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Full text of "The Catholic world"

* s 





APRIL, 1920, TO SEPTEMBER, 1920 





After Seven Centuries. E. F. Mac 
Kenzie 364 

"Apologia Pro Vita Sua," Frederick 

J. Kinsman's. Henry A. Lappin, 145 
Armenian Tragedy, The. Walter 

George Smith 485 

Aspen Tree, The Quaking. llarriette 

Wilbur 627 

Atonement in St. Paul, The. L. E. 

Bellanti, S.J 20 

Blessed Oliver Plunket. A. 1. du P. 

Coleman .307 

Benedictine Life, The. W. K. Camp- 
bell 200 

Boyhood, The Last Stronghold of. 

S. H. \ 42 

British Imperialism and Poison Gas. 

P. G. Smyth, 503 

l!y a Western Shore. J. F. Scofleld, 659 
Caliphs, The City of Too Many. 

Edward Francis Mohler, Litt.B., 756 
Catholic Church and Science, The. 

Francis Aveling, S.T.D 330 

Catholic Literature as a World- 
Force. George .V. Shunter, . . 454 
Catholic Societies, Federation of. 

Frederic Sicdenburg, S.J., . : 433 
Children of Shakespeare's Dramas, 

The. . J. Gradwohl ... 77 
Church Conditions in Jugo-Slavia. 

Elizabeth Christitch 351 

City of Too Many Caliphs, The. 

Edward Francis Mohler, l.itt.B., 756 
Co-partnership in Industry. An- 
thony J. Beck 54 

Domrcmy, On the Road to. James 

Louis Small 190 

Dramii With an Ideal. Man Bate- 

nuin 318 

Dramatic Successes of the Season. 

Euphemia van HensselutT Wuatt, 471 
Early Jesuit Missions in Canada, 

The. G. Alexander Phare, . . 343 
Episcopal Church, "Salve Mater" 

and the. C. G. MacGill, . . .762 
Father Garesche. The Poetry of. 

Katherine Bregy, .... 32 
France, Soldiers of. George N. 

Shuster, 10 

Francois Coppee Once More. Joseph 

J. 'Reilly, Ph.D 614 

Federation of Catholic Societies. 

Frederic Siedenburg, S.J., . . 433 
Frederick J. Kinsman's "Apologia 

Pro Vita Sua." Henry A. Lappin, 145 
Hands Across St. George's Channel. 

John Barnes, 649 

Hodgson, Ralph. Theodore May- 

nard, 730 

Hoivells, The Passing of W. D. 

Henri/ A. Lappin 445 

Imagination and Emotion in Litera- 
ture. F. P. Donnelly, S.J., . . 223 
Is Mars Inhabited? Othmar Sol- 

nil-ku. M.A., 301 

Japan, The National Religion of. 

Joseph Freri, D.D 65, 212 

Jesuit Missions in Canada, The 

Early. G. Alexander Phare, . . 313 
John Ayscough, Novelist. Leo W. 

Keller, S.J 104 

Jugo-Slavia, Church Conditions in. 

Elizabeth Christitch, . . . 351 
Last Stronghold of Boyhood, The. 

S. H. N 42 

"Les Jonchees." Henrielte Euyi'iiie 

Delamare 358 

Literature, Imagination and Emotion 

in. F. P. Donnelly, S.J.. . . 223 
Literature, The Revelation of an 

Artist in. Maurice Francis Egan, 289 
Lithuania, Reconstruction in. 

Thomas Walsh 175 

Lyric-Politico, The. Margaret II. 

Downing 604 

More, Sir Thomas, Saint and Humor- 
ist. James J. Daly, S.J., . . 463 
Morlaix, When Mary and I Went 

to. Tod 11. Galloway, . . . 494 
National Religion of japan, The. 

Joseph Freri, D.D 65, 212 

"N. C. W. C." The Church in 

Action. Benedict Elder, . . .721 
Nietzsche, Tolstoy, and the Sermon 

on the Mount. Lewis Watt, S.J., 577 
Noble Ursuline, A. Dudley G. 

Woolen 588 

On the Abolition of Critics. 

John Hunker 790 

On the Road to Domremy. James 

Louis Small 190 

Passing of W. D. Howells, The. 

Henry A. Lappin, .... 1 1") 
Poetry of Father Garesche, The. 

Katherine Bregu, .... 32 

Pearl of Paray, The. /.. \Vheaton, 738 
Poison Gas, British Imperialism 

and. P. G. Smyth 503 

Quaking Aspen Tree, The. llarriette 

Wilbur, ....... 627 

Ralph Hodgson. Theodore .May- 

nard 7.30 

Recent Events, 127, 267, 414, 560, 703, 841 
Reconstruction in Lithuania. 

Thomas Walsl 175 

Revelation of an Artist in Litera- 
ture, The. Maurice Francis Egan, 289 
St. Paul, The Atonement in. L. E. 

Bellanti. S.J 20 

Saints or Spirits? Agnes Repplier, 1 
"Salve Mater" and the Episcopal 

Church. C. G. MacGill, . . .762 
Science, The Catholic Church and. 

Francis Aveling, S.T.D., . . 330 
Sermon on the Mount, Nietzsche, 

Tolstoy, and the. Lewis Watt, 

S.J 577 

Shakespeare's Dramas, The Children 

of. R. J. Gradwohl, ... 77 
Sir Thomas More, Saint and Humor- 
ist. James J. Daly, S.J., . . 463 
Social Aspects of Rights and Obliga- 
tions. Wi';/mm J. Kerby, Ph.D., 179 
Soldiers of France. George _iV. 

Shuster 10 

The Church in Action "N. C. W. 

C." Benedict Elder 721 

The Pearl of Paray. L. Wheaton, 738 
Tolstoy, Nietzsche, and the Sermon 

on the Mount. Lewis Watt, S.J.. 577 
Ursuline, A Noble. Dudley G. 

Woolen 588 

When Mary and I Went to Morlaix. 

Tod B. Galloway 494 




A Mngicinn of Globes. Leslie 

Moore 631 

The Baptism. L. MacManus, . 780 

The Loyalist. James Francis lliir- 
rett, . . 86, 229, 371, 512, 665, 797 


Chastity. Francis Car/in, . . .493 

Dawn. Alice Cashel 41 

For Your Birthday. S. M. M. . 357 

Jerusalem. Katharine Tynan, . . 31 

Jesus. Edward Roberts Moore, . 199 
St. Francis of Assisl. Jane C. 

Crowell, 796 

The Assumption. Eleanor Rogers 

Cox 603 

The Beggar-Knight. James J. Daly, 

S.J 174 

The Holy House. Elizabeth Barnett 

Esler . . 

The Rainbow. J. Corson Miller, 
The Road to Bethany. Captain 

Harry Lee 

The Silver Maple.- Charles Phillies, 
The Source. Captain Harry Lee, 
The Visitor. Caroline Giltinan, 
The World. J. Corson Miller, . . 
Upon Discovering a Rose in a Book 
of Poems. Charles J. Quirk, S.J. 
Were You to be Out. Francis Carlin, 





Aims and Purposes of the Catholic 

Welfare Council 279 

American Contribution to Propaga- 
tion of the Faith, .... 862 

Appeal for Austria, 718 

Bolshevism, 856 

"Christianity and Industry," by 

Albion W. Small, .... 715 
Dr. Shanahan's "St. Matthew and 

the Parousia," 286 

Catholic Federation of Arts, . . 718 

Catholic Journalism, .... 712 

Dangers to Catholic Education, . 570 

Dangers of Federalization, . . . 851 
Dr. Small's "Purely Secular 

Ethic," 140 

English Propaganda, .... 430 
Francis Thompson on Blessed 

Thomas More, 575 

General Green Not an Irishman, . 143 
Gothic Art and Belief, .... 863 

Hospital Progress 574 

Increased Cost of THE CATHOLIC 

WORLD, . . . . 
Inter-Church World Movement, 

Irish Force Bill, 

Public Health and Public Morals, 
Revue d'Ascetique et de Mystique, 


Survey of Catholic Charities, 
The Gregorian Congress, 



A Commentary on the New Code of 

Canon Law 540 

A Cry Out of the Dark, . . . 261 

A Dictionary of Canon Law, . . 256 
A General History of the Christian 

Era 692 

A History of France, .... 256 

A History of the Great War, . . 694 
A History of the Venerable English 

College, Rome 683 

A Short Grammar of Attic Greek, . 835 
A Short History of Rome, . . .257 

A Singer In Palestine, .... 122 

Alsace In Rust and Gold, . . . 688 

Altruism : Its Nature and Varieties, 262 

American Marriage Laws, . . . 123 
And You Shall Find Rest for Your 

Souls 701 

An Introductory Course in Experi- 
mental Psychology, .... 684 

Applied Mathematics 701 

Arthur Hugh Clough, .... 831 

Back to the Republic, .... 408 
Black Sheep Chapel, . . . .112 

Bolshevism and the United States, 259 

Cardinal Mercier's Own Story, . . 360 
Catholic Beginnings in Kansas City, 

Missouri, 685 

Credo, . . 406 

Celebrated Spies and Famous Mys- 
teries of the Great War, . . 406 

Coggin 698 

Collected Poems, 1881-1919, . . 700 

Creation vs. Evolution, .... 555 

Current Social and Industrial Forces, 681 

Daisy Ashford: Her Book, . . . 836 

Debs: His Authorized Life and 

Letters, . . . . . . /. 836 

Dust of New York 107 

East by West 554 

Europe, 123 

Exposition of Christian Doctrine, . 405 

Famous Generals of the Great War, 699 

Father Ladden, Curate, . . . 701 

Father Tom, 833 

Foreign Publications, . 265, 556, 839 

From Dust to Glory, .... 835 

Good Cheer 264 

Growth of Religious and Moral 

Ideas in Egypt, 545 

Happy House 407 

Health Through Will Power, . . 109 

Hey Rub-a-Dub-Dub, .... 260 

High Benton 409 

Historical Records and Studies, . 837 
History of England Series, . . .837 

Holy Hour Manual, ,. 123 

Home Then What? .... 831 

Household Physics 696 

How to Speak French Like the 

French, 556 

In An Indian Abbey, .... 829 

Ireland in Fiction, 837 

Irish Impressions 540 

Jacopone da Todi 819 

Jeremy Ill 

John Brown, 113 

Judith, 116 

Just Happy, 696 

Keep God in American History, . 119 

Leaves on the Wind, .... 838 

Liberalism in America, . . . 254 



Life of the Blessed Virgin In Pic- 
tures 556 

Life of the Ven. Anne Madeleine 

Remuzat, 833 

Little Mother America 555 

"Marse Henry," 250 

Memories of Buffalo Bill, . . . 544 

Memory Sketches, 697 

Mercier, the Fighting Cardinal, . 687 
Meslom's Messages from the Life 

Beyond 552 

Mince Pie, 262 

Months and Days, 124 

Morning Knowledge, 691 

Moses and the Monuments, . . . 691 

Mount Music, 409 

Mystics All, 263 

Nothing and Other Things, . . . 541 

On the Trail of the Pioneers, . . 697 

Open Gates to Russia 536 

Our Saviour's Own Words, . . 556 

Outdoors and In, 838 

Outland 407 

Pages of Peace from Dartmoor, . 830 

Pamphlet Publications, . . 125, 412, 701 

Pax, 695 

Peeps at People 116 

Penal Legislation in the New Code 

of Canon Law, 538 

Pierre and Joseph, 688 

Poems, 1908-1919 110 

Poetry and Dreams, 117 

Preaching, 255 

Primitive Society 684 

Redemption and Other Plays, . . 411 

Religion and Culture 393 

Religions and Moral Ideas in Baby- 
lonia and Assyria, .... 545 

Robin Linnet 539 

Ronald o' the Moors, .... 408 
Schools of Tomorrow, .... 105 
Science and Morals, and Other Es- 
says, 253 

Short History of Harmony, . . Ill 

Siberia Today, 682 

Simonetta 412 

Some Contributions to American 

Life and History 264 

Stories of Great Heroes, . . . 264 

Stray Leaves 124 

St. Bernard's Sermons on the 

Canticle of Canticles, . . .689 

St. Luke: The Man and His Work, 686 
Sunrise from the Hill-Top, . . .120 

Swinburne as I Knew Him, . . 831 

Sylvia and Michael 835 

Talks to Nurses 831 

Talks to Parents, 120 

Tcte-d'Or, 395 

The American Army in the Euro- 
pean Conflict, 822 

The American Catholic, .... 697 

The Armour of God, 124 

The Best Ghost Stories, .... 412 

The Best Psychic Stories, . . . 838 

The Betrayers 118 

The Book of a Nationalist, . . .121 

The Book of Genesis 552 

The Book of the Damned, . . .410 

The Born Fool, 119 

The Brazen Serpent 695 

The Business Career of Peter Flint, 120 
The Catechism of Religious Pro- 
fession 263 

The Cechs (Bohemians) in America, 104 

The Chronicles of America, . 396, 546 

The Church and Socialism, . . 392 

The Cockpit of Santiago Key, . . 412 
The Cossacks, Their History and 

Country, 542 

The Credentials of Christianity, . 820 

The Doughboy's Religion, . . . 540 

The Drift of Pinions, .... 257 
The English Catholics in the Reign 

of Queen Elizabeth, .... 534 
The Ethics of Medical Homicide and 

Mutilation 690 

The Fifth Station 121 

The Foundation of True Morality, 824 
The Future Life in the Light of 

Modern Inquiry 121 

The Great Modern English Stories, 115 

The History of the Yankee Division, 107 

The Homestead, 411 

The House of Love, .... 838 
The Interchurch and the Catholic 

Idea, 827 

Tlie Judgment of Peace, .... 108 
The Letters of St. Teresa, . . .249 

The Loom of Youth, 693 

The Love of Brothers, .... 542 

The Maid of Orleans 254 

The Memorial Volumes for Sir Wil- 
liam Osier, 826 

The Modern Book of French Verse, 834 

The Modern World, .... 538 

The Moral Basis of Democracy, . 408 

The Mountainy Singer, .... 541 

The New Black Magic, .... 252 

The New Warning, 828 

The Philosophy of Conflict, . . 123 
The Policeman and the Public, . . 118 
The Power of God and Other One- 
Act Plays, 698 

The Priesthood of Christ, ... 263 
The Priest's Vade Mecum, . . .124 
The Principles of Music, . . .836 
The Pursuit of Happiness and Other 

Poems, 261 

The Release of the Soul, . . . 832 

The Science of Eating, .... 110 
The Science of Labor, . . . .830 

The Settling Price, 699 

The Skilled Laborer, 404 

The Social Evolution of Religion, . 258 

The Soothsayer 123 

The Sorrows of Noma, . . . 544 

The Soul of the "C. R. B.," . . . 113 

The State and the Nation, . . . 106 

The Story of Jack, 838 

The Story of Modern Progress, . . 824 

The Story of Our National Ballads, 834 

The Swing of the Pendulum, . . 700 

The Tragedy of Labor 108 

The Truth of Spiritualism, . . 552 

The Virtues of a Religious Superior, 405 

The Worldlings 555 

Theologia Moralis, 823 

Three Poems of the War, . . . 395 

To Margaret Mary in Heaven, . . 263 

Up the Seine to the Battlefields, . 694 
Voltaire in His Letters, . . .114 
Westminster Cathedral and Its 

Architect, 821 

When the World Shook, . . .117 

With Other Eyes, 829 

Women of Ninety-Eight, . . . 686 

Worth, 825 

Wounded Words 554 

Your Own Heart 837 


Catholic &Jp 

VOL. CXI. APRIL, 1920 No. 661 



SHE great wave of Spiritism which is threatening 
the sanity of the world is based on a common, 
though by no means universal, desire to enter 
into some form of communion with the dead, to 
receive assurance of their survival, of their wel- 
fare, of the conservation of their human affections. There 
are men who do not feel this desire. There are men who love 
the light and who have no fear of the darkness; but to whom 
all borderlands are inexpressively repellant. David wept in 
the dust while his child lay dying, but bathed and dined when 
his child lay dead. The veil had fallen between them. "I 
shall go to him; but he shall not return to me." It is a clear- 
cut issue. Yet David's love for his sons was so strong that it 
dimmed his wisdom, and undermined his justice. It is in the 
mouth of Ulysses, whose affections were to say the least 
under admirable control, that Tennyson puts a sentiment so 
familiar to himself, a longing for the sight and sound of the 

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; 
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles', 
And see the great Achilles whom we knew. 

What provision has the Catholic Church made to rest the 


VOL. cxi. 1 


hearts which have suffered the pang of separation, what is the 
bridge she has built between the worlds of the living and the 
dead? The doctrine of the Communion of Saints, which in 
the Protestant churches of Christendom includes only the faith- 
ful on earth, who "being united to one another in love have 
communion in each other's gifts and graces" (Westminster 
Confession) , embraces according to Catholic theology the faith- 
ful in purgatory and in heaven. The Church militant, suffer- 
ing and triumphant, is united in a spiritual solidarity, and the 
links which bind all of her members together are invocation, 
intercession and veneration. When a Catholic dies, his 
friends follow him in spirit, praying for the repose of his soul. 
The fervor and insistence of these prayers prove the longing 
that lies in many hearts to reach the beloved dead. The sense 
of nearness, the devout belief that from the treasury of grace 
help may be drawn for the departed whose period of spiritual 
activity is over, fortifies the mourner by giving him a task 
to perform. Serenity is restored with the blessedness of 

A writer in the Nineteenth Century for March, 1919, as- 
serts that Spiritism will in time be able to link "ordinary 
humanity with the Divine Hierarchy," and that it will do this 
by means of certain elect souls, "advanced leaders of our race, 
Masters of Wisdom and Knowledge." This has a familiar 
sound. What are the saints but advanced leaders, wise with 
the wisdom of incorruption ? And what is their mission but 
to link "ordinary humanity" with God? It is hard for any 
one outside the pale of Catholicism to appreciate the sweet- 
ness and vitality which the Church triumphant infuses into 
the Church militant. Sixteen hundred years ago a child of 
thirteen was beheaded in Rome. Today, Catholic women 
bearing her name receive letters and flowers and gifts on the 
twenty-first of January, because that is the feast day of this 
little Roman saint. It is a long chain and a strong chain which 
binds us to our dead. 

In all this there is an absence of curiosity, of restless and 
morbid prying into the supernatural. I do not say that such 
curiosity is unknown to the devout. How often in pious read- 
ing have we come across the phrase : "It was revealed to the 
blessed Saint - ;" and then followed particulars more or 
less edifying which we were at liberty to receive as we liked. 


The Church has always maintained a discreet silence concern- 
ing these revelations. "What is called superstition is but sug- 
gestion in its unacknowledged and unconsolidated form;" says 
an acute English writer, endeavoring to straighten out the 
devious paths of psychical research. 

There are upholders of Spiritism who claim that it will 
renew the faith of the world. Listening to the eloquent plead- 
ings of Sir Oliver Lodge, one would imagine that there was no 
such thing as belief in the immortality of the soul, and that he 
was bringing this consoling doctrine to a race which had either 
never heard of it, or had forgotten all about it. Professor 
Hyslop admits the existence of faith, but proposes to render 
it superfluous by offering direct evidence of survival. He will 
replace the Communion of Saints with the communion of 
spirits, and the invocations of the Church with mediums and 
controls. Because these mediums are sometimes frauds, and 
the controls often give indications of feeble-mindedness (as 
in the case of Raymond Lodge's Feda), we are disposed to 
underrate the fast-growing influence of Spiritism upon a dis- 
turbed and sorrowful world. 

In this we are at fault. Mr. Cyril E. Hudson, who has 
made a careful study of conditions in England (a land friendly 
to ghosts), says plainly that Spiritism is a rival to Christianity. 
Its advocates are wont to speak of it picturesquely as a "hand- 
maid" of religion, inasmuch as it fortifies belief in the unseen. 
"But, as a matter of experience, it is found that a man who 
becomes a Spiritualist ceases almost invariably to be a Chris- 
tian in any traditional r ense of the word. Not for nothing has 
the Christian Church throughout her history discouraged the 
practice of necromancy, the morbid concern with the dead 
which must interfere with the proper discharge of our duties 
in that plane of existence in which God has placed us." 

Mr. Hudson also calls our attention to one phase of the 
subject which is often ignored, but which is of the utmost im- 
portance. In Sir William Barrett's On the Threshold, we 
find references to "mischievous and deceptive communica- 
tions," as well as to the profane and obscene matter which 
occasionally intrudes itself into automatic writing. "Some 
who have taken the trouble to inquire," says Barrett, "have 
come to believe that Spiritism reveals the existence of a mys- 
terious power which may be of a more or less malignant 


character. Granting the existence of a spirit world, it is nec- 
essary to be on our guard against the invasion of our wil 
a lower order of intelligence and morality." 

This is a great deal for an ardent Spiritist to acknowledge. 
No such word of warning comes from Sir Oliver Lodge s lips; 
yet it represents the darker side of this ^ange substitute for 
Christian faith. Without venturing to speculate too lun 
on the nature of supernatural visitants, it is folly to assume 
that-if such visitants exist-they are necessarily benigna 
or that evil spirits will not cross the threshold when the door 
is opened. And we cannot protest too strong y against the 
subjection of the medium to influences of which she 
clients are necessarily ignorant. If she s what she claims to 
be, she voluntarily surrenders the control of faculties of whic 
she is the proper and the sole guardian, which have been given 
her for her own direction, and which it is the instinct of every 
sane man and woman to protect from assault 

If it be the mitigation of grief which Spiritists seek in their 
efforts to communicate with the dead, they are easily com- 
foVted Sir Oliver Lodge has assured us that the messages 
ent by soldiers killed in battle have proved consolatory to 
their families and friends. But beyond vague assurances .of 
happiness, and occasional references to "carrying on, 
dier spirits, like all other spirits, cling tenaciously, and with 
that has been termed "maniacal energy," to the least signifi- 
Tant recollections of their mortal lives. The wider outlook 
has been lost, the larger purposes forgotten; but a pock 
knife mislaid in boyhood, or a slang phrase, common to tho, 
sands of other young men, lingers in their memories, and 
comes the pivot of their laborious communications. 
reTt of a la'd killed in action went, at Sir Oder's suggestion 
to a medium who spelled out the word U-L-L-C 
seemed meaningless to the mother; but the father deciphered 
?s "Ullo 'Erb! familiar syllables heard often from his 
son's lips, and he was perfectly satisfied with the 

e painful lack of intelligence manifested by spirits, the 
puerility of their messages, and the apparent narrowness c 
?heTr confines, are accounted for by the difficulty of intercourse, 
and by the number of middle men employed. The spirit com- 
municates with the control, who communicates with the me 


dium, who communicates with the sitter. Naturally something 
is lost in this multiplicity of parts, and naturally, as Lodge 
feelingly observes, "a great deal of rubbish comes through." 
One of "Raymond's" controls was an American Indian named 
'Redfeather," and another a little girl, Indian or Negro, named 
"Feda," who must have exasperated his family to the verge of 

The Spiritists are logical in asserting that the nature of the 
communications received from the dead cannot disqualify 
their validity. If it be proven that the messages are genuine, 
our disappointment at their triviality is not a determining 
factor. It does, however, materially lessen the number of 
intelligent converts to Spiritism. Sensitive minds are repelled 
by the earthiness of souls who have escaped from earth; prac- 
tical minds by their incompetence. "If anybody would endow 
me," wrote Huxley, "with the faculty of listening to the chatter 
of old women and curates in the nearest Cathedral town I 
should decline the privilege, having better things to do. And 
the folk in the spiritual world do not talk more wisely and 
sensibly than their friends report them to do, I put them in 
the same category." 

Maeterlinck, that great lover of borderlands who dwells 
preferably in the shadows, finds the company of accredited 
I use the term only to designate those who are intro- 
duced to us with the usual formalities) to be inexpressibly 
Burdensome and depressing. He is not incredulous. He can 
elate with enviable gravity the details of an evening call paid 
by a monk who had lain in the cloisters of the Abbave 
de Samt-Wandrille since 1693, and who broke a sleep of two 
Centuries that he might spin a table on one leg for the diversion 
the poet s guests. The simplicity of this form of entertain- 
ment was accepted by Maeterlinck with a tolerant shrug; but 
us taste, his scholarship, his vivid and delicate imagination 
revolt from the fruitless chatter of the seance. 

"Why," he asks, "do the dead jealously hug the narrow 

strip of territory which memory occupies on the confines of 

'th worlds and from which only indecisive evidence can 

5S?J*I thCre thCn n ther Utlets ' no other horizons? 

hy do they tarry about us, stagnant in their little pasts, when, 

ree from the flesh, they might wander at ease over the virgin 

stretches of space and time? Do they not know that the sfgn 


which will prove to us that they survive is to be found not 
with us, but with them, on the other side of the grave? Why 
do they come back with empty hands and empty words? Is 
this what one finds when one is steeped in infinity? Of what 
use is it to die, if all life's trivialities continue? Is it worth 
while to have passed through the terrifying gorges which open 
on the eternal fields in order to remember that we had a great 
uncle named Peter, and that our Cousin Paul was afflicted with 
varicose veins? Rather would I choose for those I love the 
august and frozen solitudes of the everlasting nothing." 

More painful to contemplate than mere inanity is the 
evidence proffered us from time to time of the survival of 
physical and mental infirmities. Mr. J. Arthur Hill, writing in 
1917, tells us of being present at a seance where one of the 
spirits was a very old and feeble man. The medium described 
him as "tottering with age," and having "a job to stand up;" 
but no one seemed depressed by his plight, or by the possi- 
bilities it suggested for all of them. Dr. Hodgson described a 
seance at which his dead friends were chatty and communi- 
cative with the single exception of a spirit who, having estab- 
lished his identity, refused to say another word. His silence 
was pregnant with meaning to the little group of sitters, be- 
cause they knew that before death he had been reduced to 
mental exhaustion by severe headaches, and they understood 
that he was exhausted still. Things are as they are, whether 
we like them or not; but to offer Spiritism as a spur to human 
hope, and a solace to human affections, seems a bit beside the 

"There are as great fools in the spirit world as ever there 
were in this," said Henry More over two hundred years ago. 
Were he living now, and in active communication with the 
dead, he would intensify his language. The one thing made 
clear to us is that the spirits who manifest themselves by means 
of mediums, ouija boards, or rapping tables, are on a lower 
plane of intelligence than we are. Enamoured of trivialities, 
unconcerned about vital things, they exhaust what little ra- 
tionality they possess in the laborious process of identification. 

The famous "Julia's Bureau," established in London by 
Mr. W. T. Stead, and named after the letter-writing ghost 
whose correspondence he gave the world, was for long the 
favorite agency through which distinguished spirits communi- 


cated with their equally distinguished friends. It was said 
that Gladstone, Disraeli, Victor Hugo, and even Cardinal Man- 
ning, appeared at this bureau, while Dickens, a bustling and 
clamorous ghost, could not be kept away. On earth these 
brilliant and versatile minds acquired with every year fresh 
ideas and increased knowledge; but, stranded by death in a 
stagnant land, they had apparently not taken one intellectual 
step. After the death of Professor Lombroso (an ardent 
Spiritist), in October, 1909, Signor Guglielmo Emmanuel visited 
London and Julia's Bureau, hoping to receive from his dead 
colleague some evidence of survival. What was his amaze- 
ment to discover that, in the two intervening months, Lombroso 
had, indeed, learned the English language hitherto unknown 
but had forgotten the Italian of his lifetime. 

Professor Hyslop unhesitatingly asserts that Spiritism 
speaks in the name of science. "It intends that its belief shall 
have the same credentials as Copernican astronomy, Newtonian 
gravitation, and Darwinian evolution. It is not uncertain in 
its sound." Yet, so far, the standard of evidence is low; and 
the investigatory volumes which are published in swift suc- 
cession reiterate for the most part unsupported claims. There 
is not sufficient allowance made for the influence of that strange 
subconscious self of which we are just beginning to take 
cognizance. And for that radical weakness of the human 
mind, credulity, there is no allowance made at all. That 
people see what they come prepared to see, and hear what 
they come prepared to hear, and believe what they come pre- 
pared to believe, is a truth as old as humanity. Another truth, 
less taken into account, is that credulity strengthens with every 
indulgence. It becomes a habit of mind. The man who ac- 
cepts insufficient evidence once or twice begins to lose his 
power of resistance. The walls of his mind give way. 

This is what has befallen Sir Oliver Lodge. A scientist, 
trained in accurate thinking, and accustomed to sift evidence' 
he has little by little surrendered his intellect to a process of 
smtegration. He still clings to scientific terms, and has a 
harming clarity of speech; but the scientific spirit has col- 
lapsed under the insidious influence of the unearthly. He is 
no longer a cold and cautious investigator, but rather resembles 
i grandfather telling fairy tale after fairy tale to please con- 
fiding grandchildren. 


And what happens when a current of credulity sweeps a 
civilized land? A rank growth of superstition springs up in 
its wake, and men turn back with startling ease to the least 
desirable delusions of the Middle Ages. Apparitions have be- 
come the order of the day. Sick people are proffered ghostly 
prescriptions for their maladies. Rectors have been asked by 
their parishioners for "charms" to ward off misfortune. Men 
whom we deemed sane write that a wooden table applauded 
the music which pleased it, or "fluttered like a wounded bird, 
and dropped gently to the door." Young women devote them- 
selves to automatic writing, and reel off spectral literature of 
surpassing fatuity. It was testified in a New Jersey court that 
a man had bought some farm land because the spirit of a 
young girl (Feda must have crossed the sea) had revealed the 
existence of treasure two million dollars worth of treasure- 
buried beneath the soil. Two gypsy women were arraigned 
before a Brooklyn magistrate on a charge of stealing the 
money they had been commissioned to "bless." And all this 
in the twentieth century, with the experience of the ages to 
enlighten us. 

Moreover, twentieth century superstition is far more dan- 
gerous than was eleventh century superstition, because we are 
less fitted, mentally and physically, to face it. In the Middle 
Ages, men and women had no nerves. War, pestilence, vio- 
lence, the sacking of towns, the savage cruelty of the law, the 
fate of unfortunates who languished in dungeons or died on 
the rack, failed to impair the vitality of the race, or dim its 
love for life. Men took their superstitions, as they took other 
picturesque and terrifying conditions, without more thinking 
than was necessary. But we, nervous, fretful, introspective, 
morbidly sensitive, imperfectly educated and ignorant of our 
ignorance, how shall we meet this tide of occultism, and keep 
our sanity and self-control? The horrors of the War destroyed 
our serenity, the sorrows of the War blighted our happiness. 
We believed vaguely in the goodness of mankind; and the 
ferocity of Germany's campaign shook the foundations of this 
belief. We have discovered that nothing is more possible 
than the thing we called morally impossible. What wonder 
that with the downfall of familiar convictions, the cession of 
familiar thoughts, there shall come this onrush of superstition 
which is not the less hurtful for its folly. 


Gertrude Kingston, in a very able paper on telepathy and 
hypnotic suggestions, comments upon the general absence of 
ghosts in Italy. Every house in England or Scotland that has 
witnessed a crime of sufficient magnitude harbors its family 
spectre, who appears at appropriate intervals, and keeps alive 
ancestral traditions. But there are blood-stained old palaces 
in Rome, in Florence, in Perugia, whose very walls might 
shriek their tale of horror, yet where no man's sleep is broken. 
Miss Kingston attributes this peaceful atmosphere to the influ- 
ence and practices of the Church. "Ghosts," she writes, "are 
not encouraged in Roman Catholic countries, owing to the 
habit of saying Masses for the repose of the dead, thus pre- 
venting all subconscious suggestion of an uneasy spirit's re- 
turn, by removing the motive of its visit." 

This is the Communion of Saints. This is the service ren- 
dered by the living to the dead. If we content ourselves with 
a spiritual bond, which is a real and vital thing, if we can dis- 
pense with rapping tables, and the spelling of words on a ouija 
board, and the intrusion of controls, then something stronger, 
sweeter, holier than the disjointed intercourse of the seance 
will unite us with the faithful departed. Like David, we shall 
go to them, but they shall not return to us. 


HIS article shall be dedicated to the point of view 
of that average, every-day American soldier 
whose comrade I have been. Despite necessary 
limitations, the motto stands with Montaigne's: 
"C'est icy un livre de bonne foy." For the soldier 
has become the hour's man throughout the world. The people 
are made up of him, and it is clear finally that no government, 
no social philosophy, can prove stable or successful if it leaves 
out of account the sovereignty of democratic opinion. We 
may have recall of judges, but we shall never again consider 
recalling the jury. 

Now men coming home from war bring with them me- 
mories of many important things. There are personal expe- 
riences, likes and dislikes the myriad details that shaped 
heart and brain during that raging period in the crucible of 
fire. Much has been written, too, of the soldier's morals, his 
religion, his sense of patriotic loyalty. But after all these 
things are his individual American business, his contribution 
to the citizenship of his country. If our hard victory is to 
usher in, some day, the era we have so fervently dreamed of 
a new cooperative world is it not most vital to form an idea 
of what we now think of our brethren of the world? Hands 
across the sea will never mean anything if arm and heart go 
not with them. Have the men of America come out of the 
trenches and the muddy billet-towns of Lorraine and the 
Argonne with some definite appreciation of the common 
ground upon which two peoples can unite with others in 
the creation of a lofty-souled and harmonious peace? Or is 
such union at all possible? 

No citizen and no soldier can avoid these momentous 
questions upon which the fate of world-friendship so largely 
hangs. For Catholics the duty of cooperating with the Church 
of France has been extended to fields scarcely thought of be- 
fore. Not only must we try to influence the social trend of 
particular peoples, but we must succeed or fail in the supreme 


attempt to bring the Gospel to all nations. Now the Versailles 
Treaty has not been idealistically successful; there seems to 
have persisted a mutual distrust in diplomatic circles; men in 
numbers have returned with nothing but resentment for bad 
treatment, for petty mercantile robbery, for the general squalor 
of their army life. To thousands idealism appears to have 
been a bad mistake. There is much of the genuine in all of this, 
but it is only the picture's evil side. I believe that most of us 
have caught glimpses of the fiery vision which sent two mil- 
lion men to death for a thing that was France and much more : 
a spirit that ran like lightning in countless souls after four 
years of unutterable war, and under which gave no thought 
of laying down its arms. 

Naturally there are individuals who see no hope whatever 
in the situation. Thus an article from a German-American 
Catholic paper which reads as follows: "Your ape-like love 
for France has stricken you with total blindness. The Catho- 
lics of France have opposed the persecution (of the Govern- 
ment) with many words but no deeds. For this reason the 
enemies of the Church have succeeded in uprooting the faith 
from the hearts of the French people. The schools are entirely 
Masonic, godless and unmoral, and a generation is growing 
up which no longer knows anything of God or ethics. In 
order to verify this statement of the sad condition of France 
you have only to read the accounts of eyewitnesses. Thus 
Rev. William J. Munster, chaplain of the American 310th 
Field Artillery, reports in a letter to a friend in America that 
the irreligious and God-hating spirit is spread all over France. 

" 'One may paint for one's self ever so glowing hopes for 
the religious future of France and spread the most roseate 
articles about the religious revival in France, the fact remains 
undeniable that very little faith exists in France,' writes Rev. 
W. J. Munster. 'I have lived for long months here in villages 
and cities, and have conversed with the population ever since 
we landed on French soil .... there exists everywhere a 
boundless indifference among men and women.' Refore Rev. 
Munster entered the German occupied zone with his regiment, 
he visited Domremy, the birthplace of St. Jeanne D'Arc. The 
village, according to him, is a mud-hole like the majority 
of French villages." 1 And much more in the same vein. 

l Ohio Walsenfreund, Columbus, Ohio, p. 177, August 6, 1919. 


Obviously the Rev. Chaplain's account contains much 
truth, even as it would had it been written about any other 
country. But sweeping assertions like these about universal 
religious apathy and social putridness are quite thoroughly 
overdone. One must approach this matter broadly and real- 
istically: it is too vital a question to be answered by chronic 
bias and narrowness. We have hopes for religion in the har- 
rowing wilds of Senegambia: shall we shrug our shoulders 
in a land whose very soil is blessed by the footsteps of a 
thousand saints? The value of judgment rests upon observa- 
tion and, unfortunately, most of us saw but a very little. But 
in all truth, out of a patient synthesis of impressions from the 
hearts of men that strove to understand, one may build a pic- 
ture worthy of the splendor of our hope. 

The American going to France had little idea of his 
journey's end: it was simply "Over There." The voyage was 
a great adventure unfulfilled, a storm brewing, a menace and 
a mighty hope. Land France ! The hasty landing, romantic 
with the spices of an alien tongue, novel costumes, and an 
everlasting difference. The soldier went his way through 
the virginal aroma of a film-clad spring whose robes were 
woven of blossom and line grass. Dales and slopes, sun- 
colored and absorbingly vital despite their peacef ulness, ever- 
recurrent spires and the hand-made poetry of each individual 
vista! It was beauty, indeed, and few have ever forgotten it. 
Except for the rude military train, there was no sign of war. 
And yet 

A busy town modernity on the background of mediseval- 
ism halts the train. A French soldier, who talks English 
well, comes up to say: "Bonjour," 

"You also are going to the front?" he asks sadly. 

"Yes ... As fast as we can get there." 

"Messieurs must realize," he says slowly, "that it is no 
picnic one goes to." 

Down at the age-worn Cathedral, a gray-haired Bishop 
reads the prayers for the dead. In his voice, too, there is no 
hesitation, but a yearning sadness which sways like a mantle 
of hope over the heads of widows and orphans. Already, 
then, the inevitable feet of pain tread on the heels of inevitable 
sacrifice. On every street there are living signs of a crumbled 
social order. The plainest necessaries of life are doled out 


by the State; woman is omnipresent for work and lust; the 
children even have put on a wierd impish boldness which even 
more than their dirtiness makes them seem young savages. 
War sits in the churches, on the marketplaces, at the hearths. 
He sits close to sleep and awakening, a terrible grinding king. 

Under the sceptre of this despot the American himself 
was forced to bend the knee. Drop by drop the magic phial 
of his idealism began to dissipate. Nothing mattered beyond 
the mud and the everlasting fury of the guns. He had ridden 
out of a cloistered past into the terrible kingdom of hell, re- 
tracing every step of the world's history from Christ to chaos. 
In its depths he floundered, but it was far stronger than he. 
Against the dimming of his lamp of vision there was no succor 
in the environment. The bloody business of those unutterable 
years had ground the sanctities of existence into the slime. 
There was an excuse for the army perhaps; but the fringe of 
civilian population that had hung on doggedly was unendur- 
ably smudgy. In some fearful way it had gone la has, be- 
lieving in little, stolid and greedy as a beast. And yet it was 
not, in many ways, a bad population but only a starved and 
desolate one. I like to hope that strains of that De Profundis 
beat upon our hearts in their hungry way to God. 

Behind all of this lay something equally malign, equally 
powerful, which the soldier did not understand. But there 
were times when he knew that war had nothing to do with the 
individual, it was the work of titanic forces that had set one 
against the other unto destruction. In a large sense he was 
correct. Although the great motive power behind the War 
was German lust for conquest, still that was only a colossal 
manifestation of something deep and bitter that had descended 
on the world. In French politics the word "Liberte" has been 
omnipresent for almost fifty years, and yet one came away 
convinced that in no sense of the term had popular govern- 
ment been achieved by the Third Republic. Indeed, rarely in 
history has the idea of freedom, though native in France, been 
so ruthlessly antagonized as by this regime. Its great achieve- 
ments were not universal education or the unhampered develop- 
ment of labor for in both these respects it was far surpassed 
by the kingdom of St. Louis but the expansion of capitalistic 
schemes, the gain of colonial empire, and the erection of a 
great military ideal. Modern French schoolbooks, edited by 


men like Gabriel Hanotaux, removed every trace of religious 
teaching and implanted instead an ethic whose basis was a 
France of wealth and power. The leadership of the Govern- 
ment was frankly materialistic, openly lustful of gain, and as 
crassly capitalistic as ever was the Prussian oligarchy. Owing 
to the fatal plural party system and the ballot law, this party 
held a firm seat until the War. 

