his 



1920.] FRIENDS 741 

artistry is not at fault — that he is an artist born and made — 
the better Catholic he is, the better artist he will prove to be. 
Corkery is only beginning his career. This novel, and a book 
of short stories, A Munster Twilight, are all that he has so far 
published. It may well be that he has not yet acquired the 
fullest mastery of his writer's craft. Ten years from now, if 
he continues to produce, there can be no doubt about the 
place he will occupy in Irish literature. He will be nothing 
more nor less than an Irish classic. 



FRIENDS. 

BY JAMES J. DALY, S.J. 

Let me not whimper under blows 

Of adverse circumstance. 
Nor let me meet whatever foes 

There be with poisoned lance. 

Nor let me buffet ruthless fates 

With sullen moods of scorn, 
Nor wish when pain breaks down my gates 

That I was never born. 

My life has been a wild surprise 

Of kindnesses unsought. 
Taking from gracious hands and eyes 

Much better than it brought. 

Oh, it was kind of Kindliness 

Blindfold to seek my door, 
I never could requite her less. 

She could not bless me more. 

If the future scourge me with rope's ends, 

A glad humility 
May make half what all courteous friends 

Were pleased to see in me. 



IS THERE A CATHOLIC THEORY OF CRIMINOLOGY? 

-BY FRANCIS T. J. BURNS. 

IOT long ago one of our leading newspapers in the 
Northwest reported that a certain venire-man, 
examined apropos of the most sensational mur- 
der case in Minnesota's bistoiy, had been ex- 
cused from jury service because he affirmed 
that "crime is a disease of the mind;" while a second was 
dismissed, because, in his opinion, the prisoner ought to be 
classed as a "bom-criminal." The fact that the two men were 
excused from juror's duty on the above grounds proves, first, 
that their theory of crime was unsatisfactory in practical life, 
at least; secondly, that some "other" theory of crime does 
obtain, even in quarters where the "bom-criminal*' theory 
may thrive. This other theory, the true theory, as far as fun- 
damentals are concerned, is, I need not say, held by every 
sound judge of the day. It is peculiarly a Catholic theory. 
Its statement demands only the statement of well-known 
Catholic principles. Even if unacknowledged as Catholic, 
it remains, nevertheless, a great social lever, one of the in- 
numerable "verities" of Catholic faith and morals, which non- 
CathoUc, Christian fellows act upon. If perchance they do not 
return thanks, they may be classified as "parasites of Chris- 
tianity" after Mr. Arthur Balfour's words. 

The judge who dismissed the two venire-men for the 
theoretical views just quoted above, implicitly expressed the 
one and only tenable preamble of any rational criminological 
study, viz., man is a moral being because he possesses free- 
wiU. 

The materialistic theories of crime, as put forth, for ex- 
ample, by Lombroso and Ferri, neglect altogether too much, 
if not completely, the chief factor in all crime, namely, the 
will. Thus criminological studies by disciples of this cult 
start, not at the beginning ab intra, but at the end — ab extra. 
Thus: Part I. Etiology.* Cosmic factors of crime (climate. 



1920.] CATHOLIC THEORY OF CRIMINOLOGY 743 

etc.) . II. Social factors of crime (what others inflict upon us) . 
III. Individual factors of crime (atavism, heredity-alcoholism, 
etc.).« 

Without any attempt to treat adequately the subject of 
free-will, I say, as a fundamental postulate of Catholic faith, 
philosophy and experience, that the chief cause of crime and, 
with few exceptions, always the efficient cause of crime, is the 
free-will. I do not deny other causes, but I do class them as 
secondary and contributory. If it be said that I attempt, at 
one stroke, to simplify matters too easily and too quickly, I 
answer that the vagaries of free-will itself are often harder to 
classify and analyze than any secondary, contributory, and 
for the most part — ^if the literature on the subject is to be 
believed — ^material causes. 

We may, in fact, underrate the value of the secondary 
causes, but we cannot overrate the chief cause, the will. In a 
broad sense, the whole discussion of so-called criminology 
must be a discussion of the will for the Catholic student. 
The doctrine of free-will, as is the case with all vital "life- 
doctrines," is like the circle of Trismegistus, whose centre is 
everywhere, whose circumference nowhere. That doctrine 
will not down even in the light of "criminological" re- 
searches. It must be kept in mind and reviewed, in company 
with St. Augustine and St. Thomas, by all who are not satisfied 
to take a part for the whole, an effect for a cause : all who are 
unwilling to accept Spencer's half-views of life for the basic 
and panoramic interpretations of the Fathers and Scholastics, 
old and new. A kind of illative sense, working throughout 
Christian civilization, seems ever and always to apply to the 
doctrine of free-will the familiar motto: Nemo me impune 
laces$it; because where an attempt is made to brush free-will 
aside, inconsistencies result throughout the different spheres 
of social, legal and economic order. Law governs civil and 
moral life. Is the law obeyed? If not, what is the reason? 
An ancient says, "man is the maker of his own acts;" a modem 
professor indicates "a biological necessity;" while a modern 

*Mr. Lewis certainly speaks with authority in modem penology. If we judge 
rightly from his latest work, he believes rightly that religion is one of the big factors 
making for social amelioration; yet in his latest formal work, he criticizes society 
because "It has proceeded too long on the old (sic) eighteenth century conception 
of free-wlU and equality," In dealing with problems like those he proposes to 
dlsootf. 



744 CATHOLIC THEORY OF CRIMINOLOGY [Mar^ 

judge implies that, against the examination of a legal offence, 
a jury demands, for the time being if you will, as a pragmatic 
measure, moral liberty. 

It may not be altogether superfluous, therefore, in the 
light of what has been said, to review the broad moral problem 
which the fathers of criminal sociology have had to face, but 
which they have not faced squarely. The problem funda- 
mentally belongs to writers on ethics. The problem is, can 
a man determine his own thought and volition and through 
these, his character, the resultant of thoughts and volitions? 
Or are these already determined for him by chance, by cir- 
cumstance, by the Creator, or whatsoever force you will? 
Voluntarism or Determinism? The answer readily places us 
in a position to determine most, if not all, the elements a jury 
would care to know in weighing a crime. To say nothing of 
the jury, the answer regulates, as Father Maher intimates, 
a man's whole life-philosophy. 

We will not formally discuss here the Voluntaristic doc- 
trine or that of Determinism. In the light of what has already 
been said, I submit the following as an outline for the study 
of criminal Sociology in any of its branches, from the view- 
point of Catholicism; that is to say, the viewpoint of Catho- 
lic philosophy and theology. The outline is necessarily incom- 
plete, but it may serve, as did the old guide-post on English 
rural roads, to point the way. 

The Voluntaristic doctrine of Will in man carries in its 
train such ideas as responsibility, merit, justice, remorse — 
fundamental notions, the mainsprings of social spheres of 
activity. Christian society could no more exist without these 
notions^ than man's body without food and air. These ideas 
of responsibility, merit, justice, remorse, etc., constitute the 
ethical relations generated in every day life, by the existence 
of the Voluntaristic doctrine of human will. These ideas, of 
course, impinge on the theological ideas or notions generated 
by the existence of free-will; so that it is not surprising to 
find that as late as the Vatican Council "we were reminded of 
the doctrine of free-will," lest perchance Catholics might forget 
that the ethical relations of free-will reached up beyond the 
stars from this mundane world of ours. These ethical notions 
inseparably connected with the existence of man's free-will, 
have a real objective entity and cannot be resolved **into thin 



1920.] CATHOLIC THEORY OF CRIMINOLOGY 745 

air" by any amount of personal equation, or of internal spirit- 
ual temperament in men; nor by external influences acting 
upon them. Under so widely different contemporaneous con- 
ditions as those which surround the Esquimaux toiling amid 
Arctic snows; the Indian basking in the sunlight before a pagan 
temple **along the banks of Ind;*' or a modem RaflSes, of the 
Beau Brummel type, passing a moth-like existence amid the 
social circles of a highly artificial society in this century — 
a law is violated. If the law thus violated be a Divine, a 
natural, or human law, the categorizing of the offence straight- 
way is seen to depend upon the kind of law violated. The 
violation of a Divine, natiural, positive, or ecclesiastical law 
may mean that in one or other degree, the violator is guilty 
of what Catholics know as "sin.** The violation of some civil 
law, because the violation injures the social right of another, 
may add the additional note of what is known in common 
law and in civil courts as "crime." In Christian civilization, 
perhaps there is not a ""crime" against the state or common- 
wealth where a law which binds in conscience is violated, 
which is not at the same time a sin. On the contrary, needless 
to say, there are innumerable sins which are not ""crimes." 
Now for the examination of ""sin" and ""crime" — the so- 
ciological term ""vice" has been divorced from the idea con- 
tained either in sin or crime — two forums have been erected 
by the Creator. One is the internal forum — Oman's conscience 
over which the Catholic priest presides in the sacred peni- 
tential tribunal. The other is the external forum — the or- 
dinary civil or ecclesiastical law by which all are made amen- 
able to court examinations for ""external violating acts." Both 
sin and crime, however, as man is a free agent, must spring 
from the same source, namely, the will. Whatever other 
differences there may be between them, in this respect they are 
identical. To be more specific, a sin and a crime have their 
roots respectively in man's free-will, his "potestas, vis electiva/* 
his faculty of choice. There ought to be naturally, from this 
viewpoint, some common ground of treatment or examination 
between the ideas of sin and crime. But I have emphasized 
the singular for the following reason. Crime (from Latin, 
crimen, accusation) is the general term for offences against 
the criminal law. It has been defined as a failure or refusal 
to live up to the standard of conduct deemed binding by the 



\ 



746 CATHOUC THEORY OF CRIMINOLOGY [Mar^ 

rest of the community;'* or again, ^'some act or omission in 
respect of which legal punishment may be inflicted on the 
person who is in default, whether by acting or omitting to act** 
(Sir James Stephen). While one act or omission, in a tech- 
nical sense, may render a person a ^'criminal," it is not so 
much this ""technical" criminal, who is considered by the crim- 
inological school. It is rather the ""instinctive" or ""born" crim- 
inal, ""a creature who had been sent into the world predestined 
to evil deeds and who could surely be recognized by certain 
stigmata, certain facial, physical and even moral birthmarks." 
He is not only foredoomed to crime, but to the habit of crime. 
This, the type of Lombroso. The other type presented by the 
Deterministic school, which took issue with his automaton 
theory, presents a man not so much ""bom" to crime as highly 
liable to it, because of the ""milieu" into which he is thrust by 
fortune. The ""technical" criminal begot by the one mistake 
of an otherwise apparently honest man is only interesting in 
so far as, more or less, he may be connected with these other 
two, namely, with the man who is a bom criminal or the man 
who by force of surroundings becomes criminal in habit. In 
other words, law-breaking as a pre-ordained heritage or as 
an habitual thing, is the reason why this new study has found 
no little interest among men, since Lombroso first published 
his UUomo delinquente in 1876. 

Evidently, therefore, the proper parallel term of a dif- 
ferent, but correlated order, to place beside the word, crime, 
as it interests sociological students is not sin, but ""vice." Vice, 
the opposite of virtue, is a habit which works for evil in man. 
It is ""the product of repeated sinful acts; and when formed, 
is in a sense also their cause." The commission of isolated 
sins does not necessarily render a man ""vicious" in the tech- 
nical sense. A man may have many vices and yet be guiltless 
of sin, at certain times. St Thomas adds, that the vice is out- 
done in wickedness by the sin. Vice in the theological sense, 
therefore, and ""crime-making" in the criminological sense, 
I. c, an ever present condition, an ""urge," a conjunction of 
forces leading a man to break the external law, surely institute 
a striking, if not exact, parallel. Now we postulated against 
the modern class of social criminologists, the existence of free- 
will; hence, for the sake of our parallel, we can say that a 
""bad habit" of the vicious man and the criminal habit of the 



1920.] CATHOLIC THEORY OF CRIMINOLOGY 747 

**can't-be-helped" criminal, are the same fundamentally. Each 
habit seems to be a sine-qua-non, for the frequent and recur- 
rent violations of one or another. 

How, then, does the theologian approach the case of a man 
chained in a vicious habit? Of a man who has the habit of 
vice? The fact that the man may seem to be, or for practical 
purpose is helpless before the onslaught of certain tempta- 
tions, does not lead the theologian to deny free-will. Rather 
the theologian re-asserts that, in spite of secondary forces, 
urging or withholding, a man can act or abstain from acting; 
that he can revert to his own condition or attitude of acting or 
non-acting; that if he is restrained from without, his mental 
and volitional status may be the same as if he were not so re- 
strained from without. 

But this is not all. The moral theologian, supported by 
the moral philosopher, goes further. He employs a technical 
distinction, distinguishing between two classes of acts as re- 
sults of the will, namely the "actus hominis'* and the *'actus 
humanus.*' The "actus hominis** the act of a man, is a phys- 
ical act. It is an act placed by a man without, as a great 
moralist says, depending on his free-will, e. g., some reflex 
acts and acts of an infant, acts of an insane person, etc.^ 
An "actus humanus,*' a human act, is one done by a rational 
being, man, which proceeds, as effect from cause, from delib- 
erate free-will. Now, all conditions for action being present, 
a man who enjoys sanity is responsible morally for his act, 
in the direct proportion in which that act remains an "actus 
humanus** or is, in other words, free and deliberate. 

Free-will does not mean the capacity or capability of will- 
ing with absence of all motive. The will follows the intellect. 
Freedom of the will does not imply that man is constantly 
exercising his muscles. It does not exclude the restrictive 
influence of reflex actions or of acquired, distinct or asso- 
ciated methods of living. It allows that man is a social animal 
living in society. That society necessarily has some power 
over him. 

The man enchained by a bad habit, a vice, may commit 
only, we will say, one sin a year, the result of the vice; or he 
may be guilty of frequently repeated acts against some virtue. 
In either case, presuming as the Catholic moralist does, that the 

*Noldin, Fundamental Theology, 



748 CATHOLIC THEORY OF CRIMINOLOGY [Mar., 

man is free, and capable of eliciting a moral act, the deter- 
mination of his responsibility, is always an effort to answer 
this question : How far did he exercise his free-will, his faculty 
of choosing between good and evil? It is harder for him to 
refrain from sinning, after the habit of sin has been formed. 
But may not the formation of the habit of sin have been pre- 
vented? Cannot the single sin, the easy result of the habit of 
sin, be prevented now by his will acting under certain prudent 
conditions, etc.? Although in a different sphere, the man 
who is an habitual sinner, is correlated to the "born" crim- 
inal of Lombroso, or to the "formed" criminal, formed by the 
neglect of society, as the later followers of Lombroso assert 
But the Catholic theologian starts out by searching for evi- 
dence for the exercise of free-will in the case put to him; 
while in the parallel case, put before the criminological school, 
we find not a search for the exercise of free-will, but a gratui- 
tous denial of free-will, which for the most part lifts respon- 
sibility from the shoulders of the unfortunate criminal under 
consideration, fixing it wherever convenient, on society, edu- 
cation, poverty or heredity. 

A Catholic theory of sin or crime does, of course, admit 
the restraining influences of impediments to the exercise of 
freedom. We have already intimated this without explaining, 
when we said that the doctrine of free-will takes man as a 
creature living in society, influenced by society. "Show me 
your company and Fll tell you what you are," is a colloquial 
adage that brings out this truth in a different way. Morality 
is defined as the "relation of human acts to the norm of moral- 
ity, namely, God." The great error of the writers of the mod- 
ern school of criminologists, apart from their suppression of 
free-will as a preamble of their study, lies in this, they fix their 
eyes so steadfastly on impediments to moral responsibility, 
that they find themselves, whether aware of it or not, dealing 
with acts or types of criminals altogether outside the pale of 
moral study or criminal ethics. For instance, cases of degen- 
eration, physical or moral, spoken of by Max Nordau in De- 
generation, are impediments rather for the study of the 
pathologist than the social philosopher. But ignorance, con- 
cupiscence, fear, violence, and the like, can be recognized as 
"diminishing" factors, in reference to responsibility, simply 
because, in greater or less degree, free-will and intellect are 



) 



1920.] CATHOLIC THEORY OF CRIMINOLOGY 749 

impeded in their moral functioning. Under one or other of 
these heads may be grouped all the immediate impediments of 
a human act. Under remote impediments, may be included 
all the other forces which from Lombroso down to Mosby in 
our own day» have been made the basis of so much error 
and fantastic subjectivism. 

A Catholic theory of criminology does exist, then, in so 
far as the Catholic theory of explaining the genesis and re- 
sponsibility of sin, exists. This can be said to be the case, 
chiefly because the Catholic recognizes as a dogma of the 
Church and a tenet of philosophy, the doctrine of free-will 
in man. 

In a preceding paragraph we emphasized that sanity is 
one pre-supposed condition without which there is no moral 
responsibility. A great proportion of the types of moral aber- 
rance upon which modern materialistic criminologists build 
shining theories, are beyond the pale of sanity, and would 
not be considered by a civil court as capable of transacting 
business which involved the making of contracts. U the 
forces of a "cruel atavistic heredity,** or the forces of a greedy 
modem society, present to us fearful types of the criminal 
instinct or achievement, we should first of all attempt to ascer- 
tain by means of an expert alienist, whether such enjoy the 
sanity a normal adult can claim. Not till such an examination 
was completed, would we endeavor to fix responsibility, or to 
set up theories of crime which rule out freedom of the will. 
Luther denied the freedom of the will and most modern so- 
ciologists have fallen into that pit. But it is interesting to 
remark that the spokesmen of the nations which fought against 
Germany are not acting according to the directive norms 
of any purely materialistic criminology, when it comes to the 
question of judging and fixing the crimes of the Central 
Powers against humanity. Whatever punishment be meted 
out to the leaders of Prussianism, it seems certain at least, 
that the Allies feel that those leaders are responsible for un- 
necessary suffering and bloodshed, and ought to be punished. 
But to talk of punishment without supposing freedom of the 
human will, is to talk nonsense. 

Lombroso, Fern, Maudsley, Mosby — all nearly in concert, 
if their works are proof, accept in some form or other. De- 
terminism. Determinism says, "given all conditions needed 



750 CATHOLIC THEORY OF CRIMINOLOGY [Mar.. 

for an action, except the act itself, the act necessarily follows." 
Farther back still, the remote but certain cause of material- 
istic social study is Rationalism, proving, e. g.» that climate 
exerted the preponderating effect in shaping the life of na- 
tions! What Buckle used to be among historians, the school 
of criminal ethicians is among sociologists. 

How shallow and how gloomy is all Deterministic and Ra- 
tionalistic teaching compared with the Catholic doctrine of 
free-will! So long as the rational man is rational, he can 
place a human responsible act. These alone shall come up for 
his judgment. Moral judgment is not concerned with deprav- 
ity tantamount to insanity. In the eyes of the Church, while 
man can really act with moral responsibility, even though he 
be morally weak, there exists no such thing as the ^'bom*' 
criminal. In the very freedom of man, though it is a respon- 
sibility, lies his opportunity for betterment. His moral power, 
like his mental, may be strengthened by exercise. 

St. Philip Neri, seeing one day in Rome a prisoner dragged 
to the gaol, exclaimed: 'There goes Philip, but for the 
grace of God.** The Church can well insist upon Christian 
asceticism as an aid to free-will in reaching the goal of good- 
ness. But while she can say "facienti quod in se est, Deus non 
denegat gratiam" to one who does his best, Grod gives His aid 
in grace, she neither exaggerates the claims of grace, nor 
minimizes the claims of free-will; nor neglects to take into 
account the warp and woof of circumstances, amid which 
man, the sovereign free-agent, finds himself — often against 
his own choice. Rather she warns man, that though he knows 
what he is, he knows not what he may become, simply because 
he is free. She writes, so that he who runs may read, the 
words of St Augustine, "God, Who created man without his 
consent, will not save him without his consent." Man, here, 
means mankind, every man, woman and child bom into this 
mortal life. 



A KELTIC POE. 



BY JOSEPH J. REILLY, PH.D. 




|NE day in April, 1862» a young Irish lieutenant 
of thirty-four, attached to McClellan's army, 
wrote the foUowing letter from Virginia, where 
he lay dying, to a friend in New York: 

^he surgeons removed my shoulder bone 
and a portion of my upper arm. I nearly died. My breath 
ceased, heart ceased to beat, pulse stopped. However, I got 
through. I am not yet out of danger from the operation, but 
a worse disease has set in. I have got tetanus, or lockjaw. 
There is a chance of my getting out of it — that's all. In case 
I don't, good-bye, old fellow, with all my love. I don't want 
to make any legal document, but I desire that you and Frank 
Wood should be my literary executors — ^because after I'm 
dead I may turn out a bigger man than when living." 

That pathetic sentence, half wish, half prophecy, was 
destined to come true, for the fame of Fitz-James O'Brien has 
survived the revenges of time's whirligig and steadily great- 
ened, until he is known to the student as author of some of 
the most remarkable tales in American literature. 

O'Brien came to New York in 1852 armed with letters of 
introduction to G. P. Morris, the ^*cis-Atlantic Tom Moore," 
from the brother of Bishop Collins of Cloyne. Morris was a 
member of the literary coterie, which included "Nat" Willis, 
Halleck, William Winter and Thomas Bailey Aldrich. Poe 
and Cooper were in their graves; Irving was in retirement at 
Sunnyside; Paulding was alive but had abandoned literatiure 
for the consular service. Bryant, though nearing sixty, was 
still in the heydey of his power, but devoted more attention 
to diet and exercise than to the doings of literary Bohemia. 

O'Brien was not reticent about his history. He was bom 
in Limerick in 1828, and was fortunate in his parents; for his 
mother was beautiful and cultured and his father a barrister 
of ability. The lad was educated at Dublin University and 
on leaving college came into a not inconsiderable fortime. 
He might have become a gentleman idler had not the spur of 



752 A KELTIC POB [Mar^ 

ambition urged him on, and it was to the great literary Mecca, 
London, that he turned in the first flush of boyish enthusiasm. 
The way to literary fame, alack, lay through as toilsome a 
Grub Street as ever confronted the drudges of Dryden's day 
or Johnson's, and the soaring wings of the young Irishman's 
ambition were denied all but the most limited of flights. 

To Irishmen America has always been the land of allure- 
ment. In her generous bosom they found freedom and an op- 
portunity for achievement, which were impossible at home. 
It is not surprising that the dissatisfaction which O'Brien felt 
with conditions in London should have turned his thoughts 
to America. 

Morris and his friends accepted O'Brien without a ques- 
tion. And weU they might. For whatever his weaknesses 
of temperament (he was aggressive almost to the point of 
pugnacity) his boyish ways, his enthusiasm, his irrepressible 
humor and his verve, gave a new and thrilling vitality to their 
circle. He was of middle height and athletic build, fair of 
complexion, with wavy brown hair, fine blue-gray eyes and 
small chin almost concealed by a heavy brown mustache. 
His voice was singularly sweet and persuasive — an excellent 
thing in man, no less than in woman. 

There was nothing calculating about this exuberant 
youth; he knew little of the value of money and cared less, 
and when the remnant of his inheritance was gone he smil- 
ingly made the best of things. But for all that, he must at 
times have felt the pinch of poverty and the deadly days when 
melancholy succeeded to high spirits. He was a creature of 
moods to whom a steady routine was as impossible as a lone 
flower to a butterfly. Periods of delectable idUng were fol- 
lowed by days and nights of amazing industry, when for 
eight or ten hours at a stretch he would work on poem or story 
with every energy of his mind fired to a passionate concen- 
tration. 

O'Brien was not long in finding a welcome for his writings 
and soon became known to readers of the Home Journal, the 
Evening Post, the Times, the Saturday Press, Putnam*s, Vanity 
Fair and The Atlantic Monthly. For ten years he poured out 
poems, tales, sketches, dramatic reviews, and even theatrical 
pieces, of which many have long been forgotten and might 
even defy identification. It is now thirty-eight years since 



1920.] A KELTIC POE 753 

his old friend, William Winter, collected some two score of 
his poems and a dozen of his stories, but the volume has 
long been out of print. The poems have a faint aroma as of 
fine linen long laid away in lavender, but several of the tales 
have won him the fame for which he hoped in the face of 
death. 

Like most men who are capable of original work, O'Brien 
was not ashamed to study closely the productions of other 
writers, and indeed to imitate their method and style when 
the humor seized him. He knew his Hawthorne, his Hoff- 
mann, and his Poe, and caught some of the latter's tricks with 
surprisingly good effect. He did not stop there but imitated 
Poe in studying Hoffmann, to whom his obligations in The 
Wondersmith are unmistakable. Here his theme is of the 
kind which one tells to children in the glow of an open fire, 
creating an atmosphere surcharged with magic in which mar- 
vels can happen because time and place are not. The Wonder- 
smith is a man of crime, who foregathers with fortune teUers 
and gypsy peddlers and directs their uncanny business of bot- 
tling up souls "'the pick of a thousand births, which the mid- 
wife steals." In tiny wooden manikins these souls are lodged 
and do dark deeds at the command of the Wondersmith. But 
all this bizarre wickedness is futile to upset the devotion of 
two children, one the reputed daughter of the sinister magi- 
cian and the other a poor little organ-grinder, whose crooked 
body harbors a soul all straight and shining. The Wonder- 
smith and his crew are finally caught in their own toils and 
burned to death, while Anita and the Italian boy, like the 
lovers in the Eve of St. Agnes, make their escape, haply to a 
fairer land and joyous days. The story made a sensation when 
published in The Atlantic Monthly (October, 1859), but the 
reason is hard to find. It has neither the Keltic witchery nor 
the German glamour; it lacks, indeed, that touch of inevitable 
magic which gives soul to every tale of ghost and fairy. Per- 
haps it was but a jeu d'esprit written after an evening with the 
Serapionsbruder. The conception, it must be confessed, has 
the Teutonic heaviness, not the Keltic lightness, and had no 
more place in O'Brien's genius than a leprechaun in Wilhelm- 
strasse. 

While O'Brien handles a variety of themes, they are mark- 
edly unequal in value. In Tommattoo we have well worn 

VOL. ex. 48 



754 A KELTIC POE [Mar.. 

elements : a benevolent old Italian father, his beautiful daugh- 
ter and two suitors, one \drtuous, the other villainous, and 
virtue is not compelled to be its own sole reward. In 
Milly Dove we have the sentimental tale of the "Duchess** 
variety in which King Cophetua, in the person of the great 
Alexander Winthrop, falls in love with a beggar maid in the 
person of Milly Dove who, pretty and scarcely out of her 
teens, is clerk in a New England village candy shop. In The 
Golden Ingot the theme is alchemy, whose possibilities one 
might suppose to have been exhausted generations before, had 
not Balzac employed it in one of his greatest novels. 

In The Pot of Tulips, O'Brien turns to the ghost story; in 
My Wife's Tempter to the diabolical influences of Mormon 
propaganda, a subject vastly more interesting in his day than 
in ours. 

In The Lost Room he invades the realm of visions and 
beholds men and women in the garb of earlier centuries hold- 
ing high revelry, only to see them melt away again into thin 
air. On reading it one conjectures that O'Brien had delved 
into the Gesta Romcmorum, and found a romantic appeal in 
the story which William Morris was later to retell as The 
Writing on the Image. In The Bohemian the theme is mes- 
merism, a tempting morsel for every delver into the weird, 
and in treatment it is under obvious obligations to Haw- 
thorne's The Birthmark. 

Philip Brann (the Bohemian) possesses mesmeric power 
and finds a susceptible subject in Annie Deane, the fiancee 
of Henry Cranston. When hypnotized. Miss Deane makes 
revelations regarding a lonely spot on Coney Island, in which 
a treasure has been concealed for years. The cupidity of 
Brann and Cranston is satisfied when their expedition in 
quest of the booty is successful, but the price is tragically high; 
for Miss Deane, whose nervous energies are depleted by the 
trance, fails to rally and dies in her repentant lover's arms. 

The ethical undercurrent of the story is evident in Annie's 
appeal to her lover against undertaking the quest. One re- 
calls The Birth Mark, the trepidation of Georgiana at her 
husband's desire to remove the crimson stain from her cheek; 
his insistence and her loving acquiescence; the seeming suc- 
cess at first and the tragic denouement. Cranston, on the 
one hand, and Aylmer, on the other, risk the lives of the 



1920.] A KELTIC POE 755 

women they love, the one to gain wealth, the other to gratify 
his ideal of beauty, and their selfishness meets with a swift 
and terrible punishment. 

In Mother of Pearl, 0*Brien owes nothing to either Hoff- 
mann or Hawthorne, but much to Poe, to whom his obliga- 
tions are obvious. The story, told in the first person quite in 
Poe's manner, recounts the marriage of the narrator with a 
beautiful American girl, Minnie, whom he meets while travel- 
ing in the East. When Pearl is born both love the child with 
equal passion. On returning to America all is well for a time, 
but gradually an unaccountable languor succeeds Minnie's 
exuberant vitality and arouses the apprehensions of her hus- 
band. A holiday is planned to New York, where they attend 
the theatre and see Matilda Heron (an actress whose wild 
genius O'Brien admired), in a performance of Medea. Minnie 
is profoundly affected; her eyes never wander from the stage, 
her face is tense and her body sways with emotion. That 
night the husband unaccountably awakens to find his wife 
bending over him with a naked dagger in her hand. He has 
barely time to draw his body aside and escape the plunging 
weapon. To his bitter upbraiding his wife responds with 
stoical indifference, while he, bewildered and bafQed, feels his 
love turn to loathing. He abandons his holiday plans, re- 
turns home with his wife, and lays her case before a physician, 
fearful that her mind is on the verge of collapse. Mystified by 
the case, the physician takes up his residence with the hapless 
couple and devotes himself to a study of Minnie, while the 
husband finds some measure of consolation in his child. Pearl. 

One night the two men sit talking late. Outside the 
mournful winds of autumn stir the dead leaves and *'chilly 
draughts come from unseen crevices, blowing on back and 
cheek till one feels as if some invisible lips were close behind, 
pouring malignant breaths on face and shoulder." Suddenly 
there comes a noise, which fills them both with terror. Spring- . 
ing to their feet they fling open a door commanding a view 
of the corridor. Tall and white, the figure of Minnie ap- 
proaches, a candle in her hand, her white gown spotted with 
blood. She has murdered Pearl. Stately and calm as a 
goddess answering the prayers of her devotees, she makes 
her awful confession, smoothing her hair with her blood- 
stained fingers as she speaks. While residing in India she 



756 A KELTIC POE [Mar., 

contracted the hasheesh habit, which gradually bound her 
as with chains of steel; the greenish paste became her very 
existence. It was while under its influence that she attended 
the performance of Medea with her husband in New York, 
and ''from that instant, murder became glorified in her sight. 
. . . Her soul became rapt in the contemplation of the spill- 
ing of blood. I was to have been her first victim. Pearl her 
second. She ended by saying, with an ineffable smile, that 
the delight of the taking away of life was beyond imagina- 
tion." The closing paragraph is vivid and, like Poe, concludes 
the story with dramatic (one might say, melodramatic) 
finality. 

Throughout this story, which still retains much of its 
original power, we have vivid touches which prove that 
O'Brien had studied Poe to advantage. Minnie is of the type 
so common in Poe, slender, beautiful, high-strung, with large 
dark gray eyes, transparent skin and mobile features. Her 
sinuous body possessed a strange and subtle grace; indeed, 
she had, to a striking degree, an ''aerial serenity of motion.** 
No less appealing was her voice, low, sweet, musical, and yet 
distinctive beyond any her lover had ever heard. Quite in the 
manner of Poe, O'Brien pictures the gradual change by which 
her buoyant joyousness fades into an inexplicable lassitude 
which, on occasions, becomes a brooding melancholy. He 
consults a physician despite whose optimism he feels (again 
like Poe) the shadow of impending disaster. In picturing the 
degenerate wife returning from the midnight murder of her 
child, O'Brien is thinking of that highly effective scene in the 
Fall of the House of Usher, when Madeline, escaping from the 
tomb, returns to her brother's chamber and reels across the 
threshold in the final agony of death. In each case we have 
two men, one with nerves wrought to the breaking point, the 
other a friend less agonized, but with every sense painfuUy 
alert; the time is the fateful hour of midnight; the autunm 
winds sigh mournfully without; then comes a strange sound 
which chills their hearts, and the door is flung open to dis- 
cover the pallid apparition of a woman, whose white garments 
are stained with blood. 

It was a pity that O'Brien did not follow his model in 
rigidly excluding every non-essential. Poe would have fore- 
gone the incident in which the infant Pearl is rescued from 



1920.] A KELTIC POE 757 

a shark by a Malay diver, and have resisted all temptations 
to discuss histrionic art at the performance of Medea. Had 
O'Brien's exuberant genius been schooled to a stricter literary 
abstinence Mother of Pearl might have ranked as one of the 
best tales of its type in American literature. 

But O'Brien was his own man after all, and it was not of 
his genius in his enthusiastic twenties to accept restraints, 
even artistic ones, with resignation. 