The spirit of domination had crept in from the world. 
Born out of an egoistic philosophy of force, built on the funda- 
ment of successful commerce, it preached democracy but 
practised the most insidiously selfish programme in existence 
since pagan Rome. Was it not Clemenceau who wrote some 
five years before the War that "God is always on the side of 
the strongest battalions?" On account of this, class-hatred 
has been fostered and the spiritual influences of religion 
scorned. French tradition succumbed apparently to the phil- 
osophy of finance. If anyone doubt what I say let him read 
Rene Doumic's recent addresses on the "Liberation of the 
French Spirit," or better still, the incomparable Pages Catho- 
liques of J. K. Huysmans. 

Out of these twin forces a leaden philosophy and an 
iron War was created the moral squalor which so largely 
surrounded the American soldier. In harrowing and acrid 
misery, France reaped what the "gospel of enlightenment" 
had sown: not only the losses on the battlefield, but treason 
in the high places, decay of vision and universal sackcloth 
and ashes. There were, however, two opponents, a traditional 
Catholicism and the newer Socialism. We are not concerned 
here with the vagaries of Juares' doctrine. What has the 
Church accomplished during the War? Can it be asserted 
with reasonable confidence that she can reconquer the spir- 
itual leadership of French society? Would that all of us had 
seen the back-areas where the candles of faith burned so 
steadfastly at the myriad shrines of God; that we had heard 
the prayer that gleamed like holy fire in millions of stricken 
hearts. But truly we shall do better to search for the spirit of 
Catholic France on the battlefield, close to the enemy and 
scarred with glorious wounds. 

There is a great human truth in the mediaeval idea of trial 
by fire. Only the pure and holy could survive it unscathed: 
it was the proving ground of saints. Now men who have 


withstood with superhuman idealism the torture of this War, 
have something in them worthy of the traditional heroes. 
Mr. Louis Barthou of the Academy declared in his address on 
Guynemer, that the secret of the latter's prowess was that 
"he knew how to behave in battle and how to say his prayers." 
The universality of this knowledge among a type of French 
soldier is well illustrated by a page in the annals of the Ter- 
ritorials, those brave old fellows who have done such a 
difficult bit just behind the limelight of the War. 

In an exchange of prisoners there was returned to France 
a fine old graybeard, who had been with the garrison of Mau- 
beuge when that fortress was captured with its defenders. 
The first thing he did upon arrival was to present himself at 
the Ministry of War, and, having been admitted, to offer a 
bit of cloth signed and dirty with the simple words: "Mon- 
sieur, I have the honor to return the flag." It was learned that 
before the garrison had capitulated the flag had been burned, 
but that, when leaving, this soldier had detected the frayed 
bit and hastily concealed it upon his person. Despite four 
years of shifting misery and hardship, he kept the sacred 
remnant close to his heart and, at length, brought it out of 
captivity to the Invalides, where the ages will consider it holy, 
though it is very small and shabby. A glorious deed and 
typical of France! I have thought of how symbolic it is of 
the simple soldier, how like to him in sacrifice and glory and 
sacredness, with what equal right the old Territorial might 
have presented himself. 

"To know how to behave in battle and how to say one's 
prayers !" How many vivid examples of that glowing art pre- 
sented themselves to the American. In the eddy of life at 
the front, amid the passing of endless columns, we have met 
many who are dear to us. There has been gayety and oblivion 
in tumble-down cafes over a bottle of crude wine; there have 
been twilight Masses said by soldier-priests in dusty uniform 
when enchanted strains of the Kyrie and the Gloria rolled 
over a shell-pocked field. We have sat in dug-outs with 
elegant men and those who cut stone in ancient Vendee or 
fetched wood from the monotonous wastes of the Landes. 
There were artists who toiled at little things for the Paris 
Exposition, and an author who had written a book under fire, 
in which a cathedral awakens to life and the saints go out 


from their pedestals to work for the glory of God. And I 
do not understand how there could have remained so much 
of humanity and fervent idealism after four years in the 
ghastly treadmill. These men were thoroughbreds of the tra- 
ditional, Catholic France. The rest of it, which many of us 
have read about in Under Fire, was natural enough, but the 
spirit of these others is a holy thing. In an humble way we 
have seen a cinema of the soul of France, and we have not 
come away sad. 

Indeed, they were men of action and of thought; men 
of prayer and beauteous vision; men whose laughter could 
not be dimmed by the everlasting scream of shells. Coming 
as they did from every stratum of society, one's association 
with them furnished ideas of the aspirations of every class. 
Though afterward I lived intimately with French families and 
in the leisure of University life came to know many people, 
it is of the poilu that I like to think as the hope of his country. 
He has been her saviour and he will not be absent at the 
resurrection. In a sense we, too, have been "Soldiers of 
France," and in an intimate way we can propose hopefully the 
question: What has been and what will be the influence of 
Catholicism in the battleground of the world? 

First of all, the thinking Frenchman came to realize that 
he was fighting either for an ancient, Catholic civilization or 
for nothing at all. If the salvation of the Government had 
been the issue of the conflict, verily it would have been a sorry 
affair. But it became evident immediately that the contest 
lay between two incompatible civilizations, between a modern 
error and an ancient truth, between Force and Freedom. The 
individual beheld suddenly that there were social ultimates 
which if reached would make life intolerable. French liberty 
knew that its birthday had not been the Revolution but its 
mediaeval emancipation : that its life had been blessed forever 
in the shadow of the Christian Church. And, just as the 
greatest fortitude was found to spring from Christian virtue 
and the sweetest consolation from faith in God, so the most 
successful appeals for sacrifice and unity came from those 
who preached the value of Catholic civilization. This lesson 
will not be forgotten. When Le Temps, established organ of 
conservative plutocracy, warns against the "spirit of the 
steeple," it is because that steeple has changed from a monu- 


ment into a sword. The ancient voice, so long overpowered, 
has spoken again and the echoes roll from the battlefields to 
the Pyrenees. 

The good that was in France has survived remarkably 
well this ordeal by fire. Despite the power of an autocratic 
and materialistic body in the shaping of French institutions; 
despite the fatal brutalizing in education of the spirit of in- 
tellectual freedom whereby license was held above liberty: 
there remains enough manhood to build up in the words of 
Milton, "a noble, puissant nation." The Church will not be 
relegated to her position of shame when the reconstruction of 
the martyred country shall have begun. The majority of 
French citizens are Catholics; from the hill of Montmartre to 
the sacred shrine of Lourdes, through a thousand cities of 
the saints, there winds a procession of faith which no banded 
interests can halt. Nor can the deep and gentle life of the 
provinces be severed from its ancient hopes. 

French labor is restless, as it ought very well to be, but 
seated in his dingy boutique the worker remains master of 
the gentle art of getting romance from the winning of daily 
bread. Moreover, the ancient attachment to the soil still 
heartens the countryside. On the very last day of the War 
we came upon an old fellow sitting in his field and pulling 
up the grass in his agony. The peasant patois was difficult to 
master, but we understood that his only son had just been 
killed, and that he had come for consolation to the soil upon 
which his boy had fallen. There is nothing deeper or more 
appealing in all the world than the simplicity of this love for 
the homely sanctity of nature, this earnest and patient tenacity, 
bearing its pain as it bears the burden of the harvest. For 
the genuine beauty of France is not Paris or Nice, but the 
countryside and the toil expended there, the humility and 
prayer of the gleaning in the fields. 

Such a country needs only the right sort of leadership to 
attain the fulfillment of its dreams; and rarely has the way 
been so open to Catholic direction. I am ignorant of what 
methods will be employed by the hierarchy to regain political 
freedom, but I have heard the Victory sermon of the Cardinal 
of Paris and the message of the Bishop of Toulouse in behalf 
of united action for the laboring classes; I have seen the rise 
of a powerful Catholic-spirited press La Libre Parole, 

VOL. cxi. 2 


L'Echo de Paris, L' Action Francaise and I know that French 
Catholicism has never stood closer to the heart of the people 
or been so free of separatist tendencies. Aside from Social- 
ism, it is the only constructive organization that is really alive. 
From one or the other must come the forces that will dispel 
the moral gloom of France. The infinite troop of mean-souled 
venders of merchandise and virtue, have reared upon the soil 
of St. Louis and St. Jeanne a degeneration of which every 
thinking man is aware. One hears on every hand the speech 
of deliberation: "La France sera Catholique ou elle ne sera 

The significant strengthening of Catholic leadership is no- 
where more evident than in literature. To some extent French 
art has always drawn its inspiration from religion, despite 
the peculiar American impression that is formed from Zola 
and Eugene Sue. Perhaps no two authors are more disre- 
garded in their own country. Why have we never realized 
that France's most renowned prose writer is Bishop Bossuet 
and her most illustrious poet the spiritual Lamartine? No 
intelligent Catholic can afford to be ignorant of the marvelous 
contemporary renascence in French literature. Led in jour- 
nalism by such powerful men as Maurice Barres, Leon Daudet 
and Rene Doumic, and in social effort by Charles Maurras, 
Alfred de Mun and Claude Cochin, Catholics have come to 
the foreground in every domain of thought. In history there 
are names to conjure with: Frederic Masson, Pierre de La 
Gorce, and Thureau-Dangin. The novel is in the hands of 
masters like Rene Bazin, Louis Bertrand, and Henri Bor- 
deaux; poetry has produced marvelous singers, such as Paul 
Claudel, Frederic Lammes and Francois Jammes, while the 
theatre belongs in large measure to Brieux, Francois de Curel 
and Sacha Guitry. There is no need for more names. The 
fact that almost every recently elected member of the Acad- 
emy is a Catholic, is, in itself, sufficient indication of the 
return of Catholic thought. 

Plainly then, the religious and democratic effort of a new 
Catholic France will provide ample ground for our coopera- 
tion. There exist unfortunately certain prejudices which must 
be overcome. We need to forget the insinuation that the 
country is populated largely by the demi monde. Long ago 
Montaigne described his countrymen as essentially a people of 


good common sense, and there is nothing of importance to 
append to the analysis. Perhaps their social customs, their 
ways of doing things are different than ours, but have we 
demonstrated our superiority? In all charity let us realize 
that an enormous burden rests on them whose fathers have 
fallen: the duty not only of rebuilding the national frame- 
work but also of realizing the ideal for which the dead have 
laid them down. Shall we not believe that out of the bounty 
of Providence has come this opportunity to aid in the resurrec- 
tion? We, who have seen so much of the beauty of a new 
idealism, cannot afford to case our standards now. 

It is difficult to arouse concerted action among individual- 
istic peoples. The soldiers of both countries have, however, 
stood together long enough to make us hope that, through 
them, will come the inspiration to united effort which we 
now so sorely need. They cannot drop the banner which has 
been carried ahead at such cost and be true either to them- 
selves or to the dead. Americans must believe in world-friend- 
ship whatever the present plans may be or brand this war 
a hideous mistake. As Catholics we know that if the Church 
can gather its forces in this period of sweat and chaos, its 
influence in shaping the destinies of humanity will never have 
been larger. When Peter the Hermit preached the first Cru- 
sade a cry rang out over the Christian world: "God wills it!" 

Now that so many of the old millstones of prejudice have 
been drowned in the sea, that the kingdom of brotherhood has 
become an actual aim in social life, dare we stand backsupinely 
and hearken to no less ringing a cry? Verily, if we do, we 
shall not be worthy of our Christian title. We shall have 
failed in a mission no less sacred than was the dream of Pope 
Urban, and forevermore we shall have doomed the world to 
the chains of intolerable and ghastly war. 



the previous article we tried to show how the 
substance of Catholic teaching on the atonement 
that Christ by His Sacrifice and death redeemed 
us from sin and restored us to a new life by His 
Resurrection is clearly taught by St. Paul. And 
that the gradually-evolved and carefully corrected theories 
of ransom, substitution and ultimately of satisfaction are fairly 
and manifestly deducible from his writings. Did not the 
Apostle carry us on with him beyond these limited, if ex- 
tremely valuable aspects, of the mystery, he would still have 
added his inspired testimony to the independent teaching of 
the Gospels and so confirmed the solid basis of our belief in 
the atonement. Without adding to the sum of our knowledge, 
he would have added to the weight of our witnesses. But, in 
fact, St. Paul carries his teaching on the atonement so much 
further, that here we can only hope to follow him, hesitatingly 
enough, down a few of those avenues of thought along which 
he steps with such high and swift assurance. 

St. Paul's theology gathers up past, present and future 
God, God made Man, Christ glorified and gathers us up 
equally into the comprehensive truth. It is, in a special sense, 
theology applied and extended to man. Nowhere else will you 
find less formalism or more vitality in religion. Hardly has he 
proposed a belief before he passes on to show the relation of 
that belief to ourselves. So his consideration of the Incarna- 
tion or the atonement merges almost at once into an applica- 
tion and extension of that Incarnation and atonement to the 
Church and the individual. Yet when, as against all this, we 
consider how many sided is this mystery of the atonement, 
and how limited the capacity of the mind which can only 
attend to one aspect, one reasoned theory or set of values at 
any given time, then how very incompletely at best may we 
expect to comprehend that supreme fact in itself and its over- 
whelming import for us! 


We are, after all, and we cannot too often remind our- 
selves of it, in the land of images and shadows. Nevertheless, 
even though in this life we only see through a glass darkly 
and know only in part, St. Paul is very far from minimizing 
or depreciating or slurring over the surpassing value of his 
own witness to the truth. Fiercely he contrasts his personal 
insignificance with the divine significance of his message. 
Weakness, fear, much trembling, a sensible lack of the per- 
suasive arts, he confesses to them all just on purpose that our 
"faith might not rest on the wisdom of men, but on the power 
of God." 1 "The gospel preached by me is not after man, for 
neither from man did I receive it nor was I taught it, but it 
came to me through the revelation of Jesus Christ." 2 And 
for fear we should still consider his particular presentment 
of the Gospel as rather the human expression of his idiosyn- 
crasy than the inspired formulation of God's truth, he empha- 
sizes and stresses and insists with deadly earnestness on the 
specialized character of his revelation; "the mystery which 
hath been hidden from former ages and generations; .... 
which is Christ (dwelling) in you . . ." 3 whereby when you 
read "ye can perceive my insight into this mystery of Christ," 
this mystery of fellowship by which "the nations are fellow- 
heirs, fellow members of the Body, fellow partakers of the 
promise in Jesus Christ." 4 Nor is it untimely here 
to recall this insistence of the Apostle if the thought of it helps 
to give pause to such as would treat his doctrine of our incor- 
poration with Christ as merely metaphorical, and his most 
inspired and dazzling inferences from this doctrine as the 
more or less pardonable exuberances of spiritual genius! 

To St. Paul then we owe what is more than an applica- 
tion of the doctrine of the atonement to ourselves a piercing 
principle, an irradiating generalization that seems almost to 
reach the heart of every mystery by the splendor of its beams. 
This generalization colors the whole context of his teaching; 
it is the key to almost every difficulty in the Epistles, even as 
it combines and coordinates, vitalizes and transcends aU he 
has to say on dogma and devotion. In sum, it is the fact of 
our union with Christ, He the Head, we the members and 
He and we one Mystical Body a body living with His life, 

'1 Cor. 11. 3-5. >Gal. 1. 11, 12. 

' Col. 1. 26, 27. Eph. 111. 4-6. 


sanctified by that life, sensitive to every surge of that life, 
sympathetic, growing, throwing off dead tissue, generating 
new cells, exercising faculties and functions, reasoning, will- 
ing, seeing, speaking, working, praying, expectant always of 
the final consummation, the gathering of the elect in the full- 
ness of time. "He is the beginning ... all things hold to- 
gether in Him and He is the Head of the Body, the Church," 
and as the Body is the complement of the Head so is the 
Church "the fullness of Him Who is wholly fulfilled in all" 
the Church being the complement of Him Who finds His full 
completion by being united with all of us, His members. 5 

The Apostle's generalization clasps and contains all past 
and future time. It takes us far back to man's origin and Fall 
and right onward to the fulfillment of man's high destiny. 
The race that came into being from God is to be borne back 
into the being of God. Fallen man is to be "deified" 6 in Christ. 
The Saviour of man associates himself with our humanity by 
His Incarnation, sucks the poison from our wounded nature 
and, so doing, dies; by rising from the dead He raises us to 
a new life, imparts and extends that life to us through the 
channels of His grace, assimilates, incorporates, identifies us 
with Himself as members of that Church, a Mystical Body 
of which He is the Head till, at last, amazingly transformed 
and wholly free we pass to the blessed fruition and the com- 
plete fulfillment. 

Once the synthetic value of this vast generalization is 
somehow understood, St. Paul, fearful ever of vagueness and 
mere word-spinning, presses home its particular application 
to the individual or the occasion. In common with every fruit- 
ful generalization its merit does not solely, or at all- neces- 
sarily, lie in superseding, as in simplifying and harmoniously 
combining processes, often considered by us as severed and 
distinct, in a fuller synthesis. By applying the generalization 
of the calculus the mathematician is enabled to measure the 
area of an ellipse or parabola as easily as that of a circle. 
The one formula covers each case. Without it three different 
and irksome processes are entailed. While refusing to press 
this comparison between a generalization in the sundered 
realms of abstract science and revelation, may we not say, 

' Col. 1. 17, 18; Eph. 1. 23. 

A phrase favored above all by the Greek Fathers. 


too, that it is by reason of its manifestation of the strange 
parallelism in the worlds of nature and of grace that St. 
Paul's generalization is of such value to us? 

If Christians are indeed one with Christ "one body and 
one Spirit," 7 "He the Head, we the members," 8 then in their 
measure and sphere the known principles that rule the human 
body are true of the Mystical Body, the known laws that order 
the life of experience hold good for the Christ-life within us. 
Nay, the certainty with which life in general reproduces its 
own kind and develops towards its term, the phenomenon of 
growth, the sense of sympathy more finely wrought as we 
ascend the scale of animate creation all these principles and 
facts will be exemplified in our supernatural life. In view of 
all this, how tempting it is to consider the occasional, frag- 
mentary, almost haphazard teaching of the Pauline letters as 
some epoch-making manual of divine mechanics transform- 
ing man into Christ, and nature into grace, and even framing 
a simple formula for the ills and pains of humanity in terms 
of the crucifixion and death of Jesus Christ Our Lord. St. 
Paul repeatedly tells us in one form or another that Christ 
is our Chief and Head. 

He assumes that Headship from the first instant of His 
Incarnation, though we are really incorporated into His 
Mystical Body only after the benefits of the atonement have 
been extended to us. By the Incarnation Our Lord draws all 
humanity to Himself. Throughout His life He is ceaselessly 
weaving its tangled threads into His human texture. When 
at last He comes to atone for all the sins of humanity, He 
does it not by some form of legal proxy, by a merely juridical 
transference of sin from fallen man to the Man-God, but 
through His assumption of our nature. Contagiously, as it 
were, sin passes to the Sinless One by some divinely-permitted 
extension of itself, by a sort of capillary attraction and con- 
verging flow through myriad channels into Him Who is with- 
out spot. "Him Who knew no sin He made to be sin for our 
sakes."' On the cross our sins overwhelm Him. Our Saviour's 
communion with sinful humanity is actually a sickness unto 
death. And so, quite logically, we are bidden to see in that 
death the potential death of all humanity to sin. "One 
(Christ) died, therefore all died; and He died for all" 10 The 

TEph. iv. 4. 1 Cor. xll. 12, et seq. ' 2 Cor. v. 21. 2 Cor. v. 14, 15. 


Lamb of God takes away the sins of the world because on the 
cross sin is slain. And just as, to save mankind the innocent 
Christ draws men's sins upon Himself, so also to save the 
Jews, He, though all-innocent, draws down upon Himself the 
curse of the Law so justly pronounced upon the Jews for 
their transgressions of the Law. 11 We are even reminded 
how "in the fullness of time, God sent forth His Son, born of 
a woman, born under the Law, that He might redeem them 
who were under the Law." 12 

In each case then, whether Christ is made sin for us, or 
a curse for the Jews and born under the Law to save the Jews 
who were born under the Law and had incurred its curse by 
their sins, what the Apostle seeks to emphasize is less the fact 
itself of the atonement than the essentially corporate char- 
acter of the atonement. The roots of the doctrine are the 
solidarity and fusion of God with man. This intimate asso- 
ciation is even a prerequisite of the atonement. Christ has 
to be man to redeem men, a subject of the Law to redeem 
those born under the Law, a member of the great family of 
sinful humanity to save sinners, clothed with our flesh to 
subdue the revolt of our flesh, in closest contact with guilty 
men that His sanctifying flesh may touch and heal them, 
Himself bearing all our ills and infirmities that so He may 
show forth the ideal High Priesthood reconciling God with 
men. 18 

That in Christ's death we die to sin is the first half of a 
great truth. The other and complementary half of the doc- 
trine is that we rise to the new life in His Resurrection. For 
quite equally in the Apostle's mind our justification through 
Christ's atonement is not so much an exchange of gifts be- 
tween two parties, or a Godlike return of good for evil, or 
even the distribution of a bounty by the great Lord to needy 
multitudes, as rather the redundance of the divine vitality 
surging through the Risen Christ to us, the extension of salva- 
tion from the Risen Man to all men if they will but rise 
the corresponding outflow of life from the Source of life (the 
Head), to the members. "Jesus was delivered for our sins 
and was raised for our justification." 14 These intimately- 
social values of Our Lord's death and resurrection are noted 

" Gal. 1H. 13. a Ga i. iv . 4) 5. 

"Prat. ThtoloQie de St. Paul, vol. 11., p. 249. "Rom. Iv. 25. 


and their significance driven home in the Second Epistle to 
the Corinthians. In that letter the Apostle betrays his anxiety 
about the Christians at Corinth. He appeals for a renewal 
of their confidence in him, seems almost to put himself on his 
defence before them. A possible imputation of arrogance he 
disclaims by a touching confession of that weakness whose 
only strength is God. "If we were beside ourselves" in any- 
thing we have said, "it was in God's service! If we are now 
in our senses it is in yours. It is the love of Christ that com- 
pels us when we reflect on this that One (Christ) died for all, 
therefore all died. And He died for all that they who live 
should no longer live for themselves but for Him Who died 
and rose again for them." Further on he adds that God made 
"Him Who knew no sin to be sin for our sakes that we might 
become the justness of God in Him!" 1 " 

This is not the place to dwell upon that elaborate and 
striking series of parallels between Adam, the attainted head 
of the human family, and Christ the Antitype and Head Who 
restores and more than restores all that in Adam had been 
lost, but St. Paul's teaching here is in the fullest accord with 
what has already been quoted "for if by the sin of one 
(Adam) death reigned through the one (over all men), much 
more shall they that receive the abundance and grace of just- 
ness, reign in life through the one Jesus Christ." 16 Briefly, 
then the sum of the Apostle's teaching is this : Christ concen- 
trates our sins upon Himself that he may diffuse His life to 
ourselves; associated with Christ we die to sin in His death 
and rise to the new life in His resurrection. 

Qui creavit te sine te non salvabit te sine te He Who did 
without you in your creation will not do without you in your 
salvation. God will save no one against His will. Our co- 
operation is required if we are to enjoy the benefits of Christ's 
atonement. Faith in Christ leads us to the font of baptism. 
This sacrament is the mystical realization of the atonement in 
the individual. By baptism sin is slain in us and we are 
born again to God through our incorporation with Christ and 
the immediate communication of His risen life to us. As in 
His death and resurrection we all ideally and potentially died 
to sin and rose to the new life, so in baptism the virtue and 
power of that death and resurrection are applied, actuated 

"2 Cor. v. 21. See also Rom. vl. 5-8; 2 Tim. 11. 11. "Rom. V. 17. 


and realized in ourselves. "Or are you ignorant that all we 
who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into His 
death? We were buried then with Him through baptism 
into death in order that just as Christ was raised from the 
dead through the glory of the Father, so we also might go 
about in newness of life." 17 

To be baptized into the death of Christ is for each one 
of us our real but mystical death in Him Who both really and 
physically died for us. Though this baptismal death is mys- 
tical and not physical, it is a deep reality. Judged by its 
effects, it signifies in us the death of original sin and the 
death, too, of actual guilt. And as the death is a reality, so 
equally is the resurrection of baptism, for the newly baptized 
rise out of the regenerating waters reborn, vivified and quick- 
ened by the new life of the Risen Christ. St. Leo the Great 
expressed this inspired teaching of St. Paul on baptism with a 
reserve all the more felicitous in view of his staggering con- 
clusion. "While those who are being baptized," he says, 18 
"renounce the devil and believe in God, while they pass from 
the old life into the new, while the image of the earthly man 
is laid aside and the form of the Heavenly taken up, then is 
enacted a certain appearance of death and a certain imaging 
of resurrection, so that he who is taken up by Christ and takes 
up Christ is not the same after the pouring of the waters as 
he was before, since the body of the regenerate becomes the 
flesh of the Crucified." 

But there is a further sense in which we must consider 
this Epiphany or showing forth of Christ's atonement in our- 
selves, a sense in which that atonement exacts our lifelong co- 
operation and in which the death of baptism is only completed 
on the deathbed and its resurrection only in our final home- 
coming. The death of "the old man" (our guilty nature) is 
to be a consequence of our death to sin. "Our old man was 
crucified with Him" 19 when we were baptized into the death 
of Christ, that is to say the maimed and diseased side of our 
nature, the heritage of original sin contracted from the first 
Adam died in the contracting of our union with the second 
Adam, Christ. 

But universal experience makes it only too clear that here 
a progressive death and a lifelong crucifixion are entailed 

" Rom. vl. 3, 4. ls Leo. Serm. 63. De Pass. Dom. xil. Rom. Tl. 6. 


since the proneness to evil, the instinctive leap of the flesh 
against right reason still survive in the bodies of the regener- 
ate. This baptismal death therefore is not an event but a 
state, "a daily dying," 20 and "always" we have to be "bearing 
about in our body the putting to death of Jesus that the life, 
too, of Jesus may be manifested in our body." 21 The death 
of Christ on the Cross is reenacted in the death of each one's 
sins at his baptism and extends thence forward from the font 
to the grave. So, too, the resurrection of baptism is a progres- 
sive gift, and the reception of the sacrament ushers in a life- 
long effort and struggle to win through the grossness of our 
clay to the fullness of God through the life of Christ in us. In 
this duel of antagonistic elements in this lifelong crucifixion 
we experience the extension of the atonement to us. Through 
it we become shareholders in the Passion, brought face to 
face, each one of us, with the mystery of pain. 

So much has been written on the problem and mystery 
of pain, especially of late years, that it may not be unseason- 
able at this point to gather up some of the Apostle's leading 
ideas on Christian suffering, for it does not come within his 
scope to deal with suffering apart from Christ. To St. Paul 
faith is the explanation and love is the solvent of pain. "If 
Christ is in us then is our body dead to sin, but the spirit lives 
on account of our justification." 22 That spirit is the Christ- 
life within us, fashioning and shaping us into the likeness of 
Christ and extending to us a lifelong participation in Chrst's 
atonement. St. Paul bids us be "conformed to the Crucified" 
and "configured to His death" even as he "with Christ is con- 
fixed to the Cross." 23 If Christ is in us our suffering expiates 
our sins, propitiates God, is, in fact, a very sacrifice of recon- 
ciliation. "Offer your bodies," he urges, "a living victim, holy, 
pleasing to God, a spiritual liturgy of your own selves." 24 

Elsewhere he instances the sympathy of the whole body 
for localized pain to exemplify the sympathy that should 
unite the members of the Mystical Body to Christ, their Head. 
Proportioned to our sympathy with Christ will be our "suf- 
fering in Him," "our communion with His passion," 25 our 
endurance of His persecutions. In this spirit the Apostle took 

10 1 Cor. xv. 31. n 2 Cor. Iv. 10. Rom. vlii. 10. 

13 Cf. Philip, iii. 10; Rom. vi. 5; Gal. ii. 19, et seq. 
"Rom. xii. 1. Philip, iii. 10. 


his own persecutions, and generalizing from his own expe- 
rience he warned us that "all who wish to live devoutly in 
Christ Jesus will suffer persecution." 26 He would as much as 
say: "If sinful flesh was arrayed against Christ how not 
against us in Him? If all the powers of evil combined against 
the Just One how should they not also set on the more we 
image His justice." To him who lived so wholly "in Christ" 
the mystery is not why do the good suffer, but why do they 
not suffer or suffer more? Pain then is not only a purgation 
or an expiation of sin, but wholly atoning and making us "at- 
one" with Christ. It is the sympathetic echo of Christ's Pas- 
sion in the holy city of each Christian soul. It is the fulfill- 
ment of a promise made with much love. "My chalice you 
indeed shall drink." 27 That we Christians can precisely by 
our pain drink of this bitter chalice, be in the suffering 
Saviour and one with Him, reincarnating His Passion and 
effecting His work, be indeed the Atoning Christ in so much 
as His Divine nature acts through our painfully transfigured 
humanity, is the open message of the Apostle. 

Is it the last word? Is it indeed the secret beyond which 
none other lies? We hardly dare say. Certainly St. Paul 
does not encourage us to hope that the mystery will be less a 
mystery in this life. Its significance will only be revealed to 
us with that final and complete realization of ourselves "when 28 
as pure spirits by law of nature and gift of grace we rejoin 
the spiritual source of life." "Only," says St. Paul, "when 
the justness which comes through faith in Christ" is fulfilled 
and not before, "shall I know Christ and the power of His 
resurrection and all that it means to share His sufferings in 
my configuration to His death ... for I am not yet made 
perfect . . . but I press on in the hope of grasping that for 
which I was grasped by Christ Jesus." 29 

But the Apostle beseeches us to accompany him yet 
further in this quest, to taste and see, to savor and appropriate 
the royal bounty and divine gift of pain. For is not this part 
of his apostolic vocation? Hear him telling superbly the tale 
of his sufferings: "I preach Christ Crucified." 30 "With Christ 
I am fixed to the Cross." 31 "God forbid I should boast of 

* 2 Tim. iii. 12. "Matt. xx. 33. 

28 Martlndale, Life of Monslgnor Benson, vol. ii., p. 360. 
"Philip, ill. 9-12. ! Cor. i. 23. "Gal. 11. 19. 


anything save the cross of Jesus Christ Our Lord" 32 . . . "for 
I bear the weals of the Lord Jesus branded in my body." 33 
"I rejoice in my sufferings on your behalf and make up in my 
flesh what is lacking to the sufferings of Christ on behalf of 
His Body which is the Church." 34 "It is a privilege to suffer," 35 
"follow my example," 36 "be ye imitators of me even as I am of 
Christ." 37 

Let us now briefly sum up these varied aspects of Chris- 
tian suffering: 

1. Though St. Paul's teaching admits, allows for and 
even welcomes Christian pain he does not anywhere re- 
veal the mystery of it. On the contrary he holds that this 
pain, as part mystery of the extension of the atonement; 
will only disclose its full meaning to us when our atone- 
ment is complete. 

2. Pain in every Christian is the progressive death and 
lifelong crucifixion of "the body of our sin." Considered as 
the strength of the Christ-life in us through our repugnant 
flesh Christwards, it is the inalienable heritage of every 
Christian soul. The grain of wheat must die to bring 
forth new life. The purgation of pain must precede our 
final incorporation with Christ in glory. 

3. Again as life tends to generate, give birth to and re- 
create its kind and as the life of Christ is the type to 
which our lives must be conformed, the Christian cannot 
join Christ in glory unless he has joined Him in suffering. 
As a corollary of this, the closer the bond of sympathy 
uniting Christ and the Christian soul the more intense will 
that soul's suffering be. 

4. Further, this suffering is endured in Christ and is in 
a very real sense Christ's, enhanced by the sacrificial, ex- 
piatory and atoning values of His own passion and death. 

5. Pain in fine may come to the chosen few as it did to 
the Apostle in the nature of a special and divine vocation. 
This is the overplus of pain. Its ultimate, but not neces- 
sarily immediate, acceptance by the tortured soul of how 
much more than its own burden may well account for the 
alleviated lot of multitudes of others. 

A word of caution may here be necessary. On no ac- 
count would we distort any of St. Paul's words into a glorifica- 

"Gal. vi. 14. "Gal. vi. 17. Col. i. 24. 

Philip, ill. 8. Philip, iii. 17. " 1 Cor. xi. 1. 


tion of pain in itself, pain brooded over and dissected, pain 
personified, visualized, captured almost and brought face to 
face "in the blue flesh of agony." 38 Such a view is as morbid 
at least as it is cruel, dangerous and horribly unchristian. 
Nor again does St. Paul teach us that pain is to be sought for 
its own sake, as though it were a prize from which we could 
wrest those spiritual effects which we may ourselves deem 
suitable. These are not God's ways. Pain lies in the strip- 
ping ourselves of the irrelevant and in the surmounting of 
every obstacle to our union with Christ. Further, "it is argu- 
able that pain may contract, numb, cripple or embitter a soul 
and drive it into disbelief, cynicism or despair .... true 
enough. But not indiscriminately will God grant His privi- 
lege of suffering. God permits no winds to blow which might 
quench a flickering wick, and refuses the shock which breaks 
the enfeebled reed. But granting a soul of royal quality, pain 
all but infallibly must perfect it. The Crucified is there for 
proof." 89 

In conclusion, St. Paul's teaching on the atonement may 
be considered either dogmatically or morally according as he 
has the objective truth or its subjective application in view. 
Dogmatically he lays great stress on the Sacrifice in Itself 
while disclosing, too, its redemptive and substitutional aspects 
and so leading up to the Church's developed doctrine of satis- 
faction. Morally, he insists still more on the extension and 
application of that atonement to ourselves through Christ's 
death and resurrection mystically reenacted in us at baptism, 
and progressing towards fulfillment all through our lives. In 
his teaching these dogmatic and moral lessons are never dis- 
severed or treated apart, but they stand continuously in a sort 
of relation of minor premise and conclusion, while underlying 
and supporting both these propositions is the general principle 
of our solidarity and incorporation with Christ. The unity, 
clarity and deep spiritual attractiveness of St. Paul's theology 
is due to the grandeur of this generalization so specially re- 
vealed to him. His concern in turn is to reveal it to us and 
to show us how, every way, we are one with Christ. 

"Monsignor Benson, Initiation. 
" Martindale, Life of Monsignor Benson, vol. 11., p. 361. 



(Good Friday A. D. 33.) 

MOTHER, why are people crowding now and staring? 

Child, it is a malefactor goes to His doom, 
To the high hill of Calvary He's faring, 

And the people pressing and pushing to make room 
Lest they miss what's to come. 

O the poor Malefactor, heavy is His load! 

Now He falls beneath it and they goad Him on. 
O the road to Calvary's a steep up-hill road 

Is there none to help Him with His Cross not one! 
Must He bear it all alone? 

Here is a country boy with business in the city, 
Smelling of the cattle's breath and the sweet hay: 

Now they bid him lift the Cross, so they have some pity: 
Child, they fear the Malefactor dies on the way 
And robs them of their play. 

Has He no friends then, no father nor mother? 

None to wipe the sweat away nor pity His fate? 
There's a woman weeping and there's none to soothe her: 

Child, it is well the Seducer expiate 
His crimes that are great. 

Mother, did I dream He once bent above me, 

This poor Seducer with the thorn-crowned head? 

His hands on my hair and His eyes seemed to love me 
Suffer little children to come to Me, He said 
His hands and feet are red. 

Hurrying through Jerusalem on business or pleasure 
People hardly pause to see Him go to His death, 

Whom they held five days ago more than a King's treasure, 
Shout hosannas, flinging many a wreath 
For Jesus of Nazareth. 



MERICA by which we mean our own particular 
and predominant slice of it has been fortunate 
in its poet-priests. First among them, perhaps, 
to attain secular popularity was the gentle poet 
of Civil War times, Father Abram Ryan. And 
first as consummate artist, remains the incomparable John 
Banister Tabb. But the whole roll-call is a long and fair 
one, in which almost every religious order may be found repre- 
sented, with the professor and the parochus by no means in 
the background. To enumerate the entire dramatis personss 
of our contemporary priestly chorus is practically impossible 
while to mention but a few would be ungracious! Hence 
must the present pages be dutifully dedicated to one single 
son of that St. Ignatius, who seems to have shared with the 
more obviously lyrical Francis of Assisi a certain monopoly 
in handing down the poetic patrimony. The son in question 
is a youg priest already well known in many fields of re- 
ligious and civic activity, the Rev. Edward F. Garesche, of the 
Society of Jesus. 

Holy Orders, for any son of man, mean cross-bearing, 
as well as crown-wearing. They comprehend in modern life 
at once the most regal and the most democratic, the most re- 
mote and the most requisite of the professions. For the man 
who would walk as poet, too, priesthood comes with quite par- 
ticular qualifications and particular disabilities. It may be 
both a blessing and a bane. On the one hand it presupposes 
a certain attachment to spiritual things, a mind attuned to 
harmonies not altogether of this world, a habit of looking 
deeply into the deeds of men, and of judging them by God's 
standards rather than by the standards of the world and the 
World's Wife. All this is good for the poet. Good, also, very 
good, is that tradition of scholarship, that inherited culture 
of mind and heart, which is so closely bound up with the 
priestly state that not even the most humble or the most ob- 


jective of subjects can quite escape it. On the other hand, the 
straightness and strictness with which a priest's duties are 
marked, his days filled, are but little conducive to the im- 
perious spontaneity of the muse. It is hard for the apostle to 
be also the artist; although both feats have been re- 
peatedly, and conspicuously well, accomplished. But the very 
reverence with which his faithful people regard the Levite 
is heavy with danger when he turns to art. Because his hands 
dispense God's sacraments, will not something mistakenly 
sacrosanct be imputed to their other and quite secular works? 
Alas, yes ! For to the conscientious artist it is a real handicap to 
miss the healthy competition, the quick give-and-take of criti- 
cism, which normally follow an entrance into his chosen field. 
And if the priest's efforts are too easily praised betimes, they 
are also too readily importuned. He will be asked to paint 
every cell in the monastery, as well as the chapel walls he 
will be urged to celebrate in verse every pious occasion of 
parochial or diocesan moment! And so, unless he be very 
strongly endowed with the faculty of self-criticism, he will 
fall into facility, into utilitarianism. He will produce much, 
for an audience easily pleased and worst of all, he may end 
by being pleased himself. He may end, in very excess of 
beneficence, by forgetting the eternal, abysmal distinction 
between serviceable journeyman verse and the Lady Poetry! 

Father Garesche it is one of his chief merits is eager to 
remember this distinction. In fact, he is more and more fully 
achieving the distinction as time goes on. Each volume of his 
poems has been better, conspicuously better, than its prede- 
cessor. And this advance has been accomplished in spite of, 
or at least, along with, a life literally crowded with more than 
the usual sacerdotal duties; with duties requiring travel, office 
routine and a multiplicity of executive effort. Admirably has 
he kept, even held, the balance between an active and a con- 
templative career. 

It was in St. Louis, Missouri, that Edward Francis Gares- 
che was born, on the twenty-seventh of December, 1876. For 
the sake of the eternal fitness of things, it is impossible not to 
wish that his birth could be recorded just one day later, on 
the feast of the Holy Innocents. But, perhaps, in his case 
the feast was but kept by a few hours' anticipation, as it has 
been most graciously and consistently celebrated ever since 

VOL. CXI. 3 


throughout his work. In his blood were strains of French 
Huguenot, of English Quaker, of Dutch and Celtic ancestry; 
while the Catholic faith, lost long ago in France but refound 
in this New World, burned for the family as a prized and 
vigilantly tended lamp. The boy's instruction was early placed 
in the hands of the Jesuits, with whom he stayed for practi- 
cally his whole scholastic career being graduated from St. 
Louis University in 1896, and remaining to take his Master of 
Arts degree two years later. But it was not the priesthood 
to which Edward Garesche looked forward at that time. It 
was rather the legal profession, in which he took his degree 
at the St. Louis Law School of Washington University in 1898. 
He was, in fact, a successful practising attorney in the St. 
Louis and federal courts for two more years. Then he quietly 
closed his books and his oflice closed his eyes and his heart 
upon all that secular life could offer him and entered the 
Novitiate of the Society of Jesus at Florissant, Missouri. St. 
Ignatius had triumphed over Blackstone; but then, St. Igna- 
tius is used to victories, and will have his own. 