Adequately to judge the brilliant young Irishman, how- 
ever, we should consider his two best tales. What Was It? 
and The Diamond Lens. It is these which won him greatest 
reputation during his life, and upon which rests his chief 
claim for an abiding place in the history of the American 
short story. What Was It? was written at odd moments in 
the lodgings of his friend, Thomas Bailey Aldrich, and like 
Mother of Pearl, shows unmistakably the influence of Poe. 
The narrator, when about to fall asleep one night, feels some- 
thing drop as if from the ceiling upon his chest and two bony 
hands encircle his throat. The suddenness of the attack for 
a moment disconcerts him, but regaining his self-possession 
he struggles desperately in the darkness, until at last the mur- 
derous visitant is overpowered and pinioned upon the bed. 
The victor, gasping, gets to his feet and tiurns on the light 
only to feel his brain reel as he beholds — nothing. ""I had 
one arm firmly clasped round a breathing, panting, corporeal 
shape; my other hand gripped, with all its strength, a throat 
as warm and apparently fleshly as my own, and all in the 
bright glare of a large jet of gas, I beheld absolutely nothing! 
. . . Imagination in vain tries to compass the awful paradox." 
The creature was bound with cords which rose and 
fell with its breathing, while the clothes upon the bed were 
shaken by its convulsive efforts to escape. The next day the 
strange thing was chloroformed and, a mold made which 
disclosed its form. "It was shaped like a man — distorted, un- 
couth and horrible — ^but still a man. It was small, not over 
four feet and some inches in height, and its limbs revealed a 
muscular development that was unparalleled. Its face sur- 
passed in hideousness anything I had ever seen ... It was 
the physiognomy of what I should fancy a ghoul might be. 
It looked as if it was capable of feeding on human flesh." . . . 
As the days passed pathos was added to horror for there was 



758 A KELTIC POE [Mar., 

no way of feeding the strange creature, whose struggles for 
life grew weaker each hour. At last it died and was hastily 
buried, still a thing of mystery, sinister and invisible. 

There is a fascination about this tale, which still remains, 
and it is worth noting that Ambrose Bierce, upon whose 
shoulders, in our generation, rests the mantle of Poe, has not 
hesitated to follow O'Brien's lead in at least two of his stories. 
The Damned Thing and Staley Fleming's Hallucination. 

What O'Brien's story might have become in Poe's hands 
one may conjecture. That the Kelt had the American in mind 
as he wrote it is obvious in more instances than one. It was 
quite like Poe to make the narrator an addict to opium, as well 
as his friend. Dr. Hammond. 

Like Poe also are O'Brien's occasional affectations, his 
pretenses of excursions into the recondite. Lying upon his 
bed, courting slumber, he read a History of Monsters — "a 
curious French work which I had lately imported from Paris." 
Despite such imitations of Poe, O'Brien committed a funda- 
mental artistic blunder, which would have made the Amer- 
ican shudder. One smiles, perhaps approvingly, at his clever- 
ness in imitating the American's tricks. Would that he had 
mastered his artistry! Never would the crafty Poe have per- 
mitted a plaster cast to be made of The Thing (he made no 
mistakes after Berenice) any more than he would have named 
the undertaker who buried M. Valdemar or have made a 
daguerreotype of the reincarnated Ligeia. 

It was in The Atlantic Monthly for January, 1858, that 
O'Brien published his masterpiece. The Diamond Lens. Here 
his imagination, if not more daring than in What Was It? 
kept a more unfaltering flight and deserves the conspicuous 
place universally granted it for originality of conception, sus- 
tained interest and glow of poetic fancy. 

The Diamond Lens is the story of a man whose interest 
in optics has become a very passion until he dreams of a lens 
so perfect as to defy all obstacles, and to penetrate the wonders 
of a life whose infinite minutiae have thus far escaped every 
investigation of science. He consults a medium (a vulgarism, 
alas, of which the fastidious Poe would never have been 
guilty), and under the spur of her disclosures seeks out the 
Jewish Simon, owner of a perfect diamond. Though put on 
his guard by his visitor's questions, Simon is not immune to 



1920.] A KELTIC POE 759 

the vintage of '48» and finally produces his treasured stone, 
which shimmers in the lamplight as if ''all the glories of light, 
ever imagined or described, were pulsating in its crystalline 
chambers/' The half-drunken Simon is dispatched by the 
blow of a dagger and the murderer, after skillfully arranging 
every detail to indicate that the fatal wound was self-inflicted, 
makes his escape with the diamond. During the succeeding 
three months he devotes night and day to his diamond lens 
and, with infinite toil and care, finally completes it. Trem- 
bling with excitement, he places it upon its platform and ad- 
justs it above a single drop of clear water. At first he sees 
what appears to be a dimly lighted chaos, a vast luminous 
abyss. Depressing the lens with infinite care, he is dazzled 
by a scene of indescribable beauty. "On every side I beheld 
beautiful inorganic forms of unknown texture and colored 
with the most enchanting hues," like clouds of the highest 
rarity, which ''undulated and broke into vegetable forma- 
tions, and were tinged with splendors compared with which 
the gilding of our autumn woodlands is as dross compared 
with gold. Far away into the illimitable distance stretched 
long avenues of these gaseous forests, dimly transparent, and 
painted with prismatic hues of unimaginable brilliancy. The 
pendant branches waved along the fluid glades until every 
vista seemed to break through half lucent ranks of many 
colored drooping silken pennons. What seemed to be either 
fruits or flowers, pied with a thousand hues, lustrous and ever 
varying, bubbled from the crown of this fairy foliage. No 
hills, no lakes, no rivers, no forms animate or inanimate, 
were to be seen, save those vast amoral copses that floated 
serenely in the luminous stillness, with leaves and fruits and 
flowers gleaming with unknown fires, unrealized by mere 
imagination.'* Surely such a scene were fit abode for animate 
beauty; and as if in answer to the thought there suddenly 
emerged from out the silken vista a creature of ineffable 
loveliness. "I can not (how often Poe 'could not and dared 
not* but did!) attempt to inventory the charm of this divine 
revelation of perfect beauty. Those eyes of mystic violet, 
dewy and serene, evade my words. Her long, lustrous hair 
following her glorious head in a golden wake, like the track 
sown in heaven by a falling star, seems to quench my most 
burning phrases with its splendors • • . Her motions were 



760 A KELTIC POE [Mar^ 

those of some graceful naiad, cleaving, by a mere effort of 
will, the clear, unruffled waters that filled the chambers of 
the sea." Bewildered by this vision, he steps back from his 
lens and his eye falls upon the tiny drop of water below it. 
What a harrowing thought possesses him! Animula (for so 
he names this radiant divinity) dwells worlds apart from him, 
in a sphere which only his vision can invade, imprisoned in 
a drop of water. Through the hours that follow his eyes 
scarcely leave the lens; a rapturous adoration thrills him to 
behold her, with more than a goddess' grace, float like a flash 
of Ught through the glimmering avenues of her dwelling. 

In his worship of this glorious divinity he becomes ob- 
livious of the passage of the moments, the hours, the days. 
His life is absorbed in a passion of admiration; but it is all 
in vain. As well reach for the stars at night as for this tiny 
creature disporting in that luminous world at once so near 
and so infinitely far. He must break himself of this mad 
fancy before it destroys his reason. He tears himself away, 
seeks the world outside and attends the theatre, only to leave 
in disgust and return to his lens — and Animula. But during 
his brief absence she has undergone a tragic transformation. 
Her face is thin and haggard; her limbs trail heavily; the 
wondrous lustre of her golden hair has faded. The thought 
of his impotence maddens her lover with grief. To him, hers 
is a world forbid, and with the anguish of despair he beholds 
her in the pangs of dissolution. Her limbs shrivel, her eyes 
are quenched, her golden hair becomes lank and discolored, 
the last throes are come — ^for the tiny drop of water is at the 
point of evaporation. He faints, to recover hours later 
amid the wreck of his instrument, shattered in mind and in 
body. They call him madman now, but he insists that they 
are mistaken. He lives on charity, yet his eyes behold no 
sordid realities of every day, but that world of gorgeous color 
in which Animula had her brief but radiant existence. 

The daring imagination which conceived this story is 
worthy of O'Brien at his best; from the moment when the 
diamond comes into the hands of the mad optician, it never 
falters or loses its poetic fire. For this Poe might have been 
proud to claim it. But in structure it is weak — an indictment 
always true of O'Brien, but never of Poe. How relentlessly 
the American, like a surgeon with his scalpel, would have cut 



1920.] A KELTIC POE 761 

away the visit to Madame Volpes, the medium, and pruned 
down the incident of Simon to a single paragraph! That 
done, he would have recognized in many a touch a skillful 
student of his own methods. There is the preliminary self- 
revelation in which the scientist declares that his imagination 
supplies the limitations of his microscopes and that, lying 
awake at night, he has dreamed of a lens so powerful as to 
pierce through all the envelopes of matter down to its com- 
ponent atoms. There is the marshaling of the names of great 
scientists to whom the homage of a devotee is paid; the dis- 
cussion of references to scientific discoveries, which are thrown 
off with the nonchalance of the savant; the confession early in 
the tale that the narrator ^'supposes he is mad; for every 
great genius is mad upon the subjects in which he is greatest."' 
In the murder episode, moreover, Poe would have beheld a 
student of his Cask of Amontilado. For here is the same cold- 
blooded determination to compass a murder, the same success 
in plying the victim with wine, the same skillful inuendoes, 
the same torment of soul deliberately inflicted on the victim, 
the same moral blindness on the part of the destroyer, and 
finally, the same diabolical minuteness in recounting the ca- 
tastrophe, colored in the one case by exultation over the 
triumph of vengeance and in the other over the attainment 
of the diamond. In the description of Animula and her gor- 
geous dwelling he would have foimd a choice of diction and 
a poetic fervor worthy of his own genius, and yet vitally dif- 
ferent; for here was no pensive melancholy such as evermore 
cast its shadow over the soul of Poe, but a fervor by which 
O'Brien (and the universal Kelt) claims kinship with the stars. 
O'Brien, indeed, was as emotional as Poe and gifted with 
as rich an imagination. Both men were opinionated, but 
Poe was vastly more the egotist. Both had the dramatic in- 
stinct to a marked degree; O'Brien employed his in writing 
for the theatre, Poe his in arranging his world as a stage 
upon which he himself played the leading rdle. Thus in his 
own eyes he became invested with a kind of mournful dignity 
and drew about him the mantle of a conscious superiority, 
which marked him as a soul apart from the multitude. Play- 
ing up to his part he made pretence to a depth of knowledge 
which he did not possess, and falsified facts about his life in 
order to lend it the color of Byronic romance and make his 



762 A KELTIC POE [Mar^ 

poetic talent appear to have flowered in childhood. O'Brien 
was sociable; he liked life and delighted to feel the hum and 
thrill of it about him. Poe, with his peculiar attitude of mind, 
spent lonely years and, self-centred and self-pitying like Rous- 
seau, tended as inevitably as the Frenchman to become sus- 
picious even of his friends and to confine his society to per- 
sons (chiefly women), upon whose sympathy (one might 
almost say, pity) he could unfailingly rely. With Poe melan- 
choly was a habit of mind; quite typical was his insistence that 
the finest poetry must be tinged with sadness. O'Brien's 
melancholy was a phase of his Keltic temperament which, in 
the ardor of today, plays joyously among the stars, only to 
find itself on the chill morrow plunged in the slough of 
despond. We dwell, after all, in a world of brick and stone 
and mortar, of trials and accidents and sickness, and it were 
not compatible with the great scheme of things that the Kelt 
should everlastingly forget the din of the marketplace and 
dwell with garlanded head among the fields of asphodel. 

All of which must not be thought to imply that O'Brien 
was a mere dreamer of dreams. Even a poet may die for 
his vision, and the brilliant Irish lad who offered his sword to 
the Government at the outbreak of the Civil War had, within 
a year, repaid with his ardent young life for the generous 
adoption of America. Scarcely more than a boy, he was 
dead in his early thirties, before he had fully learned how 
important is form in literature and how rigid are the bounds 
which art prescribes to the imagination, even in its loftiest 
flights. What he might have accompUshed had years been 
granted him, we can only conjecture. Perhaps he might have 
achieved a place beside the triumvirate of American short- 
story masters, sharing unchallenged honors with Irving, Poe 
and Hawthorne. 



•TETERING OUT.*' 



BY FRANaS AVEUNG, S.T.D. 




HEN restrictions are removed from traveling and 
the shipping shortage is over, without doubt 
there will be a great flood of visitors from the 
United States to the battlefields of the western 
front. Already there are visitors in considerable 
throngs — soldiers of the Allied Armies, for the most part, and 
voluntary War Workers, as well as civilians from Belgium, 
France and England, in lesser niunber. Last Whitsuntide 
the tragic ruins of Ypres were full of people, who had come 
from all the countryside around in all sorts of vehicles and 
by all sorts of ways, to gaze upon the silent ruins and try to 
reconstruct for themselves the meaning of war. And so it 
was at Douai and Arras; at Lens and Albert and, doubtless, 
at all the famous towns and villages and historic sites along 
the winding, twisting belt of harassed ground over which, for 
so long, and so short a time ago, death brooded and wrought. 
But even when the Treaty of Peace was still wet with the 
ink of the signatures, it was not easy to reconstruct. The 
cobbled roads in the towns and villages were already tidied 
and made smooth. The pitted, pock-marked fields were lush 
with coarse vegetation. Where gaunt, dead trees thrust their 
snapped trunks and broken branches, like accusing fingers, up 
towards heaven, the bright green of the new grass and uncon- 
quered undergrowth rioted beneath the turquoise blue of the 
perfect summer sky. And on the miles and miles of open 
plain, where stands never a tree, where almost hidden barbed 
wire entanglements, still clinging to their rotting posts and 
rusting supports, were just discerned beside the snaky white 
chalk lines running here and there, up and down the rolling 
surface of the land, the shell holes and the old trenches were 
falling in and becoming smoothed and rounded off by the 
luxuriance of the growth. 

Here, where men struggled and fell and died, are brilliant 
patches, acres in extent, of scarlet poppies. Wild mustard 
flings its golden flowers far and wide. Bright blue cornflowers 



764 ''PETERING OUT" [Mar., 

almost put the very sky to shame. Nature has done her best 
to cover up and hide the hideousness and shame that man 
put upon her. Little by little, day by day, she toils on to 
restore. In winter her rains and frosts break down the 
sharp lines of the trenches; the shelters and the dug-outs 
tmnble in; the wooden supports rot and crumble away. In 
spring and summer her roots twist and grip in the loosened 
earth and chalk; her grasses and flowers cast their mantle of 
beauty over the charnel houses of the War. 

You who will come to see these battlefields, in reverent 
journey to visit some beloved grave, whose pilgrim steps will 
lead you over the bloody field on which he fell : you, too, who 
are led thitherwards by idle curiosity, will never see it as it 
was. The very places which the soldiers knew so well, the 
places where they lived for weeks and months at a time, were 
already unrecognizable after one short year. 

So, as the quiet, insistent work of nature goes on and the 
gangs of British, French, Russian, Chinese and Grerman labor 
"clearing up** are withdrawn, the whole aspect of the country 
changes, and, with it, the mentality of those who are looking 
on. If the War has left its marks upon the face of nature, 
marks which its wonderful and indomitable vitality is quietly 
smoothing away, so has it left its marks, no less deeply graved 
upon the minds and souls of those who took their part in it. 
But those barbed entanglements of the mind, those deep scars 
seared into the very soul, are undergoing changes, too; slowly, 
perhaps, but none the less resistlessly than those that dis- 
figured the smiling fields of France. 

You who saw the War only from afar off, reflected in the 
columns of the daily papers, brought closer and more inti- 
mately home by the letters that came to you from the fighting- 
line : you have experienced, to some degree, at any rate, some 
of the mind and heart changes of which I write. Far from the 
crash and din of the battle, far from the instant dangers threat- 
ening by night and by day, far from the ceaseless movement 
and feverish business of the fighting part of the War, you none 
the less felt the strain of it and bore your share of its horror. 
No one who realized at all what it meant could have borne it 
without the most profound emotional changes taking place 
within him. But for most of you the ties that bound you to the 
War were far closer than this, far more personal than the 



1920.] ^'PETERING OUT' 765 

mere knowledge that it was going on. Your flesh and blood 
were there. Your anxieties and fears kept pace with their 
dangers. You had some insight, faint perhaps and blurred, 
but no less real, into what they were experiencing. 

But for them, the fighters! The instincts which thrust 
their roots the furthest into the deeps of human nature were 
aroused and let loose. With their disturbance the connected 
emotions were brought into unfettered play. Conscious, they 
wrought a new arrangement into the texture of mental life. 
Unconscious, they burrowed into those unexplored chambers 
of the mind in which the powerful springs of conduct, and of 
life itself, have their hidden lair. Self-assertion, self-preserva- 
tion, fear, anger, hate, wove their strands as never before into 
the living fabric of the consciousness. The mental energy un- 
loosed flowed in unaccustomed channels and stimulated un- 
usual passions. Outlooks and values changed, so rapidly and 
so unaccountably sometimes that one was horrified to see of 
what thoughts one was capable, what desires he could counte- 
nance. The whole emotional life, usually so placid and un- 
eventful, save for those mimic gusts of self -raised storm, was 
stirred and lashed into very maelstroms. Likes and dislikes 
followed one another without reason or obvious justification. 
Things highly prized were cast lightly away; while those of 
no real value claimed, for the moment, our every thought. 
Happy, indeed, were they who had some one fixed solid 
interest or value at which to anchor the frail barque of their 
souls : something so fixed and so stable that it could defy alter- 
ation and withstand all the shocks of disordered feeling, all 
the buflTetings of abnormal emotions. Of such, one, and un- 
doubtedly the most powerful, was religion. Where that held 
fast, mental life flowed on with at least something of its 
normal tranquillity. But even then, deep and far-reaching 
changes took place; and the over-strained, over-excited, war- 
taxed mind came out of the War a very different thing from 
what it was when it first entered in upon it. 

Now things are "petering out." The great armies, as far 
as this part of the world is concerned, at any rate, are gone. 
Even the labor is dwindling from day to day in number. You 
may go for miles over the areas and hardly ever see a soul, 
save a few civilians, in a district that was crowded to the limit 
of possibility while the War was still being waged. And just 



766 'TETERING OUT' [Mar., 

as the material aspect of the landscape is changmg, and has al- 
ready changed; just as emptiness has taken the place of 
crowds; so are the minds of those of us who are left here for 
the time undergoing a fresh set of alterations and readjust- 
ments. It is the inevitable recoil, the reassertion of the nor- 
mal, the struggle of the currents to overflow the newer, war- 
worn channels and run again in the old coiu*ses. In many 
ways it is a painful process. The mental changes brought 
about by the circimastances of war were forced by the War 
and kept pace with it. These new readjustments are forced 
by no outward stimulus, but rather by the lack of any real 
stimulation. The war changes were fierce, abrupt, cata- 
clysmal. These are sluggish, full of effort, gradual. 

There are, no doubt, incentives to break and destroy 
habits that the War crystallized out of our freedom, habits 
both physical and mental; but there is little driving power 
left to make the incentives real, living forces and so, effec- 
tively, to counter the habits. We see, indeed, the true values 
to be substituted; but find it hard to grasp them. Energy is 
wanting; and there is little or no external stimulus to force us 
to react. The whole thing is "petering out." There is only 
lassitude and a general reaction from the strenuous emo- 
tional living of the past five years. More life was crowded 
into those years than in twenty or thirty of times of peace: 
turbulent, insistent, not to be thwarted life. Now it is pale and 
thin and listless in comparison — ^just "petering out." 

Nothing, perhaps, so much as experience of a war such as 
this brings one to realize the utter instability of all the himian 
conventions and beliefs upon which we used to rely, the utter 
untrustworthiness of one's own self when placed in a circle of 
circumstance so much out of the usual. The whole edifice of 
our human creeds — social, political, ethical — is apt to totter 
and fall away. The philosophy of life which we have acquired 
with such pains in all our experience of living, is not equal to 
the strain. It fails us now when we most have need of it; 
and, indeed, the need is no less great, but rather greater, now — 
paradoxical as it may seem — than when the War was raging 
round us. Many who had then no other conscious stay and 
support than their human philosophy laughed their way 
through the War, mocked its worst dangers, and cynically ac- 
cepted it as a matter of inexplicable course. They went to 



1920.] ''PETERING OUT' 767 

their death with the same smile upon their lips as they wore, 
in seeming careless irresponsibility, while they were about 
their routine tasks behind the line. But beneath the surface 
that appeared to their comrades, beyond what was grasped 
consciously in their own minds, there must have been some- 
thing deeper and more substantial which tranquillized them, 
robbed the apparent cynicism of its bitterness, and gave a very 
real value to the smile. Of such stuff were they made that 
this at least could be believed*. 

But of those who won through the great Venture, with 
such seeming cynicism and careless ready smiles, most now 
seem to have lost that silent well-spring in the unconscious 
that gave their philosophy what worth it had. And, having 
lost it — or, perhaps, after all, they really never had it — it, too, 
has **petered out." The riot of unchecked excitement and 
feverish pursuit of amusement that came after the fighting 
was at an end — and this, not in the fighting forces alone, but 
among the civilians in all the great capitals and lesser towns 
and villages — ^was not only the expression of the lifting of an 
intolerable load, hitherto bravely borne if with much loathing. 
It was at the same time the sign and the effect of the breaking 
down of all the barriers, both natiu*ally and artificially, raised 
to protect the very soul itself from those strong forces of its 
own let loose by the action of the War. I have said that re- 
ligion was the sheet anchor of the soul during the times of 
stress. It is impossible to generalize from a few examples; 
and I have in mind, as I write, merely certain types of men; 
but in the main I am persuaded that the vast majority of our 
soldiers were sincerely religious in their own personal and 
incommunicable way. Theirs was a religion of trust, an atti- 
tude towards life and living, a feeling rather than a dogma, 
vague and shadowy for the most part, quite unlike the reas- 
oned and articulated religion of the ^churches." It was often 
compatible with disregard of conventional morality, loose no- 
tions as to ownership, the use of language truly abominable to 
more refined ears. But, such as it was, there it was to help 
them through when they needed help badly enough. Of 
course, it is obvious that I am not referring to anything other 
than a very generalized sort of "Natural Religion," which Cath- 
olics may find it difficult to understand at all. None the less, 
it BeemA to have been strong enough to have carried the men 



768 ''PETERING OUT' [Mar., 

safely through the dangers which they encountered every day 
with comparative tranquillity of mind. It would not seem, 
however, to be able to carry them through the dangers of 
peace; for it was one of those mental changes suddenly 
evolved to meet a particular set of circumstances, which, like 
the physical changes of nature, move and alter with the cir- 
cumstances that brought them into being. It was a **War 
Religion," keyed to crashing shells and roaring guns, timed 
to hardships and discomforts 6f every sort. And with the 
loosening down of the tenseness of the War it has fallen out 
of tune. Like the grim lines of trenches now hidden beneath 
the flaunting rows of scarlet poppies, like the ragged shell 
holes, now filled to the brim with the yellow mustard or the 
blue cornflower, the War Religion has sunk and become 
hidden by the newer interests of life, with the War far off in 
the background of memory and a thousand new things to 
occupy thought. And yet the dangers of peace are in a sense 
far more threatening to the soul, and indeed to the ordinary 
happiness for which man in this world craves than those of 
the War itself. 

That this is true is seen in the state of extraordinary un- 
rest that is sweeping over the face of the world: unrest in 
every department of life, in thought and theory, in politics and 
economics, in labor and class and creed. We need now, no 
less than ever, some strong, compelling force to steady our 
souls. We need clear principles with which to meet the prob- 
lems thrust upon us. "War Religion" has failed us here. It 
could hardly have been hoped that it could succeed. In the 
welter of interests and counter interests, the conflict of classes, 
the reshaping of the social fabric that is taking place before 
our eyes with fatal and fateful swiftness by makeshift means 
and rule of thumb, with behind it the vast driving power of an 
unchecked emotional force, we need something more than 
feeling to carry us to a safe haven. Human principles and 
human compromises are bound to fail. There is only one 
thing that can save society from shipwreck. In the meantime, 
while events move with such swiftness at home and abroad, 
the impression that one gathers in these areas, which have 
been left stranded by the passing of the tide of war, is one 
of "going to pieces." It is the end of a great enterprise, itself 
undertaken for a great end, And like aU other nxort&l things. 



1920.] ''PETERING OUT' 769 

all human enterprises, it has come to its close. The vast 
stores of material left scattered over the bosom of the comitry- 
side are gathered into dumps and sold, or moved back to the 
bases for trans-shipment to England. Familiar faces cease 
to be seen in the mess-rooms, as one by one the old messmates 
are demobilized, or, if they happen to be regular soldiers, are 
transferred to Egypt, India and Home Stations. The de- 
plenished **cadres" of Armies, Corps and Divisions — the little 
handfuls of men that represent what, during the War, were 
organizations dealing with thousands and scores of thousands 
of soldiers, as the case might be — are day by day disbanded 
in the country, or sent home one by one to be broken up 
there. Before long the last will have taken its departure. 
The camps of the Prisoners of War will be closed, their tents 
struck, their barbed wire barricades down and the plough of 
the farmer erasing the marks, even, that would show that 
a camp had ever been there. 

For a little time, no doubt, something will be left: some 
labor that is found still to be indispensable, some transport, 
some feeding machinery, with the few other organizations that 
are necessary for its maintainance. The work of the Graves 
Registration Units cannot end at once, nor, indeed, until all 
the scattered graves have been found and the bodies rever- 
ently exhumed and placed within the recognized cemeteries 
of the War. 

This *^etering out*' at its end is in the most marked 
contrast to the days at the beginning of the War, when fever- 
ish activity reigned everywhere. Very different is it, too, from 
the drilling and training in the hastily organized camps and 
barrack squares where the New Armies were being formed 
as the Old Army of Great Britain fought doggedly to keep a 
place for them, until they would be ready to take their stand 
in the ranks of the Allies battling for the liberty of the world. 
Then all was bustle, haste and activity, ordered, no doubt, and 
methodical, yet none the less supremely exciting for those 
who were being trained. There was no time to be lost; and 
days were packed full of swift incident 

In sharpest distinction, too, is it to the still more thrilling 
and exciting war days, when everyone was keyed to the most 
tense and there was no time to think or reflect upon the ever- 
changing kaleidoscope of hourly events; when quick action 

¥0L. ex. 49 



770 'METERING OUT* [Mar., 

took the place of more deliberate thought and life — not wholly 
unprepared — ^ran through a maze of sudden unexpected- 
ness. 

These already almost half-forgotten contrasts mark the 
present phase and emphasize its character of decay. And in 
all the diflFerent moments of the whole terrible, swift-moving 
drama, from its beginning to its ending, the instability of hu- 
man life and the shifting of its estimates of worth and value is 
the one thing that stands out evident and clear. 

It is easy to state the fact and speculate upon it; far more 
difficult to realize it practically and bend it to our needs. 
Even if our lives are unstable — ^if, indeed, we have here no 
lasting habitation — they must still be shaped by some ideals 
which we think of worth. And which are the ideals that will 
stand the test? We had our ideals — or we said that we had 
them — during the War; and they were high and noble ideals, 
worthy of what is best in the heart of man. But new values 
are shaping themselves in the war-tired minds; and the con- 
ditions of peace are providing ground for ugly growths. If we 
are relying upon ourselves alone we cannot aim high at best 
— no higher than the possibility of human nature, and that 
only at the level of its average. If we are striving merely for 
greater worldly comfort, for amusement, for ^'getting on,** 
surely we shall be doomed to eternal disappointment; and the 
War will have taught us no lesson that was worth the learn- 
ing. The very qualities of which it showed us to be capable, 
will have become the more degraded by their misuse; and, 
seeking much, we shall find all our energies dissipated in the 
end and our hands still empty. 

If we once but realized that the emotional instability and 
general unrest which the War has left us as its legacy, is the 
symptom of a disease from which the world is suffering, we 
should learn to look elsewhere than towards its ever-changing 
play for the remedy — for the true values by which, whether as 
individuals or as communities, to shape our destinies. Per- 
haps we should look back to the War itself to catch once again 
a reflect of something that shone bright amid all its mists and 
murkiness. Or we may look to nature, slow, forceful, pur- 
posive in the steady persistence with which it moves towards 
the attainment of its immutable goals. But above all we shall 
dare to lift up our eyes even to God — since we are free beings 



1920.] ^'PETERING OUT' 111 

and made in His likeness — if we have any hope of discovering 
those eternal values that dominate the perpetual flux and 
change of the world. Nowhere else can the fixed and endur- 
ing truth for which we crave, which we so dmnbly need, be 
found than in the very Truth Itself, from which all other 
draws its life and vigor. And there we should find the never- 
changing principles of right and justice and honor and love 
that are in so great danger of being lost altogether. 

Amid the scarlet and white and blue and gold of the wild 
flowers on the Artois battlefields there is a soldiers' cemetery. 
Mound after mound, each with its little, plain cross at the 
head, the graves lie in long, serried rows facing the East. 
Here and there among them are self-sown garden flowers — 
pansies, forget-me-nots, violets. Some bear the evidences of 
loving care — a faded wreath or posy, a plant set in the earth 
by loving hands in memory of the brave. The cemetery lies 
upon a little eminence among the scars of the fighting. Below, 
the heaps of rubble mark where a town once stood. And at 
the further end, where the graveyard slopes gently away from 
the west, there is one conmion biu*ial place, a mound some 
thirty feet by twelve, with a huge overshadowing cross which 
bears the names of all who sleep beneath it; or, where the 
name is not known, the simple, infinitely touching words — **An 
unknown British Soldier.** There are graves there, too, of 
which the head-cross is made from the propeller of an aero- 
plane; and graves marked by the tricolor rosette of France. 

The sun was sinking slowly in the sky, the shadows of the 
crosses lengthening on the earth. Birds were singing in the 
blue dome above, and a gentle breeze stirred the daisies and 
set the poppies nodding in the surrounding fields. A black- 
robed woman stood by one of the little crosses in the cem- 
etery, holding a child by the hand. She had been weeping, 
but her tears were dried. The child's great round eyes rested 
on her mother's, full of wonder and sad puzzled distress. 
Widow and orphan, there they stood, in the glory of the sum- 
mer afternoon beside the grave of him whom they had given in 
sacrifice for their country and their faith in right. They knelt, 
the mother drawing the child to her embrace by her side, and 
her face was lifted in the sunlight. Written there was resig- 
nation, but love and pride as well; and, above all, an un- 
conquered hope and an undying trust 



772 TO THE SUPREME [Mi 



O women and children, you won the War as well as your 
hero husbands and fathers! And that which made you ^vin 
the War is with you stilL If it is slipping from you. you <^an 
win it back. It is the spirit that is of value, the spirit clinging 
fast to the Divine, drawing strength and sweetness from that 
spiritual partnership. The little girl looked up at her mother, 
and the mother turned, with grave, steadfast eyes, towards the 
child. Her lips moved, and a look of understanding took the 
place of the puzzled wonder upon the other*s face. Her little 
hand went up towards her forehead; and, kneeling together 
by the grave of their loved one, they signed their foreheads, 
lips and hearts with the sign of the Holy Cross. 



TO THE SUPREME. 

BT HARRY LEE. 

Be steel unto my flint. 
Let loose the flame 
From this gray thing, 
My soul. 
Scarce worth the name. 

Blast, 

As with dynamite. 

Rend, hurl, set free. 

Then with Thy chisel keen, 

Fashion Thou me. 




THE PERSONAL INFLUENCE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN. 

BY W. A. CONACHER. 

PART from the other great manifestations of his 
genius, the question of Newman's personal influ- 
ence on his generation is of intense interest. 
What was the attitude of that England which at 
the Apologia woke up to a consciousness of his 
being, and since then has taken the keenest interest in hun? 
In Anglican circles Newman was no stranger, nor did the Ox- 
ford Movement die out like a fire of paper at his departure 
from the scene. But the public who took in the Apologia was 
a class wider than Anglicanism : it was that wide class of cul- 
tured bourgeoisie which is so definitely a part of Victorian 
society, and a large fraction of that class was Protestant and 
Nonconformist or non-Anglican — the society which, having 
produced Wesley, produced John Bright, Ruskin, Carlyle, 
John Stuart Mill. 

It was this class which would not be averse to a complaint 
against Anglicanism, which would recognize in Newman's 
original Calvinism and in a certain note which pervaded his 
whole spiritual life some a£Bnity with itself, and consequently 
would not altogether "let him go." How far does Newman 
consciously or unconsciously respond to this? 

When he separated from the Anglican conmiunion, and in 
a wider sense cut himself off from English religious opinion, 
there were two leading tendencies or schools in exist- 
ence and two new ones manifesting themselves. There was 
traditional Anglicanism which Newman first thought was cap- 
able of a reformation and which he hoped to reform; this 
effort, that of the High Church party, is the first of the new 
tendencies referred to. But Newman found traditional 
Anglicanism too much for him. No better defender and no 
better type of it can perhaps be found than Dean Church. To 
a startling extent in his History of the Oxford Movement he 
accepts the portrait of his church contained in The Vicar of 
Wakefield, Pride and Prejudice, The Barset Novels, or Scenes 
From Clerical Life, but at the same time he defines and justi- 



774 INFLUENCE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN [Mar.. 

fies the ideal of that church as an expression of national senti- 
ment. His claim amomits to this, that the Church of England 
is the Holy Spirit working in the people of England, a spirit 
ranging at will, recognizable in the good of the past, assured 
for the future. Great and lofty as this sounds, Newman saw 
in its very vagueness, its variety of interpretation, the danger 
point. Here was Liberalism, and he conceived that it would 
be the creed of the future, and that it would have its own de- 
velopment, its own pernicious and paralyzing effect on Chris- 
tian opinion at large. He denounced it in his Apologia, he de- 
nounced it in his address when created Cardinal at Rome. 
How far his denunciation and his foresight were true must, 
after more than half a century, be left to the honest opinion of 
present time and posterity. 

But there was in England that other great school of re- 
ligious thought known as Nonconformity or the Free 
Churches. Once Anglicanism was definitely established and 
was seen to be what it is, a two-fold movement began within 
it; on the one hand the backward movement of Bishop Laud, 
on the other the search for something more satisfying, more 
definite, which is the endless quest of Anglo-Saxon noncon- 
formity. At one time it is Puritanism, at another Quakerism, 
now the voice of Bunyan, now the voice of Milton. It ranges 
down ways which it finds to be blind alleys, or again like some 
tide it fills for a time a wide expanse, till suddenly, at their 
appointed hour, the depths shallow, and the waters disappear. 
It surges in again with the passion and eloquences of Wesley, 
and again it is turned to stagnation, quicksands and waste. In 
the accent of its hymns you catch always a note of dissatisfac- 
tion, the moiu*nf ul wail of a soul that has not found itself. At 
one time it is rich and pure and strong, and then again it finds 
itself facing decay and corruption, its virtues turned to vices, 
its faith to hollowness or a sickening hypocrisy. And always 
with a strange restlessness it is examining new ideas, taking up 
new modes, striving and crying, never at peace. 

Newman leaving a church which in his day was dogmati- 
cally lax, with no marked division other than social between it 
and Nonconformity, may well have come to feel his life work 
to be, not the conversion of England, but the preparation of 
the minds of Anglo-Saxon Protestantism, for a gradual com- 
prehension of Catholicism, which in the end would be cumu- 



1920.] INFLUENCE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN 775 

lative and irresistible.^ The immediate enemy he recognized 
to be Liberalism, but his ultimate end in the Anglican sermons 
he republished, in Development, the Apologia, the Grammar 
of Assent is indirectly to shape and influence English religious 
opinion. There his thoughts ever lie, thither they ever re- 
tiu*n. In his accidental writings he has always this in mind. 

Accept this and the Apologia has at once an immensely 
greater significance. It has in fact a genuine raison d'etre. 
Accept this and all through Newman's life, its disappointments 
and setbacks, are so many barriers heading him off, keeping 
hun on his determined path. 

I do not mean to suggest that he draws away from Angli- 
canism and prefers to view English religious opinion on its 
more purely Protestant side. I mean rather that he is content 
to leave the Oxford Movement to work out its own salvation. 
At a certain moment opinion as to what the immediate out- 
come of that movement will be, is over sanguine. By its very 
growth the High Church Movement partly absorbed and was 
partly reacted on by the main ciu*rent of moderate Anglican- 
ism, compromising and temporizing as ever.' Newman him- 
self protested against a change either from feeling or logic. 
There must be conviction — assent. His relations with Keble, 
Church and various others remain a pathetic and tender feat- 
ure of his life's story. He is parted from them by a broad 
stream, and they look across it at one another with a whole 
ocean of feeling in their eyes and in their hearts. But apart 
from them and their school, Newman now sees Protestant 
opinion in England more as one, and he often finds more defi- 
nite earnestness among the Mark Rutherfords than among the 
clergy of Barset. 

On the one hand, these people are attracted by Newman; on 
the other, he addresses himself to them as, like himself, think- 
ing the problem of religion the most important thing in the 

^ "It it wonderful the extent to which of late years all sorts of persons with 
religioos difflculties haye had recourse to him. Members, often ministers, of various 
religious bodies, Methodists, Presbyterians, etc., with no sort of leaning towards 
the Church, have sought his guidance and advice and ssrmpathy; and his corre- 
spondence of this sort . . . was enormous. Now and again one came across some- 
thing which almost looked like a cultus of Cardinal Newman outside the Church." 
Father Ryder's recollections. Git. U., 359, Ltfe of John Henrg Ctirdinal Newman, 
by Wilfrid Ward. 

• England's genius for compromise breaks down In two places: the Church and 
Ireland. 



776 INFLUENCE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN [Mar., 

world. They are attracted and repelled. They read his 
Apologia or his Grammar of Assent, his sermons, and they find 
what was fundamentally common to him and themselves — 
conscience. They see that he has found satisfaction and 
peace, but how is to them a mystery, for Development 
without the key is but a closed book, a tedious reiteration of 
far-off forgotten things. And yet, although they are convinced 
that he was mistaken — a pervert, still he remains a mystery, a 
fascination. On the other hand Newman has his face turned 
towards them and addresses them. He speaks and writes of 
Catholic doctrine, he is busy in various activities, in contro- 
versies, but beyond this he pubUshes his earlier preaching and 
writings, and his later sermons in which he is intelligible not 
only to Catholics, but to all who constitute ''the soul of the 
Church." Them he knows; are they perhaps his sheep? Is it 
significant that he takes up his abode in Birmingham, that 
he leaves Oxford for the industrial metropolis, where dissent 
rules? 

Moreover he is always presenting this enigma. Dissent as 
opposed to Anglicanism is always seeking for fervor, for effect 
It is the victim incessantly of the demagogue of religion. And 
while Newman possesses those arts, while his sermons are 
preached with a striking, spellbinding manner of his own, 
and his prose style has an enchanting rhythm, when you come 
to look into it, when ear or eye, accustomed to the tone, are 
beginning to sample the substance and the matter, Newman 
has this surprise prepared: what he has to say is entirely 
matter of fact, concrete, unemotional, except for the rare and 
deep emotion of reality. You expect to find a Romanticist, 
you find the purest classicism. Those led away by the fallacy 
of provincialism, will find here the correcting touch of uni- 
versality. This man, who apparently passed from the senti- 
ment of Calvinism to the sentiment of Romanism, is discovered 
to be sober, austere, matter of fact. 

Protestant England peers as it were into his cell. At 
one moment they hear him in accents familiar enough: 

My dear Lord and Saviour shall I ever see Thee in 
heaven? This world is very beautiful, very attractive, and 
there are many things and persons whom I love in it. But i 

Thou art the most beautiful and best of all. Make me ac- \ 



1920.] INFLUENCE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN 777 

knowledge this with all my heart, as well as by Faith and in 
my reason. My Lord I know nothing here below lasts; 
nothing here below satisfies. Pleasures come and go; I 
quench my thirst and am thirsty again, but the saints in 
heaven are always gazing on Thee, and drinking in eternal 
blessedness from Thy dear and gracious and most awful and 
most glorious countenance. 

Or when he is on the mountain top they hear: 

At times we seem to catch a glimpse of a form which we 
shall see hereafter face to face. We approach, and, in spite 
of the darkness, our hand, or our head, or our brow, or our 
lips become as it were sensible to the contact of something 
more than earthly. We know not where we are, but we 
have been bathing in water and a voice tells us that it is 
blood. Or we have a mark signed upon our foreheads and it 
spake of Calvary. Or we recollect a hand laid upon our 
heads, and surely it had the prints -of the nails in it, and re- 
sembled His, Who with a touch gave sight to the blind and 
raised the dead. 

This and this again and this ever is the note of Evangel- 
icalism, and so they ask for more. But though the rhythm is 
there, the style is, as a rule, more austere, less emotional, the 
subject matter in fact occupied with other things. 

Newman had at one time detected in himself an emotional- 
ist, but had rooted it out. And so he warns against it. He 
speaks coldly, even hardly, of those for whom religion is a 
matter of ^'experiences" and sensations. He deprecates the 
excited, the exalted frame of mind. He, a master of expres- 
sion, will have nothing to do with those who are the slaves of 
expression. He preaches pastoral sermons, and instructions, 
most of all he insists on the Church, because he has found in 
no mere rhetorical sense that the Church is Christ on earth. 
And this is what these readers pass over. They pick out the 
personal note in Newman, and they are offended when the 
personal note is most often one of warning, *Time is short, 
eternity is long." They wish to hear him say he has found 
salvation, and expatiate amply on that luxuriant theme. The 
reason is, of course, that they have substituted devotion for the 
grace of the sacraments, and so ever thirst. 

And that is perhaps the heart of the matter. Protestantism, 



778 INFLUENCE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN [Mar^ 

of the two relations of self and God, overdoes the side of self 
of the human intellect and feelings. We see this in the stoic 
manifestation of Puritanism, where man in reality seeks to dis- 
pense with his Maker and stand in his own strength. We see 
it in his Evangelical Creed of "experience," where what each 
*T* feels, is all important, the personal conviction of being 
"saved." We see it most clearly in Liberalism or broad 
church-ism, with its higher criticism which more and more 
presiunptuously defines the Infinite, and with its "Christology" 
which seems rather to be describing the symptoms of that hu- 
man idiosyncrasy known as belief, than expressing anything 
that properly can be called theology. 

The message of Newman, if it ever reaches these minds, is 
that the Church is a Temple not made with hands, that the 
means of grace are set and appointed, that only by them, by 
the sacraments, for example, can this mortal put on immor- 
tality, or this limited human mind learn to grasp anything be- 
yond it, devoid of the limits of time and of matter; in the 
Communion of Saints only can it comprehend the ties between 
the living, the dead, and those in bliss; and to attain this 
finally, it is necessary to submit to the whole system of organ- 
ized orthodox Christianity, and not try to substitute for this a 
nebulous faith floating on a sea of devotion self -imagined, self- 
made. 

But it is here that his Protestant readers part company 
with him. They fall back on all the historical calumnies and 
perversions of Catholicism. They set up the hasty theories in- 
vented by the Reformers, when it was realized that, if you cast 
down Catholicism, you must set something in its place. They 
ignore that Luther could never explain away "Hoc est Corpus 
Meum," and that Calvin insisted that you must have a system 
to replace a system. And so the old battle begins again for, 
humanly speaking, it is futile to expect sudden and wholesale 
conversions. Time is the final court of appeal, and to time 
the Catholic Church, which has seen so many heresies, so many 
schisms, can in confidence appeal. 

When Protestants come to Newman and say, here and 
here I knew with irresistible conviction that I was right, that I 
was "on holy ground," that by this man Grod spake to me, that 
by this memory, this practice I am kept holy, what does New- 
man say? He agrees. He says 'Vas not the Catholic Church 



1920.] INFLUENCE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN 779 

your mother?" But the way to secure the fragrance of those 
flowers which sweeten your life, is to make sure of the 
branches, to make sure of the stem, and to see that it is rooted 
in the solid earth. Without that you are only bearing about a 
bouquet which will fade and be cast away. Devotion is only 
the musical note of religion; but from it Newman leads on to 
the slower unheard beat and rhythm of the religious life, and 
here he is a master teacher, showing how to distinguish the 
false from the true, the unreal from the real. "I get nothing 
from him," says Dr. Whyte, when after long dallying he rises 
to take up his testimony against the Cardinal, and he goes on 
with unconscious bathos: "When one of my congregation 
comes to me and tells me that their sin has at last found them 
out, and asks me what book they will henceforth keep beside 
them" — ^what book! is not this the very patent-medicine view 
of religion, and does not Newman's whole teaching consist in 
this sequence leading from one to the other of his two extremes, 
God and the Soul: The Conscience — Sin — ^Repentance — the 
Means of Grace — the Church — Christ. 

And then his hearers come back to him. They take him 
down another time from their shelves, for they are not quite 
convinced he is wrong. H the Catholic Church were only 
something else they might believe, if it were not something 
which had been robbed of half the energy of Europe, which 
humanly speaking had had to struggle on with reduced re- 
sources and improvised instruments, if it spoke in accents re- 
calling not the South, but the North or the West, then they 
might be nearer belief. As it is, they say: No, but go on 
looking into Newman's life. And indeed they find there a 
noble thing! 

Newman conceived the ideal Catholic Chiu'ch, and saw it 
through the accidents of a bishop with a peasant mind, or digni- 
taries or officials by whom "the kingdom of heaven suffered 
violence." Nay, by these very buffetings he was strengthened, 
by these set-backs he advanced. He had been introspective, 
sensitive, difficile. "Pride ruled his will," but now he said 
**Lead thou me on," and in his long career there is a change 
in him. Purification and refinement accomplish their work. 
He persists, day in day out, with his work, his office, and above 
all the mass. And so at the end he begins to show the aureole 
of the Saint. At the burning question of the Vatican Council, 



780 INFLUENCE OF CARDINAL NEWMAN [Mar., 

you can already see how he has gained in character. At one 
time he would have thrown himself into that as keenly as did 
Manning and Ward on the other side. Now he knows the 
power of silence. 

When he wrote his Grammar of Assent nothing is more 
remarkable than his docility one may say. He is laying the 
foundation for what at one time will be a new branch of theo- 
logical science. But he submits it all along to an expert, that 
there may be nothing to jar any Catholic conscience, nothing 
to cause any scandal. 

And so when he earns his dignity of Cardinal, he has a 
strange happiness, the sense, as it were, to have attained a state 
of grace. He goes to Rome: the old order has changed, and 
man still "fulfills himself in divers place and time." To the 
robust Pio Nono, all energy and force, convinced and convinc- 
ing in his policy and ideas, popular by his essential manliness, 
the manliness that appeals to the masses, has succeeded the 
gentle Cardinal Pecci; he too has his strength, but the greatness 
of his strength is love. To him, to this new and unknown Pope, 
the new Cardinal comes. The creation of his cardmalate is 
an earnest of the new spirit. And Leo talks with him, sits with 
him, all the time holding his hand — those who know the tender- 
ness of that southern gesture will divine what is passing. The 
words are commonplace enough, but both their thoughts are 
at the same place, the long years in the silence of the Oratory 
of St. Philip of Neri — surely the Saint is there too with his 
client. "Are you many?" says His Holiness. "We have lost 
some," answers Newman, and at the thought of Ambrose St. 
John who is not there to rejoice in that day, the tears come. 
And as once in a garden One said to a heart-broken woman, 
"Woman why weepest thou?" so Christ's Vicar, still holding 
his hand says gently, "Do not weep." So for John Henry New- 
man **The night is gone." 



THE HOLT TREE. 

BY MARY J. O'BRIEN. 

I HAVE been dead, and now I live once more! 
Not as I lived in those sweet springs of yore. 
When the blind sap, obedient to His call. 
Crept sunward in my veins and pulsed through all 
My outmost being. Ah! in that far prime 
How the green temple echoed praise sublime 
To Him Who was its Life! How joyous wings 
Beat madly upward as the feathered things 
Yearned to Him! And how ev'ry shoot and blade 
Worshipped Him dumbly Who their life had made! 

I have been dead, but now I live again; 

My being wrenched from death to anguished pain. 

Made sentient by a Touch — His Touch! Ah me! 

Dare I to speak what seemeth blasphemy — 

The creant God Who, bending from the skies. 

Bade me from out the barren earth arise. 

Now hangs, fast-clenched unto my stricken wood. 

And bathes me in the torrent of His blood — 

How my base fibres shrink and crawl with dread, 

As presses closer still the thorn-crowned Head! 

I have been dead. O sweet the years of death! — 

Yet thro' this pain, like some kind angel's breath. 

There falls His comfort on my boding heart: 

/ die no more. With Him is cast my part. 

I am His Cross and He upbeareth me; 

His sign am I unto Eternity. 

In the last sky triumphant shall I burn; 

To me, O man, your countless eyes shall turn. 

I am Hope's beacon in your darkest strife — 

Christ's saving Cross, the Eden Tree of Life. 



THE STORT OF BEAVER ISLAND. 
BY ROSE MULXAY. 

I WRITER casting about for material for story or 
historical novel, or a student seeking theme for a 
thesis in sociology or American Catholic history, 
or a collector of the folk lore and folk song that 
has become naturalized and localized among us, 
t take the chance journey that brought us a few 
summers ago to the straggling, interesting, little village of 
St. James. 

With its fine land-locked harbor that can shelter a navy, 
it lies on Beaver Island, the largest of en archipelago some 
thirty miles west of Charlevoix, whence it can be reached in 
open season by daily steamer, or in closed season by Indian 
pony post across the ice. 

We landed on the picturesque, dilapidated wharves where 
dark skinned fishermen bring in heavily laden boats of white 
fish and lake trout caught by hundreds in pound nets staked 
down in lower Lake Michigan. At the clean, old-fashioned 
hotel, well cooked food was served in a neighborly way by 
gentle-mannered girls trained in the Public Schools by Do- 
minican nuns. 

According to the United States Geologic Survey, the Great 
Ice Sheet depositing this group of islands, left a soil ranging 
from fair to very good farm lands. These have not always 
received the intelligent, scientific care they should have, for 
fisherfolk are proverbially poor farmers; but conditions are 
changing, and much of the soil is still virgin. The wooded 
ravines, the stone-strewn meadows, high kames of sand and 
gravel, immense erratic boulders, give the region a New Eng- 
land aspect, though its climate is insular, not subject to great 
changes of heat and cold. 

A wonderful sunset lured us down the King's Highway, 
through natural parks, lands caped with spreading juniper, 
coning cedars, tapering spruces and lofty pines; for the island 
throughout its thirteen miles of length and six of width de- 



1920.] THE STORY OF BEAVER ISLAND 783 

lights and rests the eye with a changeful charm that is seldom 
equaled. The spring woods show the trailing arbutus and 
delicately colored spring flowers; in late summer and autumn 
they glow with the reds and yellow gold of bitter sweet, siunach, 
partridge berry, bunch berry, side by side with delicate ferns 
and white bane berry. Great open spaces are covered with 
heavily fruited blackberry, red raspberry and wild strawberry 
vines. The winter woods wear the browns, greens, and grays 
of the cones, needles, trunks and branches of the evergreens, 
maples and beeches, or glisten silver white with sleet, con- 
stantly changing in the shifting light of the short winter days. 

Fur bearing animals were formerly found here in large 
numbers, but so successfully did the hunters and trappers ply 
their trade, the fox and rabbit alone remain in any large num- 
bers. The foxes are still so niunerous as to make turkey 
raising a risky business for farmers' wives. 

Seven large inland lakes filled with bass and other game 
fish furnish abundant food and shelter for wild fowl to rear 
their young broods. A common sight in many of the barn- 
yards is the captured brood of young ducklings being raised 
by foster-mother duck or hen. No snakes are found there; 
this, with the fact that potatoes grow to great size and have a 
delicious flavor, has given the Island the facetious name of 
Beaver Ireland. 

The human history of the island group is most interesting. 
The quaint old Indian burial grounds on Garden Island still 
receive the dead and the gifts to the dead of the thousand or 
more Chippewa and Ottawa Indians, descendants of those who 
listened to the gentle Marquette. A trip to Garden Island 
brought vividly to the attention of the writer the satisfying 
labors of these early French missionaries. On the shore the 
primitive workshop of an Indian carpenter — two pine trees 
supporting a raft of sail cloth — sheltered the clever, silent 
workman, cutting from the knees of a bent tree the ribs of a 
boat, while his quiet mannered little boys played with the 
shavings or wove baskets from sweet scented grasses. We 
were told he could conmiand high wages in Detroit, but pre- 
ferred working in the open silence. 

Before the middle of the last century a colony of Irish 
fisherfolk settled here, a hardy and hospitable people who, 
with the aid of a small fleet, industriously plied their trade. 



784 THE STORY OF BEAVER ISLAND [Mar^ 

They and their descendants control the Islands today. But 
the incongruity of the Island nomenclature with an Irish 
and Indian Catholic population is at once apparent. St. 
James, The King's Highway, Mt. Pisgah, Lake Genesareth, 
Jordan River, suggest a New England rather than a New 
Ireland. Remarking this, we were told the story of a strange 
chapter in American history; the story of a kingdom that 
had existed for more than six years within the boundaries of 
the United States and whose king had been tried for treason. 
This is its substance : When Joseph Smith, founder of the 
Mormon colony at Nauvoo, Illinois, was mobbed and slain, 
two aspirants appeared in the field for leadership. Brigham 
Young and James Jesse Strang. The latter, a teacher, lawyer, 
editor and politician from New York state, was a shrewd man 
of great executive ability. A short time before Smith's death, 
he had emigrated to Wisconsin and had entered the Mormon 
sect. Adopting Smith's method of control, he "Yound" buried 
tablets, that were a part of a New Book of the Law of the 
Lord, which directed the Mormons to follow him. Brigham 
Young, however, was older and more influential in the sect. 
Through the medium of the Mormon press, he violently de- 
nounced Strang as an impostor, won the majority vote and led 
his followers into Utah to found Salt Lake City. Strang led 
the minority into Wisconsin, but finding no neighborly atmos- 
phere, sought a more sequestered spot for his Lares and 
Penates. In 1847 he sailed into one of the most beautiful 
harbors on the Great Lakes and gave it his self -sainted name — 
St. James. By 1850 he had three thousand followers with 
him, whom he set to work to cut the ELing's Highway the 
entire length of the Island, and to construct a tabernacle, 
where he was crowned king with all the martial and regal 
power at his command. He then laid taxes to maintain schools 
and support the poor; erected a printing press and issued a 
daily paper; wrote a Natural History of Beaver Island that is 
now in the Smithsonian Institute; made laws forbidding the 
use of tobacco, alcohol, tea and coffee; ordered the women to 
wear bloomer costumes; and set up a whipping post where 
infractions of his laws were punished. He was a harsh master. 
A friendly relation was maintained with the Indians, but 
the fisherfolk were made to feel his subtle power; their nets 
were torn or stolen and their boats robbed and sunk with 



1920.] THE STORY OF BEAVER ISLAND 785 

impunity. Aided by the Gentiles of the coast towns, they 
waged a border warfare that attracted the attention of the 
country. Charges of treason, polygamy, robbing the mails, 
harboring counterfeiters and criminals, luring ships onto the 
rocks and robbing them, were preferred against him to the 
United States Government. He was tried at Detroit, but so 
skillfully did he plead his own case, he was acquitted. 

Emboldened by success, he returned and had himself 
elected to the State legislatiu'e. With shrewd political instinct 
he gerrymandered the neighboring islands with his own group 
into a new county, of which he was the political head. All 
the power and machinery of the law were in the hands of the 
Mormons. They were sheriff, judge and jury. The Gentiles 
had no redress. Resentment was at fever heat, when the reve- 
nue cutter Michigan sailed into the harbor. As Strang was 
about to go aboard to pay a visit of coiu*tesy, he was shot from 
ambush by two of his own followers, one of whom had been 
stripped and whipped at the public whipping post. An up- 
rising of the Gentiles followed, in which the tabernacle, the 
printing press, the house and library of the Mormon Saint were 
destroyed and his people driven into exile. 

The fisherfolk now came into their own and the colony 
became as unique as its predecessor; for most of the inhabit- 
ants were from Galway or the Aran Islands, and had brought 
with them the folklore, folk song, the neighborliness, the 
quaint philosophy and spiritual life of Aran Mor. The Aran 
Islands are a sea-washed group of barren rocks to the west 
of Ireland, which have f lU'nished the scene for several modern 
dramas and novels. The inhabitants are spoken of as a silent. 
God-fearing race, facing poverty and the tragedies of the sea 
with a philosophic courage. The wild strength of storms on 
their rock-bound coast, followed by the peace and warmth of 
sunlight, send the roots of spiritual life deep into their fertile 
hearts. They learn to fear and love God. Remote from towns 
and schools, they have cherished whatever of knowledge or 
lore that found its way from century to century into their iso- 
lated land, which has thus become the repository of song and 
story of ages past. Many of them possess a "turn'' for philos- 
ophy, a fine sense of the poetic, and remarkable memory. 

A well-remembered evening was spent in the cottage of 
one who had settled when young on Beaver Island; and, 

▼OL. cz. 50 



786 THE STORY OF BEAVER ISLAND [Mar., 

though advanced in years, still retained the strong, fresh voice 
of her youth. 

A young harpist, fingering a small Irish harp, inspired our 
hostess to chant in Gaelic the long mediaeval songs of *The 
Nativity" and *The Passion." With fine appreciation she 
would pause every once in a while and say: "I wish you could 
understand. The story is beautiful." An old romantic baUad, 
*The White Holland Handkerchief," followed. Urged by her 
grandchildren to lilt for them to "step to," she lilted for each 
his favorite tune: for the little girl, *The Pigeon on the 
Gate;" for the little boy, "The Blackberry Blossom" and, 
lightly as the blossom itself, he "stepped" with his little bare 
feet the ancient dances of his fathers. 

On the way back to the hotel, a pathetic incident in her 
life was told. Her husband lay in his last illness, but she 
must needs attend to the wants of the farm. He felt his hour 
approaching, sent for his wife and asked to hear again the 
Songs of the Islands, and with the sound of them in his ears 
his soul passed away. 

There are few existing communities where the spirit of 
the old country is retained as on the Island. Neither doctor 
nor lawyer is among them. TThe priest is doctor, dentist, 
lawyer, judge and weather reporter. Those who have read 
Father Gavin Duff'y's Yonder may shift the scenery from the 
tropics to the northern woods, and get some idea of the mani- 
fold occupations of the resident pastor who is none other 
than the convert, Father Jewell, at one time member of the 
former Episcopal, now Catholic, monastery at Graymoor, op- 
posite West Point. The story of his conversion may be found 
in Roads to Rome. He is entirely devoted to his people and 
to his work, the broad scope of which employs his tireless 
energy. He is endeavoring to establish in this isolated Catho- 
lic community those pious customs and public observances 
that bring comfort and spiritual joy into daily life and tend 
to ennoble toil. His public blessing of the fields on Rogation 
Sunday was a scene never to be forgotten. 




ST. PATRICK'S FOLK IN AMERICA. 

BY CARL HOLUDAY. 

TALIAN tradition declares that when Columbus 
approached America, an impulsive son of Erin 
leaped overboard and swam to the shore, thus 
reaching it some minutes before any one else. 
The Irish have been coming ever since, until 
today they and their descendants number at least twenty-five 
million. The first white settler in America was an Irishman; 
for it is a fact that Eyres of Galway was the first of the soldiers 
chosen by Coluipbus to hold the fort in the West Indies, and 
there he spent his remaining days vainly waiting for the re- 
turn of his chief .^ 

Moreover, there is a claim that the Irish discovered Amer- 
ica long before Columbus was born! St. Brendan, Bishop of 
Clonf ert, set sail in 546 from St. Brendan's Bay, Kerry, to seek 
a land **far in the West.*** His account maintains that he 
reached a vast country, penetrated inland, and found a giant 
river flowing from the East to the West — ^presumably the Ohio. 
Some of his descriptions fit rather accurately portions of Vir- 
ginia. Wynkyn de Worde, the famous English printer, pub- 
lished a narrative of St. Brendan's voyage about ten years 
before Columbus sailed from Palos, and long before this, 
Latin manuscripts telling of the Irishman*s travels were to 
be found in the libraries of Paris, Rome and Padua. Brendan 
declares that he ran into an ocean current which bore him 
without sail — shall we say the Gulf Stream? Centuries before 
Columbus, Norse mariners had named a mysterious western 
land *'Great Ireland,'** while Scandinavian sagas tell of a 
land west of Greenland called Albania, "whither formerly 
vessels came from Ireland." 

^ There Is an extant abridgment of Columbus' Journal, giving many such curious 
facts. See Wlnsor, ColumbuM, chs. 1., if.; Harisse, ChrUtophe Colombe, 1. For 
general account see Bourne, Spain and America, 

* See the Saints' Lives In publications of Early English Text Society; see also 
Weston, Chief Middle English PoeU, and Romance, Vision and Satire, 

*See Ohtheri's account in King Alfred's translation of Oroslus* History of the 
World; also Watson, "Bibliography of Pre-Columbian Discoreries," in Anderson, 
America Not Discovered bg Columbus. 



\ 



788 ST. PATRICICS FOLK IN AMERICA [Mar., 

Now the first genuinely large immigration of Irish to 
this continent was in 1629 when great groups founded a colony 
in Guiana. But they were at Jamestown as early as 1616 — 
as is proved by the Caseys, Doughertys, O'Conners and 
O'Briens on the roll of settlers.* That India rubber ship of un- 
limited capacity — the Mayflower — carried William Mullens 
and Christopher Martin, both from Ireland.* Cecil Calvert, 
the second Lord Baltimore, with two hundred Catholics, more 
than one hundred of whom were Irish, left the Isle of Wight 
in November, 1633, and in March, 1634, landed on St. Clement's 
Island, Maryland, assisted at Mass, and immediately began 
the construction of the town of St. Mary. There, it is literally 
true, "'religious liberty obtained a home, its only home in the 
wide world." There Quakers mutilated by the Piu-itans found 
a refuge; there Episcopalians fled for safety; there even 
Puritans driven from Boston and Salem found a haven.* 

The Irish Confederate War of 1641-1652 and the violation 
of Irish treaties by William of Orange drove thousands from 
the Emerald Isle to America, especially to Maryland and Penn- 
sylvania.^ In 1652 more than 25,000 either sold themselves 
or were sold in Martinque and neighboring islands, and that 
same year a commission appointed by Cromwell reported that 
Irish women were too numerous, and recommended that they 
"be sold to merchants and transported to Virginia, New Eng- 
land, Jamaica, or other countries." Within four years more 
than 100,000 were thus traded away, the great majority into 
America.* And they prospered in the West Land. As early 
as 1634 one of the wealthiest merchants in the colonies was the 
Boston Irishman, James Coogan.* By 1683 Manhattan had an 
Irish governor, Thomas Dongan, Earl of Limerick, and an 

« Burk, History of Virginia; also Cooke, History of Virginia, and Foote, Sketches 
of Virginia, 

'Journal of American Irish Historical Society, paper read by T. S. Lonergan, 
'*The Irish Chapter in American History," at annual meeting. New York, January 
17, 1912. For many curious facts about these and other Mayflower passengers see 
publications of Massachusetts Historical Society. 

* Osgood, American Colonies in Seventeenth Century, vol. i., pp. 529 et $eq. 
Above all, consult Davis, The Day-Star of American Freedom, 

*See Hodgkln, Political History of England, vol. vii., pp. 360-376; also Brl^t, 
History of England, Period U,, pp. 674-695. 

* Condon, Irish Race in America; also American Archives, vol. ill., and Dunlop, 
Ireland Under the Commonwealth, 

*See Lonergan, **The Irish Chapter in American History.'* 



1920.] ST. PATRICK'S FOLK IN AMERICA 789 

Irish college was founded on Manhattan Island that very 
year.**^ 

The natural haven of refuge for exiles from Erin was 
manifest when, in 1695» the Treaty of Limerick was violated 
and, in 1698, the decree pronounced by King William forbade 
the export of woolens from Ireland.^^ As a result more than 
200,000 Irish Presbyterians left Ulster for America. Lord 
Mount joy might well declare years later to Parliament: "You 
lost America through the Irish." 

Finding seventeenth century New York somewhat hostile 
— ^for before 1700 the law of the province threatened anyone 
sheltering a priest, with a fine of $1,000 and three days in the 
stocks^' — the Irish spread far up and down the coast. New 
Windsor was founded by the Irish Clintons; the Mohawk 
Valley was settled by Sir W. Johnson, of Meath, and the 
valleys of Virginia were filled with Irish Presbyterians by the 
name of Hite, Beverly, McKay, McGill, Vance and Glass. Espe- 
cially was Patrick County, Virginia, soon teeming with Mc- 
Duffys, McDowells, McGruders, Mitchells and Campbells of 
Ireland, while the first settlers of the Shenandoah Valley were 
John Lewis, of Ireland, and his sons.^* 

The Irish immigrants flocked to Philadelphia.^^ Penn- 
sylvania had always been friendly to them. When William 
Penn, preparing to sail for America, joined the Quakers at 
Cork, he appointed James Logan, of Armagh County, Ireland, 
his secretary, and in 1736 had him appointed governor of the 
colony. Always truthful, always gentle, Logan was so admired 
by the Indians about Philadelphia that they named their 
future great chief after him. Diu'ing 1728, 5,000 Irish landed at 
Philadelphia; the next year, 5,655, and between 1724 and 
1742 more than 3,000 annually departed for the Quaker settle- 

^ See V. J. Dowling, "Irish Pioneers of New York City,*' Journal of American 
Irish Historical Society, vol. tIU.; also Dunlap, History of New Netherlands, 

% 

^Fronde, The English in Ireland in the Eighteenth Century explains In detail 
many of what the Irish considered breaches of faith. But Lecky thinks Fronde 
In error, and should be consulted. See also Murray, History of the Commercial and 
Financial Relations Between England and Ireland. For brief statement on woolen 
exports, see Turner, Ireland and England, p. 92. 