The long period of Jesuit intensive training, fourteen 
years, was slightly shortened for Edward Garesche, as he had 
already followed his regular collegiate courses under the So- 
ciety's direction. So, after seven more years at St. Louis Uni- 
versity this time devoted to theology and philosophy and 
the usual pedagogic experiences at Cincinnati and St. Mary's, 
Kansas, he was ordained to the holy priesthood at the church 
of St. Francis Xavier in his native city, in the June of 1912. 

Father Garesche had already contributed in verse and 
prose to various Catholic periodicals, and directly after his 
ordination he spent a summer in New York City, working 
upon the editorial staff of America. Then he was summoned 
back to St. Louis, to undertake the entire publication of a 
new magazine devoted chiefly to the Blessed Virgin and the 
activities of her Sodality, to be called The Queen's Work. 
The story of this little periodical, which in five years has 
grown from such hopeful roots of nothingness up to a circula- 
tion of one hundred and twenty thousand, is rather remark- 
able. Frankly dedicated to devotional and charitable en- 
deavors, it has, under Father Garesche's inspiration, promoted 
innumerable good works throughout our country; at the same 
time maintaining a lively literary interest by means of its 


poetic contests and articles of artistic as well as popular 

The editor's own work on his infant publication has na- 
turally, and from the first, been constant the collected edi- 
torials having already formed the nucleus of several prose 
volumes, Your Interests Eternal, Yoiir Soul's Salvation, The 
Things Immortal, and a book of meditations on the Blessed 
Virgin, entitled The Most Beloved Woman. These are pages 
of eminently popular devotion and discipline, addressed to 
young people, to busy people, chiefly, indeed, to Sodalists who 
might wish to fulfill their own large and often latent possi- 
bilities of sanctity in everyday life. Perhaps, without too 
great strain, this little series of books might be called a newer, 
briefer, more democratic version of the monumental Father 
Faber; shall one say, Frederick William Faber vigorously 
"Americanized ?" 

Together with the prose works and duties of administra- 
tion just mentioned, Father Garesche has stood sponsor for 
three volumes of verse and it is chiefly with these that the 
present study is concerned. The first of the flock, The Four 
Gates, was published in 1913, and its title-poem proved imme- 
diately illuminating: 

Four are the gates 

To the splendors immortal, 

Which the slow hours swing 
Open and close. 

'Tis Heaven that waits 

Just past the portal 
Of Summer and Spring, 

Of Autumn and Snows. 

That is to say, while the poems are grouped nominally about 
earth's seasons while they contain, indeed, numbers of grace- 
ful nature pieces, poems of fire and water, of the star, the 
bird, even of the cheery and indomitable mullein, 

Straight-stemmed and tall, as peering from afar 
To see where yon the browsing cattle are, 

one feels that their motivation is essentially religious. They 
are such stuff as prayers, rather than dreams, are made of; 
songs which might fittingly claim the harp of the young Levite 


hastening to his chrism, or awed from its fresh anointing. 
Here are religious narratives like "St. Maurice and the Theban 
Legion" "St John at Ephesus," et cetera, with a tranquil 
befuty much like that of Aubrey deVere. Here are verses To 
Young Priest," to "The First Mass" with scores of Manan 
poems- and while all show vital sympathy and a strong sense 
of music, some are not free from that tendency toward over- 
accentuation, toward making much of a slight incident, which 
T generally obtrudes upon professionally religious verse. 
Over against these will flutter a lyric of truest ongina 
even of naive and whimsical distinction, such as 
Snowflakes"-while, indeed, the fragrance of Stevenson s 
immortal Garden of Verse already penetrated Father Gare* 
che's poems to children. Because this is a vein to be 
more richly and tenderly developed in his later work 1 
delectable lines To a Holy Innocent may be quote 

Sudden to felicity 

Heaven's herald summoned thee- 
Barely hadst begun to be! 

What a gulf, from shore to shore, 
Thou didst flee in safety o'er- 
Nothingness, to Heaven's door! 

Wrench and wound and toils and woe, 

Thou wilt never come to know 
All thou 'scapest here below! 

y but guess it all, and pray 
For us others who delay, 
Coming by a longer way! 


The' World and the Waters, Father Garesche's second 
poetic collection, was published in 1918. It showed a distinct 
forward leap in the power of the poet-priest, and the cap v 
along the two lines already suggested, the poetry of cluL 
and the poetry of nature interpreted Godward. Circumstances 
tender and tragic enough-yet destined to be even more tragic 
and more tender before the tale should be told to its ending- 
have brought particular celebrity to one very lovely po 
"To Rose in Heaven," which Father Garesche wrote in qui 


reaction to the death of Joyce Kilmer's little daughter. Of 
this poem, Joyce Kilmer himself wrote from France, and 
with his customary fine vehemence of praise : "It is so exquisite 
that I cannot write or speak all my deep appreciation of it. 
But I know that it is not my personal feeling alone that makes 
me consider it one of the noblest elegiac poems in our lan- 
guage." On the technical side, it is worth noting that in this 
poem Father Garesche makes not his first, but perhaps his 
first consummately successful use of the Patmorean ode-form, 
which he has since employed in much of his best work with 
such memorable beauty and power. The Eucharistic poems 
of this volume, very brief and very simple in the main, but 
fragrant with truest devotion to Christ's "palpitant, wistful 
Bread," should really be more popularly known among Catho- 
lics. And "Sunbrowned with Toil," a little colloquy between 
St. Francis and the Tuscan laborer, is a poem of solid beauty 
solid, even although the upheavals of modern labor would 
seem to relegate it into some realm of fair Utopian fancies 
clustering about "the constant service of the antique world." 
Taken for all in all, there is probably no better example 
of Father Garesche's general method and general excellence 
in the poetic understanding of nature than "The Voice of 
Creatures." It may very well be questioned whether this 
little poem is not quite worthy of Wordsworth in its affection- 
ate and authentic observation of the big and little things of 
the daily miracle, in its direct simplicity and its sincere emo- 
tion "recollected in tranquillity:" 

Oh, wonder of the commonest things of God! 

The lowliest of His works can startle thought 

Beyond pursuit of words. A power as vast 

Dances yon dust-mote whirling in the ray 

As stirs the star-dust o'er us. Every touch 

Of timid green that bids young Spring good-morn 

Hath in its juicy veins life's miracle. The sun 

That veils his western fires is not so strange 

As the dim worm his swift declining gleam 

Sees glittering in the grass. Far swung aloft 

The swallows circle in their evening skies 

Who bears them, freed from earth? Oh, in the deep 

Of yonder melting clouds, and in the far 

Pure fields of air, and in the quiet world, 


The answer sings and murmurs to mine ears, 
With voice of winds and birds and leafy groves; 
Soft, whispering accents, clear to him who lists, 
Chorus eternal, "Praise our Maker, God!" 

This poem, as hinted a few lines back, represents the general 
excellence, the poetic tableland, as it were, of its author. But 
Father Garesche has scaled more spectacular and starry peaks. 
In fact, it remained for this young Missouri Jesuit to celebrate 
with anything like worthiness the natural glories of Niagara 
to compass, for that white American miracle, an ode that 
might stand with the best in American literature. Like most 
fine things, it should be read entire; but space permits the 
quotation of only a single stanza here, a stanza of superb 
metaphor and music: 

Tongue of the Continent! Thou whose hymning shakes 
The bosom of the lakes! 

O sacrificial torrent, keen and bright, 

Hurled from thy glorious height! 
Thou sacerdotal presence, clothed in power, 
At once the victim and the white-robed priest, 
Whose praise throughout the ages hath not ceased, 
Whose altar steams with incense every hour! 
Lo, in all days, from thy white waters rise 
The savors of perpetual sacrifice! 
I see pale prophecy of Christ's dear blood 
The transubstantiation of thy flood ! 

There echoes somewhat more than the "poet of the return to 
Nature:" there, surely, is a shaking harmony reminiscent of 
that Francis Thompson who was fain to be "poet of the return 
to God." 

Another book of poems came from Father Garesche's 
hand that same year, 1918 the tiniest and most modest of 
volumes, yet weighty enough with the burden of its title, War 
Mothers. In point of fact, this little book of ten lyrics, dedi- 
cated "to one lately gone," Joyce Kilmer, is for uniform excel- 
lence and wide appeal the most important yet achieved by 
the poet-priest. Here was reached absolute mastery of the 
ode form which, as hinted before, he has been able to make 
both simple and popular which, indeed, he has adapted with 
surprising skill to the sequence of unstrained human speech 
and the outpouring of powerful emotion, tuning it, often, to a 


very rare key of pathos or of ecstasy. Very tender, very noble 
are the verses "To Blessed Jeanne D'Arc," and to "Our Lady 
of the Battlefield," while the title poem must have brought 
comfort to many an anxious mother's heart during the recent 
conflagration. But, perhaps, the best poem of all one which 
may well be singled out as the best single poem Father Gares- 
che has yet written is the chant "To a Warrior Gone." No 
higher praise need be given the lyric than to say it is entirely 
worthy of its subject, worthy of the high-souled poet, Sergeant 
Kilmer, who did not lose, but gave, his life: 

O Lord Michael, puissant and glorious, 
Tell me how he came to thee, where thy legions are, 
From the dark and from the din, the stark fray uproarious, 
Winning up his eager way from star unto star. 
Did he come before his time from that fight furious, 
Leaping up the lanes of light before he heard a call, 
Ere he wearied of the earth, of heaven curious, 
Casting mortal days away ere he gleaned them all? 
How I fain would hear of him in that new mustering 
Where his welcomed spirit shines midst his holy peers, 
Where the gallant hosts of God, in gold glory clustering, 
Shout for the new recruits coming through the years. 
* * * * 

He will touch a mighty harp to great lays and beautiful; 

They will gather there to list as we came here. 

While he sings to every saint fair songs and dutiful, 

Chanting with a new voice, charming heaven's ear. 

He will give to Christ the King his great heart's loyalty, 

Loving to be near to Him, eyes on Him alone. 

What will his station be in God's bright royalty? 

He will join the flaming band that stand about the throne; 

He will watch the White Throne, his bright lance carrying, 

And be Our Lady's messenger, her little ones to aid; 

He will love to come again, in old haunts tarrying, 

Bringing Blessed Mary's help when we cry afraid; 

He will walk in heaven's streets and seek their holy history, 

Loving every stone of them worn by human feet; 

He will yearn to untwine the stars' sweet mystery 

Oh, the quest for holy lore, he will find it sweet! 

O Lord Michael, puissant and glorious, 

Tell me how he came to thee, where thy legions are, 

From the dark and from the din, the stark fray uproarious, 

Winning up his eager way from star unto star! 


There are three other poems to the soldier-poet in this same 
volume, but the brightness of this apostrophe dims them all. 
It has sheer ecstasy in the simplest words simple, indeed, as 
a prayer or as a tear. 

The more closely one lives among poets, the more thor- 
oughly is one convinced of the naturalness of their calling 
of its harmony, indeed, with the other natural and beautiful 
and necessary things of life. Joyce Kilmer, at one extreme, 
fashioning his masterful song of "Rouge Bouquet" out of the 
transubstantiated mud of a dug-out in France at the other, 
Father Edward Garesche, writing a really poignant ode to 
War Mothers or to Blessed Margaret Mary, as he speeds from 
one post of duty to another in a cross-country Pullman have 
each, in different measure, the same salutary lesson to teach. 
They teach beyond peradventure that the poet is, and should 
be, a very human person first of all; not less, in fact, but 
more human because more highly sensitized than the rest of 
men: endowed, as Wordsworth long ago put it, "with more 
lively sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness" . . . one 
who "rejoices more than other men in the spirit of life that 
is in him." Here, then, is the poet-priest's authentic patent 
of nobility, he rejoices more than other men in the spirit of 
life that is in him! He rejoices more, or at least more articu- 
lately, in the consecration of his daily life, in the beauty of 
the world about him, above all in the glory of the Faith he 
serves as chosen vessel. He sees the glory of simple things, 
the nearness and simplicity of sublime things. And the erratic 
and erotic vagaries, by which whole hosts of lesser poets make 
bids every other day for a cheap and easy fame, must be to 
him as though they were not. 

Modestly has Father Garesche come to his dual task, ask- 
ing no particular dispensation from duties high in themselves, 
but perhaps over-weighty for one who would bear also the 
burden of song. He has not taken himself or his gift with 
over-seriousness, but as part of the robust and varied day's 
work; feeling only, as he somewhere said, that the sum of 
Catholic poetry in English which can be defended as essen- 
tially poetic and essentially Catholic is not so large but that 
one may hope to do service by increasing it, "at least in one 
or two pages." He has so served and so increased it! He has 
shown the beauty of holiness to men and women, and little 

1920.] DAWN 41 

children, too, both within the Church and beyond. Whether 
the future permits him to sow and reap still more generously 
in his art, or assigns him to less flowery plots of the eternal 
harvest fields, he will at least have justified to himself the title 
of poet. For what, after all, does the title mean? Many wise 
men in many strange lands have disputed the matter, but a 
rarely-tuned contemporary genius one who sings of "old, for- 
gotten, far-off things," when he is not soldiering or hunting or 
lecturing gives as fine a definition as our own generation is 
likely to come on. Let Lord Dunsany, of County Meath, sum 
up the question for priest and layman, too : 

"What is it to be a poet? It is to see at a glance the glory 
of the world, to see beauty in all its forms and manifestations, 
to feel ugliness like a pain, to resent the wrongs of others as 
bitterly as one's own, to know mankind as others know single 
men, to know nature as botanists know a flower, to be thought 
a fool, to hear at moments the clear voice of God." 



SONG, pure from the throat of the lark, 
Floats through the heather land. 

Peace, pouring from out the dark, 
Falls on the golden strand. 

Dawn radiant out of the gloom 

Floods all the purple hills. 
The dull world watching awaits its doom 

As on high the pure note thrills. 

A world grown weary a world grown sad! 

A world lost on its way; 
Battles and tempest the man gone mad! 

Hush! the lark greets the Day. 


BY S. H. N. 

T may seem most whimsical to those who have 
heard many an indictment of orphanages, to have 
the assertion made that in some of them are found 
boys in all their naturalness; indeed, that the 
last stronghold the kingdom of boyhood can 
boast of holding is an orphan asylum. That there is a king- 
dom of boyhood needs no proof, for, in the high courts of 
judgment, it has been recognized through the years, and to 
it embassies have come from adult realms to placate it when 
offended. Yes, and it has been the gracious deed of many 
former citizens of the kingdom to set forth in glowing words 
the achievements of this powerful nation, flaunting its banner 
in the face of all, the banner so dear to their hearts, because 
it represents to them the land of long-gone days 

When they were young, 

Sweet childish days, that were as long, 
As twenty days are now. 

At the outset, let it be remembered that the kingdom is 
not an organized government in a modern sense, with all the 
ills organization entails; but it is a state sufficient for its pur- 
pose, to provide the utmost happiness for its loyal subjects. 

In the kingdom, there is no law of descent, Salic or other- 
wise, as with most simple peoples; and the king of Boydom, 
albeit he be king only for a day, is the oldest boy, the best 
fighter or the loudest talker; for boys will not give allegiance 
except to the mighty, and only to him while he remains su- 
preme and uncrowned. It may be seen from this that the 
state of Boydom could not be a republic; for not votes, but 
prowess in some form gains fealty and homage. And be- 
cause they are citizens of no mean realm, boys do not take 
kindly to the rule and government of adults: an alien yoke 
irks a subject people, and so it may be said that boys are po- 
tential rebels. 


This tendency to rebel, never goes very far in 
most cases, because the boy is more or less isolated, and, 
at best, meets his peers only for a few short hours a day 
from his point of view, a few all too short hours a day; so the 
dominating influence of elders in home and school is potent 
and effective in checking the inclination, which, one who 
knows boys can see, is ever but beneath the surface. Whether 
it is best for the boy to be so dominated, is debatable. For 
grown people think their duty is done, when they force the 
boy to adopt their own ideas before he has become adolescent. 
They are content if they can compel him to walk in the hard, 
flowerless ways of men, before he has outworn the magic 
carpet which makes the kingdom such a land of enchantment. 
Their appreciation of much boyish gear is so utterly wrong 
because their eyes no longer see with the rainbow-hued, won- 
der-working glasses of youth: as far as they are concerned, 
"there has passed away a glory from the earth," and they 
desire that it should pass away from boyhood also. 

"We of this self-conscious, incredulous generation, senti- 
mentalize our children," Francis Thompson says, "analyze 
our children, think we are endowed with a special capability 
to sympathize and identify ourselves with children: we play 
at being children. And the result is that we are not more 
childlike, but our children are less childlike. It is so tiring 
to stoop to the child; so much easier to lift the child up to 
you. Know you what it is to be a child? It is to be some- 
thing very different from the man of today. It is to have a 
spirit yet streaming from the waters of Baptism; it is to believe 
in love, to believe in loveliness, to believe in belief; it is to 
turn pumpkins into coaches, and mice into horses, lowness 
into loftiness, and nothing into everything, for each child has 
a fairy godmother in its own soul: it is to live in a nutshell 
and to count yourself the king of infinite space; it is 

To see a world in a grain of sand, 

And heaven in a wild flower, 
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, 

And eternity in an hour. 

It is to know not as yet that you are under sentence of life, 
nor petition that it be commuted into death. When we 


become conscious in dreaming that we dream, the dream is on 
the point of breaking; when we become conscious in living 
that we live, the ill dream is just beginning." 

And many, far too many, are all too painfully aware that 
they live, and they would have those blissfully unaware of the 
fact, sobered and made old before their time, by the weight 
of custom that lies upon themselves "heavy as frost, and deep 
almost as life." And yet, in our dislike of the old-fashioned 
boy, of the boy older than his years, and far aloof from boyish 
play, we admit, even despite our theories, that this domination 
is not best for him. 

Now in an orphan asylum, the boys are so large a unit, 
and have so many opportunities for the interchange of thought 
and opinion, and are left together to their own devices for so 
large a portion of the day, under supervision it is true, but to 
their own devices, nevertheless, that they reveal, as few boys 
elsewhere reveal, the normal attitude of boys towards this 
domination. Hence, there is far more truth than is first ap- 
parent, in the statement, that an asylum is the last stronghold 
that withstands the assaults of the enemy. It is true that the 
enemy is within the gates, but there is an inner hold still un- 
taken, and its walls are adamantine against all attack. 

"Here," and the sequel will show that "here" is used ad- 
visedly, the viewpoint of the boys is so nai've, that they cannot 
understand that a superior thinks differently than they, and 
the invariable appreciation of the best of advice and counsel, if 
it does not concur with their own views, or fit in with their own 
desires, is: "Oh, he is just saying that," or "He is only saying 
that." In other words, he really thinks as we do in the matter, 
but his position makes him say the contrary. And "he is only 
saying that" would go far to explain many a supposed case 
of disobedience. However, there are those who argue that 
boys are naturally disobedient, and from sheer perversity do 
so many forbidden things. It may be so; but much can be 
said for the boy's point of view, that he looks upon older 
people, in general, as his natural enemies, ever checking and 
hampering his play and games with laborious duties and irk- 
some obligations. But even in this final stronghold of the na- 
tion, there is no organized opposition, for the powers that be 
have the means of punishment, and the leaders of the opposi- 
tion would be vicarious victims for the rest, and vicarious 


suffering has no place in the economy of the kingdom. But 
there is something almost as effective as organized opposition, 
and herein is the inner stronghold of the nation, impregnable 
to all assaults, there is the tacit understanding that rules, and 
commands are to be made void as often as possible, and that 
disobedience is the thing, when it "can be gotten away with," 
yes, and if the occasion offer, the standard of revolt is to be 

Surely all this springs from the feeling, for boys can have 
no conviction in the matter, that Boydom is an oppressed race, 
and any evasion is legitimate. The Belgians, during the late 
War and the occupation of their country, were not outwardly 
more docile and inwardly more rebellious than boys are. 
That resistance is secret, does not make it any the less effective, 
as parents and elders know who have to deal with citizens of 
the kingdom with a grievance. 

The attitude towards school is another instance of how 
natural boys are "here." Because of the insistence of parents 
and teachers on the value of education, there are found boys 
"away" who profess to like school and, rarer still, who do like 
school; but "here" those who pretend to like school are few, 
and those who really like it are unknown. Books, apart from 
pirate stories and cowboy tales, and such treasure trove, are 
merely instruments of teachers to make them miserable, and 
the teachers who wonder why boys are so prone to mutilate 
and deface, if not destroy books furnished them, cannot see 
how it delights them to "get revenge" on the books when they 
dare not revenge themselves on the teacher for the misery 
he inflicts. And that it is a misery to coop up these bundles of 
nervous energy for so many hours a day, all would concede, 
even those who admit it is necessary. It is but another in- 
dictment Mother Eve will have to face on the last day; for 
had she not been such a seeker after knowledge, her children 
would have, without study, all they need to know. 

Now, there are boys who like composition and arith- 
metic and geography, but the bane of all boys' lives is gram- 
mar. For the grammar of the classroom, and with allowance 
for the difference in matter, the same could be said for spell- 
ing, is made by those who are more or less influenced (English 
only is considered) by the classical languages, while the gram- 
mar of ordinary conversation is created by usage and made 


by those who speak the language. And to the degree that a 
people is influenced by the standards of grammarians, we 
have a cultivated speech; but the popular tongue is none the 
less grammatical, since grammar serves primarily to enable 
one to be understood, and this, every dialect, be it soever 
crude, does well. Consequently, as with other simple peoples, 
boys dislike grammar as artificial, though the word is not in 
their vocabulary. But where else than "here" would you find 
boys able to formulate arguments that would justify their un- 
grammatical state? When they have been corrected for mis- 
takes in grammar, with no thought of impertinence, answers 
like these have been given: "Well, anyway, we don't have to 
talk that way (grammatically) until we go away." "There is 
no school today, so we can talk 'here talk.' " "We don't have 
to talk 'way talk' (correct English) except in class and away." 
For there is a manner of speaking "here" that amounts to a 
dialect: it is peculiar to the place, and is another argument 
for the flourishing of the final stronghold of the kingdom in 
an asylum, for one of the signs of nationality is a native lan- 
guage. Basically, it is English, or as we say, "American," for 
to us English is a foreign tongue, as the child revealed who 
told the priest that his mother did not speak English, but did 
speak American. 

It is astonishing how quickly a newcomer picks up this 
"here talk," using it with all the assurance of being correct, 
and with full knowledge that he will be understood by his 
peers in speaking their language "familiar, but by no means 
vulgar." There is a charm beyond words in seeing a boy from 
the streets, who had lost all the romantic possibilities of "sup- 
pose," rediscovering for himself all its wonder-working magic. 
His naturalness had been blighted by "No boy plays sissy 
games;" "Be sensible now, Willie;" "Aw, be a man;" and all 
the other phrases of unimaginative men, but "here" his boy- 
hood comes into a second spring, and blooms and flourishes 
into beauty. And it is a nimble adult imagination that can 
companion a boy when he sets forth on the sea, uncharted 
even to himself, of the "Let's suppose," and "Let's pretend," 
to frolic in flights of imagination that make the "stunts" of air 
pilots pale into insignificance. 

One of the first terms an observing visitor notes is the use 
of "here" as opposed to "way." Anything that comes from the 


outside, or is brought from the outside, be it candy, a hat or a 
baseball team is "way candy," a "way hat" or "the way nine;" 
while our possessions are "here candy," "a here hat" and "here 
nines." "Father, is that a here horse?" was the question that 
baffled a new chaplain with a strange horse. The asylum is 
the "here place" or simply "here." Consequently a lad was 
correct, asylumly speaking, though puzzling to any "way" 
person, when he asked at an exhibition of Belgian draft 
horses in the city, "Have we horses here better than those 
horses there?" While a boy is in the house, he is a "here guy;" 
when he leaves, he becomes "a way guy," but to the uninitiated, 
"There's lots of way guys up here today" is simply jargon. 

There are names for bees and butterflies based on findings 
unknown to naturalists other than the "here kind." Butter- 
flies are "red lokers and yellow lokers, white millers and yel- 
low millers, colored Japans and black Japans, bulls-eyes and 
kings" according to colorings and markings. Bees, and as far 
as we are concerned, wasps and hornets are bees also, are 
"xaminations, waxies, Jeromes, coal oils, bumbolos, kings and 
she cornets, Britishers and Chinas." "The king is a large black 
bee with nine stingers;" "the waxy has a crooked stinger and 
can't sting much." And they know these things, these em- 
pirical naturalists, " "cause I let 'em sting me." "The xamina- 
tion keeps looking 'round;" the she-cornet (hornet), from its 
habit, doubtless, of rubbing its forelegs together, "has a knife 
and fork;" "the Jerome (drone) is a big, lazy bee and lets 
the others work." Then the different varieties of wild bees 
are not varieties really, but male or female bees of different 
years of age, and they know the ages! Their natural history 
is mixed; but it is uncanny how they classify according to 
"here" terminology, a darting butterfly or a swift bee. And 
the lore they have gathered and handed down about animals 
and insects is remarkable. 

All boys have the faculty of bestowing nicknames, and no 
matter how the newly-named regards his "christening" it is 
idle to object, for in the kingdom titles are given with what 
amounts to an accolade, and, for honor or dishonor, are con- 
ferred in perpetuity. To a greater degree, perhaps, than else- 
where, we have the laughable use of words caught incorrectly 
from elders. Among the seeds a boy was going to plant were 
"some government examples;" when asked what he was in 


the animal kingdom, another gave this utterly unexpected 
reply: "I'm a union bean." Best of all was the calling of a 
sulphur spring by a boy who knew neither word, "the egg 
pood," and he called it that " 'cause it smells like eggs." 

This brings out another interesting point, true for all 
children; with all their limitations of vocabulary, they are 
always able to express themselves, coining a new word, v. g., 
"wing-flies" for butterflies, or giving a "regular" word a new 
meaning, v. g., "egg-pood." For be it remembered, as Alice 
Meynell says, "A child thinks grown-up people . . . make 
words as occasion befalls. A child would be surprised to 
know how irritably poets are refused the faculty and author- 
ity which he thinks belong to the common world." When a 
lay teacher, for "humbugging," used a lot of big words, his self 
complacency was scattered to the four winds, when a lad, 
smiling, blurted out: "Aw! you're makin' 'em up." 

Each boy in the house has some daily duty, and is said to 
be "on dairy, on office, on chickens," etc., through all the 
activities of this large place. If dismissed, he is "off Brothers, 
off dining-room, off shoe shop," as the case might be. "On 
minding," being monitor, is the only temporary task we have. 
Now these duties and tasks are prized or disprized according 
to their own standards. Consequently, if a boy be put "off" 
any work he likes, were he asked why, in nine cases out of 
ten, the answer would be: "Brother got jealous of me." For 
if the boys envied him, the Brother in charge must also. So 
it happens, that to tell a boy he can go back to the yard, if he 
does not do his work, is enough. But it is recognized "here" 
also, that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. So 
outside of school and duties, there is much time for play and 

"Business" is used advisedly. The odds and ends that a 
boy accumulates in his pockets and everywhere he can, have 
been a constant cause of teasing and laughter to those who 
have left childhood far behind. They speak of it contemptu- 
ously as "trash," and in so doing, prove they have forgotten a 
vital part of their own boyhood. Nevertheless, their opinion 
has weight, and many a boy "away" gathers and cherishes 
trash in secret, lest he be ridiculed. Therefore, it enters into 
trade and commerce only at intervals and irregularly, and 
more or less covertly. "Here," however, because the boys are 


fortunately so large a unit, and able to ignore the smiles or 
views of the minority, a public opinion of our own has been 
created that has taken away the stigma of opprobrium from 
"trash," and the word is used with all honor and respect. In 
no sense of the term do we consider a collector of trash "a 
snapper-up of unconsidered trifles," for to us, it is valuable 
and makes its owner an object of envy and respect. It is 
cherished with all openness and pride, being property, as will 
be shown later on, and a permanent article of exchange. Em- 
bryonic merchants are dealing in it "here," who bid fair to 
make their mark when they leave. 

To give your trash to another, is to prove that other is 
your best friend. And the man who is proffered the little all 
of a boy on the point of leaving, is doubly blessed : once, for 
having won a friendship like no other in this life, and once, 
for being thought capable of understanding. For the shyest of 
creatures is a boy, when his affections are liable to be smiled 
at or made little of; he never carries his heart on his sleeve 
for daws to peck at, as any one can know who tries to have 
him repeat, in public, words or signs of affecton tendered in 

As has been indicated here and there in the foregoing, we 
play many of the games of more fortunate boys "away." But 
it is a blessing that we can and do get amusement in things, 
other boys, more influenced by older standards, would think 
"mean." To us, who have so little, nothing is valueless. But 
there are games and sports decidedly national in this little 
world of ours. A favorite sport is "charging a hive," and it 
will be seen how heroic a sport this is, when it is borne in mind 
that the "hive" is really a hornet's nest. Armed with clods of 
earth and rocks, with no other protection than caps or coats 
held before eager faces, boy after boy charges the hive, bangs 
his weapon at the bees, and runs back for more ammunition. 
This continues, until the bees are killed or dispersed. But on 
the army's side there are casualties also. While the battle is 
in progress, and the charging and recharging remind one of a 
battle, a little soldier may dash up to you, clinging to his knee 
with both hands: "Gee! I got three hot ones!" "Three hot 
ones?" The ever-ready interpreter translates, "He means he 
got stung three times." 

The hive thus obtained at the cost of innumerable hot 

VOL. cxi. 4 


ones, on face and neck and body, becomes the cherished pos- 
session of the boy who was daring enough to dash in and dig 
up the hive, for usually it is in the ground, while there 
are still many hornets storming about. He puts it into a box 
to "watch the young ones (larvae) hatch out." One such hive 
was carried not only in the yard, but into church and class, 
dining-room and dormitory for weeks, the owner placing his 
own "jarred stuff" in the box so "the young ones can get some- 
thin' to eat." As a special concession, he allowed some boys to 
peek into the box, but not many, for after it had lost its at- 
traction for himself, he traded it to a boy who had not been 
allowed, and wisely, too, to see it. 

"Knocking bees and butterflies" is another sport. When 
one sallies across the yard, there is a call of "first" by the one 
who sees it, and "second" by the second, and so on; and it is 
an example of Boydom's law to see how carefully they gener- 
ally allow the "first" and "second" their turn to knock the bee, 
before the others, in the order of calling out, take their chance. 
Owing to our lack of marbles and tops and the money for the 
purchase of them, trash is also used in games. No boys "away," 
with "really dobes, agates and comps" play marbles that 
cause more rivalry and contention than games with skate trash 
do "here." Soldier games, with skate trash for bullets, finger 
and thumb for guns and odd dominoes or "skinny hunks of 
wood" for soldiers, excite as much as if they had all the war 
implements of other boys. Cheers burst forth from them when 
a sole surviving checker is killed, like Goliath, with a pebble; 
and tears are in angry eyes if the enemy has several dominoes 
standing, when the last of the old guard falls. 

Like other nations, these citizens realize, more or less 
clearly one is inclined to think, that once they have lost their 
language and customs they will lose their identity. Their 
motto seems to be the equivalent of Nihil innovetar. "This is 
the way it is done in the yard;" "That is the way we talk 
here;" "This is the way the boys here play it;" are rocks upon 
which many a well-meaning but officious adult has met ship- 
wreck. The fabled immutability of the laws of the Medes and 
the Persians is as dew in the summer sun, compared to the 
tenacity of the boys to their ways and terms. 

Of the one hundred who would laugh at their odd verb 
forms, and unusual plurals, and use of the abstract for the con- 


crete, "I was disobedience, gluttony, laziness, etc.," perhaps one 
would be able to show why they are wrong, for they have the 
argument from analogy on their side and Chaucer and the 
ancients of our tongue as well. Were one to find this "here 
talk" among a people far removed from our English-speaking 
countries, he would be inclined to think he was listening to the 
primitive form of our language, spoken by a race whose civil- 
ization is more simple and natural than ours; and in so 
thinking he would not be far astray. For not of boys was he 
singing, who sang: 

We look before and after, 

And pine for what is not: 
Our sincerest laughter 

With some pain is fraught; 
Our sweetest songs are those that 

tell of saddest thought. 

To the boys "here," the past is gone, for in the sense that 
adults speak of memory, boys have no memory; the future 
can be but talked about, for while "supposin' " plays an im- 
portant part in a boy's life, when he is "supposin' " his dreams 
are real, and he is living decidedly in the present, the only 
reality, and in this nation as in others, realties alone count. 
A boy "here," consequently, is a genuine utilitarian, a disciple 
after Jeremy Bentham's own heart. He takes the things 
at hand for his purpose, and considers only the needs of the 
moment. So b.Q unravels his stockings to "raise up" kite 
string; makes a ball from the yarn of his sweater; takes the 
nails from his shoes to fasten reed bird cages; uses his neck- 
tie or handkerchief for a kite tail; cuts his garters to make 
sling shot rubbers of the elastic; tears out the tongue of his 
shoe for the sling-shot pouch; and has been found hacking 
down a fine young shade tree to obtain a sling-shot prong. 
There is no looking before, indeed, else they would know 
they needed these things. But it is better in their eyes to go 
stockingless and cold to bed, than do without their fun, which 
is ever of the present. And there is no looking after, so they 
have the gift of forgetting the sorrows as well as the few 
comforts of their baby days. Because they do not pine for 
what is not, they treasure trash, and deem themselves rich be- 
yond the dreams of avarice. Because there is not a bit of pain 


in their laughter, analyze as owl-eyed scientists may, their 
mirth is a thing to be envied, for 

The soul of all delight 

Fills a child's clear laughter. 

And if the songs they sing bring tears to the eyes of their 
hearers they do not weep themselves, and would sing the sad- 
dest air to quick time, with all the lilt of the wildwood. 

Yet, unconsciously, they suggest profundities that make 
an adult wonder; beneath the utmost artlessness may 
found unfathomable depths. A little one of four fell down 
stairs; and on the verge of tears was caught up to be told 
"You are not a cry baby, but a laughing baby." In a moment, 
when the laughter had scarcely died on his lips, and the 1 
but gone from his eyes, he wanted to know: "Does a laughing 
baby grow up to be the same as a crying baby?" 

Be it understood, the citizens of this final stronghold of 
boyhood are happy, how happy, only one who lives among 
them can understand. And the primary reason for this happi- 
ness is, most likely, due to the fact that the boys are allowed 
to be themselves and natural more than elsewhere. 

Life for these citizens of the kingdom is mostly joy; 1 
the little storms of "here" life, like spring showers, are soon 
over and clear the air. They are children, though they 1 
fourteen- they have the child's inconsequence about money, 
his indifference to the pain inflicted on others, his "lack of 
feeling" to quote a state inspector, as if in this they were 
unlike all other children; but they have the endearing traits 
of little ones, artlessness, spontaneity and infectious laughter. 
They crave affection and lavish it upon those they love, and 
to realize how generously they love, one must be 


But, it may be objected, this view is that of one 
blind to the dark side of an orphan's life. Yet that side has 
been so emphasized, that some think there is no other side 
Permit a glimpse to be given of the sunlight. Pathos, yes, and 
sadness also. But the pathos is visible only to adult eyes, and 
the sadness moves only hearts that know the heavy hand 


None of our boys in this, their little world, can be "lapped 



about with love in all his hours," for she who would do so, is 
gone to God, or is far away; but theirdesire to cuddle into some- 
one's arms finds fulfillment, their craving for affection is some- 
how gratified, the lack of a mother's love is felt, but not real- 
ized. After all, He Who tempers the wind for the shorn lamb, 
must have His own way of comforting the little ones He de- 
prived of a mother. The taking away was His, and His it is 
also to comfort and console; and that He does grant the 
anodyne of His gracious consolations to these motherless little 
ones in ways beyond the power of words to convey, we, who 
live in the midst of them, can see quite clearly. 

Truly it is a blessed thing to have the gift of hearing "the 
song in the soul of a child." To be a factor for good in his 
budding life is happiness enough for any man. And "here," 
for the very lack of a mother, the boys creep into your heart 
unawares; and if they find you have the gift of understanding, 
a Pentecostal gift, surely, you win a place in theirs. 

Child how may a man's love merit 
The grace you shed as you stand, 

The gift that is yours to inherit? 

Through you are the bleak days bland; 

Your voice is a light to my spirit; 
You bring the sun in your hand. 



OME years ago a Catholic lecturer engaged in a 
debate with a Socialist in a city of the Middle 
West. The Socialist opened the verbal battle 
with an offensive against the concentration of 

wealth and the control of industry in the hands 

of a minority. He told how before the Industrial Revolution of 
the eighteenth century the artisan generally owned his tools 
and a little shop, and how the invention of the steam engine 
and other marvelous mechanical devices developed these tools 
into complex and costly machinery, placed them in large 
factories, and made the former artisan its servant as a wage 
worker. Had Mr. Socialist been conversant with the works 
of historians like Cardinal Gasquet, he would have pointed out 
also the intellectual and spiritual factors which were born 
of the liberalism generated by the so-called Reformation, and 
which combined with technical changes to make the majority 
of modern industrial workers a class without property. "The 
Reformation," says Cardinal Gasquet, "was primarily a social 
and economic revolution." When, two centuries later, inven- 
tions revolutionized industry the descendants of these "re- 
formers" and a few fortunate, ambitious, and daring individ- 
uals, enriched by discoveries in the New World, became di- 
rectors of modern industry. 

Though ignorant of this phase of the question, the Social- 
ist agitator made a diagnosis which was correct but did not go 
far enough. The Catholic lecturer ignored his opponent's 
opening argument entirely and concentrated his fire on Social- 
ism as a remedy. This may have given some non-Catholics 
the impression that Catholics approve the modern industrial 
development in all its phases. Be this as it may, the Socialist 
was foolish enough to be drawn into a futile defence of So- 
cialism. He could have won an apparent victory by holding 
the Catholic spokesman to a refutation of his opening argu- 
ment. But then his Catholic adversary could have turned the 


tables on him by accepting the Socialist analysis and then, 
after exposing the inherent weakness of Socialism, proposed 
Christian democracy, especially co-partnership, as the best 
means of stopping this concentration of wealth and bringing 
about a more equitable distribution of property. 

Under co-partnership the workers own a substantial part 
of the corporate stock of an enterprise, and exercise a reason- 
able share in its management. 1 Co-partnership is justified by 
natural law, is practical, and cannot logically be branded as 

Its justification may be deduced from certain passages in 
the Encyclical of Pope Leo XIII. on "The Condition of Labor." 
"It is surely undeniable," writes His Holiness, "that when a 
man engages in remunerative labor the very reason and mo- 
tive of his work is to obtain property, and to hold it as his 
own private possession." Touching on the sacred duty of a 
father to provide for his family, the illustrious Leo says : "Now 
in no other way can a father effect this except by the owner- 
ship of profitable property, which he can transmit to his chil- 
dren by inheritance." After laying down certain principles 
on the relation of the precepts of the Gospel to the solution 
of our social and industrial problems, on the duties of the 
State, and on the elements of a living wage, His Holiness makes 
this remarkable declaration: "We have seen that this great 
labor question cannot be solved except by assuming as a prin- 
ciple that private ownership must be held sacred and inviol- 
able. The law, therefore, should favor ownership, and its 
policy should be to induce as many of the people as possible 
to be owners." It may be objected that Pope Leo aimed espe- 
cially at defending the right to private property in opposition 
to those Socialists who advocate public ownership of all the 
means of production and distribution. But, if the right to 
private property is sacred against State tyranny and monopoly, 
why should it not be just as sacred against seizure and unjust 
monopoly on the part of fellow citizens? And if it be con- 
tended that the Pope had in mind private property in land, 
we should answer: Could he have been unaware of the de- 
velopment of gigantic industrial enterprises owned and con- 
trolled by a few persons? 