" See Osgood, American Colonics in the Seventeenth Century, vol. ill., pp. 444 et 
seq,; also Dowling, ''Irish Pioneers of New York City." 

" See both Burk and Cooke. For Irish Influence In South Carolina, see Ramsay, 
History of South Carolina, 

M Watson, Annals of Philadelphia, See also American Archives, vol. III., and 
Condon, Irish Race in America, 



790 ST. PATRICK'S FOLK IN AMERICA [Mar., 

ment from the one county of Ulster. According to Logan, six 
ship-loads came during one week of 1729, and in 1736 they 
averaged three ship-loads per day. Over 17,000 came between 
August, 1771, and August, 1772. So nimierous, indeed, did they 
become in Philadelphia that a public complaint was laid 
before the king protesting against their rapid increase and the 
large congregations at Mass. 

By the time of the Revolution, Pennsylvania was domi- 
nantly Irish, and large numbers were to be foimd in New 
York, New Jersey and Maryland. By 1737 the exiles were so 
nimierous in Boston that they founded the Charitable Irish 
Society. Soon they were spreading over New Hampshire, 
where they established New Londonderry and Dublin, and 
then into Maine, where they founded Belfast and Bangor. 
These people left Ireland in such vast numbers that by 1740 
entire districts of the island were deserted.^* 

The total white population of the United States at the 
close of the Revolution was 3,172,000, and 1,141,920 were purely 
Irish.** But these figures do not correctly represent their pro- 
portion in the Colonial army. Joseph Galloway declared in 
the House of Commons that ^'one-half of the American army is 
Irish ;"*^ but more accurate investigation has shown that prac- 
tically one-half of the regular soldiers of the Colonies in the 
Revolution were born in Irelcuid and a third more of Wash- 
ington's troops were of Irish ancestry.** A Killamey inMni- 
granfs son. General Sullivan, struck the first blow on land 
before war was declared by seizing, on December 11, 1724, 
Fort William and Mary*® at Newcastle, New Hampshire, and 
capturing fifteen cannon and a hundred barrels of powder, 
later to be used with telling effect at Bunker Hill. "It was 
the first act which could be regarded as one of open and 
direct hostility committed by a military force against the 
Royal Government.*' 

Then on May 11th came the first sea battle of the Revo- 
lution. At Machias Bay, Maine, an Irishman, Jeremiah 

^McCarthy, Brief Historg of Ireland, and Froude. 

» See First Cenens of United States, 1790, 

**The teitlmony of Galloway and yarious other exiled Tories may be found in 
Parliamentarg Reports and Debates, during the years 1775-1789. 

"An examination of Muster Rolls of Massachusetts Soldiers and Sailors of the 
Revolutionary War (190%) reveals an astounding number of Irish names. 

" See Bancroft, Historg of the United States, vol. iy., p. 94. 



1920.] ST. PATRICICS FOLK IN AMERICA 791 

O'Brien, with a few followers on board a sloop, attacked the 
British warship, the Margcwitta, captured her; turned her 
upon the two British cruisers, the Diligence and the Tapni^ 
quish, coming to her rescue, and then defeated a whole 
squadron, containing some of the largest vessels afloat, which 
had been sent out from Halifax to crush O'Brien. Little 
wonder that James Fenimore Cooper called the deed ^the 
Lexington of the Seas,"»« On May 10, 1775, the Continental 
Congress issued an Address to the People of Ireland^ declar- 
ing: "^We acknowledge with pleasiu*e and gratitude that the 
Irish Nation has produced patriots who have nobly distin- 
guished themselves in the cause of humanity and America/'*^ 
Washington's private secretary, Joseph Reed, was the son of 
an Irish immigrant. The secretary of the Congress that issued 
the Declaration of Independence was Charles Thomson, of 
Derry, Ireland, the man whom John Adams called ^'the life 
of the cause of liberty," the man whose word was so trusted 
that the Delaware Indians adopted him as '"the Man of Truth." 
Twelve members of the Continental Congress were of 
Irish blood.^^ The ancestors of John Hancock, the presiding 
officer, had come from Down County. The parents of Wil- 
liam Whipple of New Hampshire were from St. Patrick's 
land. Matthew Thornton of New Hampshire was bom in 
Limerick County. Robert Treat Paine of Massachusetts was 
a descendant of Shane the Proud, Prince of Ulster. James 
Smith of Pennsylvania, who raised the first volunteer Penn- 
sylvania company for the Revolution, was an immigrant from 
Ireland. George Taylor of the same colony, born in Ireland, 
had sold himself as an indented worker for two years to pay 
his ship-fare. The father of George Read of Delaware came 
from Dublin, while the father of Thomas McKean of the same 
colony had arrived from near the same city. The grandfather 
of Charles Carroll of Carrollton was from ELing's County, Ire- 
land, and the grandfather of Thomas Nelson of Virginia came 
from Tyrone County. The father of Edward Rutledge of South 
Carolina was an Irish physician,, while the grandfather of 
Thomas Lynch of that colony had arrived a penniless exile 
from Galway. While thirteen Irishmen in Congress helped to 

** See Cooper, Btstorg of the American Naug, 

'^Joornal of Proceedings of Congress. The Continental Congress actually asked 
Ireland and Canada to become part of the new Union. 

**See Sanderson, Biographg of the Signers of the Deeiaration. 



792 ST. PATRICK'S FOLK IN AMERICA [Mar., 

make the Declaration, Captain John Nixon of the Friendly 
Sons of St. Patrick was the first man to read it to the public, 
July 8, 1776; Dunlap, the Irish printer of Philadelphia, was 
the first to publish it, and John Binns, a Dublin immigrant to 
Philadelphia, the first to print it with facsimiles of the signa- 
tures.*' 

Repeatedly in the dark days that followed, these Irish- 
Americans came to the aid of the Government. The Friendly 
Sons of St. Patrick of Philadelphia gave $500,000 for the equip- 
ping of Washington's army, and on numberless occasions, the 
Sons of Liberty, organized by the O'Briens of Machias, Maine, 
raised funds for food and clothing for the suffering soldiers. 
When the long campaign was over, eight Irishmen were 
among the framers of the Constitution. 

At Bunker Hill three Irishmen were the commanders. 
Generals Warren, Montgomery and Stark. A close friend of 
Washington was the Irishman, General Henry Knox, Chief of 
Artillery, founder of the Order of the Cincinnati and first 
Secretary of War; and the three military advisers of Wash- 
ton's career were the same Knox, General Stephen Moylen of 
Cork and General Joseph Reed, the son of an Irish immigrant. 
When Washington crossed the Delaware five Irish generals, 
Sullivan, Green, Knox, Ewing and Hand, were with him. When 
the British fleet fled from Boston to South Carolina, two Irish 
leaders, John Rutledge and General William Thompson, drove 
it from Charleston. When the Tories attempted to rise in the 
South, General Andrew Pickens and Colonel John Dooley, sons 
of Irish immigrants to South Carolina, with only three hundred 
and fifty men defeated them at Kettle Creek, Georgia. Richard 
Montgomery of Donegal County, just before the fiu-ious as- 
sault on Quebec, December 31, 1775, delivered that concise 
and memorable speech to his troops : **Men of New York, you 
will not fear to follow where your general leads."" 

The deeds of the Irishman, General William Maxwell, 
hero of Brandywine and Monmouth, and of Captain John Mc- 
Clure end his "Rocky Creek Irish" in North Carolina, rival 
the escapades of Cooper's heroes. And the achievements of 
Jack Barry, **father of the American navy," who was offered 

«* Thomas, Historg of Printing in America, and Buckingham, HewMpaper 
Reminiscences. 

**Headley, Washington and His Generals. 



1920-] ST. PATRICK'S FOLK IN AMERICA 793 

$75,000 and the command of a British ship to quit the Amer- 
ican cause, are too well known to be rehearsed here. The 
English evacuated Boston on St. Patrick's Day, 1776. Wash- 
ington immediately gave orders that the countersign should be 
"St. Patrick,** and that General Sullivan should be the chief 
officer of the day. And in the spring of 1777, when eighteen 
new brigadier generals were appointed, six were Irish: 
Anthony Wayne, Hand, Reed, George Clinton, Poor and 
Conway." 

When victory came at Yorktown an Irishman, Ensign Wil- 
son of Clinton's Brigade, received the surrendered battle-flags 
of Cornwallis; Thomas McKean, the Irish president of the 
Continental Congress, announced at midnight the news in 
Philadelphia, and the secretary, Charles Thomson, read the 
proclamation the next morning to Congress. 

The son of an immigrant from Antrim Coimty, Ireland, 
General Andrew Jackson,^* defeated the English at New Or- 
leans. And the Mexican War gives us the names and achieve- 
ments of General James Shields and General Robert Patter- 
son of Tyrone County, Ireland, and of Phil Kearny and Com- 
modore David Conner. 

The Irish famine of 1846-1847, besides killing one and a 
half million peasants, drove 800,000 to America between 1847 
and 1851,*^ and with the coming of the Civil War they enlisted 
by the thousands in the armies of both the North and the 
South. To recall but a few of the most famous, we will men- 
tion Stonewall Jackson, James Shields, Kearny, Corcoran, 
Meagher, Logan, Mulligan, Sheridan, McMahon, Meade and 
Cleburne. The Irish Brigade at Fredericksburg went into 
battle with one thousand three hundred and three men, and 
the next morning at roll call answered only two hundred 
names.** 

In the field of politics we may recall that Andrew Jack- 
son's parents came from Antrim County to North Carolina 
just two years before he was born; President Arthur was the 
son of an Irish preacher from the same county; James K. 

»Ibtd, 

**For Jackson's ancestry consult Headley, Lives of Wtnfleld Scott and Andrew 
Jaekeon; also Brady, True Andrew Jackson, 

"Turner, Ireland and England, pp. 84, 1S5-139. Consult also Condon, Irish Race 
in America, 

*See Rhodes, History of United States, vol. !▼., pp. 196, 197. 



794 ST. PATRICK'S FOLK IN AMERICA [Mar^ 

Polk was a direct descendant of Robert Pollock of Donegal 
and Buchanan owed his perseverance to his North Ireland an- 
cestors. An Irishman, Matthew Lyon, cast the deciding vote 
in Congress which elected Jefiferson to the Presidency. Wil- 
liam H. Seward and James G. Blaine could trace their ancestry 
to the Emerald Isle. Old Mother Sullivan of New Hampshire 
might say : "I worked in my farmyard, with a future governor 
of Massachusetts in my arms and future governors of ^ew 
Hampshire and Vermont tagging after me.'*** 

In the fields of art and literature the children of St. Patrick 
in America have made a rather characteristic contribution. 
For there is much of the emotional and dramatic, even the 
tragic, in the Irish soul, as is evidenced in its artistic expres- 
sion. Some of the most famous names in American theatrical 
annals are Irish. There are Dion Boucicault, author of Lon- 
don Assurance, The Shaughraun, and nearly a score of other 
stage successes; John Brougham, founder of Brougham's 
Lyceum, and Augustin Daly, founder of the once famous Daly 
Theatre. John Drew, the comedian, father of the present John 
Drew, was born in Dublin. Tyrone Power, the Irish comedian, 
took America by storm in the thirties and forties, and many 
yet remember the eccentric dignity of another Irishman, John 
T. Raymond, as Colonel Sellers in the Gilded Age. The mem- 
ory of Barney Williams (whose real name was Flaherty), has 
not yet faded as the famous actor of 1850-1870, and the highly 
successful manager of the old Wallack Theatre.*® 

In the field of letters Father Abram Ryan is said to have 
touched more American hearts than any other American poet 
save Longfellow. Richard Henry Wilde's poems were once on 
every old-time Southern gentleman's lips. Poe had a heavy 
infusion of Irish blood; Joseph I. C. Clarke, the versatile 
poet-dramatist, was born in Ireland; Theodore O'Hara, author 
of the Bivouac of the Dead, was the son of the Irish school- 
master, Kane O'Hara, who gave Zachary Taylor all the book- 
learning that stateman-soldier ever possessed.*^ 

In journalism we may enumerate John Daly Burk, author 

*See address by Rooserelt before New York Friendly Sons of St Patrick, 
Ifarch 17, 1905. 

** See Diinlap, History of American Theatre, and Homblow, Historg of the Theatre 
in America; also Ford, Beginnings of Americim Dramatic Literature. 

*^ For accounts of Father Ryan, Wilde and O'Hara, see chapters on them In 
author's History of Southern Literature and Three Centuries of Southern Poetry. 



1920.] A PRAYER UPON THE SEA 795 

of the History of Virginia and founder of the first daily in 
Boston; John Boyle O'Reilly, poet, novelist and famous as 
editor of the Boston Pilot; James Gordon Bennett of the New 
York Herald; Joseph Medill of the Chicago Tribune and 
Patrick Ford, editor of the Irish World.^* 

It is strange that so little has ever been written about the 
Irish in American art. It was William Corcoran, so nof an Irish 
immigrant, who, with his millions, established in Washington 
what is practically the national art gallery of America. The Irish 
painter, William Dunlap," was a genuine pioneer in American 
art, while in these modern days the unique statue of Lincoln 
by Augustus St. Gaudens of Dublin shows that artistic skill is 
still the Irishman's heritage. And, pray, let no American for- 
get that, in order that future Irishmen might have a comfort- 
able home, a son of St. Patrick, James Hoben, drew the plans 
for the White House! And so the list might be extended in- 
definitely in other lines. This very incomplete sketch seeks 
but to give a small contribution to the full tribute merited by 
the Irish in America. 

" See James Melvin Lee, History of American Journalism. 

Tor interesting discussion of early American painting see History of the Rise 
and Progress of the Arts of Design in United States, by Dmilap himself. 



A PRAYER UPON THE SEA. 

BY CHARLES J. POWERS, C.S.P. 

My weal art Thou, Lord, and the bourn, 
Though adverse winds my course would stay. 
And the faint light hath made the way 
Of my frail bark, and tempest torn. 
Unsafe upon an angry sea. 
Now dim I see the distant shore. 
Guide me when I shall see no more. 
When I shall have no light save Thee. 



THE LOYALIST. 

BY JAMES FRANCIS BARRETT. 

Chapter V. 

I HE corner of Market and Front Streets was brisk 
-with life and activity at twelve, the change hour, 
every day. Here assembled the merchants of the 
city, members of the upper class who cared enough 
about the rest of the world to make an inquiry into 
its progress; men of leisure about town, whose 
vocation in life was to do nothing and who had the entire day 
in which to do it All conditions, all varieties of character joined 
the ranks. Soldiers, restless from the monotony of army life 
and desirous of the license usually associated with leave of ab- 
sence, civilians eager in the pursuit of truth or of scandal; pa- 
triots impatient with the yoke of foreign rule; Tories exasperated 
with the turn of the war and its accompanying privations — all 
gathered together at the Old Londou Coffee House day after day. 
It stood, an imposing three-storied square structure, with a 
great wing extending far in the rear. Its huge roof, fashioned for 
all the world after a truncated pyramid with immense gables pro- 
jecting from its sides, gave every indication of having sheltered 
many a guest from the snows and rains of winter. A great chim- 
ney ran up the side and continually belched forth smoke and 
sparks, volumes of them, during the days and nights of the cold 
winter season. A portico of no particular style of architecture 
ran around two sides of the ancient building and afforded a meet- 
ing place for the majority of the guests. It was furnished with 
many chairs, faithfully tenanted when the season was propitious. 
Thither Stephen and Mr. Allison were directing their steps 
more than a week after they had last met at the home of the latter. 
By the merest chance they met. Stephen was seeking a healthful 
reaction from a vigorous walk through the less frequented part 
of the city; Mr. Allison was making his daily visit to the Coffee 
House. Stephen had often heard of the tavern, but had never 
been there. Still be was resolved to seek an introduction to its 
clientele at the first propitious moment. That moment bad now 
come. 

Upon entering, their attention was at once arrested by the 
animated discussion in progress at a table in the nearest comer 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 797 

of the room. An officer of the Governor's Guard, in full regi- 
mentals, booted and spurred, in company with a gentleman, finely 
dressed, was talking loudly with Jim Cadwalader, who was seated 
before them holding a half-opened newspaper in his hand. It 
was plain to be seen that the soldier was somewhat under the 
influence of liquor, yet one could not call him intoxicated. 

''Gi' me that an' I'll show y'," exclaimed the soldier as he 
grabbed the paper from Cadwalader's hand. 

" T' were told,' he went on to read from it, *that it was t' 
avoid the 'stabl'shment 'r count'nancin',' he half mumbled the 
words, 'of Pop'ry; an' that Pop'ry was 'tabl'shed in Canada (where 
't was only tol'rated). And is not Pop'ry now as much 'stabl'shed 
by law in your state 's any other rel'gion?' "Just what I was 
sayin'," he interpolated. " *So that your Gov'nor and all your 
rulers may be Papists, and you may have a Mass-House in ev'ry 
corner o' your country (as some places already 'xper'ence).' " 

"There!" he snarled as he threw back the paper, "Isn't that 
what I wuz tryin' t' tell y'." 

"You can't tell me nothin', Forrest," retorted Jim. 

"Course I can't. Nobody kin. Y' know 't all." 

"I can mind my own bus'ness." 

"There y'are agin," shouted Forrest, "y' know 't all, ye do." 

"Don't say that again." Jim flared back at him. "I'll— I'll— 
I'll—. Don't say it again, that's all." 

" 'Cause y' know 'ts true." 

"It's a lie," Jim interrupted him. "Ye know it's a lie. But 
I don't 'spect much of ye, 'r of the Gov'nor either. None of ye 
'11 ever be Papists." 

"Now y'are talkin' sens'ble; first sens'ble thing you've said 
t'day. No Papists here if we kin help it." 

Stephen and Mr. Allison, keenly interested in this remark, 
moved nearer to the table. Cadwalader was well known to Mr. 
Allison. The others were total strangers. 

"What's he goin' t' do about the help from France? Refuse 
it 'cause it's from a Catholic country?" asked Jim. 

"He don't like it and never did." 

"Is he fool 'nough t' think we can win this war without 
help?" 

"He won it once." 

"When?" 

"Saratoga." 

"That's his story. We didn't have it won and it won't be 
won without troops and with somethin' besides shin-plasters." 
He turned sideways, crossed one leg over the other and began 



798 THE LOYALIST [M 

to drum upon the table. "We must hev help/' he went on. "We 
must hev it and it must come from France 'r Spain." 

"There y* are agin," repeated Forrest, "as if one wuzn't as 
much under th' Pope as th' other." 

"Forrest!" he turned toward him and shook his finger at 
him in a menacing sort of a way: "Don't say that again. Mind 
what I tell ye. Don't say it again — that's all. When I'm mad, 
I'm not myself." 

"Is that so? I s'pose I'm wrong agin, an' you're right Tell 
me this. What did yer fool leg'slature in Vi'ginya th' other day?" 

"I don't know," murmured Jim. "What did they do?" 

"There y' are agin. I thought y' knew it all. Think y* 
know ev'rythin' an' y' know nothin'. Passed a resolution fur a 
Papist priest, didn't they?" 

"And why?" pronounced Jim, flushed with anger, his lower 
lip quivering with emotion. " 'Cause he did more fur his coun- 
try than you or I'll ever do. Father Gibault. And if it wazn't fur 
him, Colonel Clark 'd never hev op'n'd th' Northwest" 

"That's just what I say. The Papists '11 soon own the whole 
damn country." 

Stephen and Mr. Allison moved as if to join the discussion, 
which at this juncture had become loud enough to lose the char- 
acter of intimacy. Jim was well known to the guests of the 
house. The man, who was known as Forrest, was, as his uniform 
indicated, a Colonel in the army. The other man was a stranger. 
Much younger' than his companion, tall, manly, clad in a suit of 
black, with his hair in full dress, well powdered and gathered 
behind in a large silken bag, he gave every appearance of culture 
and refinement. He wore a black cocked hat whose edges were 
adorned with a black feather about an inch in depth, his knees, 
as well as his shoes, were ornamented with silver buckles. 

"If they did own th' country," was Jim's grave reply, **we'd 
hev a healthier place to live in than we now hev." 

" 'N whose doin' it?" shouted Forrest "the Papists." 

"Thou liest!" interrupted Mr. Allison, intruding himself into 
their midst, "a confounded lie. Remember, the Catholics have 
given their all to this war — their goods, their money, their sons." 

"Heigh-ho! Who're you?" asked the soldier. "What d' you 
know 'bout the army? Hardly 'nough *f them to go aroun'." 

"A malicious untruth. Why half the rebel army itself is 
reported to have come from Ireland." 

"How do you know?" 

"From the testimony of General Robertson in the House 
of Lords. And if these soldiers are Irishmen, you can wager 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 799 

they're Catholics. And why should we pass laws 'gainst these 
crowds of Irish Papists and convicts who are yearly poured upon 
us, unless they were Catholic convicts fleeing from the laws of 
persecution?" 

**What ails ye, Forrest," rejoined Jim, "can't be cured." 

"Take care 'f yourself," angrily retorted the Colonel, "an* 
I'll take care o' myself." 

"If ye did, and yer likes did the same, we'd git along better 
and the war 'd be over. I s'pose ye know that yer friend. Jay, 
lost Canada to us." 

"What if he did. Wazn't he right?" 

And then he explained to him. 

Canada had been surrendered to England by France in a 
clause of the Treaty of Paris in 1763, with a stipulation, however, 
that the people of the territory in question would be permitted 
the free use of the French language, the prescriptions of the 
French code of laws, and the practice of the Catholic religion. 
South of this region and west of the English colonies, between 
the Ohio and the Mississippi Rivers, stretched a vast expanse of 
territory known as the Northwest Territory, where dwelt a large 
population without laws, with no organized form of government 
save the mere caprices of petty military tyrants, placed over them 
by the various seaboard colonies who severally laid claims to the 
district. At the request of the people of Canada, it was voted by 
the English Parliament to re-annex the territory northwest of 
the Ohio to Canada and to permit the settlers to share in the 
rights and privileges of the Canadian province. This was effected 
by the Quebec Act in 1774. 

It was truly a remarkable concession. The inhabitants of 
this vast stretch of territory were freed for all time from the 
tyranny of military despots, their lands and churches secured to 
them and their priests given a legal title to their tithes. It was 
the freest exercise of the Catholic religion under the laws of the 
English Government. But what a storm of abuse and protesta- 
tion was raised by the fanatical portion of the Protestant popula- 
tion! The newspapers of the day abounded with articles, with 
songs and squibs against the King and his Parliament. The 
mother country witnessed no less virulent a campaign than the 
Colonies themselves. "We may live to see our churches," wrote 
one writer to the Pennsylvania Packet^ "converted into mass- 
houses, and our lands plundered of tithes for the support of a 
Popish clergy. The Inquisition may erect her standard in Penn- 
sylvania and the city of Philadelphia may yet experience the car- 
nage of St. Bartholomew's Day." Processions were formed about 



800 THE LOYALIST [Mar^ 

the country and in some places the bust of George III., adorned 
with mitre, beads and a pectoral cross, was carried in triumplial 
march. 

The forms of protest found their way ultimately into the 
halls of the First American Congress, which convened in Phila- 
delphia in 1774. The recent legislation was enumerated among 
the wrongs done the Colonies by the mother country. Feeling 
became so bitter that an address was issued by the Congress on 
the fifth of September, 1774, "to the people of Great Britain/' 
saying : "We think the Legislature of Great Britain is not author- 
ized by the Constitution to establish a religion, fraught with san- 
guinary and impious tenets, or to erect an arbitrary form of gov- 
ernment in any quarter of the globe." "By another act the Do- 
minion of Canada is to be extended, modeled and governed, as 
that being disunited from us, detached from our interests by 
civil as well as religious prejudices, that by their numbers daily 
swelling with Catholic emigrants from Europe, and by their devo- 
tion to administration so friendly to their religion, they might 
become formidable to us, and on occasion be fit instruments in the 
hands of power to reduce the ancient free Protestant colonies 
to the same state of slavery with themselves." Little did they 
think that the breach they were attempting to heal was only 
widened by their procedure. The author of the address was John 
Jay, a lawyer from New York, with whom Popery was a mania. 

Nor did the failure of this method of diplomacy become 
apparent until several years later. The measure of appreciation 
and the expression of sentiment of the Canadian people in regard 
to this ill-timed and unchristian address, conceived in a fit of 
passion and by no means representative of the saner portion of 
the population, took expression at a more critical time. When, 
in 1776, the members of the same Congress, viewing with alarm 
the magnitude of the struggle upon which they had entered and 
to whose success they had pledged their honor, their fortunes 
and their lives, sought to enlist the resources of their neighbors 
in Canada, they met with a sudden and calamitous disappoint- 
ment. To effect an alliance with the border brethren, three Com- 
missioners were appointed — ^Benjamin Franklin, Samuel Chase 
and Charles Carroll of Carrollton. Father John Carroll, a Jesuit 
priest, was invited by the Congress to accompany the party. 

Arriving in Canada, it soon became evident to the committee 
that their mission was to be unproductive of results. The Govern- 
ment did not take kindly to them, nor would the Bishop of 
Quebec and his clergy trust the vague expressions of the United 
Colonies, whose statute books, they pointed out, still bore the 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 801 

most bitter and unchristian sentiments against all priests and 
adherents of the ancient Church. Bigotry had apparently de- 
feated their purpose. How was still obscure, until it was dis- 
covered that the British Government had taken John Jay's ad- 
dress, translated it into French and spread it broadcast through- 
out Canada. **Behold the spirit of the Colonists/' it went on to 
remind the people, "and if you join forces with them, they will 
turn on you and extirpate your religion in the same manner as 
they did in the Catholic colony of Maryland." 

The effect is historical. The Commissioners were compelled 
to return; the brave Montgomery was killed before the walls of 
the city; Canada was lost to the Colonies and forever forfeited 
as an integral part of the United States; all of which was due 
to the narrowness and intolerance of those who in the supreme 
hour could not refrain from the fanaticism of bigotry. 

It must be said, however, out of justice to the Colonists, that 
they did not persist in their spirit of antagonism towards the 
Catholics. The commencement of the struggle against the com- 
mon foe, together with the sympathetic and magnanimous concur- 
rence of the Catholics with the patriots in all things, soon changed 
their prejudices in favor of a more united and vigorous effort in 
behalf of their joint claims. The despised Papists now became 
ardent and impetuous patriots. The leaders in the great struggle 
soon began to reflect an added lustre to the nation that gave them 
birth and to the Church which taught them devotion to their 
land. The rank and file began to swarm with men of the Catho- 
lic faith, so many indeed, that their great Archbishop, John 
Carroll, could write of them that "their blood flowed as freely 
(in proportion to their numbers) to cement the fabric of inde- 
pendence, as that of any of their fellow citizens. They concurred 
with perhaps greater unanimity than any other body of men in 
recommending and promoting that government from whose in- 
fluence America anticipates all the blessings of justice, peace, 
plenty, good order and civil and religious liberty." 

Only among the few was the spirit of intolerance still ram- 
pant, and among these might be numbered Colonel Forrest. 

"See now who's t' blame, don't ye? The likes o' ye an' that 
poltroon. Jay, up there in New York. See who started this affair, 
don't ye?" 

"That's what you say. Egad, I could say all that an' save 
half the breath. I've got my 'pinion, though and that'll do fur 



me." 



**Ye're so narrow, Forrest, y've only one side. 
"Is that so? Well, so is the Governor." 

VOL. ex. 51 



802 THE LOYALIST [Mar^ 

''Is that his opinion, too?' impatiently asked Mr. Allison. 

"What?" 

''Does he view matters in that light?" 

"Did I say he did/' 

"Yes." 

There was no further response. 

Stephen had, by this time, become thoroughly exasperated 
with this man, and was about to eject him forcibly from the 
room. His better judgment, however, bade him restrain himself. 
A tilt in a public drinking house would only noise his name 
abroad and perhaps give rise to much unpleasantness. 

"How can a man consistently be subject to any civil ruler 
when already he has pledged his allegiance, both in soul and in 
body, to another potentate?" 

This from the man in black, the member of the party who 
heretofore had maintained an impartial and respectful silence, 
not so much from choice perhaps, as through necessity. His name 
proved to be John Anderson. 

'Ton mean an alien?" Stephen inquired. 

"If you are pleased to so term it. The Pope is a temporal 
lord, you understand, and as such is due allegiance from every 
one of his subjects." 

And then Stephen took pains to explain clearly and con- 
cisely the great difference between the two authorities — ^the civU 
and the religious. The Prince of Peace had said: "Render unto 
Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that 
are God's," which declaration admitted of an interpretation at 
once comprehensive and exclusive. He explained how the Catho- 
lic found himself a member of two distinct and perfect societies, 
each independent and absolute within its own sphere, the one 
deriving its charter from the natural law, the other directly from 
God. He then pointed out how these societies lived m perfect 
harmony, although armed with two swords, the one spiritual, 
the other temporal, weapons which were intended never to clash 
but to fight side by side for the promotion of man's happiness, 
temporal and eternal. 

"But it is inconceivable how a clash can be avoided," Mr. 
Anderson reminded him. 

"Not when it is remembered that each authority is mde- 
pendent of the other. The Church has no power over civil legis- 
lation in matters purely secular, nor has the State a right to 
interfere in ecclesiastical legislation, in matters purely spiritual, 
nor over spiritual persons considered strictly as such. In every 
Catholic country, the king, as well as the humblest peasant, is 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 803 

subject to the laws of his country in secular matters, and to the 
laws of his Church in matters spiritual." 

'Tet at the same time he cannot fail to recognize that the 
one is superior to the other.** 

*'Only so far as the spiritual order is superior to the secular." 

^'Not in temporal affairs as well?" 

*'Not in the least. Only in the recognition of the fact that 
the salvation of the soul is of more importance than the welfare 
of the body. In this is the mission of the State considered 
inferior to that of the Church." 

"If this be true, how can a Catholic pay allegiance to a 
society which he believes to be a subordinate one?" 

*'He does not consider it subordinate. U is supreme within 
its own sphere. Theoretically it is subordinatq in this: that the 
care of the soul comes first; then that of the body. The State 
is the greatest institution in matters secular, and in this regard 
superior to the Church. The Church makes no pretence of in- 
fallibility in statesmanship. Hence a Catholic who is true to his 
Church and her teachings makes the best citizen." 

••Why?" 

'^Because to him, patriotism is inculcated by religion. 
Throughout his whole life his soul has been nurtured by his 
Church on a twofold pabulum — love of God and love of country." 

'The Catholic Church expressly teaches that? I thought — " 

''Exactly," agreed Stephen, interrupting him. "The Catholic 
has been taught that the civil authority, to which he owes and 
pays allegiance, is something divine; for him it is the authority 
of God vested in His creatures and he gives ear to its voice and 
yields to it a submission as befits a child of God, doing His Will 
in all things. For he recognizes therein the sound of the Divine 
Voice." 

"I see." 

"He remembers the teaching of his Church, derived from the 
words of St. Paul writing on this subject to the citizens of Rome: 
'Let every man be subject to higher powers, for there is no power 
but from God; and those that are, are ordained of God,' and the 
letter of St. Peter, the first Pope: 'Be ye subject, therefore, to 
every human creature for God's sake; whether it be to the king 
as excelling; or to governors as sent by him — for so is the will 
of God.' " 

'Tou must have been reading the Bible," interrupted Mr. 
Allison with a smile. 

"I have," answered Stephen, as he continued with little or 
no attention to the interruption : 



804 THE LOYALIST [Mar., 

"The Catholic obeys the voice of his rightly constituted 
authority because he feels that he is obeying the voice of his 
God, and when he yields obedience to the law of his land, he 
feels that he is yielding obedience to God Himself. His ruler is 
the mouthpiece of God; the Constitution of his State a most 
sacred thing because it is the embodiment of the authority of 
God, and he would rather die than commit any untoward or un- 
lawful deed which might undermine or destroy it, precisely 
because it is from God." 

There was no response. All had listened with attention to 
Stephen as he emphasized point after point. All, save Colonel 
Forrest who wore a sardonic smile throughout it all. 

"You should 've talked like that on Guy Fawkes' Day," he 
muttered, "if you wanted t' hev some fun. We'd hev some hot 
tar fur you." 

"Thank God!" replied Stephen. "We shall witness no more 
such outbreaks of fanaticism. They have long enough disgraced 
our country. They are, I trust, forever ended." 

"The Pope Day Celebration ended?" asked Anderson in sur- 
prise. 