Scarcely anyone conversant with our economic and so- 

' The National Catholic War Council's pamphlet on Social Reconstruction. 


cial conditions will deny that a majority of industrial workers 
do not own property. "A small number of very rich men," 
said Pope Leo, "have been able to lay upon the masses of the 
poor a yoke little better than slavery itself." The National 
Catholic War Council, in its pamphlet, Social Reconstruction, 
estimates that "a considerable majority of the wage-earners 
of the United States .... were not receiving living wages 
when prices began to rise in 1915," and since then "the average 
rate of pay has not increased faster than the cost of living." 
Men who do not receive living wages are not likely to own 
property. Studies of government statistics by conservative 
economists show that a majority of our workers have very 
little or no property. 

The workers in this class need first of all wages enabling 
them to live in a manner becoming to man. Hence, the Na- 
tional Catholic War Council advocates, as immediate reforms, 
proper housing for workers; legal minimum wages covering 
at first "only the present needs of the family," but expanding 
until they make possible that "amount of saving which is 
necessary to protect the worker and his family against sick- 
ness, accidents, and old age;" and representation of labor in 
the "industrial" part of business management, which concerns 
nature of product, engagement and dismissal of employees, 
hours of work, rates of pay, etc. Workers enjoying such a 
degree of independence could perhaps not make a just demand 
for further industrial democracy in the shape of an oppor- 
tunity to become part owners of the business employing them. 
With the large quantity of stocks of many different industries 
available in the public market, they can invest their savings 
in other profitable enterprises or in land. 

However, is it not expedient to their employers in the 
long run, and to the commonwealth, to let them put their 
money and the interest that attaches to it into the concerns 
engaging their services? From a psychological viewpoint co- 
partnership would yield better returns than does profit- 
sharing in added interest in work, increased efficiency, and 
contentment. A worker may after some months forget the 
generosity implied in a bonus; but he is not likely to be un- 
mindful of having a share in the business employing him. 
If profit-sharing is combined with co-partnership, the bonus 
paid out returns to the business in the form of payment on 


stock and, besides fostering good will, can be used to increase 
the plant's security by being placed in a contingency fund. 

Co-partnership has the approval of conservatively pro- 
gressive economists, eminent captains of industry, and far- 
seeing social-minded men. The National Catholic War Coun- 
cil is not content with the immediate and far-reaching re- 
forms mentioned in the foregoing. It is confident that these 
will go far to remedy the main defects of the present system: 
"enormous inefficiency and waste in the production and dis- 
tribution of commodities; insufficient incomes for the great 
majority of wage-earners, and unnecessarily large incomes 
for a small minority of privileged capitalists." "Neverthe- 
less," it continues, "the full possibilities of increased produc- 
tion will not be realized so long as the majority of the work- 
ers remain mere wage-earners. The majority must somehow 
become owners, at least in part, of the instruments of pro- 
duction. They can be enabled to reach this stage gradually 
through cooperative societies and co-partnership arrange- 

Dr. John A. Ryan, who is one of the country's foremost 
economists, continually insists that "the supreme need of the 
world today, even in America, is greater production." The 
world has lost five years of intensive peace-time production 
in many leading countries, the energy of more than ten mil- 
lion men killed and disabled in some form, ten million tons of 
shipping, and many hundreds of thousands of tons of food 
and raw material. It will take years of production, with 
greatly increased energy and devotion, to make good this tre- 
mendous loss. "So long as labor remains scarce," observes 
Dr. Ryan, "this interest can be secured only by giving the 
workers a greater share in the management of industry, and 
some share in its profits." 2 Pope Leo expressed a similar 
thought when he wrote: "Men always work harder and more 
readily when they work on that which is their own ... It is 
evident how such a spirit of willing labor would add to the 
produce of the earth and to the wealth of the community." 3 

This reasoning is borne out by the experience of large 
concerns like the Proctor and Gamble Company of Cincinnati. 
This company started a profit-sharing system in 1886, and has 
since then combined it with co-partnership. The employees 

' Brooklyn Tablet, September 27, 1919. Letter on "The Conditions of Labor." 


are permitted to subscribe to stock, paying down two and one- 
half per cent of its market value and four per cent each suc- 
ceeding year. In the meantime the company, which seems to 
be unusually prosperous, gives the stockholder employee one- 
fifth of his wage in a stock dividend, and after four or five 
years the stock is paid up. After different periods of service 
the total amount of stock purchaseable is increased. "Profit- 
sharing," says Colonel W. C. Proctor, "has many attendant 
advantages. For one thing, it inclines a man to stay on the 
job by giving him a vital interest in the business." 4 It induces 
the employees to promote in every way the success of "their" 
enterprise. Other large concerns which have adopted some 
form of co-partnership are the Sears-Roebuck Company of 
Chicago, the Metropolitan Gas Company of London, the con- 
cern managed by George W. Perkins, the DuPont De Nemours 
Company of Wilmington, Del., and the Dennison Manufac- 
turing Company of Framingham, Mass. 5 In the Metropolitan 
Gas Company six thousand employees are stockholders, and 
in the Sears-Roebuck Company four thousand hold shares. 
The New York Evening Post, which is controlled by a man 
prominent in high finance, stated editorially that "many cor- 
poration men are today favorably considering" the plan of 
giving their workingmen "full and first-hand knowledge of 
the business" and "a voice in its management." In his mes- 
sage read in Congress on December 2d President Wilson 
urged "a genuine democratization of industry, based upon 
the full recognition of the right of those who work, in what- 
ever rank, to participate in some organic way in every de- 
cision which directly affects their welfare." The message 
adds that a "return to the old standards of wage and industry 
in employment is unthinkable." This view is shared by the 
editor of The Pilot, official organ of the Archdiocese of Bos- 
ton: "The day of the wage-earner as such is drawing to a 
close." 7 

Besides promoting efficiency and increased production, co- 
partnership encourages thrift. In the words of the Rev. A. M. 
O'Neill, who presided at the 1919 New York State Conference 
of Charities and Corrections, "the best way to practice thrift 
is in paying for a home." And next to his home nothing 

'American Magazine, October, 1919. Chicago Tribune, December 3, 1919. 
Ibid., October 6, 1919. ' The Pilot, September 13, 1919. 


holds more interest for the average worker than does his 
workshop. Mr. Proctor notes that one phase of his company's 
plan is to encourage thrift among those employees drawing a 
small wage. 

Social students point out that a veritable mania for spend- 
ing has seized a considerable percentage of workers and their 
families. One reason for this is the pleasure-greed of our time, 
the desire to seek happiness in purely material things. But 
an extenuating circumstance in not a few cases seems to be 
the fact that, even after practicing thrift, many workers have 
little left at the end of the year and, becoming discouraged, 
in their efforts to own a home, spend more freely than they 
would otherwise and seek consolation in amusements and 
expensive clothes. Co-partnership, if extensively introduced, 
would save for business operations and, incidentally, for old 
age, large sums now frittered away on shows, clothes, and 

By stimulating the worker's interest in his industry, co- 
partnership would also tend to check the scaling down of 
hours and the raising of wages. "Each powerful labor group," 
says Dr. Ryan, who is very friendly to labor, "seeks to better 
its condition through higher wages and shorter hours." This 
reduces production instead of increasing it, and thereby helps 
to offset the great war-bond issues and brings an in- 
flated currency closer to its pre-war value. Consequently, 
"no matter how high money wages might become," argues 
Dr. Ryan, "the increase in prices, owing to the scarcity of 
goods, would more than offset the higher remuneration." 
Workers holding stock in a business do not easily countenance 
demands for unreasonably short hours and excessively high 
wages. They exercise a moderating influence and are more 
content than mere wage workers. In thus furthering content- 
ment co-partnership serves the country in general as well as 
the worker and his employer in particular. It is, therefore, 
patriotic. "// working people can be encouraged to look for- 
ward to obtaining a share in the land," wrote Pope Leo, "the 
result will be that the gulf between vast wealth and deep 
poverty will be bridged over and the two orders will be 
brought nearer together. " s What valid argument can be ad- 
vanced to prove that these words of the illustrious author of 

'"The Condition of Labor." 


"the workingman's charter" apply only to land and not to 
our large industrial concerns? 

In tending to close the gap between employer and em- 
ployee and making for stability of labor and industry, co- 
partnership takes the wind out of the sails of Socialism, which 
feeds on grievances, discontent, and class strife. Co-partner- 
ship also meets the growing demand of the workers for a 
more equitable distribution of wealth. Socialism would take 
concentrated wealth from the hands of a minority of citizens 
and place it in charge of a paternalistic government with com- 
plete control of the institutional life of the nation. What the 
result would be we may infer from the tyranny and misman- 
agement which characterized the Bolshevist regimes in Hun- 
gary and Russia. Co-partnership, however, gradually and 
without violence, brings about the widest possible distribu- 
tion of national income and resources. This alone, not to 
speak of its power for contentment, makes it a strong bulwark 
of social order and national progress. 

It is, therefore, somewhat difficult to understand how 
people conversant with our social and industrial conditions 
can reject co-partnership as smacking of radicalism. The 
Bishops, under whose auspices the pamphlet on Social Recon- 
struction was issued, are surely not Bolshevists. They repre- 
sent an institution which has fought Bolshevism in a variety 
of forms for nineteen centuries. Dr. Ryan declares that Catho- 
lics who denounce this form of industrial democracy (co- 
partnership) as "Socialistic or Bolshevistic" "are not only 
wanting in logic, but ignorant of the social traditions and in- 
stitutions of Catholicity. At the end of the fourteenth century, 
when the social teaching and influence of the Church were 
greater than they had ever been before or have been since, 
industry, both in the cities and the country, was mainly in the 
control, not of the superior classes, but of the masses of the 
workers. Had it not been for the Protestant Reformation and 
subsequent social disturbances, this general condition might 
have continued, and the workers would have been in a posi- 
tion to own and operate the new instruments of production 
which came into existence in the latter half of the eighteenth 
century." 9 

In an address before the Citizenship Conference at Pitts- 

Cf. Hilalre Belloc's The Distributive State. 


burgh on November 13, 1919, Charles E. Hughes, former Justice 
of the United States Supreme Court, prescribed as an antidote 
for Bolshevism a perfectly organized democracy political, 
social, and industrial. The latter phase of democracy includes 
co-partnership. Mr. Hughes, however, opposes participation 
of labor in the management of producing industries. But 
Nicholas Murray Butler, President of Columbia University, in 
an address on "The Real Labor Problem," advocated coopera- 
tion by labor in the management of industry, as well as profit- 
sharing, as most potent means to head off revolution and pre- 
serve our republican form of government. 10 

Co-partnership, like most human things, has its defects 
and drawbacks. An organ of high finance points out that 
there is a limit to the amount which can be assigned to labor 
out of the profits of industry. "Let that limit be passed, and 
the needed capital will surely be kept back." Even if labor 
is content with less than its share, the capitalists accustomed 
to large profits will give a wide berth to enterprises which 
introduce profit-sharing or co-partnership. More public- 
spirited and less selfish captains of industry will find that the 
temporary reduction of their profits will in the long run be 
more than repaid in added interest and increased production. 
Colonel P. A. Callahan stated some time ago that the profit- 
sharing and partnership system of the Louisville Varnish Com- 
pany gives the stockholders larger earnings than did the wage 
system. 11 

Another objection is based on the lack of sufficient edu- 
cation and training of large classes of workers for participa- 
tion in business management. They have been mere "hands," 
"infants of industry," for so many years that they will not 
immediately develop the initiative and spirit of independence 
necessary to cooperate wisely with their employers. Some 
workers fear taking even the smallest risk with their savings, 
and prefer good wages and a possible bonus to helping de- 
velop a business with their savings and waiting for good re- 
turns. Others are shiftless, try to get the most money for the 
least work, and are blind to opportunities in an industry 
whose managers would probably give them a chance, provided 
they manifested a willingness for special effort. A friend of 

"Chicago Herald and Examiner, October 14, 1919. 
"Catholic Columbian, December 5, 1919. 


the writer holds a position with a large shipbuilding company. 
He discovered that through the absence of a high percentage of 
workers the concern lost weekly twenty thousand working 
hours. He told the men that, at only fifty cents an hour, this 
meant a weekly loss of $10,000 to them and to the firm, besides 
failure to fill contracts promptly and the consequent loss of 
new ones. Many of the men were well paid and took time 
off to indulge in dangerous amusements. Their wives, 
sisters, and mothers came to the manager with their tales 
of woe. This circumstance gave him an additional reason to 
carry out his plan, and he greatly reduced the percentage of 
absentees. But at first he was denounced by some of the 
workers and even threatened with violence for promoting 
their own and the company's interests! Such workers require 
considerable training before they are qualified for co-partner- 

But it would be unjust to assume that a majority of the 
workers are of this class. If it were a fact, it would be little 
credit to our republican institutions, so unique in the world's 
history. Whatever the percentage of workers unqualified for 
cooperating in the management of industry, "neither for so- 
ciety nor for their own welfare," as Dr. Ryan contends, "is it 
desirable that the workers should permanently occupy the 
status of industrial dependency. . . . The theory that our in- 
dustrial society should be divided into two classes, one of 
which should perform all the functions of direction and man- 
agement, while the other should be merely well-fed automa- 
tons of industry, is neither in accord with our democratic age, 
nor conducive to reasonable life. Therefore, the workers 
must obtain some share in the management of industry." A 
prominent financier and publicist, Otto Kahn, told a meeting 
of bankers in Pittsburgh that "workmen must be partners, 
their wages must not be their whole income." John D. Rocke- 
feller, Jr., voiced this view in an indirect manner when he 
asked at a recent conference in Washington: "What joy can 
there be in life; what enthusiasm can he (the worker) de- 
velop when he is only regarded as a number on the payroll or 
a cog in a wheel?" Quoting this and similar utterances of 
eminent captains of industry and educators, Colonel Callahan, 
in speaking of his company's relations to its employees, de- 
clared that a genuine profit-sharing or partnership plan seems 


to be the best agency to remove the grievances cited by Mr. 
Rockefeller and other social students. Colonel Callahan con- 
siders this plan a compromise between the autocracy of some 
capitalists and the radicalism of certain labor leaders. 

Difficulties do not necessarily imply a false principle. 
Many a plan now in successful operation met with great in- 
itial obstacles. Co-partnership is fundamentally in accord 
with the natural law, promises greater efficiency, promotes 
thrift and contentment, goes far to counteract Socialism, fos- 
ters patriotism and national prosperity, and makes for true 
industrial democracy in harmony with our republican form of 
government. It may not be generally feasible in the near fu- 
ture; but it is the goal toward which the keenest minds in 
economics are trying to direct industry. In the words of the 
National Catholic War Council, "however slow the attainment 
of these ends (cooperation and co-partnership) , they will have 
to be reached before we can have a thoroughly efficient system 
of production or an industrial and social order that will be 
secure from the danger of revolution." 12 

Among material factors co-partnership is a means that 
offers the greatest promise for a thoroughgoing solution of 
our industrial problems. But the spiritual side is, to say the 
least, equally important. The Bishops observe pertinently: 
"Neither the moderate reforms advocated in this paper, nor 
any other programme of betterment or reconstruction will 
prove reasonably effective without a reform in the spirit of both 
labor and capital." 13 Both must become imbued with a new 
spirit, or rather with the good old spirit of justice and charity 
that prevailed in the days before the so-called Reformation, 
and had been infused into the hearts of men by the Prince of 
Peace, Jesus Christ. At best, even with a majority of men 
living in accordance with the precepts of His Gospel, this 
world is a place of pilgrimage, "a valley of tears," where sor- 
row treads on the heels of joy, pain contests for supremacy 
with pleasure, and misfortune undoes the triumphs of success. 
If material needs alone were at the bottom of our problems, 
these should not be so difficult to solve, for this country is 
blessed with vast resources. Its people are known the world 
over for resourcefulness and a driving genius that accom- 
plishes what is considered impossible in many other countries. 

"Social Reconstruction, p. 22. "Social Reconstruction, p. 24. 


And yet the spectre of unrest stalks through the land and 
demands a prompt and a real solution of our industrial and 
social problems, one that will not only fill the dinner pail but 
also satisfy the heart. 

"Society," said Pope Leo XIII, "can be healed in no other 
way than by a return to Christian life and Christian institu- 
tions." That is the voice of the Vicar of Christ, Who came on 
earth to teach men the way to peace temporal and eternal, 
social and industrial, national and international. 



Of the Red Cross. 

THE last week, the lone week, 

Each weary evenfall, 
The Master climbed the hill-road 

Between the cedars tall. 

Beyond the whispering cedars, 
The olives gray and dim, 

The Master sought the one door 
That was not closed to Him. 

And always at the last turn, 

He saw the little light, 
That Mary's hand had set there, 

To guide Him through the night. 

So for a love-lit candle, 

That made the way less bleak, 
The Master climbed the hill-road, 

The last, lone week. 


Director, Society for the Propagation of the Faith. 

HE aim of this article is to show the attitude of 
the Japanese mind towards religion. It will prob- 
ably be a revelation to many who believed that 
the Japanese had done away with paganism. The 
following authoritative and comprehensive state- 
ment 1 on the national religion of Japan at the present time was 
made by Mr. Tokutomi, a prominent publicist, formerly a 
liberal of democratic tendencies, who turned stanch sup- 
porter of the reigning bureaucracy and was rewarded in 1911 
with a life membership in the House of Peers. 

"The Meiji restoration (1868) was the work of men who 
clamored for equality of rights with the Western nations. The 
immediate result of their first contact with foreigners in 1853 
had been the humiliating recognition of the fact that the Japa- 
nese were inferior to the Westerners in point of strength and 
material progress. Their Yamato spirit (nationalism peculiar 
to Japan) was aroused, and they resolved to elevate their 
standards to that of foreigners. This was the starting point. 
Now, in order to wrest equality from the West, they must first 
effect equality among themselves. So they began pulling 
down the forces that contradicted the principles of equality, 
i. e., feudalism and clannism. The equality of the people was 
accomplished under the centralizing power of the Emperor. 
In fact the equality of a people without some central restrain- 
ing authority is impossible. But the Japanese, unlike the Eng- 
lishmen or Americans, have no god. The Mikado is to the 
Japanese what the Christian God is to the Westerners. So we 
made the only exception in favor of the Mikado, for it is 
under him that all the Japanese, from Shogun (regent) to ple- 
beian, have been either leveled or elevated to an equal posi- 
tion. The word liberty was, of course, much used and some- 
times abused by the champions of the restoration, but, to tell 
the truth, the people did not care very much for liberty. As a 
matter of fact they felt no need of liberty." 

1 The Japan Adventurer, June 26, 27, 1918. 

VOL. cxi. 5 


It would be difficult to sum up more accurately the whole 
question. The national religion of Japan is nothing but a 
name to insure political ends. 

Under the old regime, before the restoration in 1868, 
which put back the Emperor at the head of the Government, 
the moral unity of the Japanese people rested neither on re- 
ligion nor on patriotism. 

Buddhism, it is true, seemed to have impregnated the life 
of the Japanese. It had adopted most of the divinities of 
primitive Shintoism, but, while giving a certain satisfaction 
to the popular feeling, its moral influence was small, and in 
practice its function was to give a religious expression to 
ancestor worship. 

On the other hand, in that insular kingdom which had 
strictly isolated itself from the rest of the world, there was 
no room for any display of patriotism as we understand it. 
The only way in which it could manifest itself was by helping 
to keep the country closed to all visitors. The Emperor, espe- 
cially since the thirteenth century, was but the shadow of a 
sovereign, held in bondage by the Regent; the people ignored 
his name, almost his existence. 

The social forces at work were, on the one hand, feudal- 
ism, on the other, the family, with its worship of ancestors. 
These two forces had taken absolute possession of the indi- 
vidual, his body and soul. The notions of human personality 
and liberty were not dreamed of by him, and the only moral 
law that his conscience recognized were the wills of his over- 
lord and of his father, strengthened by a number of tyrannical 

In 1871 the new Government abolished feudalism and 
suppressed the three hundred and twenty fiefs, reducing their 
lords to the rank of ordinary citizens. Such a radical change 
in politics was naturally followed by another in the moral 
and social order. Feudalism having disappeared, the family 
remained the sole foundation of national life. It continued 
to exercise an authority which was sometimes wholesome, but 
mostly arbitrary and tyrannical, strictly confined to domestic 
affairs. In public and political life the suppression of feud- 
alism left a great gap. In times past loyalty to the feudal lord 
occupied the first rank among civic virtues, was superior to 
even filial devotion, but when the overlord ceased to exist the 


citizen was at a loss to whom to pledge fidelity. The problem 
was solved by inviting the whole nation to transfer to the 
Emperor the homage formerly given to one of the feudal 
masters, and, the whole nation thus grouped around him, the 
Emperor became the supreme and only political tie of the new 

While Japan had recognized Christianity, it never ac- 
cepted Christianity. Its leading men saw in the adoption of 
Christianity and "Western practices," a serious danger for 
the Japanese mind and the sentiments which constitute the 
most valuable treasure of the race. Thenceforth the admin- 
istration took measures to prevent all compromise with the 
"dangerous" notions of the West, especially with Christianity. 
They saw to it that the Japanese would not care to become 

Then it was that the imperial question was solved. The 
makers of the Constitution had necessarily to find out some 
raison d'etre for the allegiance due to the sovereign. They 
were confronted with two orders of ideas, the one social, the 
other religious, which at one time or another had been ac- 
cepted in the Western world, but which were radically op- 
posed to the principles hitherto received in Japan. 

If the modern ideas concerning the rights of the individual 
and the sovereignty of the people were adopted, the sovereign 
was nothing but the delegate of the nation, bound to it by a 
contract which was revokable at will. This meant the down- 
fall of the whole traditional order. If Japan had been able 
to foresee, as easily as she foresaw the danger of radicalism, 
that Christian doctrines are the only security of true national 
life, she would have had no difficulty in finding the solid found- 
ation for a progressive new social order. Christian principles 
restrict radical tendencies within just limits, and both har- 
monize and safeguard the rights of God and those of the civil 
authorities, as well as of the family and the individual. But 
the traditional intellectual training of the Japanese prevented 
them from seeing this. 

Individualism was to them a foreign and a repugnant 
idea. Furthermore, according to Shintoist principles, the al- 
legiance of the people to the authorities could not rest on any- 
thing but the divine nature of the sovereign. It was not suffi- 
cient for the Emperor to be the lawful successor of a long line 


of sovereigns whose origin is lost in the early ages of history. 
The example of China with its numerous changes of dynasties, 
to say nothing of Europe, inclined them to believe that an 
authority based on a purely human principle was not strong 
enough and could be some day set aside by their descendants. 
Hence the necessity of basing that authority on a religious 
foundation which would make it sacred and inviolable. 

Thus the makers of modern Japan deliberately deter- 
mined the course the Japanese people were to follow. Having 
rejected modern democratic ideas, as well as the principles 
of Christianity, they established the moral unity of the nation 
on a new basis. Absolute obedience is due to the Emperor, 
not only because he is the sovereign, the father of his people, 
the political link of the nation, but especially because, as the 
descendant of the divinities who created Japan, and himself a 
god possessing the supreme dominion, he exacts from his sub- 
jects the absolute and unlimited submission of their bodies 
and souls, their minds and conscience. This is what every 
Japanese must believe and profess under pain of being de- 
clared guilty of sacrilege and a traitor to his country. 

Certain Western writers have called this the invention of 
a new religion, but it would be more accurate to say that ex- 
tant, but almost forgotten, doctrines were made use of for a 
political end. As a matter of fact the divine origin of the Em- 
perors was always professed by the Japanese. For at least 
fifteen hundred years the principal ancestor of the imperial 
family, the sun-goddess Amaterasu, has been worshipped at 
the famous temple of Ise which attracts annually countless pil- 
grims. Her brother's shrine is in the great temple of Izumo, 
and from all antiquity these have been the two most sacred 
spots in Japan. There are besides numerous temples dedi- 
cated to various emperors. Finally in the course of ages the 
person of the reigning emperor began to be looked upon as 
divine, naturally superior to the rest of mankind, and this at 
the very time he was deprived of all real authority and for 
political reasons imprisoned in his palace. But in those days 
these doctrines had no practical consequences, whereas today 
the whole political life of the country rests on the doctrine of 
the divinity of the Emperor, a doctrine so essential, say the 
leaders of Japan, that, if it were contradicted or so much as 
doubted, the country would be in danger. 


"Shinto (the way of the gods) ," says Prof. B. H. Chamber- 
lain, "is the indigenous religion of Japan and a compound of 
nature-worship and ancestor-worship. It has gods and god- 
desses of the wind, the ocean, fire, food and pestilence, of 
mountains and rivers, of certain special mountains, certain 
rivers, certain trees, certain temples; it worships also certain 
beasts, first of all the fox, then the dragon, some snakes, etc., 
eight hundred myriads of deities in all. Chief among these is 
Amaterasu, the radiant goddess of the sun, born from the left 
eye of Izanagi, the creator of Japan, while from his right eye 
was produced the god of the moon, and from his nose the 
violent god Susu-no-o, who subjected his sister to various in- 
dignities and was chastised accordingly. The sun-goddess was 
the ancestress of the line of heaven-descended Mikados, who 
have reigned in unbroken succession from the beginning of 
the world and are themselves gods upon earth; hence the sun- 
goddess is honored above all the rest." 

In the course of ages, hero-worship added many new 
names to the primitive stock; men of national or local fame 
were enshrined as deities and the process is going on even now. 
The most conspicuous apotheosis of the present day, apart 
from the emperors, is that of the soldiers who died in the 
recent wars. 

"Shinto," continues Prof. Chamberlain, "has scarcely any 
regular services at which the people take part, and demands 
little more of its adherents than a visit to the local temple on 
the occasion of the annual festival. Its priests are not dis- 
tinguishable by their appearance from ordinary laymen. Only 
when engaged in presenting the morning and evening offer- 
ings do they wear a peculiar dress of ancient pattern. These 
priests are not bound by any vows of celibacy and retain the 
option of adopting another career. 

"The services consist in the presentation of small trays of 
rice, fish, fruits, vegetables, rice-beer, and the flesh of birds and 
animals, and in the recital of certain formal addresses, partly 
laudatory, and partly in the nature of petitions. The style of 
composition employed is that of a very remote period, and 
would not be understood by the common people, even if the 
latter were in the habit of taking part in the ritual. With 
moral teaching Shinto does not profess to concern itself. 'Fol- 
low your natural impulses and obey the Mikado's decrees,' 


such is the sum of its theory of human duty. Preaching forms 
no part of its institutions, nor are the rewards and punishments 
of a future life used as incentives to right conduct. The con- 
tinued existence of the dead is believed in, but whether it is a 
condition of joy or pain is nowhere declared." 

The architecture of Shinto temples is extremely simple, 
and the material used is plain white wood with a thatch or 
bark; in short, it is nearly a reproduction of the primitive 
Japanese or rather Malay hut, and usually not much larger. 
There are no statues; the ordinary emblem of the deity being 
a circular mirror on a wooden stand. We are told that the 
number of Shinto temples of all grades amounts to a little over 
150,000, but in the country most of them are without appointed 
priests, the villagers taking care of their local shrines. The 
number of priests is about 15,000. 

To be sure what we have here is a very primitive religion, 
and the reader may desire to know on what grounds it pre- 
tends to found the divinity of the Mikado. Obviously it can- 
not be on historical data, but rather on mythological legends 
handed down by a long and merely oral tradition. These 
legends were for the first time collected and brought together 
in two works, the most ancient Japanese books now extant, 
written the one in A. D. 712 (Kojiki, "Records of Ancient Mat- 
ters"), the other in 720 (Nihongi, "Chronicles of Japan"). 
The first use of writing in Japan dates from the fifth century 
after Christ, and the writing was then borrowed from China; 
previously there was none in Japan. 

The legends enumerate first six generations of celestial 
deities of which nothing more is said afterwards. Next, they 
tell the story of six generations of terrestrial deities, the first 
giving birth to the Japanese archipelago, the sun-goddess and 
innumerable deities, and the last begetting the founder of the 
Japanese empire, Jimmu. Then the narration goes on till the 
seventh century after Christ, but the miraculous ceases only at 
the fifth century, and there is no chronological break between 
the fabulous and the real. 

"This fact of the continuity of the Japanese mythology and 
history has been fully recognized and accepted by the leading 
native commentators, whose opinions are those considered 
orthodox by modern Shintoists, and they draw from it the con- 
clusion that everything in these 'standard national histories' 


must be equally accepted as literal truth. The general habit 
of the more skeptical Japanese of the present day seems to be 
to ignore the history of the gods, save some allusions to the 
sun-goddess, while implicitly accepting the history of the em- 
perors from Jimmu downwards. This is the attitude of mind 
now sanctioned and imposed by the governing class. Thus in 
the historical compilations used as textbooks in the schools, 
the stories of the gods (before Jimmu) are either passed over 
in silence or dismissed in a few sentences, while the annals of 
the human sovereigns (i. e., the Japanese traditions from 
Jimmu full of the miraculous till the fifth century) are treated 
precisely as if the events herein related had happened yester- 
day, and were as incontrovertibly historical as later statements 
for which there is contemporary evidence. The same plan is 
pursued in official publications intended for the Western pub- 
lic. Still, for home consumption, the continuity of the divine 
nature from the sun-goddess to her descendents, the Mikados, 
is always strictly adhered to, and enforced with ever increas- 
ing earnestness. 

"Further, from that so-called history, the Japanese have 
extracted a wonderful chronology. Sanctioning it for one and 
all, an imperial edict dated December 15, 1872, has fixed at the 
year 669 B. C. the accession of Jimmu, first Emperor, and 
promulgated an official chronology of the reigns of his suc- 
cessors. Thus the beginning of the Japanese era is confidently 
placed thirteen or fourteen centuries before the first book 
which records it was written, nine centuries (at the earliest 
computation) before the art of writing was introduced in the 
country, and on the sole authority of books teeming with mir- 
aculous legends. Does such a proceeding need any comment 
after once being formulated in precise terms, and can any 
unprejudiced person continue to accept the early Japanese 
chronology and the first thousand years of the so-called his- 
tory of Japan?" 

Such is the opinion of Prof. Chamberlain, who so ably 
translated the Kojiki into English, and the late W. Bramsen, 
in his Japanese Chronological Tables, brands the whole sys- 
tem of fictitious dates in the first histories of Japan as one of 
the greatest literary frauds ever perpetrated, from which we 
infer how little reliance can be placed on the early Japanese 
historical works and perhaps on many subsequent works. 


This digression into such an arid subject as chronology 
is necessary in order to show clearly how much honesty and 
love of truth we can expect from the modern Shintoists. Even 
the most elementary requirements of science are made to yield 
to an assumed necessity. The divinity of the Mikado needed 
propping up, and the prop utilized was that fictitious historical 
continuity and sham chronology whereby a hoary antiquity 
is assured to the imperial family. 

Since the restoration of 1868 the victorious Shintoists 
have worked unceasingly to mold the brains and minds of 
the people in accordance with their political plans. But from 
the time of the promulgation of the Constitution in 1889, the 
plan of Japan's leaders became more and more evident, and its 
execution was more openly carried out. 

The formula read by the Emperor when he takes the oath 
of office begins as follows: "In virtue of the glories of our 
ancestors we have ascended the throne of Japan, we, the de- 
scendants of an uninterrupted line of eternal sovereigns." 
Then the Emperor takes a solemn oath to his divine ancestors 
to preserve and continue the old form of government that they 
have transmitted to him; next he swears always to be a 
model for his subjects in the observance of the Constitution, 
and finally, since it is to his imperial ancestors that he owes 
the privilege of continuing the national development of Japan, 
he addresses to those glorious and sacred spirits a respectful 
prayer to obtain their assistance in the fulfillment of his duty. 

Such is the national and political foundation of the new 
Japan. It is obvious how vitally important it is that the whole 
nation be convinced of the divinity of the imperial family, 
since the Emperor himself proclaims it and bases his author- 
ity on it. It is true that the 28th Article of the Constitution 
grants religious liberty, but this is only a subterfuge, because 
the Japanese are politically neither morally nor materially free 
to deny the divinity of the Emperor nor any of its conse- 

According to that Constitution it was left to the Emperor 
graciously to grant his subjects certain civil and political 
rights. In his paternal solicitude he was also to guide them 
in the observance of the moral laws so that they might make 
good use of their new rights. Consequently in the following 
year (1890) the famous Rescript called Moral Education was 


published. It is a summary of Shintoist and Confucianist 
principles and fhe gospel of the new Japan. Several times a 
year it is solemnly read by the teachers in all the schools of 
the country. In fact, all the school manuals of morality are 
merely an exposition and interpretation of this summary of 
domestic and civil virtues. 

As for the foundation of that morality, the Japanese, hav- 
ing set aside all foreign religions, Buddhist, Confucianist, Prot- 
estant and Catholic, looked for something more incontrovert- 
ible than the doctrines offered by those various bodies, hope- 
lessly divided among themselves. They wanted some impreg- 
nable basis, rooted only in the soil of the country, the souls of 
their ancestors, the heart of every Japanese. The basis of the 
Japanese code of morals must be essentially Japanese, and 
thereby altogether different from the Christian notions of the 
Western world. 

The Christians, while placing loyalty and filial piety fore- 
most of the natural virtues, seek the source of these virtues in 
God; the Japanese stop on the way, finding in their Emperor 
the very source of divine authority. Whence it follows that 
inasmuch as the imperial authority is for them the necessary 
and all-sufficient motive for the observance of the moral law, 
loyalty to the sovereign is the only code of morality and the 
most powerful incentive to virtue. Let them obey the chief of 
the State, and it is enough; they have not even the right to 
look for another motive; it would be unpatriotic since there 
is nothing higher than the Emperor. 

This feature is the specific characteristic of Japanese 
morality, and enables its teachers to assert that Japan pos- 
sesses a code of moral laws which is unique and, by reason 
of its principle, the most excellent. The logical consequence 
is that the country would have nothing to gain and everything 
to lose by adapting itself to the codes of the Western world. 
It is likewise argued that one cannot be at the same time a loyal 
citizen and a Christian, since it is an insolence, nay, a sacrilege, 
to place above the Emperor a God who exists merely in the 
imagination of certain European and American nations. 

It is clear that the opposition between the two concepts is 
fundamental. Christians in Japan are unable to answer 
charges against the Christian Faith because of the rigid cen- 
sorship forbidding any discussion on the foundation of Japan- 


ese morality, the divinity of the Emperor, the official chronol- 
ogy, et cetera. The intellectual forces of the Government are 
constantly mobilized to lower and ridicule Christianity and 
enforce upon all the practices of the national religion. This 
is especially the aim of the imperial household. Some years 
ago the Bureau of the Shinto temples was detached from the 
Home Department and transferred to the Department of Edu- 
cation, which indicates that the public school would be used 
to inculcate upon the nation the worship of the Emperor. 

It is true that in Japan all schools are supposed to be un- 
sectarian, neutral, but this does not mean that the Mikado wor- 
ship is to be excluded from them. As a matter of fact every 
school has become a centre of Shinto propaganda and all the 
teachers its active missionaries; Christian pupils are the ob- 
jects of continual vexations and not infrequently are expelled. 
In country places the teacher or the mayor of the town must 
act the part of Shinto priest on feast days. High officials, 
diplomats, army and navy officers have to pay homage to the 
national divinities before entering upon their duties. The 
Home Minister, the Governors of Corea and Formosa, visit the 
temple of the sun-goddess at Ise, others must visit one of the 
sanctuaries erected within the precincts of the imperial pal- 
ace; in the provinces a visit to a local temple is sufficient. 

On certain days the school children are taken by the teach- 
ers to a shrine dedicated to the soldiers who have given their 
lives for the country. If Christian parents refuse to let their 
children participate in those ceremonies, the authorities assert 
that this is merely a civic function in which people of any 
creed may take part without scruple. The explanation is 
plausible enough when there is question of honoring soldiers 
who fell on the field of honor, but how explain visits to the 
temple of Inari (the Fox) or the goddess of rice, or again why 
should children be made to visit the temples of Suiten, one of 
the gods of the ocean, or of Benten or Kompira, Buddhist divin- 
ities imported from India and adopted by Shintoism? Here, 
there can be no question of civic honors, and it is impossible to 
connect those ceremonies with the loyalty due to the Emperor. 
The names just quoted are only samples of the eight hundred 
gods of the Shinto religion. 

Let us examine more closely the so-called civic honors 
paid to the heroes of the country in temples erected for that 


special purpose in every garrison city. Here is the programme 
of the ceremonies to be performed in each instance : 1. Exor- 
cisms and purifications by sea water; 2. Evocation of the spirits 
to receive offerings and prayers; 3. The offerings of rice, fruit, 
meat presented; 4. Liturgical prayers by the chief priest; 

5. Reading of a litany by a distinguished member of the con- 
gregation, a general or a governor; at Tokyo this reading is 
done by a representative of the Emperor. The meaning of 
those invocations is invariably the same; let the soldiers con- 
tinue to be for all eternity the protectors of the country. After 
the prayers the person who recited them deposits on the altar 
a branch of Sakaki, the sacred tree of the Shintoist religion; 

6. All the assistants come in turn to make a profound bow be- 
fore the altar; 7. Finally the offerings are removed from the 
altar and the soldiers' spirits are requested to return to their 

This programme leaves no room for doubt that we are in 
the presence of religious worship, despite assertions of the Jap- 
anese authorities to the contrary. A civic service does not call 
for evocation of spirits, offerings of food, exterior acts of wor- 
ship, nor the belief that the soldiers' spirits have power to pro- 
tect the country. Furthermore, why should it be obligatory in 
conscience for all citizens to participate in such services? The 
administration is daily becoming more urgent on this point 
which is a cause of anxiety to the Christians. 

At present there is being built in a suburb of Tokyo a 
temple in honor of Meiji, the Emperor of the Restoration of 
1868, who died in 1912. Seven millions of yens (about 
$3,500,000) have been collected for the purpose to date, and the 
contributions were not all spontaneous. Shintoism will nat- 
urally be the form of religion practiced in that temple, and 
all the school children will certainly be invited to go there and 
pay homage to the name of Meiji, and the teachers or pupils 
who decline the invitation will be branded as unworthy 

The "New Shinto" aims at presiding over all the important 
events of the citizens' lives. For over a thousand years, ex- 
cept in one or two provinces, Ruddhist priests were the only 
ones to preside at funerals. Now they have to compete with 
Shinto priests, who have been greatly encouraged by the 
example of the imperial family. 


The Shintoists have gone further and have copied several 
forms of blessings from the Catholic ritual. In the shipyards 
of the Japanese navy, as well as in private shipyards, the keel 
of a new boat is never laid without exorcisms and prayers by 
a Shinto priest. The same ceremonies are performed for the 
construction of public buildings, of water works, even of a 
temporary ring for boxers; the ground must be purified and 
blessed. When there is question of erecting a Shinto temple 
the ceremonies are multiplied; the ground, the air, the water, 
the materials, the workmen and their tools must be exorcised 
and blessed. Mr. Tokutomi, whom we have already quoted, 
states further: 

"Worship of the Emperor and of the Japanese motherland 
is a science in itself superior to all other sciences, a philosophy 
superior to all other systems, a religion far above all other 
religions. With us all scientific and religious teaching must 
rest on the worship of the country personified by the Emperor. 
The imperial family is the origin of the Japanese nation; this 
is the principle of our fealty to the sovereign; this is what 
distinguishes our race from all other races." 