"I hope so. Since General Washington issued the order soon 
after taking command of the army, abolishing the celebration, 
the practice has never been resumed." 

"Wash'ton thinks he owns th* country," mumbled Forrest 
in a half articulate manner. "Likes th' Papists, he does. No 
more Pope Day! Cath'lic gen'rals! French al-lies! P'rhaps 'II 
send fur th' Pope next. Give 'm 'is house, p'rhaps. Give 'im th' 
whole coun'ry. No damn good to us, he ain't. No damn 
good—" 

The next moment Stephen was upon him with his hands 
about his throat, his face flaming with rage and passion. 

"You hound! No more of that; or your treason will end 
forever." 

He shook his head violently, tightening his fingers about 
his throat. As he did, Forrest writhing in the chair under his 
attack, began to fumble with his hand at his hip as if instinctively 
seeking something there. Stephen's eyes followed the movement, 
even while he, too, relaxed his hold to seize with his free hand 
the arm of his adversary. Only for a moment, however, for he 
immediately felt himself seized from behind by the shoulders 
and dragged backwards from his man and completely over- 
powered. 

The man who was known as Anderson took charge of the 
Colonel, helping him to his feet, and without further words led 



1620-] THE LOYALIST 805 

him to one side of the room* talking softly but deliberately to 
him as he did so. 

A moment later they had passed through the door and 
vanished down the street in the direction of the Square. 

Chapter VI. 

The morrow was one of those rare days when all nature 
seems to invite one to go forth and enjoy the good things within 
her keepings. The sun rose menacing; unless the wind shifted 
before noon it would be uncomfortably warm. Still, the air was 
bracing and fragrant with the soft perfume distilled by the pines. 

Stephen felt the earth to be in tune as he made his early 
morning toilet, gazing the while into the garden from his widely 
opened window, and responded instinctively to the call of the 
countryside. The disagreeable episode of the preceding day had 
left unpleasant recollections in his mind which disconcerted him 
not a little during his waking hours. He did not repent his 
action; he might have repeated the performance under similar 
circumstances, yet he chided himself for his lack of reserve and 
composure and his great want of respect to a superior officer. 

He was early mounted and on his way, striking off in the 
direction of the Germantown Road. He had left word with his 
landlady of his intended destination, with the added remark that 
he would be back in a short time, a couple of hours at the most, 
and that he would attend to the business of the day upon his re- 
turn. What that might amount to he had no idea at all, being 
preoccupied entirely with what he had to do in the immediate 
present, for he made it a point never to permit the more serious 
affairs of Kfe to intrude upon his moments of relaxation. 

He was a pleasant figure to look upon: smoothfaced and 
athletic, well mounted and dressed with great preciseness. On 
his well-shaped hands he wore leathern gauntlets; he was in 
his uniform of buff and blue; beneath his coat he had his steel- 
buckled belt with his holster and pistol in it; he wore his cocked 
hat with a buff cockade affixed, the insignia of his rank in the 
service. 

The road lay in the direction of Marjorie's house. Perhaps 
he chose to ride along this way in order that he might be obliged 
to pass her door, and then again, perhaps, that was but of second- 
ary import. This was no time for analysis, and so he refused to 
study his motives. He did know that he had not seen her for a 
long time, the longest time it seemed, and that he had had no 
word from her since then, save the intelligence received from her 



806 THE LOYALIST [Mar^ 

father yesterday in response to his repeated inquiries concerning 
her welfare and that of her mother. 

"Let us turn up here, Dolly, old girl.*' He leaned forward 
a little to pat the mare's neck affectionately as he spoke, while 
at the same time he pulled the right rein slightly, turning her 
head in the direction indicated. "And if we are fortunate, we 
shall catch a glimpse of her." 

Dolly raised her ears very erect and opened full her nostrils 
as if to catch some possible scent of her of whom he spoke. 
She pierced the distance with her eyes but saw no one and so 
settled herself into an easy canter, for she knew it to be more to 
her rider's advantage to proceed at a slowing pace until they 
had passed the house in question. 

"You are an intelligent old girl, Dolly, but I must not let 
you too far into the secrets of my mind. Still, you have shared 
my delights and woes alike and have been my one faithful friend. 
Why should I not tell you?" 

And yet they had been friends for no great length of time. 
They had met at Valley Forge, shortly after Stephen's appoint- 
ment to General Washington's staff. As an aide he was required 
to be mounted and, by a piece of good fortune, he had been 
allowed to choose from several the chestnut mare that now bore 
him. He gave her the best of care and affection and she recipro- 
cated in as intelligent a manner as she knew how. 

**You have served well, but I feel that there is much greater 
work before us, much greater than our quest of the present." 

They were nearing the house. For some reason or other, 
Dolly whinnied as he spoke, probably in acquiescence to his 
thought, probably in recognition of the presence of her rival. 
She might have seen, had she cared to turn her head, a trim, 
lithe form passing to the rear of the house. Stephen took pains 
to see her, however, and as she turned her head, doffed his hat 
in salute. The next moment, Dolly felt the reins tighten and 
whether she desired it or not, found her head turned in that 
direction. Her rider was soon dismounted and was leading her 
to the side of the road. 

"You are early astir. Mistress Marjorie. I had anticipated 
no such pleasure this morning." 

"It is mutual," replied Marjorie, smiling as she offered him 
her hand. "How came you so early? No new turn of events, 
I hope!" 

"Not in the least. I desired a few hours in the saddle before 
the heat of the day set in, and my guardian angel must have 
directed me along this path." 



1920,] THE LOYALIST 807 

Dolly raised both her ears and turned towards him, while 
she noisily brought her hoof down upon the sod. ''What a rascal!" 
she thought to herself. 

The girl dropped her eyes demurely and then asked hurriedly : 

"There are no new developments?" 

"None that I know of." 

"Nothing came of the trouble at the Inn?" 

"Then you know?" 

"All. Father told me." 

"He should not have told you." 

"It was my doing. I give him no peace until I had learned 
all." 

Dolly grew weary of this pleasantry and wandered away to 
gladden her lips on the choice morsels of the tender grass. 

"I deeply regret my indiscretion, though it was for his sake." 

"You mean—?" 

"His Excellency." 

"I might have done likewise, were I able. Colonel Forrest 
is most disagreeable." 

"He was not wholly culpable and so I forgave his insulting 
remarks against us, but I forgot myself entirely when General 
Washington's name was besmirched." 

"I fear further trouble," she sighed. 

"From him?" 

She nodded her head. 

"Nonsense ! There will be naught said about the whole affair 
and it will end where it began. Forrest is no fool." 

"I have other news for you. Captain," announced Marjorie, 
her eyes beaming at the prospect. 

"And how long have you been preserving it for me?" asked 
Stephen. 

'But a few days. 

'And you made no attempt to see me? 

'Had I not met you now, I would have done so this day, 
answered Marjorie. 

*Tou would have written?" 

"Perhaps." 

"It is my forfeiture to your reserve." 

"And made gallantly." 

"Come now! What had you to tell?" 

"This. Peggy desires the honor of your company. You wiU 
leceive the invitation in a day or two. Just an informal affair, 
yet I sensed the possibility of your pleasure." 

'Tou did right. I am pleased as I am honored, but neither 



808 THE LOYALIST [Mar., 

so much as I am elated at the hopes for the future. Of course, 
I shall accept, but you will have to promise to denote my path 
for me in the tangled maze of society, in whose company I am as 
yet hardly a novice. 

"Lud! I ne*er heard one so illil)eral of his graces.*' 

"Nor one more candid," Stephen rejoined as quickly. If 
he were good at repartee, he had met with one who was equally 
as apt. 

"You know the Governor will be in attendance," she declared 
in a matter of fact manner. 

"How should I know that? Is it unusual for him to frequent 
the company of the gay?" 

"Not of late, the more especially where the presence of 
Peggy is concerned," added the little tale bearer with a keen, 
though reckless, wit. 

"And why Peggy?" He was innocent enough in his 
question. 

"Have you not heard of His Excellency's courting? Mr. 
Shippen has already made public the rumor that a certain great 
General is laying close siege to the heart of Peggy. And I have 
Peggy's own word for it." 

"To Peggy?" He asked with evident surprise. "Why she 
but halves his age, and he is already a widower." 

"With three sons," Marjorie proudly added. "No matter. 
Peggy will meet the disparity of ages by the disparity of stations. 
She has avowed to me that no one dares to question the social 
preeminence of the Military Governor, nor the fact that he is 
the most dashing and perhaps most successful general of the 
Continental Army. Position in life is of prime importance to 
her." 

Is that so? I had not so judged her," was the comment. 

'She admits that herself, and makes no secret of it before 
anyone. Did you not observe her sullen silence at the ball upon 
learning of the identity of her inferior partner? And that she 
sat out the major portion of the dance in company with the Mili- 
tary Governor?" 

"It escaped my attention, for I was too deeply concerned 
with another matter which distracted me for the entire evening," 
he answered with a smile. 

She pretended to take no notice, however, and continued: 

'^ell he has been calling regularly since that evening, and 
this quiet and informal function has been arranged primarily in 
his honor, although it will not be so announced. You will go?" 
she asked. 



"] 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 809 



''I shall be pleased to accept her invitation. May I accom- 
pany you?" 

'Thank you. I almost hoped you would say that. Men 
folks are so sadly wanting in intuition." 

"Friday then? Adieu! The pleasure that awaits me is im- 
measureable." 

"Until Friday." 

She extended to him her hand, which he pressed. A mo- 
ment later he was mounted. 

"My kindest to your mother. She will understand." Dolly 
broke into a gallop. 

Marjorie stood at the gate post until he was quite lost from 
view around the turn of the road. He did not look back, yet she 
thought that he might have. She slowly turned and as slowly 
began to walk towards the house, there to resume the duties 
which had suffered such a pleasant interruption. 

Meanwhile, she tried to analyze this young man. He was 
rather deep, of few words on any given subject, but wholly non- 
communicative as regards himself. He perhaps was possessed 
of more intuition than his manner would reveal, although he 
gave every appearance of arriving at his conclusions by the sheer 
force of logic. His words and deeds never betrayed his whole 
mind, of that she was certain, yet he could assert himself rather 
forcibly when put to the test as at the painful incident in the 
Coffee House. He would never suffer from soul-paralysis, 
thought she, for want of decision or resolution, for both were 
written full upon him. 

That she was strangely attracted to him she knew very well, 
but why, and how, she was unable to discover. This was but 
their third meeting, yet she felt as if she had known him all her 
life, so frank, so unreserved, so open, so secure did she feel in 
his presence. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for 
her to have waved her hand in salute to him that morning as he 
passed; she did it with the same unconcern as if she had known 
him all her life. 

There was something prepossessing about him. Perhaps it 
was his faculty for doing the unexpected. Most women desire to 
meet a man of distinctive individuality, who lends continual in- 
terest to them by his departure from the trite and commonplace. 
What Stephen might say or do was an entirely unknown quan- 
tity until it had actually taken place, and this attracted her on 
the instant, whether she was conscious of it or not. His manner, 
too, was affable, and gave him an air at once pleasing and good 
natured. He never flattered, yet said most agreeable things. 



810 THE LOYALIST [Mar^ 

putting one perfectly at ease and inspiring sympathy and courage. 
He bore himself well; erect, manly, dignified, without ostenta- 
tion or display. His seriousness, his evenness, his gravity, his 
constancy and his decision stamped him with a certain authority, 
a man of marked personality and character. 

So she mused as she entered the door, her thoughts in a lofty 
hegira to the far-off land of make-believe — her better self striv- 
ing to marshal them to the cold realities of duty that lay before 
her. She had been cleaning the little addition at the rear of the 
dwelling proper, used as a kitchen, and her work took her into 
the yard. Dolly's whinny had caused her to turn her head and 
the next moment cares, responsibilities and all else were for- 
gotten. Now she wondered what had she been about! Seizing 
a cloth she began to dust industriously. The crash of one of 
the dishes on the kitchen floor, brought her to her senses. Her 
mother heard the noise from the adjoining room: 

"What ails thee, child? Hast thou lost thy reason?" 

"I believe so, mommy. I must have been thinking of other 
things." And she stooped to gather the fragments. 

"Was it Captain Meagher? I saw you two at the gate." 

A guilty smile stole over the corner of her mouth. 

"He was passing while I was in the yard, and he stopped 
only to wish me the greetings of the day. I was right glad that 
he did, for I had an opportunity of extending to him the invitation 
from Peggy." 

"He will go, I suppose?" Mrs. Allison queried, knowing well 
what the answer might be. She did not spare the time to stop 
in conversation, but continued with her duties. 

"He is quite pleased. And mommy, he will call for me." 

"Be careful, now, to break no more dishes." 

"Lud! I have not lost my head yet. That was purely an 
accident which will not happen again." 

"That poor unfortunate Spangler made a better defende." 

"He deserved what he got. So did Lieutenant Lyons and 
the other officers of the Ranger who deserted to the enemy. But 
my sympathies went out to the old man who kept the gates under 
the city. These court-martials are becoming too common and I 
don't like them." 

"That is the horrible side of war, my dear. And until our 
people learn the value of patriotism, the need of abolishing all 
foreign ties and strongly adhering to the land that has offered 
them a home and a living, the necessity of these dreadful meas- 
ures will never cease." 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 811 



"A little power is a dangerous weapon to thrust into a man's 
hand, unless he be great enough to wield it." 

"Now you are going to say that General Arnold is to blame 
for these tragedies." 

"No I am not. But I do think that a great deal more of 
clemency could be exercised. Many of those poor tradesmen 
who were convicted and sentenced to be hanged, could have been 
pardoned with equal security." 

"That is the law, my dear, and the law is God's will. Leave 
all to Him." 

Mrs. Allison was one of those good souls who saw no harm 
in the vilest of creatures; faults were overclouded by her veil of 
sympathy. When distressing reverses or abject despair visited 
any one, Mrs. Allison's affability and indescribable tenderness 
smoothed over the troubled situation and brought to light a 
gleam of gladness. Quiet, kindly, magnanimous, tolerant, she 
could touch hearts to the depths in a manner both winning and 
lasting. Whether the fault entailed a punishment undeserved 
or inevitable, her feeling of pity was excited. She always sym- 
pathized without accusing or probing the source of the evil. She 
stretched forth a helping hand merely to aid. No nature, how- 
ever hard, could be impervious to the sympathy and the sweet- 
ness of her affectionate disposition. 

Motherly, was the quality written full upon Mrs. Allison's 
face. Her thoughts, her schemes, her purposes, her ambitions 
of life, were all colored by this maternal attribute. In her daily 
homage and obeisance to God, Whom she worshipped with the 
most childlike faith and simplicity; in the execution of the mani- 
fold duties of her home, Marjorie was to her ever her treasure of 
very great price. She was sustained in her aims and purposes by 
an enduring power of will — a power clothed with the soft, warm, 
living flesh of a kindly heart. Her marriage with Matthew Alli- 
son had been happy, a happiness intensified and concretely em- 
bodied in Marjorie, the only child vouchsafed to them by the 
Creator. It was Marjorie for whom she lived and toiled and 
purposed. And it was Marjorie who embodied the sum-total of 
her fancies, and ambitions and aspirations and translated them 
into definite forms and realities. 

A beautiful landscape unrolled itself before Stephen as he 
leisurely rode along the Germantown road. The midsummer 
sun was now high in the heavens, with just a little stir in the 
air to temper its warmth and oppressiveness. Fragments of 
clouds, torn loose from some great heap massed beyond the ridge 



812 THE LOYALIST [Mar^ 

of low hills to the westward, drifted lazily across the waste of 
blue sky, wholly unconcerned as to their ultimate lot or destina- 
tion. Breaths of sweet odor, from freshly cut hay or the hidden 
foliage bounding the road, were wafted along in the embraces of 
the gentle breeze. Away to the left and before him, as his horse 
cantered along, swelled the countryside in gentle undulations of 
green and brown, disfigured now and again by irregular patches 
of field and orchard yielding to cultivation; while to the side a 
stone wall humped itself along the winding road into the dis- 
tance, its uniformity of contour broken here and there by a 
trellis work of yellow jasmine or crimson rambler, alternately 
reflecting lights and shadows from the passing clouds and sun- 
shine. It was a day when all nature was in perfect tune, its 
harmony sweetly blending with the notes of gladness that 
throbbed in Stephen's heart. Yet he was scarce aware of it all, 
so completely absorbed was he in the confusion of his own 
thought. 

He had a very clear idea of what he was to do in the imme- 
diate present, but he had no idea at all of what was to be done 
in the immediate future. First of all he would attend Mistress 
Marjorie at this informal affair, where, perhaps, he might learn 
more about the Military Governor. He half surmised that His 
Excellency was not kindly disposed towards Catholics in general, 
although he could not remember any concrete case in particular 
to substantiate his claim. Still he knew he was avowedly op- 
posed to the French Alliance, as were many illustrious citizens; 
and he presumed his feelings were due in part at least to the fact 
that France was a recognized Catholic country. There was a 
negative argument, too: no Catholic name was ever found 
among his appointments. These were but surmises, not evidence 
upon which to base even a suspicion, nevertheless, they were 
worthy of some consideration until a conclusion of a more definite 
nature was warranted. 

That the Governor was becoming decidedly more unpopular 
every day he knew very well. The fact that he possessed the 
finest stable of horses in the city, and entertained at the most 
costly of dinners, at a time when the manner of living was ex- 
tremely frugal, not so much from choice as from necessity, and 
at a time when the value of the Continental currency had de- 
preciated to almost nothing, occasioned a host of acrid criticisms 
not only in the minds of the displeased populace, but also in the 
less friendly columns of the daily press. 

Censures of the harshest nature were continually uttered 
against the Governor's conduct of the affairs of the city govern- 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 813 

ment together with his earlier order closing the shops. Now the 
use that he began to make of the government wagons in moving 
the stores excited further complaints of a more public nature, 
the more so that no particular distinction was being made as to 
whether the stores belonged to the Whigs or the offending Tories. 
It was no idle gossip that he curried favor with the upper Tory 
class of the city, now particular mention was made of his infatua- 
tion with the daughter of Edward Shippen. It was whispered, 
too, that the misuse of his authority in the grant of safe passes 
to and from New York had led to the present act of the Con- 
gress in recalling all passes. Stephen knew all this and he sur- 
mised more; so he longed for the opportunity to study intimate- 
ly this man now occupying the highest military post in the city 
and the State. 

For the present he would return home and bide his time 
until Friday evening, when he would have the happiness of escort- 
ing Marjorie to the home of Peggy Shippen. 

''I wonder Dolly, old girl, if I can make myself bold enough 
to call her Marjorie. Marjorie, Margaret,'* he repeated them 
over to himself. "I don*t know which is the prettier. She would 
be a pearl among women; and she is, isn't she, Dolly?" 

He would ask her at any rate. He would be her partner for 
the evening, would dance with her, and would sit by her side. 
Peggy would be there, too, and the General. He would observe 
them closely, and, perchance, converse with them. Colonel For- 
rest and the General's active aid-de-camp. Major Franks, a Phila- 
delphian, but a Jew, would also be present. Altogether the eve- 
ning promised to be interesting as well as happy. 

He was musing in this manner when he heard the hoof beats 
of a horse, heavily ridden, gaining upon him in the rear. He 
drew up and half turned, instinctively, at the strange yet famil- 
iar sound. Suddenly there hove into view, at the bend of the 
road, an officer of the Continental Army, in full uniform, booted 
and spurred, whose appearance caused him to turn full about to 
await him. It was not long before he recognized the familiar 
figure of the aide. Major Franks, and he lifted his arm to salute. 

"Captain Meagher, I have orders for your arrest." 

"Sir?" answered Stephen in alarm. 

"On charges preferred by Colonel Forrest. You are to come 
with me at once." 

An embarrassing silence ensued. Stephen then saluted, and 
handed over his side arms. He wheeled his horse and set off in 
the direction indicated, his thoughts in a turmoil. 

The Major fell in at the rear. 



814 THE LOYALIST [M 

Chapter VII. 



'Tor still my memory lingers on the scenes 
And pleasures of the days beyond recall. 



»» 



Peggy's voice, timid, soft though pretty, died away into an 
enraptured silence which seemed to endure for the longest while 
before the room burst into a generous measure of applause. She 
was very well accompanied on the clavichord by Miss Rutteledge 
and on the harp by Monsieur Ottow, Secretary to the French 
Minister. The evening had been delightful; the assembly brU- 
liant in quality, and unaffectedly congenial and diverting. The 
music had contributed much to the pleasures of the function, 
for the Shippen's was one of the few homes in the city where 
such a resource was at all possible. 

"Major! Major Franks! What do you think of my little 
girl? Do you think 'twould be well for her to cultivate such a 
voice?" 

Mrs. Shippen turned sideways. There was gratification, 
genuine complacent gratification, visible in every line of her 
smiling face. 

"Splendid! Splendid! Of course. Madame, she sings very 
prettily," replied the Major, gathering himself from the state of 
partial repose into which he had fallen. He sat up. 

"And do you know. Major," went on the fond mother, "she 
never had a tutor; except some of our dear friends who made 
this their home during the winter." 

•Tou mean the British?" 

"Of course, they did not make so free with everybody in the 
city, with only a few, you know. It was for General Howe him- 
self that Margaret first made bold enough to sing." 

"She does very well, I am sure," was the reply. 

The little group again lapsed into silence as Peggy responded 
with an encore, this selection being a patriotic air of a lighter 
vein. The Major again lapsed into an easy attitude, but Mrs. 
Shipman was visibly intent upon every motion of the singer and 
followed her every syllable. 

"How much does music contribute to one's pleasure!" she 
remarked when the conversation began to stir. 

"It is charming," Mr. Anderson observed. 

"And do you know that we inherited that clavichord? It is 
one of the oldest in the country." 

"It appears to be of rare design," remarked Mr. Anderson. 

"It belonged to Mr. Shippen's father," she boasted. "This 
house, you know, was the home of Edward Shippen, who was 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 815 

Mayor of the city over an hundred years ago. It was then, if I 
do say it, the most pretentious home in the city. My husband 
was for disposing of it and removing to less fashionable quarters, 
but I would not hear of it. Never!" 

Major Franks surveyed the great room deliberately. 

"Twould make a fine castle!'* he commented as he half 
turned and crossed one knee over the other. He felt that this 
would be his last visit if he continued to take any less interest, 
yet even that apparently caused him no great concern. 

And yet, a great house it was, the quondam residence of 
Edward Shippen, the progenitor of the present family, a former 
Mayor of the city, who had fled thither from Boston where he 
had suffered persecution at the hands of the Puritans, who could 
not suffer him to be a Quaker. It stood on an eminence outside 
the city, yet overlooking it all, with its great orchard, its summer 
house, its garden smiling with roses, and lilies; bordered by 
rows of yellow pines shading the rear, with a spacious green lawn 
away to the front affording a view unobstructed to the Delaware 
shore. At the time of its construction was easily the most sump- 
tuous home in the city. 

The Shippens had been the leaders of the fashionable set, 
not alone in days gone by, the days of the colonial manners when 
diversions and enjoyments were indulged in as far as the auster- 
ities of the staid old Quaker code would allow, but also during 
the days of the present visitation of the British, when emulation 
ran riot among the townsfolk, in the entertainment of the visitors. 
Small wonder that the present lord of the manor felt constrained 
to write to his father that he should be under the necessity of 
removing from this luxurious abode to Lancaster, "for the style 
of living my fashionable daughters have introduced into my 
family and their dress will I fear before long oblige me to change 
the scene." Yet if the truth were told, the style of living in- 
augurated by the ambitious daughters was no less a heritage than 
a part of the discipline in which they had been reared. 

If the sudden and forced departure of the dashing, as well 
as the eligible, British ofiBcers from the city had totally upset 
the cherished social aspirations of the mother of the Shippen 
girls, the advent of the gallant and unmarried Military Gov- 
ernor had lifted them to a newer and much higher plane of 
endeavor. The termination of a matrimonial alliance with the 
second in command of the patriotic forces would more than com- 
pensate for the loss of a possible British peerage. The artful 
mother soon discerned that her clever and subtle devices were 
beginning to meet with some degree of success. 



816 THE LOYALIST [Mar., 

The present function was wholly her afifair, and while it was 
announced as a purely informal gathering, the manner and the 
scheme of the decorations, the elegance and the care with which 
the women dressed, the order, the appointments, the refresh- 
ments, not to mention the distinguished French visitors, would 
permit no one to surmise this, even for a moment. Care had 
been taken to issue invitations to the representative members of 
the city's upper class, more especially to the newly arrived French 
Officers and their wives, as well as the commissioned members 
of the Ck>ntinental Army. There were the Shippen girls, their 
persistent friend. Miss Chew, as well as Miss Franks, whose 
brother was now attached to the staff of General Arnold, and a 
dozen other young ladies, all attractive, and dressed in the pre- 
vailing elegance of fashion; the hair in an enormous coiffure, in 
imitation of the fashions of the French, with turbans of gauze 
and spangles and ropes of pearls, the low bodices with the bow in 
front, the wide sashes below. It was an altogether brilliant as- 
sembly, with the Military Governor the most brilliant figure of 
it all. 

"Tell me. Major,'* asked Mrs. Shippen in measured and sub- 
dued language as she leaned forward in an apparent confidential 
manner, "does General Arnold visit often?" 

"Oh yes!" replied the Major at once, "he is very generous 
with his company." 

Her face fell somewhat. 

"Now isn't that strange ! I was told that he made a practice 
of calling at no home, outside of ours." 

He uncrossed his leg and shifted in his chair rather uneasily. 

"Quite true." He saw at once that he had made an unhappy 
remark. "But, of course, he makes no social calls, none what- 
soever. You must know that the affairs of state require all of 
his time, for which duty he is obliged to visit many people on 
matters of pure business." 

"Oh!" She appeared satisfied at this explanation. 

"It seems as if we had known him all our lives. He feels so 
perfectly at home with us." 

"Exactly." 

"You have met him often with us, haven't you, Marjorie?" 

"I first met him at the Military Ball through Peggy," Mar- 
jorie replied naively. 

"But you must have met him here. He has been here so V 

often," she insisted. 

"Then I vow our General has felt the smite of your fair 
daughter's charms," remarked Mr. Anderson. 



1920.] THE LOYAUST 817 

Marjorie breathed a sigh of relief at the timely interruption. 
''Do you really think so?*' asked Mrs. Shippen, with no at- 
tempt to conceal her impatience. 
'Unquestionably — 

'Smiles from reason flow, 
To brute denied, and are of love the food.' 



«i 



So sang the bard, and so sing I of His Excellency." 

"But his age ! He cannot now be thinking of matrimony.'' 
"Age, my dear Mrs. Shippen, is a matter of feeling, not of 
years. The greatest miracle of love is to eradicate all disparity. 
Before it age, rank, lineage, distinction dissolve like the slowly 
fading light of the sun at eventide. The General is bent on con- 
quest; that I'll wager. What say you, Major? A five pound 
note?" 

"Not I. 'Old men are twice children' you know." 
The orchestra began to fill the room with the strains of the 
minuet. Mr. Anderson arose and advanced towards Marjorie. 
"May I have the pleasure of your company?" he said. 
Marjorie arose and gave him her arm. 

She tripped through the graces of the minuet in a mechan- 
ical sort of fashion, her thoughts in a far-off land of amazement 
and gloomy desolation. The unexpected and adverse stroke of 
fortune which had descended with hawk-like velocity upon Ste- 
phen had thoroughly disconcerted her. Try as she would, her 
imagination could not be brought under her control. There was 
one image that would not out, and that was Stephen's. 

A short note from him, gave the first inkling to her. He 
had been placed under arrest by order of Major-General Arnold 
on the charge of striking his superior officer, in violation of the 
Fifth Article, Second Section of the American Articles of War. 
The charge had been preferred on the evening previous to his 
arrest and bore the signature of Colonel Forrest, with whom, as 
she was aware, he had participated in the affray at the Inn. 

Little would come of it. Of that she could rest assured. 
For if he chose to present his side of the case, cause might be 
found against the Colonel in the matter of disrespectful language 
against the Commander-in-Chief. On that account the affair would 
very probably end where it had begun and his sword would once 
more be restored to him. Should the Colonel press the case, how- 
ever, it would result in a court-martial. For the present he was 
under arrest. He was not confined and no limits were assigned to 
him, yet he was deprived of his sword and therefore without 
power to exercise any military command pending his trial. Since 

▼OL. OL 52 



818 THE LOYALIST [Mar^ 

it was considered indecorous in an ofiBcer under arrest to appear 
at public places, it would be impossible for him to accompany her 
to the home of the Shippens on Friday evening. This caused him 
the greater concern, yet his word of honor obliged him to await 
the issue of his trial or his release by the proper authority. 

He bade her to be of good cheer and asked a remembrance in 
her prayers, assuring her she would be ever present in his 
thoughts. He would soon make use of a favorable opportunity 
to pay her a call, and he hoped she would attend the party and 
enjoy herself to the utmost. From the moment of its receipt, 
she had rehearsed the incidents narrated in this letter over and 
over again. Go where she would, her thought followed her as in- 
stinctively as the homeward trail of the bee. 

To follow mere instinct does not beseem a man, yet for 
woman this faculty is the height of reason and will be trusted by 
her to the very end. Marjorie's instinct told her that all would not 
be well with Stephen, notwithstanding his place of honor on the 
staff of the Commander-in-Chief, to whom he might readily appeal 
should the occasion require. The charge was of minor conse- 
quence, and could, under ordinary circumstances, be dismissed; 
but it would not be dismissed. He would be tried, found guilty, 
and sentenced. A consummation too horrible for thought! 

The strange regard for this officer, which she had discovered 
to be growing daily in intensity and depth, had been brought 
to definite realization by the sudden crisis in Stephen's fortunes. 
The sudden revelation of this truth, from which she was wont to 
recoil with petulant diffidence, alarmed her not a little. She must 
not allow herself to be perturbed over this incident, and no one, 
not even her mother, must ever be permitted to detect the slightest 
concern on her part. 

"You seem unusually preoccupied this evening. Mistress Alli- 
son," remarked Mr. Anderson as he led her to one side of the 
room at the conclusion of the dance. 

Marjorie started. She could feel herself coloring more and 
more as she strove desperately to retain her natural composure. 

"I? Why? No! Did I appear absent-minded?" 

"As if sojourning in some far off land." 

She thought for a moment. 

"We all inhabit dream countries." 

"True. We do. And there is no swifter vehicle to that fair 
land than an inattentive companion." 

"You mean — " 

"That I am entirely at fault for allowing you to wander." 

"You are unkind to yourself to say that." 



1920.] THE LOYALIST 819 



"I vow I mean it." 

They neared the settee into whicii he gallantly assisted her. 
She made room for him by drawing back the folds of her gown. 

"Have you ever had a miniature made?" he asked of her. 

"Never. I scarce gave it a thought," she replied nonchalantly. 

"In that gown, you would make a perfect picture." 

"Could you paint it?" she asked quickly with the attitude of 
one who has proposed an impossible question. 

"Aye, and willingly, would I," he smartly replied. 

"I should love to see it. I should scarce know mine own 
face." 

She regarded the subject with ridicule, observing as she spoke 
the end of the sash with which her fingers had been fumbling. 

"You shall see it s^s it is with no artful flattery to disfigure it. 
May I bring it in person. The post-rider*s bag is too unworthy a 
messenger." 

"Lud! I shall be unable to restrain my curiosity and await 
the carrier." 

"Then I shall be the carrier." 

"Nothing would afl*ord me more pleasure." 

Neither of the two spoke for a moment. She wondered if 
she were imprudent. While she had not known this man before 
this evening, still she knew of him as the one who took part in 
the disturbance at the Coflee House. He seemed unusually at- 
tentive to her, although not unpleasantly so, and innocently 
enough she questioned the import of his motives. He had sought 
no information nor did he disclose any concerning himself, for 
at no time did their conversation arise to any plane above the 
commonplace. Yet she was willing to see him again and to dis- 
cover, if possible, the true state of his mind. 

Stephen, she knew, would approve her action; not only be- 
cause of the personal satisfaction which might be derived there- 
from, but also because of the possibilities which such a meeting 
might unfold. That Anderson was prompled by some ulterior 
motive and that he was not attracted so much by her charms as by 
the desire of seeking some advantage, she was keen enough to 
sense. Just what this quest might lead to, could not be fathomed, 
yet it presented, at all hazards, a situation worthy of more than a 
passing notice. 

She* mistrusted General Arnold, a mere opinion it was true, 
for she possessed no evidence to warrant even a suspicion, yet 
something about the man created within her heart a great want 
of confidence and reliance. He was supremely overbearing and 
unusually sensitive. This, together with his vaulting ambition 



820 THE LOYALIST [Mar^ 

and love of display — traits which even the merest novice could 
not fail to observe — might render him capable of brilliant achieve- 
ments, such as his exploits before the walls of Quebec and on the 
field of Saratoga, or of unwise and wholly irresponsible actions, of 
some of which, although of minor consequence, he had been guilty 
during the past few months. He disliked her form of religious 
worship, and she strongly suspected this was the reason he so 
openly opposed the alliance vdth the French. She regarded this 
prejudice as a sad misfortune in a man of authority. His judg- 
ments were liable to be clouded and unfair. 

She knew Peggy like a book and she could easily imagine 
the influence such a girl could exert, as a wife, on a man so con- 
stituted. Peggy's social ambition and her marked passion for 
display and domination, traits no less apparent in her than in her 
mother, would lead her to yiew the overtures of her impetuous 
suitor with favor, notwithstanding the fact that he was almost 
double her own age. As his v^fe she would attain a social prestige. 
She was a Tory at heart, and he evidenced at sundry times the 
same inclinations. She was a Quaker, while he belonged to the 
religion of his Majesty, the King, nevertheless both agreed in this, 
that the miserable Papists were an ambitious and crafty lot, who 
were bent on obtaining an early and complete mastery over this 
country. The pair were well mated in many respects, thought 
Marjorie, although Peggy's more resolute will and intense ambi- 
tion would make her the dominant member of the alliance. Little 
as the General suspected it, Marjorie thought, he was slowly, 
though surely, being encircled in the web Peggy and her artful 
mother were industriously spinning about him. 

Marjorie and Anderson sat conversing long and earnestly. 
Several dances were announced and engaged in, with little or no 
manifest attention on their part At length they deserted their 
vantage ground for the more open and crowded room, pausing 
before Peggy and the General, who were sheltered near the 
entrance. 

"Heigho, John!" exclaimed His Excellency upon their ap- 
proach, **what strange absconding is this. Have a care, my boy, 
lest you have to answer to Captain Meagher." 

Marjorie felt the gaze of the group full upon her. She flushed 
a little. 

'Little or no danger, nor cause alleged," she laughed. 

'Captain Meagher!" recollected Anderson, "does he excel?" 

"I scarce know," replied Marjorie. "I have met him not over 

thrice in my life." 



"] 



1820.] THE LOYAUST 821 



i<i 



'Once is quite sufScient*'' said the General. ^Tirst impres- 
sions often endure. But stay. Draw your chairs. I was only 
sasdng that I may be required to leave here shortly.'' 

'Tou have been transferred?" asked Marjorie. 

'"No! But I have written to Washington begging for a com- 
mand in the navy. My wounds are in a fair way and less painful 
than usual, though there is little prospect of my being able to be 
in the field for a considerable time." 

They sat down as requested, opposite Peggy and the General. 

''But General, have you not taken us into your consideration?" 
asked Anderson. ^ 

**1 have, yet the criticism is becoming unendurable. Of course 
you have heard that matters have already become strained between 
the civil government and myself. Only last week my head aid- 
de-camp sent for a barber who was attached to a neighboring 
regiment, using as a messenger the orderly whom I had staKoned 
at the door. For this trifling order there has been aroused a 
hornet's nest." 

•*Wherein lay the fault?" asked Marjorie. 

''In this. It appears from a letter which I have already re- 
ceived from the father of the sergeant (Matlack is his name to be 
exact) that the boy was hurt by the order itself and the manner 
of it, and as a freeman would not submit to such an indignity as 
to summon a barber for the aide of a commanding officer. We 
have a proud, stubborn people to rule, who are no more fitted for 
self-government than the Irish — " He stopped short. 

Marjorie bit her lip. "I wish. General, you would withdraw 
your comparison. It is painful to me." 

"I am sorry. Mistress Allison. As a matter of fact I hardly 
knew what I had said. I do withdraw it." 

"Thank you so much." 

Then he went on. 

"These Americans are not only ungrateful, but stupidly arro- 
gant. What comparison can be drawn between this dullard, 
Matlack, whose feelings as a citizen were hurt by an order of an 
aid-de-camp, and I, when I was obliged to serve a whole cam- 
paign under the command of a gentleman who was not known 
as a soldier until I had been some time a brigadier. My feelings 
had to be sacrificed to the interest of my country. Does not the 
fool know that I became a soldier and bear the marks upon me, to 
vindicate the rights of citizens?" He talked rapidly. It was plain 
that he was seriously annoyed. 

"On my arrival here, my very first act was condemned. It 
became my duty, because of sealed orders from the Ck>mmander-in- 



822 THE LOYALIST [Mar^ 

Chief, who enclosed a resolution adopted by Congress, to close the 
shops. From that day, censure was directed against me. I was 
not the instigator of it. Yet I was all to blame." He sat up with 
his hands on his knees looking fiercely into the next room. 

"I would not feel so bitter, your Excellency," volunteered An- 
derson. "Military orders, however necessary, always seem oppres- 
sive to civilians and shopkeepers." 

"I have labored well for the cause, and my reward has been 
this. I took Ticonderoga, although Allen got the credit for it. 
I would have taken Canada, if Congress had not blundered. I 
saved Lake Champlain with my flotilla — a fleet that lived to no 
better purpose nor died more gloriously — and for this I got no 
promotion, nor did I expect one. I won at Ridgefield and received 
a Major Generalship, only to find myself outranked by five others. 
At Saratoga I was without a command yet I succeeded in defeat- 
ing an army. For that service I was accused of being drunk by 
the general in command, who for his service received a gold 
medal with a vote of thanks from Congress while I — ^well the 
people gave me their applause; Congress gave me a horse, but 
what I prize more than all — ^these sword knots," he took hold of 
them as he spoke, **a personal offering from the Commander-in- 
Chief. I gave my all. I received a few empty honors and the in- 
gratitude of a jealous people." He paused. 

"General," began Marjorie, " you know the people still wor- 
ship you and they do want you for their popular leader." 

"I know differently," he snapped back. "I have already pe- 
titioned Congress for a grant of land in western New York, where 
I intend to lead the kind of life led by my friend Schuyler in Liv- 
ingston, or the Van Rensselaers and other country gentlemen. 
My ambition now is to be a good citizen for I intend never to draw 
a sword on the American side." He again grew silent. 

Whether he was sincere in his remarks Marjorie could not 
decide. She knew him to be impulsive and impressionable, a man 
who, because of his deficiency in breadth, scope of intelligence, 
and strong moral convictions, invariably based his 
opinions in public matters on his personal feelings. He was 
Military Governor of the city and adjacent countryside, yet there 
existed an Executive Council of Pennsylvania for the care of 
the State, and the line of demarcation between the two powers 
never had been clearly drawn. Accordingly there soon arose 
many occasions for dispute, which a more even-tempered man 
would have had the foresight to avoid. Furthermore he was be- 
coming decidedly unpopular because of his extravagant manner 
of living, and his too frequent association with the Tory element. 



1920.] THE LOYAUST 823 

It was entirely possible that he would abide by his decision to 
resign all public ofQce and retire to private life, notwithstanding 
the fact that he had already dispatched a letter to General Wash- 
ington requesting a command in the navy. But Marjorie read 
him differently, and was puzzled to account for his action. 

Several of the guests prepared to depart. The little group 
disbanded as Peggy made her way to their side. 

Marjorie and John Anderson lost each other for the first time 
in the mdl^e which ensued. 

"Perhaps I ought to return," Marjorie muttered to herself, 
now that she was quite alone. ''I am sure that he dropped some- 
thing." And she began to retrace her steps. 

She felt positive that she saw General Arnold accidently dis- 
lodge what appeared to be a folded note frqm his belt when he 
took hold of the sword knots in the course of his conversation. 
Very likely it was a report of some nature, which had been hur- 
riedly thrust into his belt during some more preoccupied moment. 
At any rate it might be safer in her hands than left to some less 
interested person. She would investigate at all events and re- 
solve her doubts. Sure enough, there it was. Just behind the 
arm chair in which he had been seated but a few moments before. 

She picked it up and regarded it carelessly, nervously, 
peering the while into the great room beyond to discover, if pos- 
sible, an eye-witness to her secret. From its appearance it was 
no more than a friendly communication written on conventional 
letter paper. It was unsealed, or rather the seal had been broken 
and the paper gave evidence of not a little handling. It belonged 
to Peggy, for there was her name in heavy bold script on the 
outside. 

She balanced it in her hand, weighing within her mind one 
of two possibilities. She might read it and then, if the matter 
required, return it immediately to His Excellency with an ex- 
planation. Yet it would smack of dishonor to read the private 
corrcf^pondence ol another without a sufficiently grave reason. 
It belonged to Peggy, who in all probability had been acquainting 
the General with its contents as Mr. Anderson and herself in- 
truded upon the scene. She therefore resolved to return it un- 
read. Hastily folding it, she stuck it in her bodice, and made her 
way into the room where she became lost among the guests. 
There would be tirfie enough when the formalities of the departure 
were over, when Peggy was less occupied, to hand it to her. She 
would wait at any rate until later in the evening. 

(to be continued.) 



I 



flew Boohs. 



FATHER DUFFY'S STORY. By Francis P. Duflfy. Chaplain, 
165th Infantry. With an Historical Appendix by Joyce 
Kilmer. New York: George H. Doran Co. $2.50 net. 
When one finishes Father Duffy's tale of humor and heroism^ 
of life and death with the ''Fighting 69th," he is not quite sure 
whether he has read a book about the War or a book about a 
grand religious crusade. He is not quite sure if the things that 
hover overhead are aeroplanes or angels. The shouts that go 
up are battle*cries — ^but they are addressed to Michael of the 
flaming sword. St. Patrick seems to have trudged beside these 
men on their long marches and stood by them in the trenches. St. 
Brigid was there at the rest billets, helping them make the dug- 
outs comfortable. It is a reassuring thought, this, to feel that 
the fighting of the 69th had something of an act of faith about it. 
The book is an evidence of Catholicism in the working, of Catho- 
lic faith and practice under the test of the great endeavors, the 
valiant struggles, the death and disasters of a bitter war. 

And at the same time it is an excellent record of that regi- 
ment in the War. Its author has shown a skill that many a jour- 
nalist might envy. The work of writing the regiment's history 
was originally assigned to Joyce Kilmer. When Sergeant Kil- 
mer was transferred to other and more dangerous work, the 
job fell to Father Duffy, the regimental Chaplain. Kilmer's la- 
mented death stilled a noble and valiant pen. Rather than try 
to add to what he had already written. Father Duffy starts the 
story afresh, and has put Joyce Kilmer's beginnings of an his- 
torical sketch in an appendix. It is a nice tribute from one brave 
man to another. 

So Father Duffy's story starts back in June, 1917, shortly 
after the War with Germany was declared, and when the 69th 
was being recruited to full war strength. The final ranks of this 
regiment contained only five per cent who were neither of Irish 
race nor of the Catholic faith. From this point on, the regiment 
is followed through its training here and abroad, into the first 
trenches at Arbre Haut, its first losses at Rocroi and the brilliant 
coup at Luneville. From Luneville on, the activities of the regi- 
ment in the Baccarat Sector and the Champagne defensive be- 
come more complicated. The reader senses some of the chaos of 
war. Nevertheless, Father Duffy has managed to keep his nar- 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 825 

rative very clear and readable. He has mingled his humor and 
tragedy in such a fashion that interest is always sustained. The 
Battle of the Ourcq, for example, has its technical difficulties for 
one not versed in military affairs, but he manages to grasp a clear 
view of what went on in the light of the men involved in it. 
That, in fact, is the singular merit of this book. It is about the 
men in the regiment; it is a human document. With surpassing 
journalistic skill Father Duffy has managed to work in the name 
of almost, if not, every man in the 69th. 

The St. Mihiel offensive was another operation in which the 
69th played a part, a valiant part, but it was in the Argonne 
that it showed especial valor against great odds. Conditions were 
unbelievably difficult, and yet these men, aflame with courage 
and love of country, fortified with unconquerable faith, went 
boldly into that forest maze and took their losses with fortitude. 

Finally you see the 69th in the Army of Occupation. Peace 
has come. The duties of the regiment are now different. And a 
different air seems to settle down upon the men. It is the sort 
of peaceful, joyous air that comes at Easter after a hard Lent. 
The last pages bring the regiment home to its well-earned honors. 
Father Duffy's final words strike a note of noble pride : 

''Men pass away but institutions survive. In time we shall 
all go to join our comrades who gave up their lives in France. 
But in our own generation, when the call came, we accepted the 
flag of our fathers ; we have added to it new glory and renown — 
and we pass it on." 

Here is a book that every Catholic in America should even- 
tually read. It will be as interesting a year from now as it was 
the day of publication. For it records something more than a 
war, the pain and loss of which were better forgotten for the op- 
portunities the future holds; it records the faith of men which 
is undying. The clash of arms can never be so loud as to drown 
the tinkling music of a rosary in the hand. When the noise of 
war dies away, the voices of prayer ring clearer. In the 69th they 
never were drowned. 

LABOR IN THE CHANGING WORLD. By R. M. Maclver. New 

York: E. P. Dutton & Co. $3.00 net. 

The conffict of nations is ended; but another great conflict, 
that between capital and labor, has taken the centre of the stage. 
What are the elements of the latter struggle, and what is the out- 
come that good men should promote? 

The author starts from the premise that the economic system 
in which men live is, if not more important than their ideas and 



826 NEW BOOKS [Mar^ 

characters, at least of fundamental importance, and he reaches 
the conclusion that no solution of the problem will be found in 
"patch-work" of the present system. Therefore, he rejects profit- 
sharing, co-partnership and conciliation schemes; for "the root 
of industrial evil is the present wage system. The ideal toward 
which we must strive is some more cooperative order of produc- 
tion." However, his specific proposals are not so radical as this 
quotation from the preface would lead us to expect. He does not 
advocate Socialism. He would have labor admitted to participa- 
tion in management, to the end that the laborer may be given 
the recognition due him as a human being, and genuine co5pera- 
tion may be brought about between labor and capital for their 
mutual advantage, as well as the benefit of the whole community. 
He advocates the establishment of minimum living wage rates for 
all workers, and minimum decent conditions of employment as 
regards the length of the working day, the age at which children 
may become wage-earners, safety sanitation and security of em- 
ployment. These reforms should, in the opinion of the author, be 
effected, as far as possible, by agreement between organized labor 
and organized capital. One of the most suggestive chapters in 
the book is that on "The Waste of the Present Industrial System." 

SPIRITISM AND RELIGION. By Johan Liljencrants, A.M., S.T.D. 

New York: The Devin-Adair Co. $3.50. 

Among the flood of books pouring from the press today 
dealing with Spiritism, those treating the subject from a Catholic 
point of view are few but notable. The volume under considera- 
tion is the work of a priest who examined in a critical, scientific 
spirit a vast amount of data bearing upon his subject, and then 
proceeded to deal with it from a theological point of view in order 
to estimate the value of Spiritism as a religion. It is through this 
aspect of its rapidly growing manifestations that Spiritism has 
in these troubled latter days principally appealed to the public 
To those without sure faith, it comes bolstered up by the specious 
authority of a host of psuedo-scientists and sensational novelists : 
Conan Doyle, for example, and Sir Oliver Lodge; proflfering what 
are termed sure proofs of personal immortality and of a life 
beyond the grave devoid of all that might cause fear or sorrow in 
the souls of the living — ^a Paradise, but no Hell; only a mild and 
prophylactic Purgatory being retained. In a word, it is as a new 
revelation, rather than as a mystery demanding the severest 
scientific scrutiny, that Spiritism comes before the modern world 
— a revelation which, as Dr. Liljencrants shows, directly opposes 
and seeks to overthrow orthodox Christianity. 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 827 

Dr. Liljencrants traces the history of the movement in mod- 
ern times, and then deals at length with a great amount of data, 
mainly drawn from books and reports, concerning the physical 
phenomena of Spiritism. He does not seem to have had any per- 
sonal experience in studying the phenomena, a fact which prob- 
ably accounts for the somewhat excessive incredulity which he 
manifests as to the preternatural character of most of the alleged 
manifestations. In fact, he goes so far as to say that he has 
arrived at the conclusion that Spiritism cannot be shown to con- 
tain a preternatural element. No modern students of the sub- 
ject who have come into the actual atmosphere of Spiritism, would 
agree with Dr. Liljencrants in this sweeping conclusion. He 
admits, it is true, that no positive proof can be given for the 
total absence of preternatural causes "in the ensemble of the 
phenomena," and that if it is there at all, "it is more than likely 
that this element would be of a diabolical character." Although 
Dr. Liljencrants is too arbitrary in ruling out the preternatural 
element from the spiritistic phenomena now so rife, he does good 
service in amassing a great volume of evidence which goes to 
show the ease with which the phenomena may be fraudulently 
induced, and by showing in a strong light the anti-Christian char- 
acter of the whole movement. 

THE COMPLETE POEMS OF FRANCIS LEDWIDGE. New York: 

Brentano's. $2.50. 

It is a mournful pleasure to possess, at length, within the 
covers of one book the total poetical output of the late Francis 
Lcdwidge. Lord Dusany writes eighteen pages of introduction 
to the work of this young Irish poet whom he came upon, as he 
tells us, in the ranks of the Irish peasantry. Ledwidge died in 
the ranks of the British army. It is difBcult to predict what his 
future development might have been, but at least there is nothing 
in this collection to justify the editor in speaking so confidently 
of his protdg^ as a genius. Although there is here a great deal 
of fragrant and delicate imagination, and much keen and intimate 
observation of sky and tree and field and bird, there is nothing 
quite so full of Irish reality as any one of a dozen lyrics one 
might mention by Joseph Campbell or Padraic Colum, for ex- 
ample. Of the genius of either of these poets there can certainly 
be no two opinions. Incomparably the finest and most truly 
Irish of Ledwidge's poems are the three entitled, "The Blackbirds," 
"To Thomas McDonagh" and "The Wedding Morn;" but it is upon 
them that the noble editor makes the following comment — a 
comment which would fairly merit to be characterized as brutal. 



828 NEW BOOKS [Mar^ 

did not one» upon reflection* realize that it proceeds out of an 
amazing blindness to Ledwidge's innermost inspiration: **• • . 
rather than attribute curious S3rmpathies to this brave young Irish 
soldier I would ask his readers to consider the irresistible attract 
tion that a lost cause has for almost any Irishman/' 

Poor Ledwidge has not been the only good man to know the 
bitterness of a bewilderment of spirit in these dark and evil days. 

GREATER EXTENSION AND DEVELOPMENT OF CHURCH 

INFLUENCE. By John A. Godrycz. Philadelphia : People's 

Friend Publishing Co. 

In the form of a commentary on Cardinal Gibbons' Letter 
to the General Committee on Catholic interests and affairs, the 
writer of this interesting little volume sets forth the position of 
the Catholic Church in the United States towards the apostolic 
social and literary problems of our age. The author is a learned 
Polish priest, editor of the Polish paper, Przyjacel ludu (The 
People's Friend). His views are characterized by considerable 
originality of thought, and indicate extensive experience in re- 
ligious and social life, while the volume is imbued with loyal de- 
votion to the Catholic Church. Some of his arguments are likely 
to arouse discussion, yet no one can deny that generally the 
writer's conclusions are sound and that the problems are treated 
with fairness and frankness. 

The best chapters of the volume treat the first and second 
points of the Letter: the Holy See and Home Missions. The 
writer points out the political and financial needs of the Holy 
See, and believes the Catholic Church in the United States should 
use its mighty influence to satisfy them. The spiritual sove- 
reignty of the Holy See ought to become an international ques- 
tion and to be internationally solved, and its critical financial con- 
dition ought to be relieved. If the nations really want to pre- 
serve Christian civilization, menaced by Bolshevism, they cannot 
neglect the powerful spiritual army of the Catholic Church. The 
religious spirit can only be revived by her fullest freedom. 

The second chapter touches the most difficult problem of 
American Catholicism today, the preservation of the Catholic 
faith among foreign immigrants. The writer points out that the 
American people, as a whole, is not yet Catholic and possesses no 
Catholic tradition. Americanization, therefore, does not pay at- 
tention to the urgent necessity of preserving the Catholic spirit 
among Catholic immigrants. The gap in the American educa- 
tion of foreign elements ought to be filled by the Church. If nine 
millions of Catholic foreigners could be Americanized without 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 829 

losing their Catholicism, the Catholic Church would become the 
citadel of the Christian faith in the United States. Upon the 
Catholic American hierarchy really rests the obligation to see 
to it that the process of Americanization is carried out in such 
a way as to win the confidence of the alien groups in the non- 
sectarian character of the American spirit. 

Dr. Grodrycz' book is the literary and scientific result of his 
apostleship among his countrymen, and of a thorough acquaint- 
ance with the religious conditions existing in America. It cannot 
but be of value, therefore, to those who are devoting their energies 
to the triumph of Catholic ideals in this country. 

THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS: THE PRINCIPLES AND THE 

PRACTICE. Edited by Stephen Pierce Duggan. Boston: 

The Atlantic Monthly Press. $2.50. 

In spite of the voluminous discussions of the League of 
Nations in weekly and monthly magazines and of the more im- 
pressive, but less convincing, debates upon the issues involved 
to be found in the files of the Congressional Record, it may be 
said that there is still room for a comprehensive and authori- 
tative treatment of the whole subject. Partisan views have been 
forced upon the public from every quarter, but there is wanting 
an impartial exposition of the underlying principles of the League, 
and of the facts of international life on the basis of which a fair 
estimate of the practical worth of the League may be reached. 
The present volume makes an approach to such a comprehensive 
treatment of principles and facts, but falls short of it by reason of 
the difBculties inseparable from a volume made up of successive 
chapters by different authors. The editor has attempted, with 
considerable skill, to group these chapters so as to present a 
logical development of the argument, but it was inevitable that 
there should be overlapping on the one hand and breaks and gaps 
on the other. 

Nevertheless, there is much valuable material to be found in 
the several chapters, and being the work of scholars, they deal 
in most cases with those more permanent elements of the subject 
which will retain their importance when the present partisan 
controversy has given way to more constructive plans. Part I. 
deals with the history, principles and organization of a League 
of Nations, and contains among other chapters an excellent his- 
torical study of earlier schemes of attaining international peace 
by means of an organization of the nations, a good discussion of 
the important problem of the limitations which a League of 
Nations will impose upon the sovereignty of the member States, 



830 NEW BOOKS [Mar^ 

and a consideration of the economic and military sanctions pro- 
vided for in the Covenant of the League. Part II. of the volume 
deals with international cooperation as applied to certain con- 
crete problems with which the nations are confronted. The prin- 
ciple of the self-determination of nationalities is analyzed* the 
economic forces underlying political disputes are pointed out, 
and the problem of colonial mandates is discussed in connection 
with the question of economic concessions and the development 
of backward areas. Part III. deals with the relation of the 
United States to the League, and discusses the changes brought 
about in our traditional policy of isolation and the efifect of the 
League upon the Monroe Doctrine. The Covenant of the League 
is printed in an appendix, and is followed by a series of useful 
biographical notes. On the whole the volume would appear to 
be the best handbook yet available. 

BROOME STREET STRAWS. By Robert Cortes HoUiday. New 

York: George H. Doran Co. $2.50 net. 

Mr. Holliday has a talent for prefaces and the reader who, 
under his guidance, makes the acquaintance of Broome Street 
will want to complete these three hundred pages of sketches, 
reminiscences and near-stories. "You might think it a bit odd," 
he writes, ''if you should ask a man whether he had gone to 
Yale, and he replied: *No, I went to Broome Street.' Yet streets, 
like universities, have a good deal to do with the cut of a man. 
Streets are, in a manner of speaking, educators. A great many 
people, for instance, have what can most aptly be termed a 
Broadway mind. There is, too, a distinctly Fifth Avenue habit 
of thought, a Wall Street point of view, a Bowery manner, a 
One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street cast of culture, and so on." 

Mr. Holliday's work evokes reminiscences of Addison, 
and less remote ones of Dickens, and Tom Hood; but his own in- 
dividuality never sinks from sight. His names, by the way, are 
often Dickensesque : Nuggens, Mrs. Wigger, Angus Bleake; but 
when he gives us Murphy in "An Amorous Conspiracy" he is draw- 
ing names from a more universal directory. His style is grace 
itself and makes one wonder whether Mr. Holliday could make 
a shrewd guess as to the authorship of The Journal of a Dis- 
appointed Man. The most striking quality of these charming 
papers is their naturalness. A graceful turn of expression, a 
witticism, the play of bright humor over every page, have the air 
of complete unpremeditation. Mr. Holliday's mind is never mor- 
bid nor his style awkward. There is but one disappointing chap- 
ter in the volume, that which accuses O. Henry of "amazing 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 831 

failure." It disappoints less because it is weak criticism than 
because, for a moment, the genial author forgets the amenities 
and says biting things about the Simon pure devotees of our 
American Harun-al-Raschid. However, if Homer be permitted 
to nod, a similar indulgence must be permitted Mr. Holliday. To 
read the "Romance of Destiny" and "Mr. Nuggens on Eating 
Dinner," "Emigrating Back Home," "Folks That Rile Us," is to 
see him at his best and to appreciate his contribution to the 
literature of charm, grace and healthiness of tone. 

THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. By Charles J. Callan, O.P. 

New York: Joseph F. Wagner. $2.00. 

Father Callan has written an excellent commentary on the 
Acts of the Apostles. It is a clear, brief yet thorough exposition 
of the meaning of the sacred text. He discusses all the difQculties 
of interest to the historian, apologist or theologian, for he writes 
expressly for priests and ecclesiastical students. 

The Acts of the Apostles is a most important book of Holy 
Writ, for it gives us an authentic account of the beginnings of 
Christianity and of Church organization, and furnishes us with 
the connecting link between the Gospel of the Saviour and its 
diffusion by the Church to all parts of the Roman Empire. It 
furnishes the theologian with facts and teachings unrecorded in 
any other book of primitive Christianity, and the apologist with 
many testimonies of the Apostolic preaching of the Resurrection. 

Father Callan's treatise is at once practical, for it eliminates 
such opinions, discussions, explanations and theories as might 
be considered curious and unnecessary; and critical, for it gives 
in condensed form the most probable arguments and helpful re- 
sults of the best critical studies on all the important questions 
involved. 

THE THINGS IMMORTAL. By Rev. E. F. Gareschi, S.J. New 

York: Benziger Brothers. $1.25 net. 

In the subtitle, "Spiritual Thoughts for Every Day Reading," 
this little book is aptly described. For busy people to whom 
prolonged reading is either distasteful or impossible, it will be a 
boon. The subjects treated are most important; the method of 
treatment simple, practical and persuasive; and still another 
merits each one is completed at one reading of not more than ten 
pages. The book would serve admirably for use in the fifteen 
minute prayer, advised by the saints, and would lead to not a few 
reforms of very common, yet exasperating, faults of character, 
which we are so apt to let grow like weeds. 



832 NEW BOOKS [Mar^ 

WINONA'S WAY. By Margaret Widdemer. Philadelphia: J. 

B. Lippincott Co. $1.35 net. 

Winona» of the Camp Fire Girls, is with us once more, and 
will amply justify the welcome she will receive from girl read- 
ers. This time, she, with her companions, becomes engaged in 
Community Service, using as a centre the house in which they 
did the fine work in food conservation told in a preceding volume. 
Under Winona's leadership, many beneficial things are accom- 
plished that, in the doing, make life as enjoyable as it is earnest. 

The main interest of the series is well sustained in this 
volume, which, to our mind, is even better than its immediate 
predecessor, the incidents being less fortuitous and more prob- 
able. In delineation and development of character, also, the 
book marks a distinct advance. Its merits make us regret the 
more that it shares the singular defect, so prevalent in present- 
day writing for the young, the total ignoring of religion. Pa- 
triotism, duty and service to others, patience and generosity are 
inculcated; but of even belief in the existence of a Divine Author 
of every good thought and deed, there is not the most remote 
suggestion. 

THEODORE ROOSEVELT'S LETTERS TO HIS CHILDREN. 

New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. $2.00 net. 

The introduction to this collection of letters quotes their 
author as having said, shortly before his death : "I would rather 
have this book published than anything that has ever been written 
about me." The remark is readily comprehensible. No public 
man understood better than Colonel Roosevelt the temper and 
make-up of his compatriots, and the high esteem in which the 
average native-born American holds precisely what these writ- 
ings embody most saliently, the fundamental qualities upon 
which depends the preservation of the family and the home. 

The letters range in date from 1898 to 1911, written from 
various places, Santiago, the White House, or Africa, as the case 
may be. They are scarcely less varied as to subjects; but through 
them all one thing stands out clearly — that in the writer's life, 
experienced beyond parallel though it was, the paramount inter- 
ests were those that centred in his home. That during his life- 
time his private life was veiled from the public eye by a curtain 
of reserve, makes these intimate revelations of the more value 
now, cementing popular affection more firmly than ever. 

There is great charm in these writings, loving and humorous, 
the devoted father entering with keenest zest into the least de- 
tails that were of interest to any of his children, however young; 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 833 

giving wise and kindly counsel in the problems that confronted 
them as they began to face the world; and, throughout, infor- 
mally but unmistakably, setting forth the exalted, unchanging 
standard by which he measured all things, great and small. 

So manifest is his sympathy for the young and his under- 
standing of their difBculties, so widely applicable are his judg- 
ments and advice, that the letters become, in a sense, communi- 
cations to the children of his fellow-citizens. Assuredly there 
could be no more felicitous medium by which the rising genera- 
tion may learn the mind of the illustrious American, of whom 
Archbishop Hayes has said: "His being was consumed with a 
flaming passion for justice and right, for loyalty and truth, for 
clean living and honest endeavor." 

GOLD, FRANKINCENSE, AND MYRRH. By Ralph Adams Cram, 
Litt.D., LL.D. Boston: Marshall Jones Co. $1.25. 
'The title . . means simply this : Gold is the pure, imperish- 
able quality of the monastic ideal. Frankincense the supreme act 
of worship through the Blessed Sacrament, Myrrh the saving qual- 
ity of a right philosophy of life that yet must be bitter to the taste 
of many people." The three lectures, reprinted under this title 
we.e addressed to Anglicans. They would be more or less un- 
intelligible to an audience of Catholics, or Protestants other than 
the small coterie of "extreme High Churchmen." Some, of 
course, of a wider circle of cultivated folk, captivated by Dr. 
Cram's cogent reasoning and brilliant style, have grasped, through 
his work, some aspects of Catholic truth which they might other- 
wise never have been induced to consider. 

The lectures in this volume, like his other utterances, viewed 
as a Roman Catholic tract might or might not win acceptance, 
though the theses enunciated must be recognized as tenable by 
Catholics. But as the work of a Protestant Episcopalian they 
cannot be considered seriously by either Catholics or Protestants 
— or Anglicans. For Dr. Cram is Catholic in everything 
but the fact of union with the Holy See. It would not, we 
think, be unfair to say that he, and the school of which he is 
by way of being the only exponent who speaks urbi et orbi, has 
nothing in common with the large majority of Episcopalians, 
clergy and laity — not even his belief in Anglican Orders, for the 
bulk of Episcopalians do not hold the Catholic doctrine of the 
priesthood which is the sine qua non of Dr. Cram's position. 
That Dr. Cram himself is painfully conscious of this discrepancy 
on the part of those whom he must still call brethren is evident 
when he says : "Acceptance of the threefold ministry, and of the 



6M NEW BOOKS 

fact of Apostolic succession through the la3ring on of fianrf^ 
the part of those who claim this tactual succession, if it^ did 
carry with it a true acceptance of the Catholic doctrine of 
nature, and eflBcacy, and mode of operation of the sevexK 
ments, would be a still further extension of heresy closely 
proaching sacrilege/* Were it not that the lecture from ^w 
this passage was taken was deliyered a year before Dr. Kins 
sent his letter of resignation to his then presiding bisliopi, 
might almost think it a plagiarism! 

Yet Dr. Cram and his associates of the ''extreme** Hi^ €3i 
party are right in their acceptance and preaching of Csitli< 
truth. They know they are right* and do not« apparently, 
that the mass of their own household believe them to be ^v^roi^ 
and deny alike their theology and their practice. Not only this 
but as Monsignor Benson showed so clearly, their claim to be ai 
integral part of the Catholic Church (a claim taken for granted 
as justified in these lectures) is repudiated as fully by the prac- 
tice of the Greek schismatics as by the Encyclical of Leo Xin. 
They know that their whole fabric of Catholic practice stands or 
falls with the fact of their priesthood. And they are convinced 
that they have the Catholic priesthood: that there was no gap 
in essential form or intention at or after the Reformation — that 
theirs is a God-given mission to restore belief in the Catholic 
faith, the Catholic sacraments, the Catholic priesthood* which, in 
their bona fides, their denomination never lost« in spite of all that 
Hanoverian Erasiians, Low Churchmen, and Latitudinarians may 
have said, or do say, to the contrary. 