Viscount Oura, Secretary of Agriculture and Home Min- 
ister in 1911, wrote: "That the majesty of our imperial 
house towers high above everything to be found in the world, 
and that it will endure as long as heaven and earth, is too well- 
known to be demonstrated. ... If it is deemed necessary for 
the people to have a national religion, let it be the religion of 
patriotism and imperialism, in other words, let us all worship 
the sacred person of the Emperor." 

In a subsequent article we will describe the man-god of 
Japan, his religious duties, and how his worship is willingly 
practiced by the Japanese people. 



E do not think of Shakespeare as a portrayer of 
children. We know him as the great painter of 
men and women, the creator of characters 
which, if not always in the fullness of maturity 
as counted by years, are, at least as in the case 
of Juliet, possessed of a passion and power that place them 
beyond the stage of childhood. In truth, when we consider 
the characters he has made immortal, his Hamlet, Lear, 
Othello, Macbeth, Desdemona, Portia and others equally hu- 
man and almost as great, present themselves before us. Rare- 
ly, with the exception, possibly, of Prince Arthur in King 
John, are we aware that on his great canvas of humanity 
there are child figures. 

Nevertheless, the careful student will find, and the dis- 
covery will bring a feeling of rare pleasure, that Shakespeare 
has drawn with fine, delicate touch a number of youthful por- 
traits, and furthermore, that these pictures, though often mere 
sketches, are, in their way, as complete as the more elaborate 
ones of his people of mature growth. 

All of Shakespeare's children, with the exception of the 
pages, are of noble birth, and consequently subject to the try- 
ing and often tragic conditions that surround those who aspire 
to, or wear the crown. Yet they are types common to ordinary 
childhood, and have the traits familiar to those who have 
observed child-life. Moreover, as showing the results of 
heredity and environment, they are of special interest to the 
child psychologist, while to the general reader they are another 
evidence of the dramatist's wonderful knowledge of life, and 
the depth of his understanding of humanity small as well as 

There are not many children in Shakespeare's dramas, and 
most of them are overshadowed by the great figures about 
them. But they are by no means obscured, and careful read- 
ing reveals that these little figures stand out distinct; that a 
few lines, like a mere stroke of the pencil by a great artist, 
convey a most vivid picture. 


In one of Shakespeare's earliest plays, Titus Androni- 
cus, that awful, harrowing drama, where "one sups on hor- 
rors " the Stygian darkness is relieved by the tender, bright 
little figure of Lucius, grandson of the great Roman general. 

The boy is first brought forward in the awful scene when 
the lovely and chaste Lavinia appears before her father in all 
the shame and agony that have been inflicted upon her by t 
brutal and lustful enemies of her father. The art of the gre: 
master is nowhere better displayed than in bringing the inno- 
cence and joyousness of childhood before the reader at such 
a moment. It would seem as if only the presence of one un- 
tutored in life and grief could lift a pall of such misery. 

When Titus Andronicus gives vent in maddened misery t 
his tortured emotions, and his words move Lavinia, "the cor- 
dial of his age," but to further confusion, the boy with a wis 
dom beyond his age, exclaims, 

Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep laments; 
Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. 

And yet the boy is not insensible to his aunt's terrible 
plight, nor his grandsire's sorrow. His childish heart 

Alas, the tender boy in passion mov'd, 
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. 

But the boy had imbibed a love of reading from his 
mother, who had given him Ovid's Metamorphosis. And we 
infer from the text, that after her death the unfortunate La- 
vinia had taken her place, and that many a happy hour had 
he spent with her when she had read to him "sweet poetry 
and Tully's orator. These diversions had cheered him in his 
loneliness and soothed his childish sorrows, therefore his first 
thought had been that some "pleasing tale" might lighten the 
stupendous agony he witnesses. 

But the boy is more than a book worm. He is valiant as 
becomes the son of a soldier, and grandson of a warrior of 
forty years. When there is talk of revenge, he no longer 
weeps, but steps manfully forward and is ready, "Ay, with my 
dagger in their bosoms." He goes alone and unafraid into 
the presence of the enemy, dropping crafty words of pre- 
tended conciliation, but leaving behind the weapons sent by 


his frenzied grandsire. Young as he is, Lucius understands the 
situation, and deep in his heart nurses the desire for revenge. 
The figure of this child is like a ray of sunshine pene- 
trating a charnel-house of horrors. It seems to make endur- 
able even the closing scene of the play where "on horror's 
head horrors accumulate." When the murdered Titus lies 
cold in death, Lucius, the elder, calls the boy to weep over his 
grandsire's body in these beautiful lines : 

thy grandsire lov'd thee well. 

Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee, 
Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow; 
Many a matter hath he told to thee 
Meet and agreeing with thine infancy. 

What a truly Shakespearean touch is here! What a con- 
trast between a past of peace and joy, and a present of treach- 
ery, rape and murder. What a picture of a day when, in the 
respite from war, the great general, untouched by domestic 
griefs, had brought himself to the level of a little child. And 
that child remembers and in exquisite words of love and de- 
votion bewails his loss: 

O grandsire, grandsire! even with all my heart, 
Would I were dead, so you did live again! 

Sweet, tender and brave, amid the horrors that cannot be 
kept from him, the picture of young Lucius is the only one we 
care to preserve in our remembrance of Titus Andronicus. 

The ill-starred young princes in Richard III., whose paths 
are crossed by the crafty Gloster, are portrayed with all the 
attributes that should pertain to the sons of a monarch. The 
elder, the Prince of Wales, who but for the murderous Gloster 
would have come to the throne, cherishes lofty ideals. His 
hero is Julius Caesar. Because, as he proudly avers, 

Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; 
For now he lives in fame, though not in life. 

The manly boy would be a soldier as well as a king and 

An' if I live to be a man, 

I'll win our ancient right in France again. 


Yet with all his ambition and show of fearlessness, he is 
still a child, rather dismayed at being left alone in London; 
inquiring plaintively for the kind uncles in whom he has 
faith; and longing for the presence of his mother and younger 
brother. This brother, the little Duke of York, is evidently the 
petted younger child. He is happy when told that his height 
is almost that of his older brother. What a touch of childish 
pride is here! A noble pride, though, for in all his eagerness 
to be as tall as his brother, he resents the insinuation implied 
in Gloster's words, "Small herbs have grace, great weeds do 
grow apace." 

The Little duke is bright, precocious, and quick-witted. 
Unlike the young Prince of Wales, who veils his distrust of his 
uncle in carefully measured phrases, he gives vent under the 
guise of childish humor to his feelings of dislike; and ap- 
parently in innocence lets fly many a barbed arrow that but 
increases his uncle's hatred. 

"Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable," the scheming 
Richard characterizes the boy, and ascribes his conduct to the 
mother who had doubtless reared him in distrust of wicked, 
aspiring kin. Through it all, however, one sees the bravado 
of a child in whose heart there is fear and natural shrinking 
from the tower where his uncle Clarence had been murdered, 
and whose ghost might linger there. "I shall not sleep in quiet 
in the Tower," he says, pathetically, as he and his brother are 
led away. Only one scene and part of another are devoted to 
these young princes, yet their noble aspiring souls are as 
clearly revealed, the beauty and innocence of their characters 
struggling vainly against the forces of sin and duplicity are as 
clearly depicted, as the overtowering wickedness of Richard 

We hear no more directly of them, until we are told of 
the "tyrannous and bloody act" that brought to a close their 
brief lives. In their beauty and innocence, asleep in each 
other's arms, clinging closely the one to the other, as if for 
greater safety, the Bible on their pillow to which in faith and 
hope they had doubtless turned for comfort ere they had com- 
mitted themselves to slumber, they were found murdered, 
brutally murdered at the instigation of the fiend-like Richard 
by those who, "although fleshed villains, bloody dogs," wept 
as they told of their death. 


Of all Shakespeare's pictures of children, the most com- 
plete, as well as the most pathetic, is that of Prince Arthur in 
King John. One cannot think of a single charming trait 
of childhood that is not found in the character of this gentle, 
unfortunate claimant to the throne of England. Shakespeare, 
whether intentionally or not, has given us in this early drama 
a complete portrait of childhood beautiful, innocent, and ap- 
pealing, but made tragic by the events of a turbulent time. 

The first glimpse of Arthur is in the stormy scene between 
Constance, his mother, and his grandmother, the strong- 
minded Elinor. When his mother franctically asserts his 
claim to the throne of England, and his grandmother violently 
urges that of her son John, the gentle boy shocked and grieved 
by the bitterness displayed, says entreatingly, with no 
thought of his right or the glory of kingship : 

Good my mother, peace. 

I would I were low-laid in my grave; 

I am not worth this coil that's made for me! 

He is the timid, shrinking child, not born to rule; one who 
would have been happy in peaceful obscurity, and who would 
never of himself have asserted his claim to the kingdom. He 
is in complete contrast to the two young princes in Richard 
HI., neither of whom, had he been so placed, would have 
quietly acquiesced in the usurpation of his rights. 

Furthermore, when Arthur is borne away to prison, his 
thoughts are not of the loss of the throne, but of the effect of 
his banishment on his mother, now more than widowed. His 
loving heart cries out, "O, this will make my mother die with 

In the solitude of the Tower, he is still the gentle boy, 
pensive, but never rebellious. He remembers when he was 
in France that he saw gentlemen who would be "sad only for 
wantonness," and he marvels at this. Were he at liberty, and 
a keeper of sheep, he would be content; indeed, even in the 
dreadful solitude of the Tower, but for fear of what might 
come to him, he could still be happy. 

His bearing toward Hubert, the keeper, is consistent with 
his character. There is no display of the superiority of rank, 
nor the haughtiness of royal birth. Hubert had been ill, and 
Arthur had waited on him, held his hand, and bound his 

VOL. CXI. 6 


head with his handkerchief. And the heart of the keeper is 
not of stone; at the risk of a king's wrath he spares the pretty 

But alas! terror has seized the timid boy. To avoid death 
within the Tower, he scales the outside walls, and meets a 
more merciful end upon the stones below. There that "ruin 
of sweet life" is found, that "beauteous clay" that once had 
been young Arthur. 

Falstaff's page in Henry IV. is a product of wrong envi- 
ronment. In a waggish mood, Prince Henry had given the 
boy, because of his diminutive size, to Falstaff, and the portly, 
jolly knight declares he is fitter to be worn in his cap than 
to wait at his heels. The boy is inducted into a world of ale 
houses and then* unsavory habitues, and these leave their 
mark upon him. He imitates his master's manners, reflects 
his wit and takes delight in assuming a wisdom beyond his 
years. In attendance upon the witty but none too virtuous 
knight, he often hears the chimes at midnight, and the effect 
on him of this mode of life leads Prince Henry to remark: 
"And the boy I gave Falstaff, he had him from me Christian, 
and see if the fat villain have not transformed him ape." 

Nevertheless, Shakespeare portrays the boy as knowing, 
intuitively, the difference between the pranks of his master 
and the depravity of his followers. When death conquers the 
inimitably witty knight, his little page scorns to follow the for- 
tunes of "those three swashers," as he terms Bardolph, Pistol 
and Nym, who would make him "as familiar with men's 
pockets, as their gloves and hankerchers" and seeks his for- 
tune elsewhere. 

Lucius, page to Brutus, plays but a small part in the trag- 
edy of Julius Csesar, yet in the brief space allotted him he is 
exquisitely limned as a boy faithful so far as the limits of 
childhood permit him, to a great and beloved master. 

The affairs of Brutus, often extending far into the night, 
requires Lucius to be in attendance at an hour when youth 
naturally calls for repose. In these late vigils, sleep often 
overcomes the boy, yet never does Brutus display harshness 
or impatience. He disturbs him reluctantly, ever bidding him, 
his duty done, to sleep again. 

With memories, doubtless, of his own childhood, he looks 
down on the sleeping boy and says softly: 


Enjoy the honey-dew of slumber; 
Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies, 
Which busy care draws in the brains of men; 
Therefore thou sleep'st so well. 

Shakespeare's tenderness toward children is voiced in the 
attitude of Brutus toward the boy an attitude that never 
changes. When Portia is gone, and the tide of affairs is all 
against him, he is still the kind, gentle, thoughtful master. 

"If I do live, I will be good to thee," are almost the last 
words of Brutus to the boy, and we are prone to think that the 
faithful page was among those of whom, after Brutus' death, 
Octavius said : "All that served Brutus, I will entertain them." 

In Macbeth, that great play of "vaulting ambition," one 
scarcely looks for a childish figure; yet tucked away in one 
short scene is the little son of Macduff, the man whom, alone, 
Macbeth feared. 

When Macduff has fled to England for assistance in sav- 
ing his country, his wife, left to the mercy of the tyrant, be- 
wails her fate to her little son. 

"Sirrah," she says to the child, "your father's dead; and 
what will you do now? How will you live?" 

With child-like faith the boy quickly responds, "As birds 
do, mother." 

Like all of Shakespeare's children, he is quick-witted and 
worldly-wise. To the question, "What wilt thou do for a 
father?" comes the shrewd reply: "If he were dead, you'd 
weep for him, if you would not, it were a good sign that I 
should quickly have another." 

Most loyal is he to that father, and brave as becomes the 
son of the great Macduff. Attacked by murderers, who call his 
father traitor, he hurls at them the defiant and significant 
words, "Thou liest, thou shag-ear'd villain." 

In the little son of Coriolanus, we have the silent, but po- 
tent influence of a little child. When the mighty Roman, 
stung to bitterness by the attitude of his country toward him, 
determines to march against it, the mother he reveres, finding 
him deaf to her entreaties, puts the boy in his path. Wisely 
she urges, "Speak thou, boy, perhaps thy childishness will 
move him more than can our reasons." 

The boy is silent, but keenly conscious of the situation and 


the need of his intervention. He kneels before his seemingly 
obdurate father, and Volumnia, in a burst of passion, cries : 

This boy that cannot tell what he would have, 
But kneels and holds up hands for fellowship, 
Does reason our petition with more strength, 
Than thou hast to deny't. 

This is true; the heart of Coriolanus is touched by the 
unspoken persuasiveness of his young son; his iron will yields 
to the silent eloquence of a child's presence. He becomes "of a 
woman's tenderness;" renounces vengeance upon his country, 
and thus saves his name from undying shame. 

In Winter's Tale, Shakespeare, in the words of Polixenes, 
voices in no uncertain tones his love of children, and their 
power to lighten the cares that often lie heavy on the hearts of 

The king of Bohemia, the innocent cause of Leontes' 
jealousy and Hermione's disgrace, speaks thus of his son : 

He makes a July's day short as December, 
And with his varying childness cures in me 
Thoughts that would thick my blood. 

Leontes finds the same joy in the young Mamillius, his 
own son, yet the boy's life is blighted by the father's jealous 

The play is classed among the comedies, yet it includes 
the tragedy of a gentle, loving child who, like Arthur in King 
John, succumbs to unfortunate circumstances. 

Mamillius, "a gallant child, one that indeed physics the 
subjects, makes all hearts fresh," is pictured as a genuine boy, 
always at play, yet with an undercurrent of seriousness even 
in his sportive moments. 

When Leontes becomes a prey to maddening thoughts, the 
boy, playing carelessly about, rushes to his father at the psy- 
chological moment in a burst of tenderness, and exclaims: 
"I am like you, they say." And, for the moment, at least, 
Leontes is cheered and he answers: "Why that's some com- 

One of the most charming scenes of the drama is that of 
the gentlewomen and the boy. They flatter him and would 


play with him, but his attitude toward them is proudly dis- 
dainful, because one of them had kissed him hard as if, in- 
deed, he were a baby still. Could anything be truer of the 
growing boy than this desire to be thought too big for caresses? 

He wants to be manly, and in response to his mother's 
request for a merry tale, tells her that "a sad tale's best for 
winter; I have one of spirits and goblins." And with an air 
of bravado he begins one of "a man that dwelt by a church- 
yard." He tells it softly so that "yon crickets," as he terms the 
chattering gentlewomen, shall not hear it. 

But, alas! though a mere child he is too sensitive and too 
sympathetic to stand the strain of his mother's disgrace and 
banishment. We are told that 

He straight declined, drooped, took it deeply, 
Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on't in himself. 
Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, 
And downright languished. 

Finally, "his thoughts too high for one so tender" bear 
him under entirely, and he is swept unto death by the current 
of his father's unreasonable jealousy. 

Such are the pictures of childhood that Shakespeare has 
drawn for us brave, manly, loving, winsome, little princes; 
faithful, precocious, wordly-wise little pages. Some the creat- 
ures of heredity, but most of them delicate instruments played 
on by circumstances and environment, glad or serious, happy 
or unhappy, accordingly as events touch them. Never mere 
puppets, but as real and as true to life as the men and women 
his genius has immortalized. True studies of the inward char- 
acter of childhood, they are deserving of consideration in any 
investigation of child life, and are a phase of the great 
dramatist's universality that has been almost entirely over- 




UT Marjorie did not return the note. For with the 
commotion of the departure of the guests, all 
thought of the note within her bodice vanished 
for the remainder of the evening. Only when she 
had returned home that night, fatigued and almost 
disgusted with the perfunctory performances of 
the entertainment, did she discover it, and then not until she 
removed the garment within whose folds it lay concealed. It 
fell to the ground; she stooped to pick it up. 

"Oh, dear! I forgot it. I must attend to it the first thing in 
the morning." And she placed it on the dresser where it could 
not escape her eye. Then she retired. 

But she did not sleep. She lay wide awake and tossed ner- 
vously to and fro. She tried to close her eyes only to find them 
wandering about the room in the obscure dimness, focusing 
themselves now on the old mahogany dresser, now on the little 
prie-dieu against the inner wall with the small ivory crucifix 
outlined faintly above it, now on the chintz hangings that covered 
the window. She could hear her heart pounding its great weight 
of bitterness against the pillow, and as she listened she thought 
of Stephen's arrest and its thousand and one horrible conse- 
quences. She tried to congratulate herself on her sweet serenity, 
yet the serenity mocked her and apprehension loomed as fiercely 
as before. 

The next she knew was a quiet awakening, as if her mother's 
hand had been put gently on her arm. Outside ten thousand light 
leaves shivered gently and the birds were calling to one another 
in melodious tones. This was her first glimpse of the day and it 
sent her suddenly to her knees. 

Stephen came late that afternoon. He had not been expected; 
yet she was happy because he came. She had done little during 
the day; had not left the house, nor dressed for the occasion. 
The note was where she had left it, and all reference to it buried 
with the rest of her thoughts of the evening. 

"I cannot yet tell how it has been decided. They went into 
executive session at once." 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 87 

"But . . . Surely . . . They could not find you guilty?" 

"Oh, well." 

"Please . . . Won't you tell me?" 

"There is little to tell. It was very brief." He could not 
become enthusiastic. 

"There you were put to trial?" she asked. 


"Go on. Tell me." 

He was silent. He desired to withhold nothing from her, 
yet he could not find the words. 

"What happened?" she persisted. 

"Well I don't know I soured on the whole proceeding. 
The court-martial met, the Regimental Court-Martial, with 
three members. This was permissible. They began by 
reading the charge as preferred by Colonel Forrest, which was to 
the effect that I had been guilty of striking my superior officer, 
Colonel Forrest, by attempting to choke him. To this was added 
the accusation of abusive, threatening language as well as a threat 
of murder. I, of course, pleaded not guilty; nor did I prepare 
any defence. The affair was so trivial that I was surprised 
that it was ever brought to trial." 

"How long did the proceedings last?" 

"They were very brief. Several witnesses were examined, 
the chief one being Mr. Anderson." 

"I know him," remarked Marjorie. 

"You know him?" 

"I met him last evening at the Shippen's." 

"Did he say aught about me?" 

"Not a word." 

"Well, he appeared against me. After a few more prelim- 
inary questions I was put on the stand in my own defence. I 
told briefly the circumstances which led to the incident, (I would 
not call it an assault, for I continually maintained it to be of a 
trivial nature and worthy only of an explanation). I told how 
the Colonel had used certain derogatory remarks against the Faith 
that I believed and practised, which occasioned a violent argu- 
ment. This, I think, was the great mistake I made, for it ap- 
peared to make an unfavorable impression upon the Court. In 
this regard they were unquestionably on the side of Forrest. 
Then I related the remark incident to my action, and announced 
that I would repeat the deed under similar circumstances were 
the same disrespectful language directed against the Commander- 
in-Chief. This, I fear, made little impression either, since I was 
already attached to the staff of General Washington, and a 

88 THE LOYALIST [April, 

jealous rival general was about to decide my guilt. That ended it. 
I was excused and the court adjourned." He paused, then con- 
tinued: "For these reasons I have serious misgivings as to my 

"What can happen to you?" 

"I do not know. It may result in a suspension, and it may 
result in a verdict of 'Not Guilty.' " 

"Will you know very soon?" 

"I shall be summoned before them." 

Neither spoke for a time. 

"Do you know," observed Marjorie, "I greatly mistrust Gen- 
eral Arnold and I fear that he already has decided against you." 

"What causes you to say that?" 

"Well I don't know I just think it. While listening to 
him last evening I drew that impression." 

"Did he say anything against us?" 

"He is enraged at Congress and he has long felt persecuted 
and insulted by the people. He desires a command in the navy 
and has already written Washington to that effect; and. again 
he would petition Congress for a grant of land in New York, 
where he would retire to private life, for he vows he never will 
again draw sword on the American side." 

"Did he say this?" asked Stephen. 

"He did." 

"Do you think that he was sincere?" 

"I really do. He talked with all the earnestness of a man of 
conviction. Somehow or other I greatly mistrust him. And he is 
extremely bigoted." 

"I rather suspect this, although I have had no proofs of it. 
If he is, it will out very soon." 

"And you may be assured, too, that he will have an able 
adjutant in Peggy. She is his counterpart in every particular." 

He looked at her as she spoke, and was amazed by the excite- 
ment in her face. She talked excitedly; her eyes, those large, 
vivacious, brown eyes that looked out of her pretty, oval face, 
were alight, and her face had gone pale. 

"I was interested in them last evening, and with the apparent 
zeal displayed by Peggy's mother in favor of the match, I would 
not be surprised to hear of an announcement from that source 
at any time." 

"Has it reached that stage?" 

"Most assuredly. I decided that they already are on terms 
of intimacy, whose secrets now obtain a common value." 

"You think that?" 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 89 

"Well, I do. Yes. I know, for instance, that he had 
a letter in his possession which was addressed to her, which let- 
ter had its origin in New York." 

"How came he by it?" 

"She must have given it to him. I have it now." 

"You have it?" He sat up very much surprised. "Where 
did you get it?" 

"I found it." 

"Did you read it?" 

"No." She smiled at him, and at his great perplexity over 
the apparent mystery. 

And then she told him of the little party; of herself and Mr. 
Anderson, and their intrusion upon General Arnold and Peggy; 
of their conversation and the falling of the note; of her subse- 
quent return for it together with the placing of it within her 
bodice, and the state of temporary oblivion into which the incident 
finally lapsed. 

"You have that letter now?" he asked with no attempt to con- 
ceal his anxiety. 

"Yes. Upstairs." 

"May I see it? Really, I would not ask this did I not think 
it quite important." 

"Very well." She left to fetch it. 

"Who is this man, Anderson?" Stephen asked upon her re- 
turn. "Do you know him?" 

"No. But he is very impressible. He was my partner during 
the evening." 

She did not deem it wise to tell him everything; at least not 

"How long have you known him?" he inquired impatiently. 

She smiled sweetly at him. "Since last night," was the brief 

"Where did he come from?" 

"I scarce know. You yourself mentioned his name for the 
first time to me. I was greatly surprised when presented to him 
last night." 

"Did he come with General Arnold's party, or is he a friend 
of Peggy's?" 

"I don't think Peggy knew him before, although she may 
have met him with some of the officers before last evening. 
I should imagine from what you already know that he is ac- 
quainted with the Governor's party and through them received 
an invitation to be present." 

90 THE LOYALIST [April, 

"Did he say aught of himself?" 

"Scarcely a thing. He has not been a resident of the city 
for any length of time, but where he originated, or what he pur- 
poses, I did not learn. I rather like him. He is well-mannered, 
refined and richly talented." 

"I sensed immediately that he was endowed with engaging 
personal qualities, and gifted with more than ordinary abilities. 
I have yet to learn his history, which is one of my duties, not- 
withstanding the unfortunate state of affairs which has lately 
come to pass." 

He stopped and took the letter which she held out to him. 
He opened it and read it carefully. Then he deliberately read it 

"Did you say that no one knows of this?" 

"I am quite sure. Certainly no one saw me find it, although 
I am not certain that I alone saw it fall." 

"You are sure that it was in the Governor's possession?" 

"Quite. I saw it distinctly in his belt. I saw it fall to the 
ground when he caught hold of the sword knots, which caused 
it to fall." 

He leaned forward and reflected for a moment with his eyes 
intent on the note which he held opened before him. Suddenly 
he sat back in his chair and looked straight at her. 

"Marjorie," he said. "You promised to be of whatever as- 
sistance you could. Do you recall that promise?" 

"Very well." 

"Will you lend your assistance to me now?" 

She hesitated, wondering to what extent the demand might 
be made. 

"Are you unwilling?" he asked, for he perceived her timid 

"No. What is it you want me to do?" 

"Simply this. Let me have this note." 

She deliberated. 

"Would not that be unfair to Peggy?" She feared that her 
sense of justice was being violated. 

"She does not know that you have it." 

"But I mean to tell her." 

"Please! Well! Well! Need you do that immediately? 
Could you not let me have it for a few days? I shall return it 
to you. You can then take it to her." 

"You will let no one see it?" 


"Very well. And you will return it to me?" 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 91 

"I promise." 

And so it was agreed that Stephen should take the letter 
with him, which he promised to return together with the earliest 
news of the result of his court-martial. 

Stephen went out the little white gate, closing it very de- 
liberately behind him and immediately set off at a brisk pace 
down the street. Every fibre in him thrilled with energy. The 
road was dusty and hot, and his pace grew very strenuous and 
fervent. There was no breeze; there was no sound of wheels; 
all was quiet as the bells tolled out the hour of six. Nevertheless, 
he trudged along with great haste without once stopping until 
he had reached the door of his lodgings. 

He turned the key and entered, closing the door behind him 
and taking the greatest of care to see that it was properly bolted. 
Flinging his hat into a chair as he passed, he went immediately 
to the table, which served as his desk. While he pulled himself 
close to it, he reached into his pocket for the letter. He opened 
it before him and read it. Then he sat back and read it again; 
this time aloud: 

Co. 13. Headquarters, New York. 

15 July, 1778. 

I am happy to have this opportunity to once again express 
my humble respects to you and to assure you that yourself, 
together with your generous and hospitable friends, are causing 
us much concern separated as we are by the duress of a merci- 
less war. We lead a monotonous life, for outside of the regulari- 
ties of army life, there is little to entertain us. Our hearts are 
torn with pangs of regret as we recall the golden days of the 

I would I could be of some service to you here, that you may 
understand that my protestations of zeal made on former occa- 
sions were not without some degree of sincerity. Let me add, 
too, that your many friends here present unite with me in these 
same sentiments of unaffected and genuine devotion. 

I beg you to present my best respects to your sisters, to the 
Misses Chew, and to Mrs. Shippen and Mrs Chew. 

I have the honor to be with the greatest regard, Madame, your 
most obedient and most humble servant, 


His face was working oddly, as if with mingled perplexity 
and pleasure; and he caught his lip in his teeth, as his manner 
was. What was this innocent note? Could it be so simple as it 
appeared? Vague possibilities passed through his mind. The 

92 THE LOYALIST [April, 

longer he gazed at it the more simple it became; so that he was 
on the point of folding it and replacing it in his pocket, sadly 
disconcerted at its insignificance. He had hoped that he might 
have stumbled across something of real value, not only some 
secret information concerning the designs of the enemy, but also 
some evidence of an incriminating nature against his acquaint- 
ances in the city. 

Suddenly he thought he saw certain letters dotted over, not 
entirely perceptible, yet quite discernible. He turned the paper 
over. The reverse was perfectly clear. He held it to the light, 
but nothing appeared through. 

"By Jove!" he exclaimed softly. 

He looked closely again. Sure enough there were faint 
markings on several of the letters. The "H" was marked. So 
was the "V" in "have," and the "A" and the "L." Snatching a 
pencil and a sheet of paper he made a list of the letters so 


This meant nothing. That was apparent; nor could he 
make sense out of any combination of letters. He knew that 
there were certain codes whereby the two progressions, arith- 
metical and geometric, were employed in their composition, but 
this answered to none of them. He went over the list again, 
comparing them with the marked letters as found in the note. 
Yes, they were identical. He had copied them faithfully. He 
sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. 

"So this was sent to Peggy from New York," he muttered to 
himself. "I strongly suspected that she was in communication 
with her British friends, although I never came in contact with 
the slightest evidence. This certainly proves it." 

He held the letter at a distance from him, attentively sur- 
veying it. 

"And General Arnold has been interested, too. Very likely, 
Marjorie's hypothesis is the true one. They had been reading 
the note when the newcomers arrived on the scene and he stuck 
it in his belt until their greetings had been ended. Neither of 
them now knows of its whereabouts; that much is certain. 

He stood up suddenly and strode about the room, his hands 
clasped behind him. Going to the window, he peered out through 
the small panes of glass of the uncurtained upper half. There 
burned the light across the dusk a patch of jeweled color in 
the far-off western sky. Yet it awakened no emotion at all. 

His mind was engaged in the most intricate process of 
thought. He deduced a hundred conclusions and rejected them 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 93 

with equal promptitude. He greatly admired General Arnold 
as the bravest leader in the line, whose courage, whose heroism, 
whose fearlessness had brought him signal successes. There was 
no more popular soldier in the army, no one more capable of 
more effective service. To have his career clogged or goaded 
by a woman, who when she either loves or hates will dare any- 
thing, would be a dreadful calamity. Yet it seemed as if he had 
surrendered his better self. 

This man Anderson puzzled him. Personally he was dis- 
posed to dislike him, that being the logical effect of his relations 
with him. At the Coffee House, where he had met him, and 
where he had suffered his better judgment to become dormant, 
it was this man who had brought him to the pitch of irritation 
by means of a religious argument, while at the trial it was the 
same Anderson who appeared as an excellent witness and who, 
by his clever, deliberate and self-possessed manner, made a strong 
point for the Colonel in the minds of the Court. 

What was his origin? That he might never know, for of all 
subjects, this was the most artfully avoided. In the capacity of 
a civilian, he was engaged in no fixed occupation so far as could 
be learned, and it was commonly known that he was a frequent 
visitor at the Governor's Mansion. That he did not belong to the 
service, he knew very well, unless the man was affecting a dis- 
guise; this, however, he thought highly improbable. The French 
Alliance had been further confirmed by the arrival of the fleet, 
which brought many strangers to the city. Now, as he thought 
of it, he had a certain manner about him somewhat characteristic 
of the French people, and it was entirely possible that he might 
have disembarked with the French visitors. He was a mystery 

"Strange I should stumble across this chap," he mumbled to 

Stephen awoke with a start. Just what the hour was, he 
could not know, for it was intensely dark. He reckoned that it 
could not be long after midnight, for it seemed as if he had 
scarcely fallen asleep. But there was a wonderful burst of light 
to his mind, a complete clarity of thought into which those often 
awake, who have fallen asleep in a state of great mental conflict. 
He opened his eyes and, as it were, beheld all that he was about 
to do; there was also a very vivid memory of his experience 
of the evening. 

He arose hurriedly and struck a light. He seized the letter 
in search of the momentous something that had dawned upon 

94 THE LOYALIST [April, 

him with wonderful intensity, as often happens when reflection is 
allowed to ebb. 

"Company Thirteen," he remarked with deliberate empha- 
sis. "That must be the key." 

And seizing a paper he wrote the order of letters which he 
had copied from the note a few hours before. H V A N L A D 
E R I I G. He stopped at the thirteenth, and began a second line 
immediately under the line he had just written. 


It inserted perfectly when read up and down beginning with 
the letter "H." He completed the sentence: HAVE ARNOLD 

He could not believe his eyes. What did it all mean? What 
regiment was this? Why should this be sent from a British 
Officer to Peggy Shippen? There were mixed considerations here. 

There was a satisfaction, a very great satisfaction in the 
knowledge that he was not entirely mistaken in his suspicions 
concerning Peggy. She was in communication with the British and 
perhaps had been for some time. This fact in itself was perfectly 
plain. The proof of it lay in his hand. Whether or not his Ex- 
cellency was involved in the nefarious work was quite another 
question. The mere fact of the note being in his possession sig- 
nified nothing, or if anything, no more than a coincidence. He 
might have read the note and be, at the same time, entirely 
ignorant of the cipher, or he might have received this hidden 
information from the lips of Peggy herself, who undoubtedly had 
deciphered it at once. 

Yet what was the meaning of it all? There was no new call 
for volunteers, although, heaven knows, there was an urgent need 
of them, the more especially after the severe winter endured at 
Valley Forge. Recruits had become exceedingly scarce, many of 
whom were already deserting to the British Army at the rate of 
over a hundred a month, while those who remained were with- 
out food or clothing. And when they were paid, they could buy 
only with the greatest difficulty a single bushel of wheat from 
the fruits of their four months' labor. Should it prove to be true 
that a new army was about to be recruited, why should the enemy 
be so much interested? The new set of difficulties into which he 
was now involved were more intricate than before. 

He extinguished the light and went to bed. 

The next day a number of copies of the New York Gazette 
and Weekly Mercury of the issue of July 13, 1778, found their 
way into the city. They were found to contain the following 
advertisement : 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 95 


Gentlemen Volunteers, 

Who are willing to serve in his Majesty's Regiment of 
Roman Catholic Volunteers, 

Commanded by 
Lieutenant-Colonel Commandant, 

During the present wanton and unnatural Rebellion, 


The sum of FOUR POUNDS, 
will be given above the usual Hounty, 

A suit of NEW CLOTHES 

And every other necessary to complete a Gentleman soldier. 
Those who are willing to show their attachment to their 
King and country by engaging in the above regiment, will call 
at Captain M'Kennon, at No. 51, in Cherry-street, near the Ship 
Yards, NEW YORK, or at Major John Lynch, encamped at Yel- 
low-Hook, where they will receive present pay and good 

N. B. Any person bringing a well-bodied loyal subject to 
either of the above places, shall receive ONE GUINEA for his 

God Save the King. 


It was not until the following Wednesday night that John 
Anderson was ready to pay his respects to Miss Marjorie. 

He had worked on the miniature since Saturday, and had 
regarded his finished product with eminent satisfaction. He 
had drawn her as she appeared to him on the night of the re- 
ception in the pose which he had best remembered her during 
the interval when she sat out the dance with him; her head 
turned partly towards him, revealing her small oval face sur- 
mounted by a wealth of brown hair, powdered to a gray; her 
small nose, with just a suggestion of a dilatation, lending to the 
face an expression of strength that the rest of the countenance 
only gave color to; the mouth, firmly set, its lines curving up- 
ward, as it should be, to harmonize with her disposition; the 
eyes, a soft brown, full of candor and sincerity, delicately shad- 
owed by slender and arched eyebrows on a smooth forehead. 

Marjorie could not conceal her enthusiasm as he handed 
it to her. Unable to restrain her curiosity, she arose hurriedly 
and went to the window to benefit by the less obscure light. 

"Is? am I as pretty as that?" she exclaimed from her van- 
tage point, without lifting her eyes from the portrait. 

96 THE LOYALIST [April, 

"Only more so," responded Anderson. "My memory poorly 
served me." 

"Lud!" she remarked, holding it at arms length from her, 
" 'tis vastly flattering. I scarce recognize myself." She returned 
to her chair. 

"I swear on my honor, that it fails to do you full justice." 

She continued to study it, paying but little heed to his re- 
mark. It was a water-colored portrait done on ivory of the most 
delicate workmanship and design, set in a fine gold case, deli- 
cately engraved, the whole presenting an appearance of beauty, 
richly colored. She turned it over and saw the letters J. A. M. A. 
interlaced over the triplet: 

"Hours fly; flowers die; 
New days, new ways, 
Pass by. Love stays." 

"It is very pretty," was her only comment. 

"Hast no one told thee how well thou might appear in a 
ball gown?" 

"I ne'er gave thought to such." 

"Nor what an impression thou wouldst make at Court?" 

"Hast thou seen court beauties?" 

She resolved to learn more about him. 

"Aye! Oft have I been in their company." 

"At St. James?" 

"No! Much as I would have been pleased to. I know only 

So she thought he must be a French nobleman, who, like La 
Fayette, had incurred the royal displeasure by running away from 
court to fit out a vessel at his own expense in the hope of further- 
ing the cause of the Colonists. The great impulse given to the 
hopes of the disheartened population by the chivalrous exploit 
of the latter, the sensation produced both by his departure from 
Europe and his appearance in this country, might behold a 
glorious repetition in the person of this unknown visitor. Her 
interest grew apace. 

"It was magnanimous of His Majesty to take our cause to 
his heart. We can never fail in our gratitude." 

"It is only natural for man to resist oppression. It has been 
written that it is only the meek who should possess the land." 

"An ideal which is often badly shattered by the selfish am- 
bitions and perverse passions of godless men." 

"You are a Catholic?" he asked suddenly. 

"I am proud of it." 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 97 

"And your fellow patriots are of the same form of worship?" 

"A goodly proportion of them." 

"How many might you assume?" 

"I scarce know. We have no method of compiling our num- 
bers, not even our total population." 

"Surely there must be a great percentage, if one considers 
the influx from France and England, not to mention Ireland, 
whence many fled from persecution." 

"I once heard Father Farmer say that there must be over 
seven thousand Catholics in Pennsylvania, while Maryland has 
about fifteen thousand. Whatever there remain are much scat- 
tered, except, of course, New York with its thousand." 

"I never dreamt they were so numerous! So great is the 
spirit of intolerance that the wonder is that a single Catholic 
would remain in the Colonies." 

"I know it. Formerly Maryland and Pennsylvania were the 
two only colonies where Catholics were allowed to reside, and 
even there were excluded from any civil or military office. And 
the time has not yet arrived for complete religious freedom, 
though the arrival of the French fleet, with its Catholic army and 
Catholic Chaplains, will make a favorable impression upon our 
less enlightened oppressors." 

"It seems strange that you should throw in your lot with 
a people who prove so intolerant." 

"Father Farmer, our pastor, says that no influence must 
ever be used except for the national cause, for we must be quick- 
ened by the hope of better days. He pleaded with his people to 
remain faithful and promised the undivided sympathy of his 
fellow priests with their kinsmen in the struggle. For these 
reasons I hardly think that many Catholics will desert the cause." 

"Yet you must know that it was England that bestowed the 
most liberal grants to the inhabitants of the Northwest territory." 

"You mean the Quebec Act?" she asked. 

"Yes. And you know that Canada would be allied with you, 
heart and soul, were it not for the intolerant spirit of your fellow 

"Perhaps it would." 

"But would it not be better" 

"Do you mean to suggest to me that we turn traitor," she 
interrupted, as she turned full upon him, her eyes flashing and 
betraying intense feeling. 

"No pardon I meant no offence. The fact is I was 
only remarking on the sad plight of our co-religionists." 

"I fail to perceive how ill we fare. Our compatriots render 

VOL. CXI. 7 

98 THE LOYALIST [April, 

us honor and as Father Farmer says, we may cherish the hope 
of better days, which are inevitable. You must know that one 
of the signers of the Declaration of Independence is a Catholic; 
that a goodly number are to be found in the Congress; and that 
the army and navy each have a considerable quota." 

"Are there Catholic votes in Congress?" 

"Assuredly. The Declaration of Independence was first read 
to the public by a Catholic, and you must know that Washing- 
ton's 'Life Guard,' a choice body of men, is largely Catholic, 
and Captain Meagher, whom, perhaps, you know," and she 
glanced at him with a merry twinkle, "is of our way of believing 
and General Washington's Aid-de-camp." 

And so they talked. Marjorie was absorbed in her subject, 
once her religion became the topic, and she almost forgot her 
game in regard to her visitor. She desired to appear to the best 
advantage, for which purpose she talked freely, in the hope of 
extracting some information from him concerning himself and 
his intents. Still, however, there was another extreme which, 
though apparently less dangerous, was to be avoided. The imag- 
inations of men are in a great measure under the control of their 
feelings, and it was necessary for her to abstain from giving out 
too much information that might deflect from its purpose the 
very object she sought to attain. 

And yet there was a subtle influence about him, an adroitness 
of speech, a precision of movement which, unless sufficiently 
guarded against, was insidious. He had the most wonderful 
way of getting one's confidence, not only by reason of his genial 
and affable disposition, but also by his apparent and deliberate 
sincerity. And while it was true that she had determined upon 
a method which was originally intended to redound to her own 
advantage, she soon learned that she was playing with a boom- 
erang which put her upon the defensive against the very strategy 
she had herself planned. 

He was not sincere in his protestations of admiration; that 
she perceived immediately. But she was resolved to let him 
think that she believed him in order that she might discover his 
real intents and purposes. Her knowledge of human nature was 
sufficient to enable her to conclude that one cannot unite the in- 
compatible elements of truth and deception, the discernment of 
reality and the enjoyment of fiction for any great length of time. 
The reality is bound to appear. 

For this reason she was not disposed to dismiss him at once, 
but rather to allow him to call and see her frequently, if need 
be, until she had been thoroughly satisfied as to his true character. 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 99 

Nevertheless, she sensed, at this very moment, that she was play- 
ing with a skillful adversary, one thoroughly versed in the game 
of diplomacy, against whom she would be called upon to employ 
every manner of weapon at her command. She realized the 
weight of the foe, and thought she understood her tactics. So 
she accepted the challenge. 

"You are interested in Captain Meagher?" he asked serenely. 

There was a pause. Marjorie looked slightly perturbed. 

"Well, she confessed, "there is this much about him. I 
chanced to know the details of the offence with which he has 
been charged and I am naturally interested to learn the result 
of his trial." 

"He may be found guilty," he quietly announced. 

"Why do you say that?" 

"The evidence was wholly against him." 

"And there was no testimony to the effect that Colonel For- 
rest was somewhat intoxicated, or that he spoke disparaging 
words against the captain's co-religionists, or that he attacked the 
character of the Commander-in-chief?" 

"There was to some extent, but it did not seem to make any 

"I presume that you know the reason." Her eyes gleamed a 

"Why?" There was a pause. "The verdict has not been 
given. I shall be pleased to inform you of it at the earliest 

"Thank you. I shall be delighted. But lets not talk about 
it any more," she added. "Let's leave it." 

Mr. Anderson smiled. 

It was perhaps an hour after dawn that Stephen awoke for 
about the third or fourth time that night; for the conflict still 
surged within him and would give him no peace. And, as he 
lay there, awake in an instant, staring into the brightness of the 
morn, once more weighing the mysterious disclosures of the 
evening, swayed by the desire for action at one moment, over- 
come with sadness at the next, the thought of the verdict of his 
trial occurred to him and made him rise very hurriedly. 

He was an early arrival at the Headquarters. There had 
been several matters disposed of during the preceding day and 
the verdicts would be announced together. The room where the 
Court was being held was already stirring with commotion; his 
judge-advocate was there, as was Colonel Forrest, Mr. Anderson, 
several members of the General's staff, and Mr. Allison, who 

100 THE LOYALIST [April, 

had sought entry lo learn the outcome of the trial. Suddenly 
a dull, solemn silence settled over all as the members of the Court 
filed slowly into the room. 

They took their places with their usual dignity, and began 
to dispose of the several cases in their turn. When that of Cap- 
tain Meagher was reached, Stephen was ordered to appear before 
the Court and hear the sentence. 

He took his place before them with perfect calmness. He 
observed that not one of them ventured to meet his eye as he 
awaited their utterance. 

They found that he was not justified in making the attack 
upon a superior officer notwithstanding the alleged cause for 
provocation, and that he was imprudent in his action, yet be- 
cause of his good character, as testified to by his superior officers, 
because of the mitigating circumstances which had been brought 
to light by the testimony of the witnesses during the course of 
the trial, and because the act had been committed without malice 
or criminal intent, he was found not guilty of any violation of 
the Articles of War, but imprudent in his action, for which 
cause he had been sentenced to receive a reprimand from the 
Military Governor. 

Stephen spoke not a word to any one as he made his way 
back to his seat. Why could they not have given him a clear 
verdict? Either he was guilty or he was not guilty. He could not 
be misled by the sugary phrases in which the vote of censure 
had been couched. The Court had been against him from the 

At any rate, he thought, the reprimand would be only a 
matter of form. Its execution lay wholly with him who was 
to administer it. The Court could not, by law, indicate its sever- 
ity, nor its lenity, nor indeed add anything in regard to its exe- 
cution, save to direct that it should be administered by the com- 
mander who convened the Court. And while it was undoubtedly 
the general intention of the court-martial to impose a mild pun- 
ishment, yet the quality of the reprimand must be left entirely 
to the discretion of the authority commissioned to utter it. 

When Stephen appeared before the Military Governor at the 
termination of the business of the day, he was seized with a great 
fury, one of those angers which for a while poison the air with- 
out obscuring the mind. There was an unkind look on the face 
of the Governor, which he did not like and which indicated to 
him that all would not be pleasant. He bowed his head in 
answer to his name. 

"Captain Meagher," the Governor began. "You have been 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 101 

found guilty by the Regimental Court-Martial of an action which 
was highly imprudent. You have been led, perhaps by an in- 
fatuate zeal in behalf of those whom you term your co-religionists, 
to the committal of an offence upon the person of your superior 
officer. It is because of this fact that I find it my sad duty to 
reprimand you severely for your misguided ardor and to ad- 
monish you, together with the other members of your sect, of 
whom an unfair representation is already found in the halls of 
our Congress and in the ranks of our forces, lest similar out- 
breaks occur again. Did you but know this eye only lately 
saw the members of that same Congress at Mass for the soul of 
a Roman Catholic in purgatory, and participating in the rites of 
a Church whose anti-Christian corruptions your pious ancestors 
would have witnessed with their blood. The army must not 
witness similar outbreaks of religious zeal in the future." 

He finished. Stephen left the room without a word, turned 
on his heel and made his way down the street. 

Nature is a great restorer when she pours into the gaping 
wounds of the jaded system the oil and wine of repose. Divine 
grace administers the same narcotic to the soul crushed by tor- 
ture and anguish. It is then that tears are dried, and that afflic- 
tions and crosses become sweet. 

Desolation, a very lonely desolation, and a deep sense of 
helplessness filled the soul of Stephen as he retraced his steps 
from the court room. His life seemed a great burden to him, 
his hopes were swallowed up in his bereavement. If he could 
but remove his mind from this travail of disappointments and 
bitterness, if his soul could only soar aloft in prayer to the 
realms of bliss and repose, he might endure this bitter humilia- 
tion. He felt the great need of prayer, humble, submissive prayer. 
Oh! if he could only pray! 

He was invisibly directed into the little doorway of St. 
Joseph's. His feeling was like that of the storm tossed mariner 
as he securely steers for the beacon light. The church was nearly 
empty, save for a bare half dozen people who occupied seats at 
various intervals. They were alone in their contemplation before 
their God, without beads or prayer book, intent only upon the 
Divine Person concealed within the tabernacle walls, and an- 
nounced by the flickering red flame in the little lamp before 
the altar. Here he felt himself removed from the world and its 
affairs, as if enclosed in a strange parenthesis, set off from all 
other consideration. And straightway, his soul was carried off 
into a calm, pure, lofty region of consolation and repose. 

102 THE LOYALIST [April, 

To the human soul prayer is like the beams of light which 
seem to connect sun and earth. It raises the soul aloft and trans- 
ports it to another and a better world. There, basking in the 
light of the Divine Presence, it is strengthened to meet the im- 
pending conflict. Nothing escapes the all-seeing eye of God. He 
only waits for the prayer of his children, eager to grant their 
requests. Nothing is denied to faith and love. Neither can 
measure be set to the divine bounty. 

"Miserere mei, Deus; secundum magnam misercordiam 
tuam Have mercy on me, O God, according to Thy great mercy." 

Stephen buried his face in his hands, in an agony of conflict. 

The tone of the Military Governor's reprimand had left no 
room for speculation as to his true intents and purposes. What- 
ever rebuke had been administered to him was intended for the 
Catholic population, otherwise there was no reason for hold- 
ing up to reprobation the conduct of the body governing the 
Republic. The mere fact that the Governor despised the Con- 
gress was an unworthy, as well as an insufficient, motive for the 

The humiliated soldier felt incapable of bearing the insult 
without murmuring, yet he willed to accept it with perfect resig- 
nation and submission. For a time he had fought against it. 
But in the church he felt seized by an invisible force. On a 
sudden the invisible tension seemed to dissolve like a gray mist, 
hovering over a lake, and began to give place to a solemn and 
tender sweetness. 

"Miserere mei Deus." 

He sought refuge in the arms of God, crying aloud to Him 
for His mercy. He would give his soul up to prayer and commit 
his troubled spirit into the hands of his intercessors before the 
throne of heaven. 

"Accept my punishments for the soul who is about to be 

All his life he had an ardent devotion to the suffering souls 
in purgatory. Years before he had made a voluntary offering of 
all his works of satisfaction done in this life, as well as all the 
suffrages which would be offered for him after his death in favor 
of the Holy Souls. This heroic act of charity he had never with- 
drawn. For he believed firmly, as he had been taught 
by his Church to believe, that the penalty of sin was not entirely 
remitted with the guilt, and that there existed a place of purga- 
tion for the souls of the just who were not entirely purified at the 
time of their departure from this life. 

To them, then, he poured forth the bitterness of his heart, 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 103 

offering in their behalf, through the intercession of the Virgin 
Mary, the cross which had been imposed upon him. The injus- 
tice of his trial which he knew, or thought he knew, had been 
tempered by the spirit of intolerance, was brought home to him 
in full vigor by the severity of his reprimand. He did not deserve 
it, no he could not force himself to believe that he did, yet he 
accepted it generously though painfully, in behalf of the suf- 
ferings of his friends. 

He besought them to pray for him, that he might the more 
worthily endure his cross. He prayed for his tormentors that 
they might be not held culpable for their error. He intrusted 
himself entirely into the hands of his departed friends and re- 
newed with a greater fervor his act of consecration. 

"I beseech Thee, O my God, to accept and confirm this 
offering for Thy honor and the salvation of my soul. Amen." 

He arose from his pew, made a genuflection before the Blessed 
Sacrament saying as he did so, "My Lord and My God," blessed 
himself with the holy water, and left the church. 

In the meantime an event of rare importance had occurred 
in the garden of the Shippen home. There, in the recesses of 
the tulips sheltered behind the clustering hydrangeas, Peggy ac- 
cepted the fervent suit of the Military Governor and gave him 
her promise to become his bride. A few days later the world 
was informed of the betrothal and nodded its head in astonish- 
ment and, opening its lips, sought relief in many words. 

The wheels of destiny began to turn. 



flew Boohs, 


Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co. $3.00. 

This book fills a gap in the history of immigration to this 
country. Irish, English, French, Spaniards, Dutch immigrants 
have valuable historical records as to the origin and development 
of their colonies in the United States. But the races, whose im- 
migration goes back only a short distance, such as the Southern 
Slavs, Hungarians, Finns and Italians, lack such records. It is 
therefore to be hoped that Mr. Capek will find imitators among 
the other races. Books like his, so filled with data and statistics, 
not only enrich the history of an expanding people, but throw in 
high relief the spiritual contribution of the various ethnical ele- 
ments of Europe to the building up of greater America. They 
are most serviceable in the wide campaign for Americanization. 

In 1890, Peter Hronst published a solid volume on The Cech 
Catholic Settlements in America (1890), and in 1910 E. B. Balch 
(Our Slavic Fellow Citizens'), and John Habenicht (History of the 
Cechs in America) gathered interesting historical material on 
the Bohemian immigrants. These books dwelt upon the eco- 
nomic life of the immigrants rather than upon their cultural de- 
velopment. Mr. Capek aims to complete the work of these his- 
torians. He throws light upon the various manifestations of the 
activity of his countrymen in the United States. His picture 
leaves no detail obscure so long as he writes without religious or 
political preconceptions. 

But he seems anxious, at times, to give prominence to the 
wrongs suffered by Protestants in Bohemia, or to their ephemeral 
growth in this country. The first chapter, for instance, is the 
history of the Catholic reaction in Bohemia in the first quarter 
of the seventeenth century. We fail to see the logical connec- 
tion between that chapter and the subject under treatment. This 
emerges at page twenty-nine, where the statistics of Bohemian 
and Moravian immigration from 1850 to 1860 are to be found. 

The most important sections of the volume are devoted to the 
literary and the religious history of the Bohemians in America. 
The religious life of Bohemians is treated in two distinct chapters. 
The one entitled "Rationalism" is a sad picture of the decay of 
Bohemian Catholicism in America. "It is perhaps not too much 
to say that fifty per cent of the Cechs in America have seceded 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 105 

from their old-country faith." Our author is convinced that "the 
strength of the secessionists is nearer sixty or seventy per cent 
than fifty" (p. 119). A shameful press, filled with sarcastic 
venom towards the Catholic faith, has done its utmost to mislead 
Catholic Bohemians into rationalism, and unfortunately suc- 
ceeded. Anti-Catholic propaganda was supported by some ex- 
priests, who, led astray by nationalistic aims, renounced their 
faith. This was also, of course, aided by a strong Protestant 
proselytism. Statistics show how strong this proselytism grows. 
The Jan Hus Presbyterian Church alone in New York has a Sun- 
day school frequented by 1,057 children. Hence it follows that 
Rationalism and Protestantism little by little are choking Bohe- 
mian Catholicism. There is much talk about the Italian religious 
problem in the American Catholic Press, but no attention is paid 
to the dangers threatening the faith of Catholic Slavs. 

The writer devotes twenty-five pages to the lives of the lead- 
ers of anti-clericalism, anti-Catholicism, and Protestantism among 
his countrymen, and only one to the Catholic apostolate. This 
partiality deprives his book of some highly interesting pages as to 
the apostolic zeal of Monsignor Joseph Hessoun, the Benedictines 
of Chicago, the Bohemian Catholic Press. Fortunately, the notice 
of J. Sinkmayer in the Catholic Encyclopedia balances this omis- 
sion, and shows that Catholicism produces everywhere the same 
fruits of zeal and holiness. 

The copious bibliography in this volume deserves special com- 
plimentary mention. 

SCHOOLS OF TOMORROW. By John Dewey. New York: E. P. 

Dutton & Co. $2.00. 

Dr. Dewey has done a considerable service for the world of 
education, in this, his latest book. The Schools of Tomorrow 
indicate the real weakness of the present American educational 
conditions. By this means the author opens up to the thinking 
portion of those, to whose trust the future welfare of the rising 
generation has been enjoined, a fertile field for investigation. 
Not only has John Dewey helped by this process of negation to 
point out the shortcomings of our common schools, but he has 
cleared the way to begin a positive, constructive work of better- 

By a judicious use of sound epistomology, the educators of 
today can now take up this work, begun by Dewey, and lift our 
American school theory out of its arid and lifeless state into one 
that is sound and healthy, one that will produce for us results 
such as were produced by the schools which preceded us. 

106 NEW BOOKS [April, 

Abstracting from the incorrect criteriology and baseless as- 
sumptions, such as were made on pages 11, 26, 31, 115, 134, 135, 
138, 160, 232, 304, 306, and 315, which mar to no little extent this 
volume and its influence, Schools of Tomorrow is a strong de- 
fence of the concepts of education, given us by the Divine Teacher 
and now jealously guarded by the Church which He came on 
earth to found. The function of Christian elementary educa- 
tion has always been to develop the tools and powers by means of 
subject-matter, adapted to the capacity of the pupil. To learn 
by doing, has ever been the basal concept of education as carried 
out by those, who still maintain that all truth is one. "Not every- 
one that saith, Lord, Lord shall enter the kingdom of heaven, 
but he who doth the will of My Father, he shall enter the king- 
dom of heaven." 

The principles, which Dewey points out as fundamental, are 
not something new, as the title and presentation of the subject- 
matter of this book would lead the reader to suppose. They are 
the principles, championed by the leaders of Christian education, 
in every age; principles which, if followed, would remove the 
baneful influence of political corruption and return the educative 
process to its natural and proper position, viz.: one primarily 
under the parent and secondarily belonging to the State. Until 
this is done, the schools of tomorrow, will not produce the citi- 
zens of character and utility, which our country sorely needs. 

For special notice and usefulness we commend to all teachers 
Chapters III., IV. and VIII. 

THE STATE AND THE NATION. By Edward Jenks, M.A., B.C.L. 

New York: E. P. Dutton & Co. $2.00. 

This book is an expansion of the author's earlier work, A 
Short History of Politics. About one-half the text is in the field 
of history factual and more or less hypothetical. There are 
chapters on primitive institutions, patriarchal institutions, the 
birth of the State, and feudalism. In the latter part of the book 
the State is discussed in relation to public order, political repre- 
sentation, legislation, property and industry. 

Although the average man makes little or no distinction be- 
tween the State and the nation, the majority of writers on political 
science do distinguish between them. However, their distinc- 
tion is not the one adopted by Mr. Jenks. As a history of social 
institutions on their political side, the book has very considerable 
value. The final chapter, "Proposals of Change," is an inter- 
esting summary, but the judgments that it contains will not com- 
mand universal assent. 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 107 

well. Boston: The Cornhill Co. 

Any division that has accomplished so much as did the 
Twenty-sixth is deserving of some lasting record of its achieve- 
ments. Few can claim so many noteworthy distinctions as this 
New England unit, organized, equipped, trained and led in battle 
by its beloved leader, General Clarence Edwards. 

While other divisions were still in training, even while public 
attention was focused on the Rainbow, the boys of New England 
slipped away from Hoboken and Canada and instead of being in 
training at Camp Greene, North Carolina, were actually the first 
National Guard Division in the fighting area, and fired the first 
divisional shot in the War. 

The rest of the division's work was marked by the same 
eagerness to do the impossible and an esprit de corps that sus- 
tained it to success. The book pays a wonderful tribute to Gen- 
eral Edwards and his men a tribute in every way deserved. 

The author in doing this necessary service for the New Eng- 
land fighters has written a chapter of American history that will 
never cease to inspire future Americans. 

DUST OF NEW YORK. By Konrad Bercovici. New York: Boni 

& Liveright. $1.60. 

"New York is an orchestra playing a symphony," says Konrad 
Bercovici in the opening sentence of this unusual and fascinating 
volume. And, as the book proceeds, you are convinced that he is 
right. It is a vast symphony, and many of the players are foreign. 
Their tune is old Human Nature, albeit set mostly in a minor key. 

The book consists of a series of sketches describing the vari- 
ous foreign centres of the metropolis. Each has its little, clean- 
cut plot, its vivid characters, its daubs of rich, enlivening color. 
The author has succeeded in catching some of the constant ro- 
mance with which the East Side throbs, and he has set it down 
with more than mere journalistic skill. Sketches of our foreign 
populace in the metropolis are not uncommon. Writers flock to 
that field for inspiration. But few of them actually understand 
the life lived in that vast seething section. Bercovici does under- 
stand it, and he possesses the added gift of being able to put it into 
words. Consequently his stories are vibrant with intense ro- 
mance; he crystallizes on his page the humor and tears of a dozen 
different nationalities. He has done for New York what Thomas 
Burke has done for London in his London Nights, only he has 
done it infinitely better. Bercovici is an observer and content to 
be that, Burke a romancer with a set formula for finding romance 

108 NEW BOOKS [April, 

and writing it. In Burke's stories you read a great deal of Burke 
and little of London; in Bercovici you learn a great deal about 
New York and very little about Konrad Bercovici. 

"Because Cohen Could Neither Read Nor Write," an incom- 
parable cross-section of Semitic life, tells of the progress of a 
young Jew who missed being a synagogue attendant and blos- 
somed out into great riches. "All In One Wild Rumanian Song" 
reveals a quick, vivid tragedy of the Rumanian section. "The 
Little Man of 28th Street," to name just one more of these re- 
markable sketches, has a denouement that would have been the 
envy of O. Henry. 

Here is a modest volume, put out modestly, and not advertised 
with vain boastings on its jacket. To those blessed with literary 
discernment, it should prove a real find and an amazing treat. 

THE TRAGEDY OF LABOR. By William Riley Halstead. New 

York: The Abingdon Press. 50 cents. 

Private property is essential to human welfare; neither the 
wage system nor the system of private capital is essentially un- 
just; but the insecurity of employment at adequate wages is a 
very great evil feature of the system, and it must be remedied by 
society; class combinations, whether of labor or of capital, must 
not be permitted to exact unjust tribute from society; Socialism 
would not prove a genuine remedy for the abuses of the present 
system, but public ownership and operation of all monopolistic 
public utilities is desirable and probably inevitable. These are 
the main propositions of this little book. They are not startling, 
nor even new, but they are set forth in an excellent spirit and in 
an attractive style. 

THE JUDGMENT OF PEACE. Translated from the German of 
Andreas Latzko. New York: Boni & Liveright. $1.75 net. 
The author, an officer in the Austrian army, has dedicated his 
novel to Remain Holland, whom he calls his great compatriot in 
the love of man. It is a powerful and tragic sketch of war seen 
from the point of view of a great pianist who volunteers in a fer- 
vor of patriotism for the Fatherland, and who comes to feel noth- 
ing but hatred for a world which goes about its pleasure and 
teaches children fine sounding words about the glory and nobility 
of war while their fathers are being disemboweled. He attributes 
the War to a lack of high ideals and an inordinate love of power in 
individuals. In the mad race for money and success, the victors 
never paused to ask how the victims managed to carry out their 
broken lives just as he, himself, in the days of his musical 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 109 

triumphs had never given a thought to the poor shabby fellows 
who failed in their ambitions. 

One of the characters in the novel is a young German Ensign, 
a noble and sensitive personality, who, born into a country where 
the greatest virtue is physical bravery, leads a lonely, pathetic 
life, sneered at by his comrades, and at last, when he is dying 
like a frightened child in the enemy's hospital, finds a sym- 
pathetic friend in an old French nun. 

The Judgment of Peace appears to be the work of one who 
has gone through intense suffering by reason of the War, and 
whose life has become permanently embittered. Few writers 
equal his descriptions of the bloody agonies of the battlefield 
and his pictures of soldiers, but his outlook on life is morbid and 
gloomy. The only ray of optimism in the book are in the lines: 
"If you must feign a noble cause to lead men into drumfire, to 
fight and to die, how can you doubt their power to sacrifice and 
endure if you were to substitute a truly noble cause for lies and 


Boston: Little, Brown & Co. $1.50. 

On a very difficult and obscure subject, i. e., the relations be- 
tween will and vital functions, Dr. Walsh has written a most use- 
ful and entertaining book. His main thesis is that men permit 
their wills to become atrophied through lack of use. Dreads, fads, 
fancies, habits, indolence so inhibit the will, that it is practically 
inoperative. And this deplorable condition of will-degeneracy 
acts most potently and disastrously on all the organs. He as- 
serts that will has far more efficacy than medicine; that patent 
medicines as therapeutics are utterly valueless, but derive a sub- 
jective efficacy from the will and imagination of the patient. He 
maintains also that the smattering of physiology and hygiene 
taught in schools has done more harm than good, by directing the 
pupils' attention too much to the lapses and defects of their 

On the moot point of the use of alcohol as a medicine Dr. 
Walsh's conclusion is noteworthy. The physical effect of alcohol 
is depression, the psychic effect exaltation. The drug literally 
thus puts heart into the patient, and lessens his fear of evil conse- 
quences. "The patient can, with the scare lifted, use his will to 
be well, ever so much more effectively, and psychic factors are 
neutralized that were hampering his resistive vitality" (pp. 192, 

Dr. Walsh proves convincingly that a wise self-denial, a con- 

110 NEW BOOKS [April, 

scientious discharge of duty, and above all the crushing out of 
a morbid sense of self-pity, conduce to excellent health, personal 
happiness and in numerous cases to remarkable longevity. This 
book deserves nothing but praise. Every line coincides with the 
Catholic viewpoint. Every page embodies with the latest con- 
clusions of medical science, what is noble, pure and of good 

THE SCIENCE OF EATING. By Alfred W. McCann. New York: 

George H. Doran Co. $2.50. 

This book is as fascinating as a well-told novel. It is more 
important than a whole library of novels. It should be read by 
pastors and school teachers, by housewives and fathers of fami- 
lies. Mr. McCann is an expert, in the true sense of that much- 
abused word. He is an expert in foods, and in food-poisoning to 
boot. For more than five years he worked in a food laboratory, 
analyzing and experimenting. As the advertising manager of a 
food business handling $12,000,000 worth of prepared food-stuffs 
yearly, he learned "that no food reform can come through adver- 
tising as now conducted." 

Urged by a great desire to apply his knowledge to the cause 
of food-reform, and keenly aware that a large proportion of the 
foods most widely used today are adulterated or weakened, Mr. 
McCann obtained the backing of the New York Globe. Forty-one 
other newspapers in as many cities joined the Globe in using Mr. 
McCann's articles. But the advertising agencies, in the interests 
of their clients, the food manufacturers, exerted such pressure 
that all these newspapers, except the Globe and the Chicago 
Daily News, dropped Mr. McCann and his exposures of the food- 
poisoners and food-destroyers. Now, he declares, the only hope of 
reform lies in the education of children, and their parents, in the 
"science of eating," that is to say, in the practical knowledge of 
what foods are truly nourishing and what foods are harmful or 
worthless. This book provides the fundamental facts of such an 
education. It is worthy of the most serious consideration. 

POEMS, 1908-1919. By John Drinkwater. Boston: Houghton 

Mifflin Co. $2.00. 

These are the collected poems to date of the English critic 
and playwright whose dramatic portrait of Abraham Lincoln has 
of late been attracting large audiences to the English and Amer- 
ican theatres. The author scores his best success when he writes 
of the English countryside in these poems, but nearly all the 
others impress one as of mechanical construction and cold cor- 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 111 

redness; there is little or no spontaneity or lyric cry here. If 
Mr. Drinkwater is a poet at all, it is not so much by the grace 
of God as by dint of disproportionately hard labor. 


London: Keegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co. $1.00. 

The growth of harmony from the first crude organum and 
discant up to the most elaborate innovations are traced in an en- 
tertaining, as well as in a very instructive, manner in this 
little work. Teachers of very young children in music in our 
schools will find this work an excellent one in opening up the 
secrets of harmony to their young minds. Harmony should go 
hand in hand with instruction on any instrument of music from 
the very beginning, otherwise the pupil is getting but a one-sided 
education in the art of music. The author in this work has writ- 
ten in a clear and readable style, manifesting skill in the use of 
illustration and comparison, which shows him to be a teacher in 
the true sense of the word. Though written for the instruction 
of the beginner in the art of music, it will greatly interest ex- 
perienced musicians, who wish to follow the most recent develop- 
ments of harmony and keep pace with the most approved way 
of teaching it. 

JEREMY. By Hugh Walpole. New York : George H. Doran Co. 

$1.75 net. 

Mr. Walpole has here given a striking demonstration of 
his versatility, as well as his talent. As a successor to that 
powerful novel of Russia, The Secret City, he presents the lei- 
surely, detailed history of one year in the life of a boy, beginning 
on the day that he is eight. Jeremy Cole is the son of an Anglican 
clergyman, his home is in a Cathedral town, his surroundings 
and circumstances are typically those with which English novel- 
ists have made us thoroughly familiar. The book's interest and 
individuality are derived from nothing unusual; yet it possesses 
those qualities to a high degree. This is due to the elaborate 
sympathy and fidelity with which the author interprets the per- 
sonality of the boy. We share his likes and dislikes, we return 
to our own childhood in reading of the things that give him the 
deepest delight, we follow the workings of his acute little brain 
in the crude, harsh theology he deduces from his father's preach- 
ing. He is not a very good child, nor a prodigy, in any sense; but 
he is an engaging young philosopher, who shows the instincts 
and promise of a thoroughbred. We are loath to part from him 
when, at the end of the year, he is sent away to school. Inci- 

112 NEW BOOKS [April, 

dentally, nothing in recent fiction is more admirable than the 
subtly skillful indications given of the development of character 
that twelve months have wrought. 

Though Jeremy is the book's centre, he is not the whole. 
Mr. Walpole has enriched our acquaintance with a gallery of 
vivid characterizations. No less an achievement than the boy 
himself is the piteous figure of his younger sister, Mary, who 
adores him and passionately desires to entertain and engross 
him, yet accomplishes only his utter boredom. So well done is 
this that it introduces an almost tragic emotional note. Neverthe- 
less, the content is entirely normal, refreshingly free from senti- 
mentality on the one hand, or on the other, of the morbid and un- 

The book takes rank easily among Mr. Walpole's principal 
successes, a remarkably intimate, convincing study of childhood. 
It is not, however, appropriate reading for children, and should 
not be so represented by its publishers. 

BLACK SHEEP CHAPEL. By Margaret Baillie-Saunders. New 

York: George H. Doran Co. $1.50 net. 

This baffling bit of fiction conveys an inescapable impression 
that when its theme first presented itself to the author's mind, 
she seized it without taking account of its exacting nature. A 
plexus of motives and emotions confronts her, requiring all she 
has to bestow of painstaking skill, patient of no compromise; 
yet compromise is the keynote of her treatment. The supreme 
interest is the deliberate effort of a man, who is not a demoniac, 
to detach the soul of a boy, his illegitimate son, from religious 
influences and lure him, by means of sensuous and artistic ap- 
peals, to a worldly, self-indulgent life. The author has staged this 
spiritual drama, for the most part, in an attractively novel set- 
ting; she has written the first part with elaborate care: then, 
she begins to shirk the issues she has raised, not carrying them 
to their logical results. She gives us conclusions, when what 
we want, and should have, is analysis of the way in which they 
are reached; furthermore, it frequently happens that these con- 
clusions are neither consistent with what has preceded them nor 
substantiated by what follows. Nevertheless, the inherent 
strength of the theme survives the author's vacillating method. 
The book is not dull. This is due to recurrent manifestations of 
the picturesque and the dramatic which tantalizingly re-engage 
the attention, and show that lack of thoroughness, more than 
lack of ability, is responsible for the waste of opportunities in a 
production that intrigues, but does not satisfy. 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 113 

THE SOUL OF THE "C. R. B." By Madame Saint Rene Tail- 
landier. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. $1.75 net. 
Well acquainted as we have been made with the work of 
the Commission for Relief in Belgium, and with the conditions 
that obtained in that country and in the invaded portions of 
France, every fresh account is of interest, provided it is authori- 
tative. This quality is indisputable in the present work, Madame 
Taillandier's brother having been the French representative on 
Mr. Hoover's commission. Thus the book is written from a 
standpoint of intimate knowledge that makes it a valuable ad- 
dition to the literature of this subject; moreover it has literary 
quality, as might be expected from one who is a member of a 
group distinguished in both literature and public affairs. 

Recognition is due to the clearness and fluency of the trans- 
lation by Mary Cadwalader Jones. 


Peebles Wilson. Boston: The Cornhill Co. $2.50. 

The writer's purpose is to prove that the character of the 
famous John Brown as it has been presented for many years by 
his admirers, is an historical myth. Because of the years of 
political excitement and national unrest during which he lived, 
he has been exploited in oratory and poetry to the serious mis- 
construction of his acts and motives. His three biographers, 
James Redpath, Frank Sanborn and especially Oswald Garrison 
Villard, whose work on John Brown has been the authority since 
its publication in 1910, have, by suppressing and palliating facts, 
described him from a wholly partisan point of view. 

According to Mr. Wilson, the real John Brown was a cold- 
blooded, thoroughly mercenary, cruel adventurer who craftily 
used the guise of religion to further his ends. The crime of the 
Pottawottamie was the theft of a large number of horses by 
which Brown hoped to retrieve his fallen fortunes. To accom- 
plish this, and to safeguard the loot, it was necessary to murder 
the owners of the horses. The plans for the killing were accord- 
ingly laid several weeks before its occurrence, the principals be- 
ing John Brown, his unmarried sons, and four or five other con- 
federates. After the murders, the horses belonging to the vic- 
tims were run out of the country. This crime the author feels 
has been passed over too lightly. 

Brown's original purpose in coming to Kansas, according to 
his daughter, was to see "if something would not turn up to his 
advantage," not the high ideal of freeing the oppressed. The 
struggle between the Free State and the slavery party in Kansas 

VOL. CXI. 8 

114 NEW BOOKS [April, 

was increasing in bitterness. When Brown discovered that it was 
a money-making proposition to be on the side of the Free State 
party, he violently espoused the cause of abolition. 

The author states that there is not a scrap of evidence to 
prove that prior to 1855 Brown took any unusual interest in se- 
curing freedom for the slaves. Before coming to Kansas, he had 
been involved in several unsavory financial deals, and he sought 
there a new field. Letters and the testimony of witnesses given 
in Mr. Villard's book indicate that this interest was shown as 
early as 1834. In planning the uprising at Harper's Ferry, he 
counted on the cooperation of all the slaves, and hoped that, after 
massacring the white slave holders, he would come into a goodly 
share of the loot, and could maintain himself by means of the 
provisional government that his black army would aid him to set 
up. The plan was for the slaves to murder their masters when 
they slept, after the fashion of the terrible massacres of Santo 
Domingo. A religious hypocrite of the type of some of Crom- 
well's marauding soldiers, a swindler, a robber and midnight 
assassin such is the man whom his partisans have created one 
of our national heroes. 

This critique of John Brown would make a better impression 
if it were written in a less violent manner; had Mr. Wilson pre- 
sented his facts, and he seems to have a good case, in a calmer, 
more judicial manner, he would be more convincing to his read- 
ers. The biography by Mr. Villard is a most scholarly work, but 
his zeal for his hero led him too far, when oblivious to his faults, 
he claims his memory is "at once a sacred, a solemn and an in- 
spiring American heritage." Mr. Wilson, on the other hand, 
gloats over the low character and the crimes of John Brown. 
The impression one receives is that this generation is still too 
close to the bitterness of the Civil War to make a just estimate of 
this curious personality. 

VOLTAIRE IN HIS LETTERS. Being a Selection from His Cor- 
respondence. Translated with Preface and Forewords by S. 
G. Tallantyne. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons. $3.50 net. 
The letters in this volume have been selected, as the title 
attempts to indicate, with a view of displaying autobiographically 
salient features in the life and character of the great French deist. 
They succeed fairly well in accomplishing the purpose of the 
compiler. One may find here justification enough for Joubert's 
well-known verdict on Voltaire: "He had correctness of judg- 
ment, liveliness of imagination, nimble wits, quick taste, and a 
moral sense in ruins. He is the most debauched of spirits, and 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 115 

the worst of him is that one gets debauched along with him. If 
he had been a wise man, and had had the self-discipline of wis- 
dom, beyond a doubt half his wit would have been gone; it 
needed an atmosphere of license in order to play freely." 

His taste was not as unerring as it was quick. His literary 
judgments on Shakespeare, Milton, Pope, and the Greek drama- 
tists, judgments which are here exhibited in all their original 
arrogance, have exposed the arch-mocker to certain little revenges 
of Time, which he could not have anticipated. And he admired 
Lord Chesterfield! He was indeed capable of generous enthu- 
siasms and indignations, and some of his ideas on government 
and social justice were ahead of his age. But he is not, on that 
account, an oracle, as the compiler of this volume seems to think. 
Was it Carlyle who said that "the French Revolution was Truth 
dancing in hell-fire?" Why is Truth so often judged uninterest- 
ing unless it is recommended by that sinister setting? 


O'Brien. New York: Boni & Liveright. $1.75. 

Mr. Edward J. O'Brien has amply acquitted himself as a 
critic of the American short story by his yearly anthologies 
which he has sedulously, if somewhat arbitrarily, compiled for 
the last few years. With the assurance of these successes, he 
has turned his hand to the field of British fiction. In a volume 
equipped with a readable introduction on the chief exponents 
of the genre, and with brief biographical and bibliographical 
notes, he gives twenty-eight "great modern English stories." 
Twenty-seven writers and the last four or five decades are repre- 
sented. Hardy's "Three Strangers," Stevenson's "A Lodging for 
the Night," two stories by Kipling, and three or four more by 
other figures of the first rank find their place here; "The Fourth 
Magus," by R. B. Cunninghame Graham, a story of King Nicanor, 
a fourth Wise Man, who came in time to see the Saviour on 
Golgotha, is conceived in a genuinely fine spirit; but several of 
the selections are frankly jejune pieces by minor writers. One 
wonders what Mr. O'Brien's literary norm was in bringing to- 
gether stories of such uneven merit. In the introduction he ex- 
plains that the anthology is intended to include "a fair cross- 
section of the best that is now being done." But how he recon- 
ciles this statement with his exclusion of Conrad, Galsworthy, 
Jacobs, Merrick, Locke is not easy to see. Surely Conrad's 
"Youth," for example, would grace the pages far better than the 
dismal "Sick Collier," by D. H. Lawrence, or the strained and 
morbid "Birth," by Gilbert Cannan. The inclusion of the latter, 

116 NEW BOOKS [April, 

indeed, puts Mr. O'Brien's taste, as well as his critical judgment, 
in a questionable light. The bed-room theme, of which this is a 
variant, has of late been exploited in fiction and drama with a 
frequency that is matched only by its grossness. Holland Pert- 
wee's "Red and White," another story as objectionable, is de- 
scribed in the introduction as a delicate study in adolescence; in- 
delicate would be more exact. With so much to select from in 
modern English fiction that is wholesome and excellent, there 
seems to be no excuse for including such hectic examples of 
modernism in a collection which very easily might contain what 
really is the best that is now being done. 

PEEPS AT PEOPLE. By Robert Cortes Holliday. New York: 

George H. Doran Co. $1.25. 

This little book is made up of sketches written in an easy 
and graceful style, trifles light as air, which seem deceptively easy 
to do. Some one has said that there is nothing new under the 
sun and the reader of Peeps at People will see in Mr. Holliday 
a twentieth century inheritor of La Bruyere and Addison. "The 
Forgetful Tailor," "An Old Fogy," "A Nice Man," "Cramis, Patron 
of Art," are modernized and lightly done sketches of men whom 
the French delineator of the Courtier and the Poet, and the English 
creator of Sir Roger de Coverly would study with interest. Per- 
haps they might be surprised at the change in the character of 
their descendants, and possibly the descendants might be inter- 
ested to know that they had so long and honorable a lineage. 
The book is marked by a light humor and a boyish enthusiasm 
(of which the writer vainly tries to appear unconscious), as de- 
lightful as they are welcome. The preface is delectable. Read- 
ing between the lines one surmises that these thumb-nail sketches 
were firstlings which Mr. Holliday found tucked away in a for- 
gotten corner of his desk, and decided to print now that his repu- 
tation is established. The decision was wise and the discriminat- 
ing reader will not be lacking in appreciation. 

JUDITH. A Play in Three Acts. By Arnold Bennett. New 

York: George H. Doran Co. $1.00 net. 

The fecund and fertile Arnold Bennett has taken time enough 
away from his multitudinous tasks of turning out huge novels, 
short stories galore and innumerable essays, articles, reports of 
prize fights, and other lesser literary jobs, to turn the apocryphal 
book of Judith into "realistic" drama. The result will add 
another title to the already lengthy list of plays which forms one 
of the many subdivisions of Mr. Bennett's varied productions, 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 117 

but it is not likely to figure very extensively either in actual play 
bills or in the literature of the stage. 

Arnold Bennett attacks all his subjects with a glibness which 
is in many cases a mere mask for flippant incapacity. Looking 
upon himself, as he tells us in his own essays, as a completely 
formed literary craftsman, competent to do anything in the 
writing line from epics to puns, he has turned out the play of 
Judith with his customary verbal felicity, but has not succeeded 
in convincing us that tragic characters and events, especially 
those dealing with great passions and ideals, can be transmuted, 
in the shallow alembic of the modernistic mind, into shapes of 
enduring or even of temporary beauty. 