Viewed in this light the three lectures become intelligible, 
nay, as G. K. C. (the only other champion of ''Anglo-Catholicism** 
at all comparable to Dr. Cram) might say, they are the blast of a 
trumpet. But to those outside the charmed circle it seems that 
Dr. Cram builds a philosophical structure as massive, as coherent, 
as gracefully finished as one of his magnificent architectural tri- 
umphs — ^but it is a dream church. It floats in the air above the 
heads of his co-religionists, who recognize its beauty and perfec- 
tion, while they realize, as Dr. Cram apparently does not, that it 
lacks reality because a nexus is wanting with the ancient foonda- 
tion which rests on the Rock of Peter. 

For the rest, the lectures are original and suggestive. Their 
scope is far wider than the small groups for which they were 
written, and they have a peculiar interest for Catholics as show- 
ing, not necessarily the drift of Protestantism towards Catholic 
truth and practice, but the amazing fact that a not inconsider- 
able number of cultivated and pious people can hold a position so 



1920.] 



NEW BOOKS 



835 



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widely at variance with that of their official ecclesiastical connec- 
tion and yet, by a mysterious dispensation of Providence, pre- 
serve their good faith. It is a volume, the careful reading of 
which by Catholics will drive them to their knees to make an 
Act of Hope. 

THE GRAY NUNS IN THE FAR NORTH. By Rev. P. Duchaussois, 

O.M.I. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart. 

This fascinating sketch of the labors of these Canadian 
Sisters in the Far North reads like a romance. It is a story of 
heroism and missionary zeal rarely equaled in the annals of the 
Propagation of the Faith. 

After a brief sketch of the life and labors of Madame 
DTouville, the foundress of the Gray Nuns of Montreal, the author 
describes in detail the founding of the many Indian missions in 
Canada (1844-1903) along the Red and Mackenzie Rivers, at Fort 
Providence, Lake Athabaska, Great Slave Lake. Rain, cold, snow, 
difficult portages, journeys of two thousand two hundred miles 
through the wilderness, hostile and immoral savages, barbarian 
Eskimos — nothing daunted these brave women. They faced every 
danger and difficulty with a smile, and persevered until they won 
countless souls to God and His Church. 

This volume is well calculated to stir our people to mission- 
ary zeal, and to foster many vocations. 

ELEMENTARY AMERICAN HISTORY AND GOVERNMENT. By 

J. S. Woodburn, Ph.D., and T. F. Moran, Ph.D. New York: 

Longmans, Green & Co. $1.50. 

This is an "After the War Edition," and the revision called 
for by the occasion has resulted in a very satisfactory volume. 
As the writers well say, the history has not changed, but 
the viewpoint has, making it imperative to enlarge greatly the 
scope of the book. Considerable attention is devoted to industrial 
and mechanical developments as well as to the labor, immigration 
and other problems occupying the public mind of today. The 
wars in our history are treated concisely but clearly, and the 
proportions of the perspective are well maintained. This, of 
course, becomes more difficult as events multiply, each requiring 
to be noted and classified. The summary of the World War is 
most satisfactory from this point of view — ^balanced and fair- 
minded. The maps and illustrations form a useful addition and 
are altogether admirable; so, too, are the summaries, questions 
and pronunciation of foreign names appended to each chapter. 
The book contains also the text of the Declaration of Independ- 



836 NEW BOOKS [Mar^ 

ence, the Constitution with its amendments, and a good topical 
outline of its forty chapters, with the area, population, etc., of the 
States. The writers connect much information on civics and gov- 
ernment with the rise and progress of the country, thus making 
a foundation for the separate study of tliat branch so necessary 
for good citizenship and the intelligent use of the vote. A pupil 
who has mastered the contents of this volume should possess 
an all-around understanding and appreciation of the history of 
these United States. 

FANTASTICS. By Lafcadio Hearn. Boston: Houghton Mifflin 

Co. $1.65. 

This posthumous collection of studies and sketches from the 
pen of the late Lafcadio Hearn has been gleaned by Mr. Charles 
Hutson from the files of the Times-Democrat of New Orleans, 
to which the author contributed during the years of his stay in 
Louisiana. Students of Hearn's development as an artist wiU 
find these pages extremely interesting as recording his impres- 
sions of the weird and exotic quality of certain aspects of exist- 
ence in New Orleans. ''They are dreams," Hearn himself wrote, 
''of a tropical city. There is one twin idea running through 
them all — ^Love and Death. And these figures embody the story 
of life here as it impresses me . . ." Some of the sketches are 
written in a beautiful imaginative prose, but the total effect is 
one of a cloying and unhealthy sweetness, and it is not at all 
likely that the literary reputation of the author will be noticeably 
increased by the publication of them. 

THE NEXT STEP IN DEMOCRACY. By R. W. Sellars, Ph.D., 

Assistant Professor of Philosophy, University of Michigan. 

New York: The Macmillan Co. $1.60. 

Somewhat more than one-half of this book is taken up with 
a discussion of Socialism, its spirit, history, hopes, the miscon- 
ceptions which prevail concerning it, and the objections that 
have been raised against it. Apparently the author might be 
classed as a kind of moderate evolutionary Socialist, who is con- 
tent to wait a long time for the arrival of his completely social- 
ized order. In the meantime, he advocates co-partnership, co- 
operation and profit-sharing, and he seems to expect that the col- 
lectivist organization of industry will always be modified con- 
siderably by cooperative industrial institutions under the direct 
ownership and management of the groups immediately concerned. 

Some of the chapters in the second part of the book are 
entitled "The Ethics of Labor," "The Growth of Justice," "Some 
Principles of Pecuniary Reward" and "The Conditions of a Social 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 837 

Freedom." In his formally ethical discussions, the author ex- 
hibits all the limitations of those who accept the modern theory 
of evolutionary ethics. The beneficent operations of the State 
are exaggerated* natural rights are denied, and there is a con- 
siderable lack of coherent fundamental principles. The vague- 
ness of his exposition in this field is well illustrated in the chapter 
on pecuniary reward, the general conclusion of which is: 'The 
ideal principle of reward is that of need, reward being thus recog- 
nized definitely as a means to an end, a self realization in accord 
with a progressive social welfare . . . There is, then, no final 
opposition between social need and social merit." 

A HANDBOOK OF MORAL THEOLOGY. By Rev. Anthony Koch, 
D.D. Adapted and Edited by Arthur Preuss. Volume III. 
St. Louis: B. Herder Book Co. $1.50 net. 
Volumes I. and II. of this Handbook dealt with the general 
principles of Moral Theology. This third volume shows how 
these principles are to be applied to man's conduct as an indi- 
vidual. Its two parts deal with (a) the care for man's body and 
spiritual welfare, and (b) the obligations arising from his voca- 
tion, occupation and position in life. The author touches briefly 
upon many interesting questions: asceticism, fashions in dress, 
housing, amusements, vivisection, temperance, suicide, vasec- 
tomy, capital punishment, war, the rights and duties of property, 
the necessity and duty of labor, etc. Every chapter concludes 
with a short bibliography of English, French, German and Latin 
works of reference. 

LIFE OF DANTE ALIGHIERE. By Charles Allen Dinsmore. 

Boston : Houghton Mifflin Co. $2.50. 

This is a well-written book of intelligent enthusiasm and 
should stimulate interest in Dante and his works. The third 
division of the book, which concerns itself with interpretation 
and appreciation, is in our opinion better done than the other 
two divisions in which the author treats respectively of the 
theatre of events in which Dante moved, and of the sparse ma- 
terial obtainable for biographical purposes. 

The author is unconsciously humorous in the eyes of a 
Catholic reader by reason of his delightfully self-satisfied tone 
of de haut en bas whenever he has occasion to discuss Dante's 
religion. He studies the Middle Ages through windows of the 
Early Victorian New England glaze, in which the saintly figures 
of Emerson, Norton, Darwin, Spencer and John Fiske break the 
white rays of truth into delicate Unitarian tints. Those old vil- 



838 NEW BOOKS [Mar.. 

lage windows need to be raised if for no other end than to enable 
the author of this book to make the interesting discovery that 
there still survive on this sublunary planet many persons with a 
reputation for intelligence who accept and practice the religion 
of Dante. 

But we are afraid the author has made up his mind about 
those windows, if we may judge from a curious slip in his care- 
fully written book. On page 246 and page 280 he states in his 
text that the eternal damnation of virtuous heathen was repulsive 
to Dante, but he had to accept it on the clear statement of the 
Church. The author mourns that Dante's mind was held in 
such bondage. We presume that the author's attention was 
called to these passages by some better informed friend who read 
his proof sheets; because on page 281 there is a footnote, 
grudgingly inserted we should say, to the effect that St. Thomas 
Aquinas, who was by the way an oflScially recognized theologian 
of the Church, taught that if a heathen always acted according 
to his lights he would somehow or other receive the means and 
grace of salvation. This teaching is based directly on the Bible. 
The author's comment on St. Thomas offers an amusing com- 
parison with the passages we have cited in his text. 'Dante did 
not avail himself of this teaching," says Mr. Dinsmore, "because, 
probably, to his mind there was no evidence that to the virtuous 
heathen there had been granted a teacher or an internal revela- 
tion." 

BLOOD AND SAND. By Vicente Blasco Ib&nez. New York: E. 

P. Dutton & Co. $1.90 net. 

The publishers state that this was the first of Ib&nez's novels 
to bring him world-wide recognition. It is a characteristic speci- 
men of the author's method, a method which has made him a 
great success, especially in these impressionable United States. 
This method may roughly, yet with fair accuracy, be described 
as a journalistic adaptation of the realistic mode of Zola, satur- 
ated with socialistic and "liberalistic" propaganda, and well seas- 
oned with aphrodisiac elements. Ib&hez brings to the treat- 
ment of this method a literary style that is far indeed from being 
of the first or even of the second or third class, artistically speak- 
ing: but which is nevertheless a brisk and effective and vigorous 
style — the style of a first-class popular writer who happens to 
have more general culture, and more mental vigor, than the aver- 
age run of newspaper special writers. But essentially his is a 
journalistic and not artistic view of life; and journalistic and not 
literary is his presentation of his views. Blood and Scuid deals 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 839 

with the "cherished atrocity" of Spain — the bull ring. The hero 
is a celebrated champion bullfighter, whose ambition to be a 
torrero is traced from his boyhood to his sordid and bloody death 
as a miserable failure, after his fall trom the heights of fame and 
greatness. His incidental amours are, of course, introduced with 
the author's customary attention to lubricous details. The details 
of bullfighting are sweepingly and minutely described, the reader 
being spared no horror. William Dean Howells described the 
book as a "masterpiece." Well, so it is: a masterpiece of the 
mediocre meretriciousness which today passes muster in so 
many quarters for genuine literary merit. 

THE SYMBOLIST MOVEMENT IN LITERATURE. By Arthur 
Symons. New York : E. P. Button & Co. $3.50. 
This is a new edition, thoroughly revised and greatly en- 
larged, of a book which admirers of the charming prose style and 
subtle artistry of Mr. Arthur Symons have known and admired — 
in some cases with many reservations — for a number of years. 
A distinctly new feature of the present edition is its inclusion of 
a bibliography, and notes, and a number of the author's own 
translations from Mallarmd and Verlaine. Mr. Symons takes as 
his starting point, in these essays, the thesis that "without sym- 
bolism there can be no literature" — that symbolism is an essential 
factor not only of literature but of language itself. "Symbolism 
began with the first words uttered by the first man as he named 
every living thing, or before that in Heaven when God named 
the world into being. We see in these beginnings precisely what 
symbolism in literature really is: a form of expression, at the 
best but approximate, essentially but arbitrary, until it has ob- 
tained the force of a convention, for an unseen reality appre- 
hended by the consciousness. It is sometimes permitted us to 
hope that our convention is indeed the reflection rather than 
merely the sign of an unseen reality. We have done much if 
we have found a recognizable sign." It is from this quasi-mysti- 
cal point of view that Arthur Symons studies the work of Balzac, 
Merim^, Gerard de Nerval, Gautier, Flaubert, Baudelaire, the De 
Goncourts, TIsle-Adam, Mallarm^, Verlaine, Huysmans, Arthur 
Rimbaud, Jules Laforgue and, of course, the inevitable and — 
just at present — ubiquitous Maeterlinck. Unquestionably the es- 
sayist proves his point that symbolism is discernible in the work 
of all these great artists; but as he himself lacks the only reliable 
foundation for true mysticism, and for the true literary expression 
of mysticism, namely, the Catholic Faith, his work suffers from 
the same riot of errors which are to be found trooping through 



840 NEW BOOKS [Mar^ 

the pages of most of the writers whom he studies. The large 
number of these writers, indeed, are frankly and fully, either 
heretics or pagans. Only in the lesser work of Huysmans and in 
a few pages of Verlaine, and Mallarm6 are to be found mystical 
notes which are in harmony with the teachings of the divinely 
constituted authority, the Catholic Church. This book, for that 
reason, despite all its unquestionable literary charm, is full of 
danger for those who approach it without firm convictions, or 
who lack correct knowledge, concerning Catholic mysticism and 
Catholic symbolism. For those, however, who are able to steer 
their way past its shoals and quicksands, the book is a literary 
delight. In a time like our own, when style has all but taken its 
flight from current literature, it is a rare pleasure to read pages 
so exquisitely wrought, so colorful, and so musical. 

CONFERENCES FOR MARRIED WOMEN. By Rev. ReynoU 
Kuehnel. New York: Joseph F. Wagner. $2.00. 
In these simple, instructive talks Father Kuehnel traces the 
social duties of motherhood from the first stage of child life to 
the last. He speaks of the mother's great responsibility as a 
teacher of her little ones, and tells her how to look after their 
physical and spiritual welfare. The five concluding chapters 
contain a life of St. Monica, the special patron of mothers. 

THE THREE MULLA-MULGARS. By Walter De La Mare. New 

York: A. A. Knopf. $3.50. 

This is the first American edition — exquisitely illustrated in 
color and line, by Dorothy P. Lathrop — of a book that has already 
become something of a classic over in England. Mr. De La Mare 
is, of course, widely known and honored as one of the half dozen 
or so finest living English poets, and in his *Teacock Pie, *The Lis- 
tenei s," *'Songs of Childhood," etc., he has written poetry for and 
about children with which, for delight, and charm, and subtlety 
of insight, no other English poet's work in the same kind can be 
compared. And his verse in more *'grown-up" vein is of a mov- 
ing and wistful beauty. 

To attempt to rehearse ever so cursorily the tale of these 
three Mulla-Mulgars would be no less impossible than absurd. 
Nothing — and everything — happens in this book. But there is 
one thing that never did or could happen in any book from the 
pen of this author: that his genius should desert him. His lore 
is that of happy whimsical fancies and the tenderest of conceits. 
Of these things this beautiful story is full to the brim. There is 
something seriously wrong with the youthful heart — be its pos- 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 841 

sessor seven or seventy years in the world — ^wUch does not re- 
joice over the adventures enjoyed or endured by Thumb, Thimble, 
and Nod, of whom the mother was *'an old gray fruit-monkey of 
the name of Mutt-matutta*' living ''on the borders of the Forest 
of Munra-Mulgar/' 

THE HOME AND THE WORLD. By Sir Rabindranath Tagore. 

New York: The Macmillan Co. $1.75. 

In this first long novel to be translated from the Bengali 
of Sir Rabindranath Tagore, the plot is unfolded by means of half- 
l3rrical narratives put into the mouths of the three leading pro- 
tagonists — ^Nikhil, the idealistic landed proprietor of modern 
India; Bimala, his impressionable young wife, and the political- 
poetic demagogue, Sandip. There is material for one of the great 
novels of the world in this story of the conflict between family 
and patriotism, between ancient national ideals and the call of 
new enthusiasms, finally between spiritual and carnal love. To 
be sure, the Bengali poet and philosopher has very imperfectly 
realized these possibilities — ^that was perhaps to be expected. But 
he has given us a book interesting in its unusual yet realistic 
setting, and for its insight into character and into the problems of 
India today. 

EVERYDAY SCIENCE. By William H. Snyder, Sc.D. New York: 

AUyn & Bacon. $1.40. 

As the author states in his preface *Hhis book covers a wide 
field, and as the subject matter is not chosen for the purpose of 
appealing to any group of science teachers," it would not be 
easy to assign it a specific place in the schoolroom curriculum. 
It was written for pupils of the higher classes of the grade 
schools who will have no further training in science. But to any 
student interested in the processes of nature it will prove a most 
fascinating study, and add greatly to that all-around knowledge 
so desirable for a well-informed mechanic, business or profes- 
sional man. The book aims to make intelligent and useful citi- 
zens, and is well adapted to its purpose. Wherever nature is 
harnessed to the car of science in reclamation, irrigation, illum- 
ination, forestry, navigation, etc., nature's principles are simply 
and concisely explained and applied. A word about the illustra- 
tions must be said. A few lack clearness of development but 
most of them are good and really elucidate the text. An alpha- 
betical index would greatly facilitate the use of the book and 
add to its general usefulness, as it would enable one to lay one's 
finger immediately upon any one of the many topics. 



842 NEW BOOKS [Mar.. 

THE CURIOUS REPUBLIC OF 60ND0UR. By Samuel L. Qem- 

ens. New York: Boni & Liveright. $1.25. 

With the above sketch several others— of which ^'Goldsmith's 
Friend Abroad" is the most considerable — are herein gathered 
from journals to which Mark Twain contributed in 1870-71. 
These jets of fantasy which are seasoned with more than Mark's 
usual pungency are not of general interest, and will appeal only 
to the inner circle of his admirers. 

A SPINNER OF WEBS. By Catherine Bement. Boston: The 

Four Seas Co. $1.50. 

This novel, detailing the love-story of a young minister in 
his first pastorate, is not especially interesting or significant from 
any point of view. The nearest approach to a real character study 
is found in the portrait of Mrs. Morrell, the wife of the former 
pastor, a lady of determination in carrying through plans which 
do not always spring from unexceptionable motives. However, the 
young minister is too shadowy a person in the book for us to 
feel the proper thrill of amused sympathy at its close, when this 
redoubtable person becomes his mother-in-law. 

SIMON. By J. Storer Clouston. New York: George H. Doran 

Co. $1.50. 

Mr. Clouston, whom one remembers pleasantly as the author 
of an amusing farrago, The Lunatic at Large, has now turned out 
a moderately good mystery story according to a familiar prescrip- 
tion. There is a remote little village where Simon — silent Simon 
Rattar — had lived for many years as agent and "procurator-fiscal." 
There is a Sir Reginald who is murdered : a detective from Lon- 
don, not, of course, from Scotland Yard. There is a love afi'air, 
a body buried in a garden — Simon's body — a dramatic denoue- 
ment, and — curtain. We have read many better stories of the 
same kind. 

THE DEEP HEART. By Isabel C. Clarke. New York: Benziger 

Brothers. $1.50 net. 

Miss Clarke has added to the considerable list of her novels 
another which well sustains her reputation as a writer of the 
best type of Catholic fiction. It is a love story, involving much 
analysis of character, and brought to a happy conclusion by the 
conversion to the Faith of an unbeliever whose unscrupulous 
selfishness had separated the woman he wished to marry from 
her chosen lover, and his friend. Mercifully, his turning to the 
"deep heart" of Our Lord was not too late for him to undo the 
mischief he had wrought. 



1920.] NEW BOOKS 843 

As in all this author's novels, the interest is derived not 
alone from plot and character delineation, but also from the 
depth and clarity of her spiritual perception. 

MAN'S GREAT CONCERN: THE MANAGEMENT OF LIFE. By 

Ernest R. Hull, S.J. New York: P. J. Kenedy & Sons. 

Paper, 35 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

Father Hull is well known in Bombay, not only as editor of 
The Examiner, but as a clear expositor of the principles which 
should guide conduct, politics and right living, as well as religion. 
Trenchant and fearless he may be relied on to have something to 
say, and to say it with force and brevity. This little book on a big 
subject is divided into five parts, three of which concern the on- 
tological, psychological and constructional principles on which 
the structure rests, while the fourth and fifth sections treat 
duties to God, ourselves and other people, with the duties of 
various occupations and states of life. 

Within its compass is compressed the philosophy that 
should guide the thoughts and acts of man as a reasonable crea- 
ture. 

THE PRIESTS' CANONICAL PRAYER. From the French of 
Rev. Charles Willi, C.SS.R., by Rev. Ferrol Girardy, C.SS.R. 
St. Louis : B. Herder Book Co. 50 cents net. 
The contents of this small volume of sixty-five pages are 
taken, the writer tells us, from Le Briviaire Expliqui of Rev. 
Charles Willi, C.SS.R. Its purpose is to acquaint the American 
clergy with Father Willi's book, to be translated later, and also 
to provide them with extracts so well adapted to promote the 
spiritual welfare of all who will read them. The latter end in 
view is borne out by a perusal of the volume itself. The esteem 
we should have for the Divine Office, its excellence and its fruits 
are admirably stated. The economy of the Breviary and its aid 
to the social works of the priest are well set forth. The book 
should be a help to a more devout and profitable recitation of the 
Divine Office. 

BAUDELAIRE. His Prose and Poetry. Edited by T. R. Smith. 

New York: Boni & Liveright. 85 cents. 

This volume of the "Modern Library" series contains Swin- 
burne's dedicatory poem, "Ave Atque Vale," also translations of 
Baudelaire's poems by Arthur Symons, T. P. Sturm, Joseph Ship- 
ley and W. J. Robertson. Mr. Sturm, who has edited Baudelaire 
in the Canterbury Poets, writes the introduction. The "Fleurs 
de Mai," that classic of decadence and patchouli literature, has 



844 NEW BOOKS [Mar., 

little to recommend it in English dress. Was it not of the author 
that Edmond Sch^rer wrote the withering criticism : ''son uniqae 
titre c'est d'avoir contribu6 k cr^er Testh^tique de la dibauche"? 
It was hardly necessary to advertise this ultra-modern accession 
to the series with the announcement that 'Hhe poet, the publisher, 
and the printer were found guilty of having offended against 
public morals." 

A WHISPER OF FIRE, by Agnes Ryan (Boston: The Four 
Seas Co. $1.25), contains one hundred lyrics — chiefly reaching 
out toward the mysteries of human love — by a young poet who 
stresses the feminist note. Several of the verses, notably ''I Won- 
der," are compact and vivid in imagery and spiritual message. 

A BOOK that will appeal both to the experienced mechanic 
and to the inexperienced one, particularly to the younger 
or older boy who delights to handle tools, is Making Tin Can Toys 
by Edward Thatcher (Phila.: J. B. Lippincott Co. $1.50 net). 

The wounded soldier, especially the man who has lost an 
arm or a leg, has roused our imagination and our technical ability 
to provide recreational and occupational aid. As a result the bene- 
fits have reached and will reach beyond the soldier himself. To 
have a side-line of interest, particularly mechanical, is not with- 
out its special moral as well as practical value. 

Making Tin Can Togs is a book that will stimulate at once the 
interest of the boy who has even the beginnings of an imagination 
in things mechanical, and give him the knowledge whereby out of 
things as cheap as old tin cans he may make useful utensils for 
the home, the shop or the camp. The reviewer cannot pass on 
the mathematical accuracy of the directions: but he can 
acknowledge to a strong desire to get tools and see if he could 
achieve success with an old can. 

IN This Giddy Globe, by Oliver Herford (New York: George H. 
Doran Co. $1.50), we have not been able to see the helpful humor 
that is both kindly and wise. It is a cheap proceeding to use the 
tragedy of the nations to make a holiday for those who think they 
can afford to look on and laugh. To tell us of every country that 
its army won the war: to define patriotism as a combination of 
*'pat" and *'riot" is but to show how every power of humor is 
beggared. The whole presentation of the volume reminds one of 
a theatrical *'folly,' and the man who esteems his soul will not 
find the time even to look on. 



It 

ir 






■Recent Evented 



The most important event in Russian af- 
Russia. fairs in the last month was the lifting of the 

Allied blockade. This did not mean peace 
with the Bolshevists, but was an attempt to enter into trade rela- 
tions with the Russian Cooperative Unions without recognition of 
the Soviet Government. At first the Soviet Government consented 
to the proposed restricted trading with the outside world through 
those codperative societies, but later showed a disposition to tie 
up the societies in such a way as to make even partial trading 
impossible. 

England has been the chief advocate of this change in Allied 
policy, declaring through her Premier, Lloyd George, that *'Bolshev- 
ism cannot be crushed by force of arms," and holding that com- 
merce and intercourse with the outside world is the surest method 
of bringing Bolshevism to an end. Italy has followed the British 
lead in this reversal of policy, while France has only reluctantly 
acquiesced. It is the opinion in France that the distinction be- 
tween trade with the Russian cooperatives and peace with the 
Soviets, as drawn by the British Premier, is so subtle as to be 
impracticable, and for them trade and peace are in the long run — 
if not immediately — identical. Under any political conditions it 
is believed that a considerable time must elapse before supplies 
to any appreciable extent can be had from Russia. 

Among the principal causes for the new orientation in the 
plans of the Allies are, first, the total collapse of the military of- 
fensives of Kolchak in the northeast, of Denikin in the south, and 
of Yudenitch in the west, and secondly, the growing success of 
the Bolshevist peace negotiations with the various Baltic States, 
thus breaking '*the ring of fire" with which the Allies had thought 
to enclose the Bolshevist territory. 

Esthonia has been the first of the Baltic countries to sign a 
permanent peace with the Soviet Government. By this peace 
ti eaty Esthonia's independence is recognized and she is to receive 
moreover, 15,000,000 rubles in gold (normally $7,500,000) as her 
proportion of imperial Russia's treasure while being exonerated 
from proportional repayment of imperial Russia's debt. On her 
part Esthonia agrees that no tax or duty is to be payable at her 
ports on goods arriving for Russia, and that no toll shall be paid 
on them in transit. All freight charges are to be identical for 



846 RECENT EVENTS [Mar., 

Russians and Esthonians. Esthonia gives Russia certain water- 
power rights along the river Narova, and in return Russia gives 
to Esthonia preferential rights to a concession for building and 
exploiting direct railway connections between Moscow and the 
Esthonian frontier. Diplomatic and commercial relations are to 
be resumed at a date to be decided by further agreement. 

Since the signing of the Esthonian treaty unofficial informa- 
tion has been received in this country that the Government of 
Letvia, the Baltic province bounded on the north by Esthonia 
and on the south by Lithuania, has signed an armistice with the 
Bolshevists. According to the report received, the armistice was 
signed after the capture by the Lettish troops of Guzyn, the lasf 
town in Eastern Letvia which the Bolshevist forces had been 
occupying. This brought the Letts to the Lettish-Russian fron- 
tier and resulted in the complete retirement of the Bolshevist 
forces from Letvia. Dispatches from Copenhagen say that Letvia 
will not accept peace offers from Soviet Russia pending the con- 
ference of representatives of the Baltic States, to be held in 
April. In view of the conclusion of peace with the Bolshevists by 
Esthonia, however, the Letts are loath that they should be fore- 
stalled in the first fruits of the expected trade movement with 
Russia and are beginning to feel, now that the Bolshevist forces 
have been driven out, that there is no serious obstacle to the ces- 
sation of hostilities. 

Poland also has been strongly mentioned in connection with 
peace with the Bolshevists, and confirmation has recently been 
received that the Polish Government, in conjunction with the Al- 
lies, is considering the offer of peace made by Premier Lenine, 
Foreign Minister Tchitcherin and Minister of War Trotzky on 
behalf of the People's Commissaries. The offer, which was con- 
tained in a wiieless dispatch from Moscow, invited a friendly 
settlement of all disputes and outstanding questions between Po- 
land and Soviet Russia. It asserts that the Soviet Government 
had from the first recognized the independence and sovereignty 
of the Polish Republic, and that there were no territorial, eco- 
nomic, or other questions which could not be settled by agreement 
or by mutual concessions, as in the case of Esthonia. 

The question whether Poland should conclude peace with the 
Bolshevists is of course largely dependent on the attitude of her 
sponsors, the Allies, and has been the subject of recent conversa- 
tions between the Polish Foreign Minister and Premier Lloyd 
George. While the exact position of the Allies remains somewhat 
obscure, it is asserted in diplomatic circles that the Allies have 
at least raised no objections to such a course. It is generally con- 












1920.] RECENT EVENTS 847 

■^ ^""^i ceded that the position of Poland is difiElcult. She alone cannot 

hope to wage war against the Bolshevists. Her situation has be- 
come more uncomfortable since Esthonia made peace, thereby 
creating a gap in the Baltic defences. If Poland is considering 
making peace, she is doing so in the knowledge that the Allies 
will not oppose her in this matter. 

Of course one of the main reasons for the success of the 
Bolshevist peace overtures, besides the change in Allied policy 
first commented on, has been the continued military successes of 
the Soviet forces, thus generating in the Baltic States the feeling 
that they would soon be called upon, unaided, to face the full 
impetus of the victorious Soviet troops. Those troops, despite 
temporary, but merely local reverses, have been uniformly suc- 
cessful on all fronts. On the western sector of the South Russian 
front the resistance of the volunteers against the Bolshevists ap- 
pears entirely to have collapsed with the Bolshevist occupation of 
Odessa. Rostov-on-Don, the Denikin capital, fell on January 9th, 
and at last reports Ekaterinodar, which was the headquarters of 
General Denikin before his great drive northward toward Moscow, 
is being evacuated. The remnants of General Denikin's forces are 
being pursued by the Bolshevists into the Crimea. The failure 
of Denikin's forces is attributed to four causes : utter indifference 
of the peasantry as to whether the Reds or Whites vrin, the spread 
of typhus among the volunteer troops, permission given to the 
Cossacks to sack each captured city for three days, and the re- 
moval from command of their troops of Cossack officers. As to 
Denikin himself, according to a recent dispatch from Belgrade, 
he has landed at the Bulgarian port of Varna with a few of his 
officers. It is reported that he intends going to Bucharest to confer 
concerning the danger of a Bolshevist invasion of Bessarabia. 

At to conditions on the Siberian front, official confirmation 
has been received of the execution of Admiral Kolchak by the 
Bolshevists at Irkutsk on the morning of February 7th. There is 
still some show of resistance to the Bolshevist armies, however. 
Fifteen thousand Czechs, under General Janin of the French 
army, are spread over four hundred miles along the railroad 
west of Irkutsk. Later despatches report that the forces of Gen- 
eral Kappell, commander-in-chief of the Western armies of the 
All-Russian Government, have recaptured Irkutsk and established 
contact with General Semenoff. General Kappell's troops have 
joined with the Czechs and are fighting the Bolshevists in the vi- 
cinity of Cheremkova. Cheremkova, which is on the Trans-Si- 
berian railway, eighty miles northwest of Irkutsk, has been 
retaken from the Bolshevists. 



•- % 






iTt 






848 RECENT EVENTS [Mar., 

An incident that has given rise to consider- 
Germany. able agitation and resentment throughout 

Germany in the past month, has been the 
Allied demand for the extradition of eight hundred and ninety-six 
Germans to be tried for violation of the laws of war. Of these, 
England demands 97 for trial; France and Belgium, 334 each; 
Italy, 29; Poland, 57; Rumania, 41, and Serbia, 4. On the refusal 
of Baron Kurt von Lersner, head of the German peace delegation 
at Paris, to transmit the list to his Government and his conse- 
quent resignation, the demand was communicated by the Allies 
direct to the Berlin authorities. Among those demanded are 
Ludendorf, von Hindenburg, Mackensen, von Tirpitz, von Beth- 
mann-HoUweg, and the other principal civil and military German 
oflScials. 

The German Cabinet is unanimous in its determination not 
to hand over the persons demanded, taking the attitude that it 
would be a physical impossibility to arrest these men in Germany, 
and that no government could stand which issued orders for such 
arrests. In this attitude the Cabinet has the apparent backing of 
all sections of German opinion. 

The Crerman Government replied to the Allied demand for 
the handing over of these men, that it would not comply but that 
it would be willing to place on trial all those named by the Allies 
before the Leipsic Supreme Court. This offer was accepted by the 
Allies who agreed that it was compatible with Article 228 of the 
Peace Treaty. In their reply to the German offer the Allies state, 
first, that they note that Germany declares herself unable to carry 
out the obligations imposed on her by Articles 228 to 230; sec* 
ond, that the Allies reserve the right to employ in such measure 
as they judge suitable, the rights accorded them in this event by 
the Treaty. 

The Allies note, however, the German Government's declara- 
tion that they are prepared to open before the court at Leipsic 
penal proceedings without delay, surrounded by the most com- 
plete guarantees and not affected by the application of all judg- 
ments, procedure or previous decisions of German civil or military 
tribunals before the Supreme Court at Leipsic against all Germans 
whose extradition the Allied and Associated Powers have the in- 
tention to demand. 

The Allies, moreover, agree to abstain from intervention in 
the process of the trial or in the reaching a verdict, leaving to the 
German Government complete and entire responsibility, but they 
reserve to themselves the right to decide whether the proposed 
procedure, to.be conducted by Germany, does or does not bring 



1920.] RECENT EVENTS 849 

about the escape of those guilty from the just punishment for 
their crimes. If it permits them to escape, the Allies will exercise 
their rights to the full and submit the cases to their own tribunal. 

The plebiscite in the first or northern zone of Sleswig pro- 
vided by the Treaty of Versailles, to determine the German-Danish 
frontier, resulted in an overwhelming victory for Denmark ac- 
cording to ofiElcial figures of the election. These figures show that 
the Danish adherents cast 75,023 votes, while the Germans polled 
only 25,087, thus insuring the reunion of upper Sleswig with its 
mother country, Denmark. The plebiscite in the second zone 
is to be held March 14th. 

The Germans have evacuated Danzig, which is to become a 
free city under the terms of the Treaty of Versailles, and also Upper 
Silesia, where plebiscites are to be taken to determine whether 
Silesia is to belong to Germany or to Poland. The Treaty provides 
for the ad interim occupation of Upper Silesia by a total of 18,000 
Allied troops. Evacuation is to be accomplished by zones, each of 
which will remain under a provisional military administration 
responsible to the Inter-Allied Commission. 

Internal conditions in Germany continue to grow steadily 
worse. The prices of bread, potatoes, legumes, marmalade, butter 
and margarine have been raised; and the statisticians figure an 
increase on these items alone of 114.50 per cent in the cost of 
living this year for each person. The price of beer, too, which is 
classed among foods by the Germans, has been raised. 

Besides the higher prices, the supplies of food are growing 
visibly shorter. Recently the Berlin city government, owing to 
the failure of potato supplies, introduced turnip cards again, and 
from late accounts it would appear as if the country might have a 
repetition of the famous ^'turnip winter" of 1916-1917, which still 
lingers as a horrible experience in the memory of every German. 
Professor Silbergliet, the statistician of the city of Berlin, has 
just given out some interesting figures, reached after a careful 
study of the cost of living in Berlin. His investigations covered 
the month from July 15th to August 15th last year, and he com- 
pared the month of November with that period. Within that 
short time the cost of living almost doubled. Since then the 
cost of living is more than twice as great as last summer. 

One of the most serious factors in the general food situation 
is the marked lack of sea fish, due in part to the coal famine 
which has kept eighty fish steamers tied up in the Elbe and 
Weser. Then, too, some weeks ago the agricultural organizations 
of the country pointed out that the ofiElcial harvest estimates of 
last year fell short by 2,500,000 tons of the country's requirements 
assumed by the National Grain Bureau; but it is now estimated 

64 



850 RECENT EVENTS [Mar., 

that it will be necessary to import a still larger amount of grain 
than 2,500,000 tons. The prospects for getting food from abroad, 
however, are very unfavorable owing to the great depreciation of 
German currency, the German mark being now down to one cent. 
This depreciation has had the effect of raising all foreign prices at 
least ten-fold above the prices ruling before the War. 

Turning to the industrial situation, reports show that Ger- 
man industry is working on 50 per cent of the normal amount 
of coal, and if a six-hour day is introduced, and a formidable 
agitation is going on to bring it about, then that amount will be 
reduced by a half. Railways, gas, electricity and water works 
are only getting 25 per cent of their former requirements. In 
the various divisions of the textile industry only 30 per cent of 
the factories are at work. 

The glass industry is working to the extent of only 40 per 
cent, and the porcelain industry only 4 per cent. Of six hundred 
and fifty paper factories, fifty are producing 60 per cent of their 
former output and the remaining six hundred only 25 per cent. 

On the other hand, the country is undoubtedly possessed of 
great powers of recuperation. There is a desire to work hard 
almost everywhere. The people are not spending money quite 
as recklessly as formerly. Savings bank deposits are increasing, 
there is an increase in marriage and birth rates, and the death 
rate has gone down. Since the ratification of the Peace Treaty 
German firms have been busy endeavoring to resume trade rela- 
tions with French importers and apparently with some success. 
Their efforts so far, however, are confined mainly to mail business, 
as few can obtain passports to personally push their trade. 

The Supreme CouncU as it existed has 
France. ended and has been succeeded by the Com- 

mittee of Ambassadors on which France is 
represented by her new Premier, Millerand. This Committee, 
taking up part of the work of the Supreme Council, will be en- 
trusted with the task of insuring the carrying out of the Treaty 
of Versailles, and the discussion of current routine matters con- 
nected with peace affairs. The great questions of international 
policy, however, will be reserved for settlement at conferences in 
which the heads of the Allied Governments will sit. 

Although the Council of the League of Nations held its first 
meeting on January 10th and concluded its session on February 
13th, its record of accomplishment in that short period is con- 
sidered remarkably good. The chief decisions reached by the 
Council members at their executive sessions are as follows: 

1. Switzerland has been admitted as an original member 



1920.] RECENT EVENTS 851 

of the League of Nations, although her peculiar international posi- 
tion prevents her fulfilling all the usual obligations under the 
League of Nations, and although her Constitution makes it im- 
possible for her to give her adhesion within the time limit re- 
quired by the Covenant. The question of participation cannot 
come before her people in the form of a referendum until March. 
The Swiss position has been considered unique, and exceptions in 
certain articles of the Peace Treaty were made in her favor. For 
more than a century Switzerland has had her neutrality recognized 
in Europe on the understanding that she would oppose any 
country attempting to cross her borders. By the resolution passed 
by the Council, the League recognizes her unique status, but re- 
quires her to cooperate in commercial and financial measures 
against covenant-breaking states and to defend her own territory 
under every circumstance. In return she need not take part in 
any military action or allow foreign troops to pass through her 
borders. 

2. The Council appointed a governing commission with five 
members to control the Saar Valley. This Commission will have 
the widest powers, including the operation of all public utilities, 
jurisdiction over civil and criminal courts, the fixing of taxes and 
dues and the appointment of local oflScials. The Commission is 
really a Cabinet, with a chairman selected by the Council to act 
as chief executive. M. Rault, member of the French Council of 
State, has been elected chairman; and the other members are 
Alfred von Boch Landrath of Saarlands for Saar, Count de Moltke 
Hvidfeldt for Denmark, and Major Lambert for Belgium. A fifth 
member of the Commission will be announced later. 

3. A Commission of twelve international jurists has been 
nominated to draft a constitution for a permanent court of jus- 
tice. At present a conference is being held at the Hague, where 
consideration is being given to drafts submitted by Sweden, Hol- 
land and Switzerland. 

4. The Council announces that it is prepared to guarantee 
the Polish minorities referred to in Article 12 of the Treaty 
which the Allies made with Poland and confirmed in the letter 
from Cldmenceau to Paderewski last June. This protects all 
minorities, whether formed on a racial, religious or linguistic 
basis. Thus, the Jews of Poland now come under the protection 
of the League. 

5. The commission of inquiry on communication and tran- 
sit, which was apointed last year in Paris, has been asked to draft 
a plan for handling international waterways and land lanes. A 
permanent international commission is to be named. 

6. The governments of all the countries and the Red Cross 



852 RECENT EVENTS [Mar. 



I 



have been asked to name a delegate to an international convention, ^ 

where a plan will be drafted for handling international health 1 

problems and where a permanent international health body will 
be formed. This convention will be held immediately because of 
the necessity of dealing with the threatened general outbreak of 
disease in Central Europe. 

Every effort is being made to extend the work and influence 
of the League Council as rapidly as possible. The Council con- 
cluded its sessions for the first month on February 13th, and fixed 
the date for its next meeting on March 15th, at Rome. 

The demand on Holland for the extradition of the Kaiser has 
been met by a firm refusal, Holland taking her stand on the 
judicial ground that the right of refuge is plain, and that she can- 
not withdraw from the former Emperor the benefit of her laws. 

During the past month there has been considerable tension 
in the French labor world, where strikes of the post-office, rail- 
way and mine workers have been threatening. The Government 
has relieved the situation by its decision to maintain the indemnity 
for the high cost of living established during the War. This in- 
demnity is paid by means of subsidies, and the intention of the 
late ministry to withdraw these subsidies had led to the threat 
of strikes. 

Never in the history of France has the franc reached such a 
low mark of depreciation, and financial and commercial circles 
are greatly depressed over the situation. On the other hand the 
new Finance Minister, Francois Marsal, has submitted revised 
budget estimates which show economies of 8,000,000,000 francs. 
The details of these economies are not divulged, but it is stated 
that both the Army and Foreign Office estimates have been largely 
1 educed. At the same time new procedure for the relief of the 
devastated areas, other than the manufacture of paper money, is 
proposed. 

Fiume and the Adriatic controversy still 
Italy. occupies the centre of the Italian situation. 

Contrary to expectation, the Jugo-Slavs re- 
jected the compromise proposal as described in last month's 
notes, thus throwing the whole matter back upon the Allies. 
The English, French and Italian Premiers then drafted a new 
plan of settlement and submitted it to the Government of Jugo- 
slavia, with the statement that unless that Government accepted, 
these terms, the provisions of the Treaty of London for the dispo- 
sition of Austro-Hungarian territory, which hands over Fiume to 
Italy, would become effective. At this stage matters were still 
further complicated by a note from President Wilson rejecting 



IMO.] RECENT EVENTS 855 

the Allied Premiers* solution, and threatening American with- 
drawal from European affairs. 

The United States Government declines to assent to the ad- 
justment as framed by the English, French and Italian Premiers, 
because the United States Government was not consulted in the 
matter until after those three powers had agreed upon the plan, 
and because the United States is opposed to any form of 
coercion applied to Jugo-Slavia. The American attitude on the 
Adriatic question is, briefly, that Italy should not have Fiume, 
because it is not just to give her both gateways to Central 
Europe, as she would have if she were given Fiume as well as 
Trieste. President Wilson believes that Italy wants Fiume not 
for the sake of the few thousand Italians in it, but be- 
cause it is the greatest outlet for Jugo-Slavia. The United 
States favors the creation of an independent state, including 
Fiume and the hinterland, which is Slav. 

At present writing no reply has yet been received to the 
American note, but the situation created by it has been considered 
so serious by the Supreme Council in London, that it was decided 
that nothing should be published in the press until matters had 
been more or less straightened out It is known that the Allied 
reply has been drafted, and it is said in semi-official circles that 
it will assure the President that the Allied proposal was not as 
unfavorable to the Jugo-Slavs as he believed. The note will be 
brief, consisting of about one hundred and fifty words, and it is 
rumored, will say that it is recognized that the Allies cannot 
settle the question without the cooperation of the United States, 
and will invite the President to present a solution of the Adriatic 
problem. 

Towards the end of January a great strike was called on the 
Italian state railways, which lasted for six days and threw the 
country into confusion. The strike was called to obtain higher 
wages, based on the five hundred per cent increase in the general 
cost of living in Italy, and also to obtain recognition of the rail- 
waymen's organizations, the chief among which is the National 
Union of Railwaymen, claiming to represent the bulk of the em- 
ployees on the State railways. The end of the strike came as the 
result of direct negotiations between Premier Nitti and the union 
executive. The Government agreed to n^ost of the demands of 
the strikers and gave guarantees fo^ (he immediate reference of 
the whole subject to parliamentary ^i^u^sion. 

February 17, 1920. ^ 



\ 



With Our Readers. 

THE Pastoral letter just issued by Cardinal Gibbons in the 
name of the entire hierarchy of the United States is a docu- 
ment worthy the earnest attention of every Catholic. It is thirty- 
five years since any document of like importance has been issued 
by the Archbishops and Bishops of the Catholic Church in the 
United States. 

From their mutual deliberations is born the wisdom to guide 
us through these most critical times. They exhort us to consider 
the significance of recent events, that we may rightly fulfill our 
common obligations as children of the Holy Catholic Church and 

as citizens of the Republic. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

THE history of the Church in this country has been marked 
by increase of numbers, deepening of spiritual life and exten- 
sion of Catholic works. 'The Church thrives where freedom 
really lives and it furnishes the only basis on which freedom can 
be secure." The Holy See has guided us; and the present Su- 
preme Pontiff recognizing the importance of America for the 
world's restoration, sees from his exalted position the broader 
range of opportunity which now is given the Church in our coun- 
try. Wonderful has been our growth. The root of it is our Cath- 
olic Faith. We will "continue in faith, grounded and settled and 
immovable from the hope of the Gospel," ready always to give "a 
reason of that hope that is in us" and, if needs be to "contend 
earnestly for the faith once delivered to the Saints." 

>|t 4t ♦ ♦ 

THE Bishops exhort to study of the Gospel and a sacred famil- 
iarity with the Holy Bible. "This intimate knowledge of 
Holy Writ will bring you close to the Person and life of our 
Saviour and to the labors of His Apostles." The Catholic spirit 
nouiished upon Catholic dogma will see that the true interests of 
each part of the Church are the interests of the Church universal. 
Prayer, the Sacrifice, the Sacraments, a special devotion to our 
Blessed Mother are to be carefully practised and cultivated by 
every Catholic. 

The nursery of that individual Catholic life is the home. The 
home is preserved by Catholic education, and we should be sleep- 
less in protecting and building up the edifice of Catholic educa- 
tion from the parochial school to the university. Catholic so- 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 855 

cieties have been praiseworthy aids in the work of the Church. 
'The tendencies on the part of societies to coalesce in larger or- 
ganizations is encouraging.'' 

4t 4c 4t 4t 

r every Catholic home missions to Catholics and to non- 
Catholics is an object of prayer, of personal interest and 
general support. "Pray fervently that light may be given to those 
who yet are seeking the way, that they may understand the nature 
of that union and concord set forth by Christ Himself, when He 
prayed to the Father, not only for His Apostles but, 'for them also 
who through their word shall believe in Me: that they all may 
be one, as Thou Father in Me, and I in Thee : that they also may 
be one in Us that the world may believe that Thou hast sent Me.' " 
The Catholic lifts his eyes beyond the horizon of country and 
with the vision of Christ sees those of other lands where the har- 
vest is great but the gatherers few. Personal generosity will 
desire to increase the laborers and the fruit. Therefore, must we 
pray for, and cultivate among our own sons and daughters the 
desire for the religious vocation, and help in the training of 
candidates for the priesthood. 

4t 4c 4t 4t 

THE temporal order during the past thirty years has undergone 
radical changes. The industrial world has grown complex 
and powerful, to a degree unprecedented. Education has become 
common property. The nations have, at least physically, been 
brought into closer contact. Such association had con- 
vinced the world that no further war was possible when there 
broke upon us the greatest cataclysm in the world's history. 

The Catholic body in the time of our country's need answered 
every test. The coordinated efforts of our people served most 
effectually the spiritual needs of Catholics under arms and the 
cause of our country's success. The results obtained through this 
merging of activities determined the Bishops to maintain the spirit 
of union and coordination for the aims of peace. "We have ac- 
cordingly grouped under the National Catholic Welfare Council 
the various agencies by which the cause of religion is furthered." 

Under the direction of the Council and, immediately, of the 
Administrative Committee, have been established: The Depart- 
ment of Education, to study the problems and conditions which 
affect the work and development ^f our Catholic schools; the 
Department of Social Welfare, to QrvArd^^^^^ acUviiies which aim 
at improving social conditions iiy ^tAatice with the spirit of 
the Church; the Department of v^^ ^ ^tA liVetalure, to syste- 
matize the work of publication; v t^* ^^«tV^^^^ ^^ Societies and 



\ 



9' 



856 WITH OUR READERS [Mar.. 



I 



i 



Lay Activities* to secure a more thoroughly unified action among 

Catholic organizations. And the development and guidance of I 

missionary activity is provided for through The American Board 

of Catholic Missions, having charge of both Home and Foreign 

Missions. 

The organization of these Departments is now in progress. 
'To complete it, time and earnest cooperation will be required. ' 

The task assigned to each is so laborious and yet so promising of 
results, that we may surely expect, with the divine assistance and 
the loyal support of our clergy and people, to promote more 
efifectually the glory of God, the interests of His Church, and the 
welfare of our country.** 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

NOW the war is over, "to men of clearer vision and calmer 
judgment there comes the realization that the things 
on which they relied for the world's security, have broken under 
the strain. The advance of civilization, the diffusion of knowl- 
edge, the unlimited freedom of thought, the growing relaxation 
of moral restraint — all these, it was believed had given such 
ample scope to individual aims and desires, that conflict, if it 
arose at all, could be readily and thoroughly adjusted. The as- 
sumption is not borne out by the facts.** To bring order out of 
the present chaos, one must first secure a sound basis. The 
world was once brought out of chaos into order and light. 
Through the Gospel of Jesus mankind learned the meaning, and 
received the blessing, of liberty: The Church which Christ es- 
tablished has continued His work. The Church alone can bring 
the world out of chaos into order and light. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

A FUNDAMENTAL error which has brought on the chaos is a 
practical denial of the existence of a Personal God and 
His Personal Providence. Such practical denial overturns the 
principles, for example, on which our American liberties are 
founded. The denial affects essentially every corner and angle 
of our social relations. It has robbed the world of justice and 
of charity. The State that even implicity sanctions the denial, 
foretells its own destruction. 

The world will return to order and right human living only 
through the confession of its dependence upon the Creator and 
its acceptance of the truths of Christ Christian standards alone 
can make a Christian nation, and without Christian standards a 
true democracy cannot exist. 

The standard of Christian marriage must be advanced; di- 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 857 

vorce publicly and privately condemned : the influence of Catho- 
lic womanhood ''because her sphere is no longer confined to the 
home*' must be extended in line with her new political rights 
and her new responsibility. In industrial relations justice and 
charity must prevail. These principles must be carried as livings 
preeminent guides by every Catholic into his industrial relations; 
into his political life» and his view and his vote with regard to 
public office and city, state and national legislation : into his sup- 
port or non-support of the press: and his estimate of inter- 
national relations. Above all he must emphasize^ defend and sup- 
port them in the orucial matter of Catholic education. 

With great wisdom our American Constitution provides that 
every citizen shall be free to follow the dictates of his conscience 
in the matter of religious belief and observance. While the 
State gives no preference or advantage to any form of religion, 
its own best interests require that religion, as well as education, 
should flourish and exert its wholesome influence upon the lives 
of the people. And since education is so powerful an agency for 
the preservation of religion, equal freedom should be secured to 
both. This is the more needful where the State refuses religious 
instruction in its schools. To compel attendance at these schools, 
would be practically an invasion of the rights of conscience. 

Our Catholic schools are not established and maintained 
with any idea of holding our children apart from the general 
body and spirit of American citizenship. They are simply the 
concrete form in which we exercise our rights as free citizens, 
in conformity with the dictates of conscience. Their very exist- 
ence is a great moral fact in American life. For while they aim, 
openly and avowedly, to preserve our Catholic faith, they offer 
to all our people an example of the use of freedom for the ad- 
vancement of morality and religion. 

♦ ♦ ♦ « 

THIS Pastoral Letter concludes with a note of hope and con- 
fidence. We who live in Jesus Christ, the Eternal Victor, 
may suffer distress; we do not know perplexity. Confidently do 
our divinely appointed leaders summon us; confident of one 
answer. Their appeal is fundamentally for a deeper, keener 
realization of our unity as Catholics, as children of God*s King- 
dom, as members one of another because we are all the living 
members of Christ We have a cotvtf^oii Vask in the forwarding 
of which we must lose ourselves ^^ out self interests. That 
common effort, common task an<J^ ^tx^^^ acUon are to receive 
external manifestation in the N^^^^^^a ViAtoe CAuacU. Indi- 
vidual effort is not to be lMuidic^vA\oi^wt ewen Qcealer freedom; 



y 



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858 WITH OUR READERS [Mar^ 

organization and society are not to be displaced or curtailed in 
autonomy or initiative. Security gives liberty. Guidance per- 
mits us to work more freely. Under the National Catholic Wel- 
fare Council, the entire Catholic body of the United States will add 
further glorious pages to the annals of the Church in this, our 
Country. 

>|t 4t ♦ ♦ 

FOR the information of our readers, we wish to say that copies 
of the full text of the Bishop's Pastoral may be obtained by 
sending twelve cents to the ofBce of the National Catholic Welfare 
Council, 1312 Massachusetts Avenue, Washington, D. C 



s 



T. AUGUSTINE wrote this great prayer : "Thy whole Creation, 
O God, ceaseth not nor is silent in Thy praise: neither the 
spirit of man with speech directed unto Thee : nor things animate 
nor inanimate by the mouth of them that meditate thereon: that 
so our souls may from their weariness arise toward Thee, and 
leaning on those things which Thou hast made, pass to Thyself, 
Who madest all wonderfully: and in Whom is refreshment and 

true strength." 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

THE spirit of man must for its own sake bear such witness and 
testimony to its Creator. The body must rest from toil and 
receive bodily refreshment: the soul of man must withdraw 
within itself in communion with God for its refreshment and true 
strength. The ever moving world may distract him: pleasure 
and friendship may both excite and feed his emotions: research 
may absorb his intellect, but inevitably, soon or late, man will 
go into the solitude and demand a valuation of his own self, a 
knowledge of his spirit. What is his relation to all these things 
and in the great universe where does he stand? Unless his spirit 
finds the answer, it is but a lost cloud in the boundless sky, a 
wandering atom in the meaningless world. 

The thought will not abandon him that his spirit must have 
its own place, its own value, its own reason in the sphere of 
creation. Unattached, it is meaningless to self, and self persist- 
ently demands a reason. Bound only to its fellows, who are in 
turn no more bound than itself, it is still unplaced, still undefined. 
It demands the fixed, the enduring: that personal relationship 
that holds when all things temporal sufi'er shock and hold not. 
Therefore is the spirit of man apart and of itself. Human things 
may feed it, but only to augment a greater hunger. Love may 
comfort it, but only to make it mpre restless for a greater love. 
Out beyond the human and the created, in the solitude and the 



I 



I 
I 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 859 

fullness of things increate will it seek and find true refreshment 
and abiding strength. To God, the Creator, the Cause, and the 
End of all will it look with complete satisfaction and eternal 
peace. 

>|t 4t « ♦ 

TTOR our spirit was made for a higher life than this one and for a 
r brighter world than this. Even the smaller yet quieter and 
purer powers of earth hint this truth to us. Slight rays are they 
of the one greatest Light. Some hours of the quiet evening; 
some sunsets at sea or upon mountain peaks, when we are quite 
alone, have the power of revealing greater things: some book 
with its inspiring message, some poem, sung with pure artistry 
can lift us up to where the difficult things ^eem easy, and the 
noble most delightful. Then does the spirit yearn to keep the 
passion of that peace: to live forever on that perfect height. 

The peace and the perfect height, and the meaning of these 
lesser things are known when the soul renders its praise to God 
and hears His voice in answer: when in prayer His truth is sure 
and strengthening, then is the world transformed and bathed in 
a new and holier light. 

Whatsoever is the need of man, the same has been known 
and satisfied by God. He is our Father and the Father sent His 
Only Beloved Son to redeem man from the sin and failure of his 
soul, and give him the truth that leads to eternal life. The spirit 
of man seeks God and seeks Him in human flesh. Christ is God 
Incarnate. And it is this truth which is the sole saving and 
comforting support of the spirit of man. He is not wandering 
nor lost. He is not stripped of personal dignity and left naked 
to chance. He is immortal and through Christ, the Son of God, 
he is united in personal eternal life with God the Father and 
with all his fellows. Light illumines the darkness. God lifts 
the solitude and, incorporated into Christ, the spirit of man is 
free and strong and unconquerable. 

4t ♦ ♦ 4t 

OUR Holy Church names a season of the year for penance and 
for fasting and above all else for the spirit of man to give 
itself to quiet thoughtf ulness : to the privacy of prayer, to soli- 
tude with Christ and with God. 

The Church is divinely wise in demanding this exercise of 
her children. And her wisdom is reoc^oed by human study of the 
helps to physical and mental welUv. . ^^g. 

But if the soul seek God sin^y^ «ccot4\ng to its own lights, 
it will have a very ignorant gui^V^ r<Q^ \s our Guide, not our- 
selves. Christ His Son came mi^J^^ ^o^^^^^ ^^ ^^^ Light, that 



\Y 



^ 



860 WITH OUR READERS [Mar., 



II 
I 



we should not sit in darkness. To know that we sit in darkness : 
to say, as a result of our own conclusions, Christ is here, and 
Christ is there, avails nothing. From without the Light must 
come and by the Light must we see. Much of the devotional talk 
of the world is the humanizing of God. Many do not go to Him : 
they bring Him to themselves. The truth which He gave and to 
which the spirit of man must square himself, is not clearly sought 
nor soundly held. His existence, His providence. His relations • 

to us are subordinated and interpreted by human needs and { 

thus have we become worshippers of things created, instead of ^ 

the Creator. Life, its beginning and its preservation, are re- 
garded not as in His Hands alone, but as in ours, according to 
economic and social needs. Death is subjected to human in- 
quiry, and immortality depends upon the result of psychic in- 
vestigations. A so-called photograph of Gladstone and his wife 
receives more attention than the image of Christ on the Cross. 
The dead are not alone in God's hands: they are in ours also. 
God is not accepted as the sole Keeper of mysteries nor are we 
satisfied, as the Psalmist says, *Ho wait upon Him.*' Every means 
is employed to search the future: to know our destiny and that 
of our beloved departed. The spirit of man seeks God, but it 
may easily deceive itself in the search and end in nothing else 

than a seeking of self. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

rS Church asks us to give ourselves with greater thoughtful- 
ness than ever to solitude, to prayer, because she has the 
only true, sustaining food that will nourish and satisfy the spirit 
of man. And her sustaining food is her dogmatic truth. Dog- 
matic truth is the truth not of man, but of God. Christ has re- 
vealed it from heaven to her and she has given it and gives it 
to men. God is an Infinite Personal Being, the Creator, the 
Providence, the Father of us all. God sent His Only Beloved Son 
into the world Who became Man and by His Sacrifice redeemed 
us all to eternal life. He died and rose again from the dead and 
ascended into heaven. He sent to us the Third Person of the 
Blessed Trinity, the Holy Spirit, Who sanctifies us, informs us 
and makes us the living temples of God. Through the same Holy 
Spirit we are incorporated into Christ as through Christ's power, 
given in the sacraments, our sins are forgiven, the pledge of eter- 
nal life bestowed, and our souls fortified to meet face to face the 
Just Judge. We are one in Christ: we are members of a King- 
dom, and therefore do we pray : "Thy kingdom come." We — all 
of us — ^the living and the dead are through Christ in God and 
with God. 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 861 

Surely this religious conviction is far different from the 
painful searching, the restless doubting and questioning with 
which the world about us is surcharged. It is for us of the in- 
heritance to go into the solitude, crowded with the truths of 
God, and there to make them our own : to study the teachings of 
the Church that they may, more and mpre, with their divine 
power give our spirit, as St Augustine says, ^'refreshment and 
true strength.*' 



rE literature produced in Ireland today is not alone voicing 
the present unanimous demand for national independence, 
but is also effectively showing, if it needed to be shown, that 
such an aspiration has been common to the Irish people since 
the idea of nationalism was born into this world. We might 
mention many valuable books on the subject, but we will confine 
ourselves to two. 

There is The Soul of Ireland by W. J. Lockington, S.J. Its 
opening sentence is "Ireland. What a history of fearless fighting 
for God and country that name records!" The soul of Ireland 
is her Catholic Faith. The book has a far greater message than 
perhaps the author saw. Chesterton points to it in his intro- 
duction. The persecution of Ireland by England is not simply 
the control of political government, it was the determined pur- 
pose, ruthlessly executed, to destroy the Catholic Faith of the 
people: it mattered not if the alternative was their destruction, 
England was not only determined for it, but actually attempted 
it. She did not succeed, as Father Lockington clearly shows. 
Had she succeeded the civilized world would have, hiimanly 
speaking, suffered the loss of its civilization. *The one people in 
Western Europe which has taken the old form of the Christian 
Religion quite seriously, enduring persecution from without and 
asceticism from within, has before our very eyes turned a sudden 
corner and stepped into a place in the sun.** 

« ♦ ♦ ♦ 

THE resurrection of Ireland is really an historical event that has 
the appearance of a miracle. "That is one of a class of 
undisputed facts, not actually in form supernatural, but so unique 
as almost to force any one, however rationalistic, to an explana- 
tion at least transcendental. If the ChrisUan faith is not meant 
in some fashion to revive and be ^^ «mt^A ^^ Europe, I, for one, 
can make no mortal sense of whi^i ^ Yiappened m Ireland. If 
the Catholic creeds are not to sur^ '^ \ cQ^^^^^ ima^e why Ire- 
land has survived. Many Englisk \\C^ ±q uol ^ee \hft poml; sfan* 



\ 



/ 



I 



862 WITH OUR READERS [Mar^ 

ply because many Englishmen are in this matter quite ignorant; 
especially well-educated Englishmen. They do not happen to 
know how utterly Ireland was crushed; with what finality and 
fundamental oblivion the nation was one numbered dead. A 
man in the middle of the Age of Reason, the enlightened and 
humanitarian eighteenth century, would have been more 
astounded by the present prosperity of the Catholic peasantry 
than by a revival of the commerce of Carthage.'* 

A similar illustration was oCTered by Hilaire Belloc some 
years ago in his essay, entitled : "St. Patrick." He says : "Ireland 
is the greatest miracle any saint ever worked. It is a miracle 
and a nexus of miracles. Among other miracles it is a nation 
raised from the dead. . . The preservation of the Faith by the 
Irish is an historical miracle comparable to nothing else in 

Europe." 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

THE chapter in Father Lockington's book, entitled "The Mass 
Rock," will show what sustained the Faith in Ireland. 
"There are many glorious monuments today in Ireland that 
speak eloquently of her suCTerings in those dark days — days 
when Christ's enemies tore the sacred altar asunder, scattered the 
protecting walls and washed them in the blood of priests and 
people, knowing not in their blindness that they were fighting 
against Him, 'cujus regni non erit finisJ But of these monu- 
ments, telling of the superhuman steadiness with which the brave 
dead followed Christ, to me by far the most touching is the 
granite block, a broad table of gray stone, with the sacred name 
of Jesus carved deep upon it; that silent table, clasped firmly 
by the green turf and held close, as a treasure, to her bosom — 

Ireland's priceless Mass Rock." 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

• 

ANOTHER book contributing to our thought is Phases of Irish 
History by the well-known scholar and professor, Eoin Mac* 
Neill. He is a master of his subject. As a scholar he shows the 
early national aspiration of the Irish people, enduring through 
the centuries, through defeat and despair the same national 
coherency, the same national aspiration that is soon to reach its 
victorious fulfillment. This shows that Ireland is fitted to work 
out its own salvation: that it must for its own life have that full 
privilege: and supports from evidence of the past the conten- 
tion made recently in The Irish Monthly by the well-known labor 
authority, the Rev. J. Kelleher, who writing on the task before 
labor in Ireland states : "I am convinced that if we are permitted 
to work out our own political salvation, we shall work out a very 



1920.] WITH OUR READERS 863 

different social future for ourselves from that which I have just 
been anticipating for England/' 

This aspiration and determination for national life and inde- 
pendence is the foundation of present Irish claims. It is not pri- 
marily a religious question, however much the so-called Ulster 
Delegation, now in this country, attempts to make it so. Writing 
but recently the head of that delegation stated that the Irish 
people "have no conception of the initiative, resource and ener- 
getic application necessary to success in any state, and whose 
ideas of tolerance and civil liberty are drawn from the Middle 
Ages.'' The Irish people are "petty, ultramontane, priest con- 
trolled, retrograde." Of course all this is born of bigotry and 
prejudice and will not in the least hurt the Irish cause. More- 
over, it betrays itself. 

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ 

IF England claims the right to rule the Irish, and justifies the 
claim by saying that the Irish cannot rule themselves, she 
gives free scope to a theory of domination and tyranny against 
which the whole civilized world has protested and ever will pro- 
test. Only by making such a claim has England ever been able 
to hold Ireland. She holds her not by the free consent of the 
governed, but by the use of military measures. She does not 
govern: she coerces. She belies in Ireland the claims that she 
makes for her intentions and purposes throughout her empire 
and her relations with other nations. Therefore, the world dis- 
trusts her. America distrusts her. ''Why do the bulk of Amer- 
icans distrust England," asks the January Month. And the 
Month answers, because of England's attitude on the question of 
Ireland. It recalls General Smut's words, uttered in June, 1919, 
"the most pressing of all constitutional questions in the Empire 
is the Irish question. It has become a chronic wound, the septic 
effects of which are spreading to our whole system; and through 
its influence on America it is now beginning to poison our most 
vital foreign relations." 

The Month itself foreshadowed the defeat in the United States 
Senate of the Peace Treaty as early as June, 1919, and called at- 
tention to the supreme urgency of the Irish problem: "But," it 
continues, "statesmanship is bankrupt when Ireland is concerned, 
because statesmen have not the courage either to deny Ireland's 
claim to be a distinct national ent\K. ot ^o sidmit what logically 
follows from its acceptance." 

Current events show clearly tK -cnft^^^^ ^lale^men wiW have 
to admit the former and accept ^V^^ %i^^' 



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