WHEN THE WORLD SHOOK. By H. Rider Haggard. New 

York: Longmans, Green & Co. $1.60. 

An author is always taking a gamble when he attempts 
to do a good thing twice. King Solomon's Mines and She, which 
terrorized and fascinated the childhood of the present generation, 
were excellent tales of the wild adventure-mystery sort and the 
popularity accorded them was justified. In his latest, When the 
World Shook, Rider Haggard has tried to do it again and, it must 
be said, puts out a pretty stupid tale. 

It tells of the wanderings of a rich man and his two com- 
panions, a scientist and a priest, who are thrown up on an island 
in the south Pacific during a gale, lose their yacht, and fall into 
the hands of the native cannibals. Escaping the cannibals, they 
go in search of the native gods, find their resting place in a mys- 
terious island in a lake, and rousing the great god Oro and his 
beautiful daughter from a sleep of a quarter of a million years 
or more, have a hair-raising time in the bowels of the earth. 
They learn of the War and see its ravages; they drink of the 
Water of Life, and finally come back to England safe and sound. 

If there were no other books to read, this might prove a 
pleasant diversion, but any grown-up will be skeptical from 
almost the first page. One wishes Rider Haggard had stopped 
writing tales of this sort twenty years ago. 

POETRY AND DREAMS. By F. C. Prescott. Boston: The Four 

Seas Co. $1.50. 

This is an unpretentious but learned and instructive study- 
well supplied with interesting footnotes and references of the 
psychology of poetry in the light of the Freudian theory of 
dreams. The author, who is a well-known professor of English, 
is obviously deeply read in the literature of his subject. 

118 NEW BOOKS [April, 


New Haven: Yale University Press. $1.35. 

When Colonel Arthur Woods delivered the subject matter 
of this small volume in a series of lectures in the Dodge Course 
at Yale University upon the "Responsibility of Citizenship," he 
spoke from a wealth of experiences gained as Police Commissioner 
of New York City. For that reason, if for no other, his words are 
authoritative and worthy of attention. 

He does not idealize the policeman nor does he paint him as 
either an automaton or a scoundrel. Much praise is mingled 
with a judicious study of the shortcomings of the city's guardians. 
But the faults that exist, both in the individual policeman and in 
the entire police regime, the writer lays to a lack of understand- 
ing on the part of the people at large of the relationship between 
the policeman and his work and the policeman and the people, 
with the result that there is a lack of appreciation by the public 
of the officers' real merit and a consequent reaction upon the at- 
titude of the policeman toward his work. 

The former commissioner points out, in a very practical way, 
the weakness in the police system, and after showing that most of 
it is due to the carelessness and ignorance of the public itself, 
strongly urges as a cure a closer rapproachement between the po- 
liceman and the people he protects. 

The little book is instructive and intensely interesting. 

THE BETRAYERS. By Hamilton Drummond. New York: E. P. 

Dutton & Co. $1.90. 

This historical romance has its mise-en-scene in the conflict 
between Pope Innocent IV. and Emperor Frederick II. of the 
Hohenstaufen line during the thirteenth century. The author 
shows his intense sympathy with the Emperor but, in his enthu- 
siasm, he has not done justice to the motives or judgment of the 
Pontiff. Innocent had been at one time a warm friend of Freder- 
ick, but events gave the Pope excellent reason to withhold con- 
fidence in the Emperor. The Hohenstaufen ruler had imprisoned 
the prelates, who were journeying to the Council which Gregory 
IX. had intended to hold at Rome. He promised Innocent, through 
the Papal legates, that the prelates would be released, that the 
States of the Church would be restored, and that the allies of the 
Pope would receive amnesty. But Frederick's insincerity became 
apparent when he secretly incited various tumults in Rome and 
refused to release the imprisoned prelates. The Pope, feeling that 
his freedom of action was hindered, decided to leave Italy. Has- 
tening from Sutri in disguise, he embarked on a Genoese vessel, 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 119 

which brought him safely to a friendly port. He took up abode 
at Lyons for six years, having nothing to fear in residence under 
the flags of St. Louis, King of France. At the famous Council 
of Lyons, Innocent solemnly excommunicated Frederick, deposed 
him, and ordered the princes of Germany to select a new ruler 
for the throne. 

Mr. Drummond has set his stage with interesting figures and 
thrown on his lights strongly, and has succeeded in creating a 
dramatic atmosphere; but with all his skill in theatrics he should 
be more fair to history. When a writer attempts to use real 
men and things, he should not subordinate the smallest fact to 
brilliancy of romantic episode and glamour of style. 


Chicago: Laird & Lee, Inc. 

This little messenger speaks with the wisdom of the 
ages. It shows that "all through our country's history 
there has run, like a golden thread, a deeply religious strain." 
It points out the deep religious fervor of Columbus, the intrust- 
ment to God of our nation's destiny by our great presidents and 
the success that has come because men had faith in the Almighty. 
In these irreligious days it calls men back to a new realization of 
God's providence. It shows that chaos only can come when re- 
ligious ideals are laid aside and lost. 

This book is a little treasure that not only should be on every 
man's book shelf, but also in every man's heart. 

THE BORN FOOL. By John Walter Byrd. New York: George 

H. Doran Co. $1.50. 

Environment and fate are strong factors in the life of Kirk 
Clinton, the central figure of this novel. Kirk is a sensitive and 
finely tempered young man, who from his earliest years has been 
a dreamer like Richard Jeffries, and, like him, a lover of the 
rich natural scenery about his home in the south of England. 
So vitally does his environment take hold of him that, when 
suffering under the restraint of a peculiar and unsympathetic 
father he leaves home and seeks work in a Yorkshire milling 
district, he finds it almost impossible to become inured to his new 
surroundings. Because he has left his father's home, fate de- 
cides that he must also bid farewell to the warmth, the beauty 
and the poetry of the country that he loved, and it seals his per- 
manence in the cold, repellent district in the north by his mar- 
riage with a working girl. The tragedy of Kirk's life is that he 
not only loathes his new home where he is obliged to remain, 

120 NEW BOOKS [April, 

but that he finds it impossible ever to love the coarse factory girl 
whom he has married through a sentiment of pity. The narrative 
element in the story, however, is less impressive than the atmos- 
phere and background. Throughout the hook the harsh indus- 
trial life and moorland scenery of Yorkshire are contrasted with 
the pleasantness of Southern England, and the fashioning of 
human life and character under natural influences is strongly 

TALKS TO PARENTS. By Joseph P. Conroy, S.J. New York: 

Benziger Brothers. $1.25 net. 

This little volume of short "talks" is full of good sense and 
good counsel, presented so informally and pleasantly that no 
impression of preachment is conveyed. Father Conroy has a keen 
eye for parents' faults and mistakes, and his reproofs are un- 
sparing; but he is equally cognizant of the problems and diffi- 
culties that beset the parental relation, and is most kindly sym- 
pathetic in dealing with them. It is a book for the people, prac- 
tical and helpful, and should have a place in all parish libraries. 

head. Boston: The Page Co. $1.50 net. 
Many youths do not know what it means to make their way 
in a large city far away from the encouragement and stimulation 
of home life. But many do know. And they will read with a 
somewhat more intimate interest Harold Whitehead's story of 
Peter Flint's search for success. Peter is not a choice and master 
spirit. He has his failings; but he finally learns the way of 
"making good." And while we cannot say with the old poet 
that the leader in the deed was of the feminine gender, still it 
must be admitted that the lady he is to marry in the chapter 
following the last, probably deserves some credit for his ambition 
and his will to do. 

SUNRISE FROM THE HILL-TOP. By Beatrice Barmby. New 

York: George H. Doran Co. $1.50 net. 

Though not remarkably original, the initial situation of this 
Anglo-American novel offers possibilities for original observation 
and fresh writing. The young English heroine gives up her 
middle-aged and titled fiance for the American lover who comes 
into her life in all the glamour of youth, ambition and boundless 
energy. The rest of the tale treats of her adjustment to Amer- 
ican conditions, and the final success of their marriage. The 
author seems to have written too hastily to work out the vein 
here with anything like convincingness. 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 121 

THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST. By W. H. Hudson. New York: 

George H. Doran Co. $3.50 net. 

The title of this book contains no suggestion of its charm. 
Mr. Hudson humorously explains in his preface, "all possible 
changes had been rung on general titles of a Naturalist," and, 
"in sheer desperation I took this title which would fit any work 
on Natural History ever published." 

We trust it will not frighten away those not acquainted 
with Mr. Hudson's work as an author and a naturalist who 
fear a scientific study or are only mildly interested in nature and 
her secrets. For one need not be a "naturalist" or a student of the 
subject to enjoy Mr. Hudson's book thoroughly. It is a series of 
delightful chapters: short, intimate stories of birds, beasts, and 
flowers, the fruits of observation of a man who has spent long 
years close to nature in many climes, and who combines with a 
deep affection for the things of which he writes, the gift of literary 

THE FIFTH STATION. By Thomas F. Coakley, D.D. Pitts- 
burgh: The Catholic Truth Society of Pittsburgh. $1.00. 
Only seven pages suffice for the content of this publication. 
Dr. Coakley, who was for sixteen months with the American 
Army in France, tells the story of a soldier who was for a long 
time grievously troubled because he could not say, from his heart, 
the words of the Fifth Station, "I accept in particular the death 
Thou hast destined for me," yet achieved a happy death while 
in the act of repeating those same words of submission and resig- 
nation. The little tale is told simply and touchingly, and is issued 
in a form so attractive as to be a veritable edition de luxe. 


Samuel McComb, D.D. New York: Dodd, Mead & Co. $1.50. 

This book aims to set forth in their proper perspective the 
arguments for the survival of the soul after death. It enumerates 
the ideas of immortality prevalent in various schools of thought, 
tells how the modern world envisages the problem, traces the 
causes of the waning belief in a hereafter, and states the positive 
arguments for the future life the desire for immortality, the 
moral argument, the proof founded on Christ's teaching and 
Resurrection and then, something one would hardly look for in 
such context, an argument from Spiritualism. The book em- 
bodies the reflections of many years, and contains a great deal of 
valuable matter presented in an interesting form. 

122 NEW BOOKS [April, 

In dealing, however, with materialism the author gives per- 
haps too much quarter to the stupidities of Haeckel, McCabe and 
Clodd whose assumption that the life of the soul ends with the 
life of the body has well been called "the most colossal instance 
of baseless assumption known to the history of philosophy." The 
argument from the unstilled desire of immortality is rather 
weakly presented, and at one point the moral argument hardly 
receives full justice at the author's hands. Dr. McComb leaves 
one under the impression that he judges the value of an argument 
not by its intrinsic validity, but by its fitness to beget conviction 
in minds of widely different calibre. 

On page 31 we read that "the metaphysical theories and ec- 
clesiastical doctrines that satisfied our grandfathers are as broken 
reeds today." This statement is doubly strange in view of some 
evidence which, in the concluding chapters, Dr. McComb pre- 
sents for the survival of the soul. Two defunct English scholars, 
Professors Verrall and Butcher, both eminent classicists, combined 
to signal to their living friends proofs of their survival. For 
this purpose they dictated to an automatist "fragmentary quota- 
tions and scattered classical allusions." These bits of learning 
of a nondescript character drifted through casually, and were 
pieced together and presented as evidence that the professors 
were "breathers of an ampler air." When we recall the splendor 
and solidity of reasoning with which the great metaphysicians 
and religious teachers of the past formed the faith of the world, 
and contrast it with the proof which Dr. McComb deduced from 
"the ear of Dionysius," we are inclined to regret that our author 
abandoned what he calls "broken reeds." 

A SINGER OF PALESTINE. By Armel O'Connor. Ludlow: 

Mary's Meadow Press. 2 s. 

Into this most slight and most modest of volumes, dedicated 
by Armel O'Connor to those "friends of the Field Ambulances" 
whom he served in Palestine, there has gone a message heavy 
with love and consecration. Its lyrics show the reactions of a 
Franciscan spirit brought face to face with the horrors and the 
heroisms of the recent War; and in their steadfast, open-eyed 
hold upon the beauty of Faith where neither Faith nor beauty 
can be easy of hold they offer a heartening commentary upon 
modern Catholic manhood. Like everything that comes from 
Mr. O'Connor's hand, the pages are impressed with fastidious 
literary taste, with an often exquisite sensibility, and with the 
mystical insight of the truly Christian poet. 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 123 

EUROPE: A BOOK FOR AMERICA, by Samuel Roth (New 
York: Boni & Liveright. $1.25), is a volume of rather wild 
denunciation of the Old World and equally wild apostrophes to 
the New, put into prose and very free verse by a young Jewish 

THE FOUR SEAS CO., Boston, publishes Poems, by Edwin 
Curran ($1.00 net), a reprint, with additions, of Mr. Curran's 
interesting and vigorously imagined verses, formerly published as 
First Poems; and The Soothsayer ($1.25 net), a one-act drama in 
classical manner centring about the theme of divided allegiance, 
by the Scandinavian author, Vernon von Heidenstam, who won the 
Noble Prize in 1916. 

THE PHILOSOPHY OF CONFLICT, by Havelock Ellis. (Bos- 
ton: Houghton Mifflin Co. $2.50.) Of the twenty-four es- 
says in this volume some twelve deal with questions of history 
and literature, and range from Luther to Rodo, from Cowley to 
Baudelaire. These literary essays are too short to add anything 
new to the question under consideration, nor do they embody 
any novel or striking viewpoints. The remaining essays deal 
with moral and social problems. The author's theories and sym- 
pathies give evidence of a mind not only diseased but rotten. 

A MERICAN MARRIAGE LAWS, by Fred. S. Hall and Eliza- 
I\ beth W. Brooke, is one of a series of pamphlets planned and 
published by the Russell Sage Foundation in the interests of 
social reform and family betterment. Social workers have found 
that, although many troubles are of people's own making, yet not 
a few are the result of unwise or badly administered laws. The 
first part of the present work (pp. 1-26) summarizes desirable 
reforms in marriage legislation. Part II. (pp. 29-48) is devoted 
to Marriage Laws by Topics. Part III. (pp. 51-132) to a com- 
pilation of the numerous and intricate marriage laws that obtain 
throughout the different States of the Union. Oftentimes the 
laws of one State are entirely opposed to those of another; and 
numerous loopholes exist that evil astuteness may take advan- 
tage of. The publication condenses a lot of information in a 
small compass. It will be serviceable to students of social and 
economic problems, and even to jurists. 

A TIMELY volume which will increase the Devotion of the Holy 
Hour, is that entitled Holy Hour Manual, by Rev. Patrick 
J. Sloan and published by the Magnificat Press, Manchester, N. 

124 NEW BOOKS [April, 

H. ($1.00). It is attractively presented in flexible leather and 
good type. Father Sloan has put into its writing his own devoted 
love of our Blessed Lord, and as a result the book has that per- 
sonal note which will make it most helpful. To every month a 
chapter is allotted that will enable the individual to fill his Holy 
Hour with profitable meditation or to unite with the priest who 
conducts the Hour. The appendix includes appropriate prayers 
and litanies. The book is an especially serviceable one. 

THE PRIEST'S VADE MECUM of the Rev. Pierre Bouvier, S.J., 
has been put into English, and will prove valuable to the 
English-speaking priest as a guide and a stimulant in the fos- 
tering and maintenance of his high vocation, and the solution of 
its many problems and difficulties. It is well equipped with 
authoritative notes. Some of these include rulings in French 
dioceses not obtaining here. These might have been omitted 
with benefit. The Auxiliary Archbishop of Birmingham says 
truly in his preface: "The book is not one of law and theory 
alone, but of theory tested by experience and of law illumined 
by life." (New York: P. J. Kenedy & Sons. $1.00; postpaid, 

A CHARMING series of spiritual essays is entitled Months and 
A\ Days: Their Silent Lessons. The author, an Irish parish 
priest, Rev. Joseph Guinan, has conned the book of nature well, 
gleaning everywhere and at all seasons the truths of God written 
on His handiwork. His thought mounts and glows with the cres- 
cendo of color and life of the advancing season, then dies away 
with the waning year into a soft amen. Unfortunately his ex- 
pressions miss, at times, something of nature's great simplicity. 
This little volume is published by the Catholic Truth Society of 

STRAY LEAVES (San Francisco: Paul Elder & Co. $1.00), 
a little volume of devotional poems, published anonymously, 
suggests the authorship of a cultured and delicately imaginative 
religious. It presents much matter suitable for Lenten reading 
arid meditation. 

A LITTLE compilation of prayers admirably adapted to foster 
and increase virile devotion to the Blessed Sacrament is 
The Armour of God. It is primarily intended for the use of the 
"Knights of the Blessed Sacrament," and the prayers, many 
drawn from the liturgy, are directed towards the cultivation of 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 125 

the knightly attitude of loyalty and service. We recommend it 
to all lovers of the Eucharistic King. (London: Burns & Gates, 


Three important pamphlets come from the Catholic Truth Society 
of Ireland: How Far May a Catholic Agree With Socialists, by Rev. J. 
S. Canavan, S.J., gives very accurately and explicitly the pronounce- 
ments of the Church in regard to Socialism and shows in what and 
why it is condemned; Between Capitalism and Socialism and The 
Social Question In Ireland, both by Rev. P. Coffey, Ph.D., the well- 
known author and lecturer at Maynooth College, are especially in- 
tended for the right orientation of Irish Catholics in the vital work 
of reconstructing an Irish nation on the basic principles of Catholic 
teaching. They are a valuable contribution to an essential work, and 
offer, moreover, to all Catholics a clear, fair, succinct discussion of 
ways and means of reconstruction and their relative values. We 
recommend these pamphlets most earnestly. A devotional publication 
from the same source is Watching With Jesus, an attractive little 
manual for the Holy Hour, which cannot fail to promote familiar and 
fruitful visits to Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament. 

The Catholic Truth Society (London), in St. Francis As Social 
Reformer, by Father Thomas, O.S.F.C., makes a contribution to the 
literature of reconstruction. St. Francis undermined with his prin- 
ciples the great feudal system and built up a new order by winning 
men's hearts. What The World Owes the Papacy, by Rt. Rev. Mon- 
signor Grosch, among other pregnant thoughts has this timely one: 
"Shut the Pope out from the councils of the nations and you shut out 
the only moral force which ever has or ever can unite the people of 
the world." Other publications of the Catholic Truth Society are 
Home and the "World Conference," by Rt. Rev. Monsignor Moyes, D.D., 
showing the necessarily unvarying attitude of the Church to Christian 
unity; and How to Serve Mass, a very clear and handy little manual 
for the server. 

The Journey Home, by the Rev. Raymond Lawrence (Ave Maria 
Press), is a very beautiful story, told with great simplicity and hu- 
mility, of a convert's journey "to the Patria of the human race . . . 
through strange ways and over stormy and tortuous paths . . . straight 
on to His (God's) own dwelling." It is a real addition to the literature 
of conversions. Along this line we have also a reprint, revised by Rev. 
William B. Hannon, of The Trials of the Mind, the story of the first 
bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church in America, L. Silliman Ives, 
who found his way home into the Catholic Church. 

A useful contribution to the history of the Church is The Infal- 
libility of the Church and Her Teaching Authority, by Very Rev. J. 
Sullivan, S.J. (Melbourne, Australia: Catholic Truth Society.) And 
the International Catholic Truth Society has published in pocket size 
The Lenten Gospels, so fruitful for spiritual reading and meditation. 

126 NEW BOOKS [April, 

From The Mission Press, S. V. D., Techny, Illinois, comes a stirring 
appeal for the missionary spirit, entitled: America Must, addressed 
primarily to the youth of America, that harvest land for the future 
of missions. The author, P. I. Sontag, S.J., evidently knows his 
world of boys and how to catch and fire them. 

Mother Catherine McAuley and the Beginning of the Works of the 
Sisters of Mercy, by Sister Mary Fidelis, is a pamphlet designed to ac- 
company an illustrated lecture. A notice informs the reader that this 
booklet "was printed, engraved and bound by St. Mary's Training School 
Printing Department, Des Moines, Illinois." And very creditable work 
it is, and particularly the numerous portraits of the Foundress, which 
fully bear out the assertion that she possessed an exceedingly beautiful 
and attractive personality. 

The account covers the early days of this heroine of charity, the 
rise and progress of her early works for the poor, in Dublin and other 
towns of Ireland and of England, until the Order was introduced into 
the United States. The marvelous progress of its schools, hospitals, 
refuges, is a most striking and interesting fact. 

The Government Printing Office publishes The Life of Henry 
Barnard, one of America's great educators who, with Horace Mann, 
contributed largely to the development of the common school in the 
United States. This pamphlet, by Bernard C. Steiner, takes up the 
youthful efforts of Barnard in the Connecticut Legislature, his work 
with the Connecticut School Board, his achievements as Superintendent 
of Schools in Rhode Island and later in Connecticut, his labors as 
editor of the American Journal of Education, his influence as President 
of St. John's College at Annapolis and, the culmination of a calm but 
powerful life, the commissionership of education. 

The Department of the Bureau of Education performs a real serv- 
ice in thus presenting Barnard's life distinctly and clearly, and free 
from the excessive adulation that most biographers are inclined to 
indulge in. 

Also An Educational Study of Alabama a survey made under the 
direction of the Commissioner of Public Education at the request of 
the Alabama School Commission contains a wealth of information con- 
cerning the public schools of Alabama and the problems which the 
people of that State face in the education of their children, forty-two 
per cent of which are colored. The book is of interest and value to 
all students of education. 

And the Schools of Scandinavia, Finland, Denmark and Holland, 
by Peter Pearson, a pamphlet showing the effects of the War on the 
schools of Scandinavia, Finland and Holland and the general charac- 
teristics of the school system in Norway, Sweden, Denmark and Hol- 
land. It treats specifically of school gardens; care of the pupils' 
health; religious instruction in the elementary schools; obligatory 
continuation school; school excursions; teachers' training, salaries, 
and status and general conditions in Holland and Finland. 

TRecent Events, 

On March 13th the Government of Fried- 
Germany, rich Ebert, the Socialist President of the 
German Republic, was temporarily over- 
thrown by a military coup d'etat. Dr. Wolfang Kapp, a prom- 
inent member of the Pan-German Party and general director of 
the agricultural societies, ousted Gustave Bauer, the Chan- 
cellor, and for the time assumed supreme direction of af- 
fairs. Associated with him was General Baron von Luettwitz, one 
of the leaders of the military party which was opposed to the 
Versailles Peace terms. General von Luettwitz was appointed 
Commander-in-chief of the army, and the National Assembly was 

The revolt was effected without bloodshed or disorder, troops 
of the Doeberitz garrison, composed chiefly of former Baltic 
troops, simply marching on the capital and taking control of the 
situation, while Herr Ebert and most of his Cabinet fled to Dres- 
den. A proclamation was issued by the new Government stating 
that the overthrow of the Ebert regime must not be looked on as 
reactionary or militaristic. The manifesto charges the Socialist 
Government with overburdening the people with taxation, failing 
to create conditions for an increase of production in all lines, 
suppressing papers which criticized it, and otherwise interfering 
with personal liberty, and with refusing to dissolve the National 
Assembly and issue writs for new elections. Despite their dis- 
avowal, however, the revolt was generally considered as of Junker 
origin and monarchist objective, though neither the former Em- 
peror nor the Crown Prince was implicated in the movement. 

President Ebert and his Cabinet offered no armed resistance 
to the revolution, but, on fleeing from Berlin, issued a proclama- 
tion calling on all workers for a general strike throughout Ger- 
many, to which there was an effective response. It is the 
general opinion that the new Government will not last long, both 
because of the strike threat and because recent reports indicate 
that Herr Kapp has not been able to form a ministry, and that 
not only are the Democrats, Majority Socialists and Centrists 
against him, but the reactionaries themselves are weakening in 
their support. Negotiations have been going forward for the last 
few days between the two Governments, and latest advices state 
that an agreement has been reached between them and that the 

128 RECENT EVENTS [April. 

crisis is over. A new Government for Germany will be con- 
stituted under the agreement between the old Government and 
the new. Herr Ebert is to remain as President, but a new Cabinet 
is to be formed, composed of experts. 

The plebiscite in the second Schleswig zone, including the im- 
portant port of Flensburg, has just been held and, according to 
late but unofficial returns of the balloting, the figures show the 
population overwhelmingly in favor of German nationality. With 
four districts still to be heard from, 48,148 votes were cast for 
German control and 13,025 for Denmark. There were originally 
three zones in the Schleswig region, in which the inhabitants were 
to decide their future nationality by plebiscite. The vote in the 
first zone was cast in February and was in favor of reunion with 
Denmark. The vote in the second zone, just taken, shows a large 
German majority and will end the voting on the question, as the 
Denmark Government of its own accord requested that, on ac- 
count of the obviously preponderant German population in the 
third zone, no vote should be taken there. The loss of the im- 
portant city of Flensburg in the second zone is a severe disap- 
pointment to the Danes, as, prior to the War of 1866, it was 
entirely Danish. The elections just concluded show that the city 
is now almost completely Germanized. 

Before the recent coup in Berlin, while the Ebert Government 
was still in control, much comment was aroused in Germany by 
the resignation from the Cabinet of Mathias Erzberger, Minister 
of Finance, and one of the Centrist leaders. Herr Erzberger's 
resignation came as the result of sensational testimony in the 
course of his libel suit against Dr. Karl Helfferich, former Minister 
of the Treasury. The testimony is said to have shown that Herr 
Erzberger had smuggled large amounts of his private funds to 
Switzerland, and that he was involved in numerous questionable 
transactions in connection with the issuance of import and export 
permits, and otherwise misusing his official position and influence 
in the furtherance of ventures in which he had a personal inter- 
est. The libel suit itself, which was the occasion of this testi- 
mony and which has been a centre of interest for some weeks, has 
since been decided against Dr. Helfferich, who was fined three 
hundred marks. 

As a result of strong protests by the German Government, 
the Allies finally consented to the trial of German war criminals 
before a German tribunal. The Allied extradition list has been 
submitted to the supreme state's attorney at the Imperial Court at 
Leipsic, so that the requisite measures may be taken in accord- 
ance with the law for the prosecution of war offences. Luden- 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 129 

dorff, von Tirpitz, von Falkenhayn, von Kluck, Admiral von 
Schroeder and numerous other high army and naval officers who 
were listed by the Allies, have signed a declaration expressing 
their willingness to appear before the Imperial Court at Leipsic. 

On her side Germany has a list of Entente war criminals, 
comprising three hundred and twelve pages of indictments 
against French individuals and sixty-nine against British. The 
data has been officially corroborated according to the German 
Foreign Minister Mueller, but he considered that the present time 
was not an auspicious moment to make the list public, and the 
Government would reserve its decision as to publication for a later 

With respect to the extradition of the Kaiser, the Netherlands 
Government in a recent reply to a note from the British Premier, 
still maintains a firm stand on its refusal to comply with the 
Allied demands, and repeats its former arguments about Holland 
not being a party to the Peace Treaty, her traditional right of 
asylum, etc. The reply states, .however, that the Dutch Govern- 
ment will take all the precautionary measures necessary to 
subordinate the liberty of the ex-Emperor and ex-Empress. This 
means that the ex-Kaiser will, to all intents and purposes, be in- 
terned at his new residence at Doom. It is hoped in Dutch Gov- 
ernment circles that this will be the last note on the question. 

Though fighting has been going on in 
Russia. various sections of Russia during the 

month, it has been chiefly of a local and 

sporadic character. The most important military movement oc- 
curred in the early part of March when, in a series of engagements 
with the Polish Army, the Bolshevik forces were decisively de- 
feated. The Bolsheviki, while carrying on peace negotiations with 
the Poles, had concentrated large forces on both sides of the 
Priapet region, but their plans for an attack were forestalled by 
the Poles, who were the aggressors. The Poles had no intention 
of concerted action against the Bolsheviki, but when informed 
that they intended to attack along the whole front, the Poles be- 
gan three operations at strategic points, which resulted in the 
taking of the lateral railway from the Bolsheviki and breaking 
up their plans. 

According to military experts, White Ruthenia is now effec- 
tively cut off from Moscow, as the railway which has been seized 
by the Poles comes down to Kolenkovitz, which is the crossing- 
point of the important Gomel-Pinsk Railway. By reason of the 
capture of Kolenkovitz, the Bolsheviki will be forced to send their 

VOL. CXI. 9 

130 RECENT EVENTS [April, 

supplies by a round-about way, involving much loss of time. It 
is also believed that that part of the Ukraine on the right bank 
of the Dneiper River will now be free from the Bolshevik menace. 

On the other fronts the Bolsheviki seem to be meeting with 
no effective resistance. Their recent successes near the Crimean 
Isthmus apparently open a way for them to enter the Crimea. 
This would be of considerable advantage, as valuable stores and 
other war materials are there. General Denikin, the anti- 
Bolshevik leader, who in last month's dispatches was reported to 
have fled the country, is again trying to make headway in the 
South, but with indifferent success. Green Guards are causing 
trouble on his rear, while the Bolshevik are active along the whole 
of his front. According to British military experts, recent opera- 
tions have practically brought about the complete elimination of 
the Denikin forces. 

The Denikin collapse, according to British War Office re- 
ports, has revived the fear of a menace to the British Mid-Asian 
interests. Additional cause for alarm is the fear that the Bol- 
sheviki may undertake aggressive steps in Persia. This alarm 
arises from the reports of the new Bolshevik Administration at 
Merv, Transcaspia, under General Kuropatkin. This Administra- 
tion is considered uncomfortably near the troublesome elements 
in Afghanistan. 

Another former Tsarist commander, who is reported to have 
appeared at the head of Bolshevik forces, is General Brusiloff, 
former Commander-in-chief of the Russian armies. He is said to 
be at Skobeleff, operating against the Ferghana insurgents. At the 
outbreak of the World War, Brusiloff commanded the Russians 
in their attacks on Galicia. 

A large detachment of the Russian Volunteer Army, under 
General Bredow, has reached the Polish lines near Kamenetz- 
Podolsk, says a dispatch from Warsaw. These forces are the re- 
mains of General Denikin's Corps from west of the Dneiper, 
which have been without a base since the Bolshevik occupation 
of Odessa. The detachment numbers six thousand men, mostly 
of the cavalry, and is accompanied by as many women and 

The Bolsheviki are making vigorous preparations to equip a 
fleet in the Volga for use in the Caspian Sea as soon as the ice 
breaks up. At present they have a force facing the Rumanians 
along the Dneister River, but they have not yet attacked, nor is 
there any evidence that they intend to do so. The Rumanian 
forces are expected to be out of Hungary by April 1st. 

The fate of the Russian Army in the north is not definitely 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 131 

known. Its remnants have been driven into the desolate country 
between the Onega River and the Murman Railway, and it is as- 
sumed that the army is being dispersed or that it has perished. 
General Semenoff, who is now in control of the anti-Soviet troops 
in Eastern Siberia, has lost the support of the Buriat tribesmen. 
He has always counted upon their support and the loss may mean 
an irreparable blow. Exactions of his subordinates, as well as 
alleged abuses and brutality, have alienated all races from 
Semenoff. The Japanese have also turned their backs upon him, 
it is declared, but no reputable Russian is willing to take 
Semenoff's place. 

Meanwhile various peace proposals have been made by the 
Soviet Government, both to the Great Powers and to the Baltic 
States. In its proposals to the larger nations, Soviet Russia 
pledges the establishment of democratic principles in Russia and 
the calling of a Constituent Assembly. It promises further to 
withdraw the decree annulling Russia's foreign debt, restoring 
sixty per cent of the liability, and also to pay arrears of interest, 
giving as a guarantee for the fulfillment of its obligations consid- 
erable mineral concessions of platinum and silver to an Anglo- 
American syndicate. In return, and in addition to the formal 
Peace Treaties, the Soviet Government would require Great 
Britain and other countries to abandon all intervention in Rus- 
sian affairs. It also proposes that the United States allow a credit 
to Russia, conditioned upon considerable concessions to this 

To date no definite response to these advances has been made 
by the Allied Governments, though, as stated in last month's 
notes, a complete change in Allied policy is in process. At pres- 
ent the Allies are slowly feeling their way to a new adjustment. 
The American State Department is reported to be considering 
the proposal to the Supreme Council at Paris of the withdrawal 
of wartime restrictions on trading between the United States and 
Allied countries, and Soviet Russia. Such a policy would enable 
American exporters to undertake trade relations with anyone in 
Soviet Russia, even with the Soviet Government itself, but it 
would be at their own risk. No trade licenses would be issued by 
this country, as this Government does not intend to place itself 
in a position that might warrant the claim that it had recognized 
Soviet Russia, with which it maintains no relations, and, it is 
reiterated, has no intention of entering into any. 

As for the Baltic States, they have been more or less adrift 
in their dealings with the Bolsheviki peace offers because of the 
indefinite policy of the Allies, from whom they must necessarily 



take their lead. Nevertheless, a formal conference was recently 
opened at Warsaw to frame the answer of Poland and the border 
States to the Soviet peace proposals. Finnish, Lettish and Ru- 
manian delegates are already in attendance, and the Ukrainians 
are expected soon. There is a possibility that Lithuania, and 
eventually Esthonia, which has already concluded peace with the 
Soviet Government, will participate in the consultation, which 
it is generally believed will determine Poland's next move in her 
stand against Bolshevism. 

Diplomats say that the opening of negotiations between 
Poland and the Soviet Government hinges on the Polish demands 
for restitution and damages since the partition of her territory in 
1772. An unofficial dispatch from Moscow says that the Bol- 
sheviki have already intimated that they have no desire even to 
open negotiations if Poland demands the frontier of one hundred 
and forty-eight years ago, as outlined by the Polish Diet's foreign 
commission. Should Poland insist on the demand and the Bol- 
sheviki refuse to acquiesce, it would mean a continuance of the 
present situation. 

It is understood that the peace programme of the Baltic 
States will be submitted to the Allied Powers for approval. The 
border States are said to be eager to reach a decision, particularly 
because of the approach of spring, when the long-advertised Bol- 
shevik offensive against them is due to commence. The Lettish 
Foreign Minister has announced that unless the Warsaw Confer- 
ence reaches a decision, the Letts and the Finns and possibly the 
Lithuanians will consider a separate peace with Russia. 

The chief questions before the Supreme 

France. Council during the month have been the 

Turkish situation, the Allied policy 

toward the Soviet Government, and the proposal to ease the terms 
of reparation imposed on Germany by the Treaty of Versailles. 
On all three matters there has been a sharp cleavage of Allied 
opinion, with England and Italy for the most part standing to- 
gether and France taking up an attitude of strong protest. 

The Council has been working at the final draft of the Turk- 
ish Treaty for some time, but recent atrocities by the Turks in 
Cilicia have brought matters to a head, and served to make the 
peace provisions more severe. By the reported terms of the 
Treaty, Turkey will be reduced to a mere phantom of her former 
self, with a population of only six millions instead of thirty mill- 
ions. She is likely to occupy, in addition to the city of Constanti- 
nople, only the Asiatic province of Anatolia, and she will lose 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 133 

what remains of her navy, being permitted to retain nothing larger 
than a few revenue cutters. Thrace has been awarded to Greece, 
but the recent conference of foreign ministers and ambassadors is 
charged with the task of working out plans whereby the Turks 
will keep control of the holy places and of Adrianople. Smyrna 
will be placed under Greek control. 

As a direct result of recent Armenian massacres (18,000 
people were murdered at Marash alone), the Allies propose to take 
drastic measures against Turkey. These will consist of the disci- 
plinary cooccupation of Constantinople, as it may be called, to 
distinguish it from the ordinary occupation which followed the 
conclusion of the armistice, and the exercise of Allied control over 
all telegraphic communications. For the present the Allies will 
post contingents at strategic points of the city on both sides of the 
Golden Horn. There has of late been a wide popular demand in 
most countries, especially in America, for the absolute ejection of 
the Sultan from Constantinople, but there are two chief obstacles 
in the way of such an action the negative attitude of America 
towards the acceptance of a Turkish mandate, and the reluctance 
of England to force the issue against the strong protests of her 
Moslem subjects in India, to whom, moreover, she had given as- 
surances at the beginning of the War that the Sultan would not 
be removed from Constantinople. 

As to the Allied policy toward the Bolsheviki, the nearest 
approach to a definite step (if anything can be called definite 
where all is vague and confused) has been the agreement to re- 
sume trade relations with Russia. The Soviet Government is 
asked, on its part, to abandon propaganda and to recognize exist- 
ing loans, while the Allies do not propose to encourage border 
States to make further war on the Bolsheviki. Resumption of 
political relations between the Allies and Russia was not pressed 
in the Supreme Council, owing chiefly to the determined opposi- 
tion of France. Thus the real difficulty of the Russian situation 
recognition of the Soviet Republic still remains unsolved. 

As a further step toward a solution of the Russian problem 
the Supreme Council of the Allies, several weeks ago, addressed a 
communication to the Council of the League of Nations, asking the 
latter to consider the appointment of a commission with the view 
of obtaining impartial and authorized information concerning the 
present situation in Russia. The Commission is to consist of 
eleven members. United States Ambassador Wallace has been 
invited to attend the meeting of the Council of the League of 
Nations at which the Commission will be named, but has declined. 
The Allies, however, will probably extend a formal invitation to 

134 RECENT EVENTS [April, 

the American Government to send an agent to accompany the 
Commission in order that he may report to his Government, should 
America not see fit to name an official member of the Commission. 

Because of the serious economic plight of Germany, the Su- 
preme Council, at the beginning of March, consented to a consider- 
able mitigation of the Versailles Peace terms. This mitigation 
took two principal forms. Germany was to be permitted to float 
a large international loan in neutral European countries and 
South America and, if possible, in the United States, the negoti- 
able securities which the Berlin Government would put up being 
guaranteed exempt from the reparation claims of the Allied 
Powers. Secondly, the Allies were to help Germany rebuild her 
merchant marine, at least up to a certain point. This aid to Ger- 
many, to enable her to pay her war debts to the Allies, was to be 
given by easing up on the enforcement of the portion of the Treaty 
that provided for building, in German ports, merchant tonnage 
to be handed over to the Allies. The Allies have come to the con- 
clusion that Germany cannot at present, nor in the near future, 
fulfill this provision, if strictly enforced, and at the same time 
build ships enough to meet her own essential needs for shipping 

These two modifications of the Treaty, however, aroused pro- 
test from the French Government, which declared its inability to 
accept in its entirety the proposed economic declaration of the 
Allies, particularly the proposition that a loan be made to Ger- 
many guaranteed by German assets in priority to reparations pay- 
ments. As a result of Premier Millerand's attitude, the Supreme 
Council agreed to a change in their new economic programme, 
whereby the devastated areas of France are to receive priority in 
the matter of reconstruction, and the question of a German loan 
is left to the League's Reparations Commission on which France 
has strong representation. 

With the official notification, recently announced, of the ac- 
cession to the League of Nations of Switzerland, Denmark, 
Sweden, Norway and Holland, all but two, namely Salvador and 
Venezuela, of the thirteen nations, non-signatories of the Ver- 
sailles Treaty, invited to become original members of the League, 
have definitely accepted. Salvador has signified its intention of 
joining the League, but Venezuela has not yet declared its in- 

On the last day of February a general strike on all the rail- 
roads of France was called by the National Federation of Rail- 
way Workers, with the object of forcing nationalization of the rail- 
roads. The strike was originated by a radical minority among 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 135 

the workers, and represented not so much an attempt at better 
working conditions as a political move against the existing Gov- 
ernment. Owing to the disaffection of the larger part of the rail- 
road employees, and to the firm attitude of the Government, the 
strike, which was confined chiefly to Paris, lasted only two days. 
While technically the strike was ended by an arbitration agree- 
ment, the question of nationalization of the roads, which was the 
big demand of the strikers, is not to be arbitrated. The ques- 
tions to be arbitrated relate chiefly to the coordination of salary 
schedules. The breaking of the strike is considered a signal vic- 
tory for the French Government and a sharp rebuke to the radi- 
cal element who have more or less openly espoused Bolshevism. 

The month has been a record of inter- 
Italy, change of notes between President Wil- 
son and the Allied Premiers on the 

Adriatic Question. The Allied Premiers, as a result of the Presi- 
dent's firm stand, have withdrawn their ultimatum to the Jugo- 
slavs, and in general have adopted an extremely conciliatory atti- 
tude towards the President's position. The President has insisted 
on the complete abandonment of the Treaty of London, a secret 
agreement between Great Britain and Italy, of which the United 
States was not informed on her entry into the War, and a return 
to the joint memorandum of December 9th last in which England, 
France and the United States agreed on a plan for the settlement 
of the Adriatic problem. The President reiterates his willing- 
ness to accept any settlement "mutually agreeable" to Italy and 
Jugo-Slavia, provided such agreement is not the basis of compen- 
sation elsewhere at the expense of a third party. In consequence 
of this last proposal, which the Allied Premiers agreed, was "the 
ideal way" of settling the question, negotiations were entered into 
between Premier Nitti of Italy and Foreign Minister Trumbitch 
of Jugo-Slavia, but have since been broken off. 

Meanwhile, as regards Fiume itself, a stringent blockade has 
been instituted by the Italian Government against all commodities, 
including foodstuffs. D'Annunzio's forces have been consider- 
ably diminished by desertions, and efforts made to replenish his 
forces by conscription of Fiume citizens have been unsuccessful. 
Former annexationists express despair over what they term the 
failure of d'Annunzio's occupation of Fiume. The long sliain of 
five months of isolation has apparently worn out the population, 
and the people would welcome the occupation of the city either by 
an American or a British garrison. 

As for Italian internal affairs, reorganization of the Cabinet is 

136 RECENT EVENTS [April, 

occupying public attention to the exclusion of virtually all other in- 
terests. All the members of the present Cabinet have placed their 
portfolios at the Premier's disposal, in view of the political and par- 
liamentary situation. Premier Nitti has not yet announced the for- 
mation of the new administration, but he will be much more free 
in the selection of its members. It is reported they will include 
Signor Meda, the Catholic leader, and Bisolati and Bonomi, Inde- 
pendent Socialists. 

Strikes and other disturbances have occurred in various parts 
of Italy during the month, but they were sporadic and merely 
local. Strikes among peasants in Northern Italy have come at a 
most inopportune time, as this is the sowing season, which is ex- 
ceptionally favorable this year. In some instances the strikes are 
said to have a distinct political character, and in certain places acts 
of vandalism have been committed. 

Four persons were recently killed in fighting at Pieve di 
Soligo, a village of five thousand inhabitants, eighteen miles from 
Treviso. The whole district is reported in disorder, owing to 
rival claims of Catholics and Socialists in the work of reconstruc- 
tion in the devastated Piave River region. Socialists at Vittorio 
attacked the Town Hall and sacked several villas. There have 
been more than one hundred arrests in the Treviso district, and 
the authorities now seem to have the situation in hand. 

Among the drastic measures for coping with the internal 
economic crisis is to be the immediate reduction of the national 
train service of one-fifth of the local traffic. Most Sunday trains 
will be canceled. The scarcity of coal is very severe. The Gov- 
ernment also seeks to realize economy by means of a stringent 
reintroduction of the rationing system. This will start with 
April for all commodities, including coal, under Government con- 
trol. The sugar allowance is to be further reduced, and fresh 
taxes will be imposed on restaurant meals and hotel bills. New 
restrictions will also be placed on the sale of intoxicants, and the 
closing of all public resorts will be enforced at 11 P. M. 

A new Hungarian Peace Treaty has been 
Hungary. definitely agreed upon by the recent 

Peace Conference in London and placed 

in the hands of a drafting committee, which has gone to Paris. 
The territorial terms against which Hungary protested so vigor- 
ously remain unchanged, but various economic concessions have 
been granted. It is stated that in refraining the economic clauses, 
particularly regarding the reparations to be demanded, the Con- 
ference took a much more lenient attitude than prevailed in Paris. 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 137 

The Conference is represented as being influenced by the recent 
trend of events, which prompted its economic conclusions and 
caused it to deal with the Treaty from a changed viewpoint. 

At a meeting of the Hungarian National Assembly on the 
first of March, Admiral Nicholas Horthy was elected by a substan- 
tial majority to be Protector of Hungary, an office newly created. 
Admiral Horthy made a distinguished record during the War and 
later, during the armistice period, he founded the national army 
which marched into Budapest when the Rumanians evacuated 
that city. This was the national army which has since achieved 
notoriety as the army of reaction. Horthy's main political object 
is Hapsburg restoration. Hungary is overwhelmingly monarchist, 
and the appointment of the Protector is merely provisional until 
after the Peace Treaty has been signed. Indeed, Horthy stands 
resolutely for the restoration of former King Charles or his eldest 
son, Otto. Such a policy is, of course, diametrically opposed to 
that of the Allies, who have expressly forbidden any Hapsburg 

Towards the end of February the Rumanian Army units final- 
ly began to evacuate the front which they had been occupying 
along the river Thiess, thus holding one-third of Hungary through 
no right recognized by any other power, and in defiance of seven- 
teen separate Peace Conference ultimatums. They have now 
withdrawn to a line fixed by the Peace Conference from sixty to 
eighty miles east of the river Thiess. The Rumanians went into 
Budapest after the fall of Bela Kun and the breaking up of the 
Hungarian Army. Late in November they withdraw to the Thiess 
River, where they have since remained. Allied missions visiting 
Hungary, which until the present time has been closed to them 
by the Rumanians, have found that by the Rumanian system of 
"requisitions" the occupied portions of the country have been 
pretty thoroughly despoiled. There was much pillage and the 
homes of the people were burned by the invading forces. Seed, 
grain, and agricultural machinery, as well as railway supplies, 
were carried off into Rumania. In addition to holding Hungarian 
territory without title, the Rumanians have also seized Bessarabia, 
which they tried in vain to have awarded to them by the Peace 
Conference. This they are still holding. 
March 17, 1920. 

With Our Readers. 

IT is impossible to forecast the far-reaching consequences of the 
Surveys of Catholic Charities of the Diocese of Pittsburgh and 
the Archdiocese of New York, both of which were made recently. 
A Brief Summary of the Final Report of the latter Survey has 
just been made public under the direction of the Most Reverend 
Archbishop Hayes. Although we cannot forecast in detail the 
advantages which are sure to follow, the immediate consequences 
of these thoroughgoing studies may be hinted at in a way to arouse 
interest and enthusiasm for our Charities in general. 

Steps will be taken in New York to create a central organiza- 
tion of Catholic agencies whose purposes will be as follows: 

"It will rearrange and coordinate the functions of various 
activities in order that they may serve more people and serve them 

"It will point out weaknesses in existing organizations, and 
help overcome them by supplementing their resources, giving 
expert advice and encouraging higher standards." 

"It will promote the extension or establishment of agencies 
to cover fields where Catholic interests are at present neglected." 

"It will present reports of their work to the general public 
and represent them at conferences." 

"It will serve, while leaving special works autonomous, to 
unify Catholic Charities." 

* * * * 

THE organization will be known as The Catholic Charities of 
the Archdiocese of New York. The Most Reverend Arch- 
bishop will be President and his Secretary for Charities will be 
Executive Director. An Executive Council composed of men and 
women experienced in charity work, will meet regularly and 
advise with His Grace on matters of general policy. In addition 
there will be an Advisory Council representing each Catholic or- 
ganization and the Catholic body in general. Under the Arch- 
bishop's Secretary for Charities the work will fall into six prin- 
cipal divisions, each subject to a Director devoting full time to 
supervision, coordination and extensions of agencies operating 
under him. The following are the divisions: 

General Administration; Children; Health, Relief; Protective 
Care, and Social Action. 

Work has been already begun on the formation of the Arch- 

1920.] WITH OUR READERS 139 

bishop's Committee of the Laity, a permanent organization of not 
less than twenty thousand members. This Committee will under- 
take during the week of April 18th to 24th, the financing of the 
six great Bureaus of Catholic Charities, whose creation was 
recommended by the Survey Commission. 

* * * * 

THE Survey of the New York Catholic Charities was conducted 
under the supervision of His Grace, Archbishop Hayes, by a 
body of experts whose plans were carefully prepared in advance. 
Searching studies were made of agencies, their problems and re- 
lations. The enthusiastic cooperation which these agencies gave 
in the course of this study was most gratifying. The reorganiza- 
tion contemplated will promote a sense of solidarity among Catho- 
lic works, and will bring a refreshing sense of support and en- 
couragement to the many heavily burdened agencies that have 
been doing the work of Catholic charity with unparalleled de- 
votion and courage. Extension of activities, improvement of 
methods and the introduction of new works, cannot fail to result 
from the study made by the Survey Commission, and from the 
enthusiasm which its work has developed on all sides. 

* * * * 

BUT the benefits to be expected from the New York Survey will 
not be confined to the Archdiocese. We may expect similar 
studies and equally gratifying promise in many sections of the 
country in the near future. The Pittsburgh Survey was com- 
pleted recently. Its results will be made known in the near 
future. Inquiries are being made from many parts of the coun- 
try as to organization and methods followed. The Bureau of 
Social Action of the National Catholic Welfare Council announces 
its readiness to furnish full information and advice on the con- 
ducting of surveys of Catholic Charities. The tentative programme 
of the September, 1920, meeting of the National Conference of 
Catholic Charities will include papers on the methods and cost 
of conducting surveys of our charities. We are warranted, there- 
fore, in looking forward to rapid development of Catholic Works 
and to notable extension and strengthening of them in the near 

* * * * 

ALL of this gives promise of adding to our charities, the best 
in modern relief work without in any way abating the funda- 
mental conviction that charity "begins and ends in God," and 
"finds its source in the Divine example of Him Who went about 
doing good." All Christians must regret the tendency of modern 
charity to break away from the spirit of the Gospel. Our Divine 


Lord's example and teaching are so explicit in respect of this, that 
one wonders at the complacency with which many Christians view 
this unchristian tendency. Even the word "charity" is regarded 
as a "liability rather than an asset by the societies particularly 
concerned with it." These words are taken from the new pub- 
lication, The Family, issued by the American Association for 
Organizing Family Social Work. Its first issue contains a list 
of nine organizations which have abandoned the word charity 
in their official titles. 

IF one states as a fundamental proposition that humanity through 
its long centuries of existence has made no progress, it is hard 
to see what warrant he has lhat it will make progress now. We 
are the children of yesterday: never of tomorrow. If hope and 
knowledge have not dawned for these thousands and thousands of 
years, one is not to be blamed who thinks there is no reason that 
its first flush will be seen now. 

* * * * 

ALBION W. SMALL writing on the large and presently impor- 
tant subject of Democracy in the November Journal of 
Sociology, opens with this serious and thoughtless indictment 
against all human progress. "If it were not commonplace it 
would be astonishing that after so many thousands of years of 
human history, we have no consensus as to why we are living at 
all." Dr. Small has no hesitation in making the editorial "we" 
synonymous with all humanity. Or further reading may show 
this to be an exaggeration and the "we" is limited to "the social 
scientists." As to how great their number or who they are, the 
reader is left uninformed. In any case their real knowledge of 
life, its purpose, its end is far superior to that of any other group, 
and indeed all other groups collectively. They form an exclusive 
aristocracy of wisdom: they are the gifted teachers of the new 
Israel: the self-appointed saviours of a people's hope. Dr. Small 
speaks of the "we" as "a commission" teaching "ideas" that "are 
breath and blood and food of better life for all the people." 

* * * * 

DEMOCRACY is a form of government we all love, but, accord- 
ing to Dr. Small, we, that is all those outside of "the social 
scientists," are grossly ignorant. Up to the present time "very few 
individuals have tried to take knowledge of life in a large con- 
nected way." On the whole men have pursued relatively trivial 
purposes. When one considers the centuries swept by Dr. Small's 
eyes and the record of sacrifices he manages not to see, one must 
marvel either at his celerity or his blindness of vision. 

1920.] WITH OUR READERS 141 

The power that will prevent future centuries and generations 
from registering such a desert history: which indeed will flower 
both with deeds of brotherly love and charity is a "purely secular 
ethic" (italics are Dr. Small's). This secular ethic will not inter- 
fere with religious conceptions in which, says the learned Dr. 
Small, mundane life is merely incidental! (exclamation ours) un- 
less religious conceptions assume an authority inimical to the 
secular ethic. And this is Dr. Small's picture of the clean-cut 
morning star, herald of the dawn, deliverer from the night wherein 
but very few pursued any large purpose. 

A purely secular ethic, that is, a comprehensive notion of 
what human experience is all about, what it is making for at its 
best, and how this conception of it becomes a test, and a measure 
and a guide for all the conduct of life which is continually putting 
itself under judgment as promoting or retarding this largest con- 
ceivable best. 

WITHOUT this ethic so simple, so easily understood, so easily 
applied even by the ignorant without this Dr. Small says 
"life is sure to be confused at best." Heretofore men have ac- 
cepted "someone's guesswork" (italics Dr. Small's) and have 
called it a divine guide. But now the overwhelming defmiteness of 
this "ethic" excludes all guesswork; its application to all social 
needs, duties, obligations, problems of life is so crystal clear that 
hesitation, doubt and scruple are excluded. The "conceivable 
best" is the "self-realization" of human beings: this is the thing 
toward which, so far as human insight has thus far been able to 
make out, "the whole creation moves." God, therefore, is ex- 
cluded. Self-realization of persons is "our supreme working cri- 
terion of morals." "The utmost that could be hoped of the older 
types of morals was the production of a few self-conscious, indi- 
vidualistic prigs." Thus does Dr. Small sweep aside the history 
of Christian heroism and Christian sanctity. We are pleased and 
not surprised to read of this ethic "that it can hardly be said to 
have made much impression on Americans at large." Americans 
after all have given to the world the best working illustration of 
democracy, in spite of its many and evident faults, and their un- 
willingness to accept an ethic that would tear down all they have 
built and hand over the civilized world to physical and material- 
istic slavery is not inexplicable. 

* * * * 

IT is not needful to pursue this self-sufficient article any further. 
It is published in a reputable, university organ. If it means 
anything, it means that man is better off without God and religion 


than with them. This is its important thesis in spite of its depre- 
cation of injustice and the inordinate seeking after money. Some 
of its readers will, no doubt, looking at the minor theses, condone 
the greater one. The plea for human justice will for them ob- 
scure the practical denial of God. 

Moreover, as it rings so many changes upon the word "com- 
munity" it will have its part in promoting a tendency already all 
too common of emptying community work of all religious motive : 
of not allowing religion to have any voice therein. Protestantism 
is reconciling its differences by keeping silent about them. It 
denies the necessity of anything like definite, positive religious 
faith. It has divorced religion from life. It sees no need of the 
religious spirit, the religious motive. Community work therefore 
may be colorless: uninspired: godless. 

Such a position is absolutely un-American; it is the beginning 
of giving over our country to those who admit of no rule other 
than their own; no eternal law by which for the sake of human 
justice all human laws should be guided. 

* * * * 

A PAPER like Dr. Small's is, in spite of its dignified and scholar- 
ly clothes, just as truly a contribution towards anarchy and 
Bolshevism as many of the pamphlets more honestly labelled. 

EVERY week adds to the output of books on Spiritism and 
spiritualistic experiences; and such is the demand for ouija 
boards that factories are speeding up to meet it. It is inconceiv- 
able, as Miss Repplier so ably suggests in this issue of the CATHOLIC 
WORLD, that Catholics brought up in the Communion of Saints 
should resort to commerce with spirits. Nevertheless, planchette 
and ouija boards are found in Catholic homes and Catholic 

* * * * 

SINCE the positive, spiritual motives of trust in God and accept- 
ance of His will are not sufficient deterrents, it may be 
well to reprint from the April Tablet of February 14th the testi- 
mony of an English neurologist as to the fatal physical, mental 
and moral consequences of dabbling in Spiritism : "Spiritism," he 
said, according to the report given by the Morning Post, was 
spreading like an infectious disease, and it had ceased to become 
a science, and had become in the hands of Sir Conan Doyle more 
or less a religion. As a science it already had a long roll of mar- 
tyrs, and no medium existed who did not suffer before long, either 
physically, mentally, or morally. . . . These dangers began 
with the planchette and with table turning, and consisted in the 

1920.] WITH OUR READERS 143 

gradual loss of protective will-power, which was our divine guard 
against devil possession. In one case of devil possession which 
had come to his own notice the patient required a resident physi- 
cian and two male trained nurses, but after a week the nurses 
gave notice. They thought they had heard every form of im- 
possible language, but that of the patient came straight from the 
pit, and nothing would induce them to stay with him. There was 
no doubt that the end of Spiritism was possession by an evil spirit. 
.... No one, he concluded, could touch Spiritism without being 
lowered in their mental and moral tone. He had himself known 
many cases of insanity come from Spiritualism." 


I have been a constant reader of your magazine for many years 
and have always admired the accuracy in the articles published 
therein. However, I must demur to a statement made by Mr. Carl 
Holliday in "St. Patrick's Folk in America." The article is well writ- 
ten and intensely interesting, but in one particular instance is histor- 
ically incorrect. He says on page 792 of the March issue that among 
the five Irish Generals who crossed the Delaware with Washington 
was Greene. General Greene was not an Irishman nor the son of an 
Irishman nor the descendant of one. His ancestor and mine came 
from Dorsetshire, England, in 1635, and was known as "John Greene, 
Gentleman and Surgeon." The Greenes are an old Northamptonshire 
and Dorsetshire family, a branch of which settled in Ireland in the 
days of the Invasion. General Greene was not of that Branch. I am 
proud to say that in my line, which is the same as General Greene, 
and I am near akin to him, I am the first male Catholic since Henry 
VIII.'s time. This I owe to my Irish mother. And lest I be misunder- 
stood, I wish to state that I am Secretary of Robert Emmet Branch 
Friends of Irish Freedom and Vice-President of Division 2, A. O. H., 
here in Newport. I believe that the cause for which Greene fought 
in the days of the Revolution is identical with the cause of Sinn Fein, 
and in the spirit of my forbears, who left England because of the 
persecution of High Church and who fought England in 1776 and 1812, 
I am proud as an American to write and to speak in the cause of 
Liberty. A statement like the above might lay my cause open to 
needless ridicule on the part of the enemies of Justice and Freedom. 

The greatest thing the Irish have ever done for America, and 
I mean the Catholic Irish, is the bringing of Holy Church into promi- 
nence and influence, and there is many a man of ancient American 
lineage who today lives to bless the Irish mother who brought him 
into the pale of Rome. 

Sincerely yours, 

Deputy Collector Internal Revenue. 



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Catholic &(orld 


MAY, 1920 

No. 662 



N the twenty-fourth day of last November the 
Right Rev. Frederick Joseph Kinsman, D.D., 
Protestant Episcopal Bishop of Delaware, 
having resigned his See and severed his connec- 
tion with the Communion in which he had lived 
for almost half a century, made his renunciation of heresy 
and was formally reconciled to the Catholic Apostolic and 
Roman Church. Ten days before that date he wrote the clos- 
ing pages of this book, 1 which he now offers to the world as a 
complete and candid record of his ecclesiastical experience 
and of those changes in his ecclesiastical opinions which led 
him ultimately to seek admission to the Church. Salve Mater 
has little in common wi 'h the usual, more or less stereotyped, 
narrative of conversion. Its human touches and humors are 
many. Clearly the work of a passionately earnest and sincere 
seeker after the truth, it is nevertheless imperturbably serene, 
urbane, and charitable. Dr. Kinsman writes an admirable 
English terse, lucid, and vigorous. He has as pretty a wit 
as the author of A Spiritual jEneid (which is saying a great 
deal), and his historical learning is obviously much more pro- 
found. In short, for learning, brightness, and charm, no apo- 

*Salve Mater, by Frederick Joseph Kinsman. New York: Longmans, Green A 
Co. $2.25. 


VOL. cxi. 10 


logia that has been published for years past may be compared 
with this book. 

The conversion of a Protestant bishop to Catholicism is 
an extremely rare occurrence in our day. But Dr. Kinsman 
is not the first man in America to resign the episcopate of his 
Communion and take the well-worn path to Rome. In 1852, 
the Right Rev. Levi Silliman Ives, Bishop of North Carolina, 
became a Catholic, and, in a document which animadverted 
upon "the impious pretensions of the Bishop of Rome to be 
the Vicar of Christ," was solemnly deposed by his fellow- 
bishops as "an absconding and apostate delinquent from his 
See . . . and his office and work in the ministry." Bishop 
Whittingham of Maryland accounted for this, in his opinion, 
extraordinary aberration on the part of Dr. Ives, as a "de- 
rangement of mind," and thought it imperative that "steps 
should be taken toward procuring a thorough investigation 
into his mental conditions." Since history is amazingly prone 
to repeat itself, it is not surprising that one of Dr. Kinsman's 
Episcopalian correspondents should have attributed his recent 
change of creed to ill-health and unbalanced judgment. (We 
speak more mildly than our fathers of seventy years ago!) 
Dr. Kinsman's conversion is doubtless the most important 
having regard to the position of the convert in his former 
Communion since James Kent Stone (in his subsequent 
Catholic life, Father Fidelis, Passionist), the President of 
Hobart College, found the Treasure hidden in a field, and for 
joy thereof sold all he had and bought that field. 2 There are 
surely many worldly reasons against a bishop's changing his 
religion. There is the difficulty and distress in realizing the 
result of his defection upon his spiritual subjects, clerical as 
well as lay; there is almost always the certainty that he will 
cause the greatest pain to those he loves and who love him. 
And no man can be indifferent to such considerations; no man 
can contemplate with equanimity the prospect of scorn, oblo- 
quy, misapprehension, estrangement, loss of comfort, of sta- 
tion, of the very means of life. Surely those who have em- 
braced the Faith under these circumstances have received, as 
Wiseman once said, a merit little short of what belongs to its 
holy confessors. Yet there are incalculable compensations 

1 Father Stone, we understand, is preparing a new edition of his famous volume, 
nntitled The Invitation Heeded. 


which outweigh utterly the bitterest sacrifices demanded from 
the convert. There is the knowledge that he has on him the 
blessing of Christ's Vicar, the blessing of the Fisherman's 
Successor; that the truth or error of doctrine is no longer a 
question of geography or jurisdiction; that he is at last in the 
unity of God's Mystical Body. Laqueus contritus est, et nos 
liberati sumus. 

At seven and twenty [wrote the most learned Catholic 
convert layman of the nineteenth century, T. W. Allies] 
worldly honor and official rank seemed to open to me as 
an Anglican Bishop's chaplain, and at seven and thirty 
all seemed sacrificed to becoming a Catholic; and now at 
forty I have started afresh as a species of clerk in a city 
office. What is this, O Lord, to Thy shed at Nazareth, 
and how proud am I to shrink from a scratch of the nails 
which pierced Thy Hands and Feet. 

That, indeed, is a thought to heal and strengthen and nerve 
every convert in the first sharp griefs of separation and 
change ! 

There was nothing in Dr. Kinsman's ancestry or upbring- 
ing which savored even remotely of Roman Catholic influences. 

My family [he writes] belong to the Connecticut West- 
ern Reserve in Ohio with a background of Connecticut and 
Massachusetts; they were members of the Episcopal 
Church into which two generations had come out of New 
England Congregationalism. Our earliest American an- 
cestor came to this country in the Mayflower in 1620; none 
from whom we derive descent came over later than 1680. 
Along every line we are descended from the New England 
Puritans. ... In our world the Roman Catholic Church 
did not exist save as a phenomenon in European travel, 
a bogey in history, and an idiosyncrasy of Irish servants. 

As a normal youngster of twelve or thereabouts he saw 
that the religion around him seemed chiefly a matter of study- 
ing the Bible; "and I found American history much more 
interesting." At St. Paul's School, Concord, N. H., he passed 
under the ferrule of Dr. Henry Augustus Coit, who seems to 
have counted for much in upbuilding the character of the 
future bishop, and who taught him "the doctrine of the Real 


Presence," even if he failed, after many doctrinal discourses, 
in explaining to young Kinsman's satisfaction why he was an 
Episcopalian rather than a Presbyterian. From these days, 
however, dated Dr. Kinsman's interest in the work of "the 
Church," and his recognition that his "standard of interests, 
if not of values, is strictly ecclesiastical ecclesiastical as dis- 
tinct from intellectual, moral, or spiritual." (One suspects 
that certain reviewers of Salve Mater will raise their blunder- 
busses and take careful aim when they come to this avowal.) 
In due time young Kinsman crossed to England and went into 
residence for three years at that stronghold of Tractarian 
Anglicanism, Keble College, Oxford, spending a postgraduate 
year of study at Pusey House. These four years, he declares, 
were the happiest of his life. One may well believe it, for the 
third chapter, in which is described his life at Oxford and in 
the Somersetshire rectory of Shepton Beauchamp under the 
pastoral and paternal supervision of that stanchest of High 
Churchmen, Vincent Stuckey Stratton Coles, is a pure delight 
from the first word to the last. At Keble, he had for tutor the 
learned Walter Lock, biographer of Keble and contributor to 
Lux Mundi. 

The young American divine was living in those days "in 
the concentrated atmosphere of the Oxford Movement, regard- 
ing Keble and Pusey with filial loyalty as the embodiments of 
sound Church principles and sound learning, and hearing and 
knowing much of those who were their most direct successors." 
Liddon had died a year before young Kinsman came to Ox- 
ford, but the influence of his life and teaching was still pro- 
foundly felt in Keble and at Pusey House. In the Pusey House 
Library he read proof copies of Liddon's famous Bampton 
Lectures on the Divinity of Christ, with Pusey's marginal com- 
ments upon and his letters about them; and the neophyte 
was "amazed to learn that Pusey did not approve of them as 
'Germanizing' in tendency!" (This is very interesting in view 
of the belief of some Oxford men that Pusey was not less, but 
rather more, "liberal" than Liddon. Gore, whose essay in 
Lux Mundi alarmed Liddon, was in his turn perturbed by the 
Foundations of a later group of young Oxford clerical dons. 
And so, as Canon Adderley said recently, "the story of theology 
is marked by shaking milestones!") 

In those days of the early nineties, the contributors 


to Lux Mundi "were regarded as constituting an inner circle 
of the elect, the most stable element in the Church of Eng- 
land's present, and safest guarantee of its future." J. R. 
Illingworth in whose delightful Life by his widow the cur- 
ious may read the story of the Lux Mundi sessions year by 
year was probably the deepest thinker of the group; one of 
his two papers in Lux Mundi, "The Problem of Pain," belongs 
no less to English literature than to Anglican theology. Dr. 
Kinsman went to Illingworth's Bampton lectures on "Person- 
ality," and was assiduous in his attendance at the lectures and 
sermons of Gore, at that time Principal of Pusey House. 
"Not having had any training in philosophy," he laments, 
"I did not know enough to take in the subtler points in their 
theology and apologetic." 

Doubtless, he realizes by now the wisdom of the Church 
of his new allegiance in insisting that aspirants to her priest- 
hood should be thoroughly grounded in philosophy before 
proceeding to their theology. Nemo potest theologus per- 
fectus evadere, remarks Suarez, nisi prius firma fundamenta 
jecerit philosophise. 

Looking back over those years, Dr. Kinsman may well 
smile whimsically when he remembers, as he tells us, "having 
the feeling that the annual gatherings at Longworth [of the 
Lux Mundi writers at Illingworth's vicarage], of which I had 
been told, represented a chief safeguard of Christian civiliza- 
tion!" He was much influenced by Gore, who emerges today 
as the most distinguished and devoted clerical member of the 
whole Anglican Communion. From William Bright, the Regius 
Professor of Ecclesiastical History, he also learned much, 
deriving special benefit from that illustrious scholar's lec- 
tures on the General Councils though later on coining to 
recognize how much Bright missed or misunderstood because 
of his undue concentration upon the patristic and literary 
documents to the ignoring of "much evidence of monuments, 
local traditions, and existing institutions which bore directly 
upon subjects he had in hand." Bright, as was naturally to 
be expected, taught his students that the claims of the modern 
Papacy were unhistorical, and unconsciously emphasized 
"everything in conciliar history that tells against them." W. 
J. Birkbeck, that distinguished authority upon the Russian 
Church, and Dr. F. E. Brightman, the most erudite of Anglican 


liturgiologists, both served the young man's culture and pro- 
gress. And, in vacation-time, he wandered through Cathedral 
towns, into ancient college chapels and village churches, satur- 
ating himself in the spirit of Anglican tradition and devotion. 
Under Vincent Coles' rectory roof he "learned what clerical 
life and parochial work should be. . . After seeing the ordered 
life of the clergy-house, the careful provision for services, 
instructions, parochial calls, rescue work, and healthful amuse- 
ments of the small community, all arranged with such conse- 
crated common sense, it was impossible ever to be satisfied 
with the average clergyman's life of intense domesticity inter- 
rupted by Sunday services and many social calls. The stand- 
ard was emphatically that of priests. . . ." 

And then, as the day of his diaconate drew nigh, Vincent 
Coles wrote him these moving and beautiful words : "Did you 
ever think that Our Lord went from the Cross 'to preach to 
the spirits that were in prison?' And this is a description of 
all our preaching more or less. The words with which He 
went are a summing-up of the past and consecration of the 
future, 'Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit.' What 
better words can you have in mind as you pass out into the 
unknown life of the ministry?" 

There was a time of conflict awaiting Frederick Kins- 
man in the years ahead, a time of spiritual storm and stress, 
though, looking out upon life with eager eyes of youth, he 
knew it not: a time of inner strife to which no term might 
be put, from which he might attain no rest nor any peace 
until his will should be conformed to God's Will as simply as 
a little child. 

For two years after his ordination to the Anglican minis- 
try, Dr. Kinsman worked as a master in his old school at 
Concord. Then for three happy, hard-working years he was 
Rector of St. Martin's Church, New Bedford, Mass. He left St. 
Martin's to become Professor of Church History at the Berkeley 
Divinity School, whence, three years later, he was called to 
the Chair in the same subject at the General Theological Sem- 
inary, New York City, a post which he occupied with distinc- 
tion for five years. During all this time he apparently expe- 
rienced no weakening of confidence in Anglican Catholicity. 
(Once, however, some time before his ordination, he was 
troubled in mind by a canon of the Episcopal Church, 


which forbade "any act of adoration of or toward the Ele- 
ments in the Holy Communion, such as bowings, prostrations, 
or genuflexions," which "symbolized erroneous or doubtful 
Doctrine." Bishop Niles to whom at the time he made declara- 
tion of his belief in the Real Presence "and in the consequent 
duty of Eucharistic Adoration intended to conform with the 
teaching of Mr. Keble" (our italics) made response that while 
he would hold neither himself nor any standing committee 
"competent to waive the utterances and rulings of a Canon 
like that any Canon" he did "not suppose that it was in- 
tended to oppose any doctrine of the Real Presence which 
you have been taught." "The incident merely confirmed 
my belief," says Dr. Kinsman, "that the doctrine of the Real 
Presence with Eucharistic Adoration of Our Lord as a log- 
ically consequent duty, was the true doctrine of the Anglican 
Church, no matter how many of its members failed to under- 
stand it" (italics ours again). 

In 1905 Dr. Kinsman spent the summer in Europe seeing 
Oxford again, and on the same journey, visiting Constanti- 
nople and Asia Minor, exploring the hills and ruins of Ephesus, 
briefly glimpsing Athens and Corinth, and paying his second 
visit to the Eternal City, which seems to have left his Protes- 
tantism intact. Eight years later he was once more to indulge 
his enthusiasm for Christian archaeological studies, in a so- 
journ at Tunis, whence he repaired daily to the site of Carth- 
age and looked upon the amphitheatre hallowed by the mar- 
tyrdom of St. Perpetua and her companions. 

On SS. Simon and Jude's Day, 1908, he was consecrated 
Bishop of Delaware. 

In looking back [the ex-Bishop remarks wistfully] it 
seems to me that the Episcopal Church gave me everything 
I could most wish. I had a special ambition to teach 
Church History, and two opportunities were given me; of 
all the parishes I have ever known, the one I should pick 
for myself would be St. Martin's, New Bedford: in recent 
years the only post I could possibly wish was that of 
Bishop of Delaware ... I had plenty of difficulties and 
disappointments, but knew of no other Bishop who had so 
few . . . The surroundings and conditions of my work 
satisfied me; so far as they were concerned I ought to have 
been, and was, quite happy. That was all on the surface. 


Below the surface, during almost my whole episcopate, 
I was increasingly troubled, passing through successive 
stages of disappointment, disillusion, doubt, and disbelief, 
owing to the waning of faith in the church system which 
I was set in Delaware to represent. 

It is quite likely that Frederick Kinsman would never 
have abandoned the church of his fathers had he not been 
raised to the episcopate. But it was the office and work of 
Episcopal Bishop of Delaware which tested his conception 
of Catholicity and found it painfully wanting. 

The day of my consecration [he declares incisively] 
sealed my doom as an Anglican. While it was possible to 
maintain a purely theoretical view of the Anglican posi- 
tion, it was possible for me to believe in the essential 
catholicity of its inner spirit, of its tendencies, and of its 
ultimate achievements. As Seminary professor or rector 
of a "Catholic parish" I should probably never have had 
misgivings, much less doubts. Most Anglicans assume that 
the special atmosphere about them represents the breath 
of the Church's truest life; and this is especially true of 
Catholic-minded Anglicans. They are themselves Catholics 
and their special task is "to Catholicize the Church." This 
feeling I shared until as Bishop I felt the necessity of a 
Church to Catholicize me! The theories did not stand the 
test of a bishop's varied experience of the system's actual 
workings, his necessary contact with and share in all 
phases of the Church's life. Eleven years in the episcopate 
convinced me against my will, and in spite of knowledge 
that other like-minded Bishops did not agree with me, 
that the work with which I was identified was merely the 
propagation of a form of Protestantism; that belief in it as 
a Liberal Catholicism was but an amiable delusion. Aban- 
donment of work did not signify in my case repudiation of 
Protestant principles, for these I had never held, but the 
loss of belief in the Catholic interpretation of the Anglican 

There is Dr. Kinsman's story in a nutshell: the story of 
a discovery that men will constantly be making, the discovery 
that Anglicanism is only thinly-disguised Protestantism. At 
first, Dr. Kinsman equated "Protestant Episcopal" with "Non- 
Roman Catholic." 


When I felt forced to admit that "Protestant" applied to 
Episcopalians meant essentially the same as when applied 
to other religious bodies, I gave up. I think now that 
Episcopalians who know themselves to be Protestants, 
are the ones who rightly interpret their position. . . "Prot- 
estant Episcopal" represents a contradiction in terms. 
Protestantism overthrew priesthood and especially the 
chief-priesthood, the episcopate; no real Protestant be- 
lieves in priests or bishops. 

Admirably and wittily, Dr. Kinsman sums up thus : 

Protestant Episcopalians must choose between their 
adjective and their noun; and whichever choice they make 
involves mental reservations as to the other half of their 
official title. I was one of those who stuck to the noun 
and let the adjective shift for itself. I now think that, 
however much the noun expresses the Anglican theory, it 
is the adjective which describes the working facts. 

Although from the hour of his consecration the Bishop 
was never wholly satisfied with the position in which he found 
himself, a great deal of water rolled under the bridges before 
the stark reality of his ecclesiastical position began to trouble 
him seriously and fundamentally. He passed through many 
stages of increasing indecision and perplexity before the final 
despair came. He was never blind to the fact that the mem- 
bers of his flock took three distinct and mutually antagonistic 
attitudes toward the Church. But at first he disposed of these 
"apparent contradictions" by deciding that "the three schools 
of thought simply divided the Creed between them, and that 
each needed the others to supplement and develop its own 
special position." (An argument of which the late J. N. Figgis 
was much enamored.) Thus, "the Fatherhood of God, the 
foundation of all theology ... is the basis of all Broad 
Church preaching. The heart of the Creed, belief in the Di- 
vine Son ... is the basis of the Evangelical appeal. The 
High Church, emphasis on Church, and Sacraments is nothing 
but practical belief in the Holy Ghost. . . " Bring them to- 
gether in the Protestant Episcopal Church and you have the 
Holy Catholic Church! (But to use the laboratory termin- 
ology a mechanical mixture is a vastly different thing from 


a chemical compound.) Nor was the Bishop blind, either, to 
the fact that what his Church tolerated in the way of doctrinal 
vagaries, he, as its official, was also bound to tolerate, for he 
had sworn a solemn oath to do so. As an interpreter of the 
Doctrine, Discipline, and Worship of the Episcopal Church 
he "had to be guided by general custom, not by personal pref- 
erence." It was a great relief to him that none of his clergy 
attempted publicly to deny a fundamental article of the creed; 
but, he mournfully admits, "had there been one I should have 
felt bound to allow what was notoriously allowed elsewhere" 
(italics ours). Moreover, his experience had driven home to 
him that "there is often more tenderness for those who deny 
than for those who uphold the Faith in our Semi-Arian paci- 
ficism." The history of modern Anglicanism, one may insist, 
is a continuous demonstration of the truth of this: Oxford, 
in the early days of the Tractarians, suspends Pusey for 
preaching the Real Presence, and in the commemoration of 
that same year decorates Everett, an American Socinian, with 
an honorary degree. Hampden, whose Bamptons were of- 
ficially condemned as heretical by the University, is promoted 
to that storm-centre, the See of Hereford; Arthur Stanley is 
given the Deanery of Westminster, and Arthur Tooth is given 
a term in jail. Hensley Henson, who, whatever his creed may 
be, could never, in any strict use of the term, be called a Chris- 
tian, is made Bishop of Hereford and occupies unmolested that 
ancient diocese, while Wason of Truro is brutally ejected from 
his vicarage for "Reservation of the Blessed Sacrament." 

The time came when Dr. Kinsman realized fully that the 
Catholic interpretation of Anglican formularies, although it 
had never lacked its defenders in the Anglican Church "in- 
cluding the most learned and holy divines in the Church of 
England and some of the most able men of the Church in 
America" was only one view among others of which one 
directly opposes it. "It is distinctly exclusive," writes Dr. 
Kinsman, "whereas Anglicanism, in this country as well as in 
England, is notoriously inclusive of all who approach it from 
the Protestant side. . . The policy of comprehension com- 
plaisant toward all Protestants, is the antithesis of the other 
policy of rigid loyalty to the principles of the historic Catholic 
Church." And the melancholy conclusion is that "the Lati- 
tudinarian lion will only lie down with the Catholic lamb in- 


side if it bleats!" And so we come to one reason the Bishop 
assigned for leaving Delaware : 

After long struggle against the conviction, I have been 
forced to admit that this toleration of doctrinal laxity seems 
to me to indicate that the Church's Discipline fails to ex- 
press and defend its Doctrine, and creates an insuperable 
difficulty for those who believe in the fundamental im- 
portance of the historic doctrine of the Incarnation. 

And there came a time, too, when he ceased "to believe in 
ambiguity of statement as the one mode of preserving balance 
of truth." Out of which arose another reason for his resigna- 

The Episcopal Church permits and encourages a variety 
of views about Sacraments. Its standard, however, is de- 
termined by the minimum rather than by the maximum 
view tolerated, since its official position must be gauged not 
by the most it allows, but by the least it insists upon. Its 
general influence has fluid qualities, always seeking the 
lowest possible level. The stream of its life cannot rise 
higher than its source in corporate authority. Individual 
belief and practice may surmount this; but they will ulti- 
mately count for nothing so long as they find no expression 
in official action; nor can the Church be judged by the 
standard of individual members acting in independence of 
it ... Although there has been marked advance among 
some of our people owing to deeper hold of sacramental 
truth, there has been even greater retrogression among 
others towards rationalistic skepticism. On the whole, the 
Church seems to be swayed by the tendencies of the age 
opposed to the supernatural owing to ambiguities inherent 
in its system, always subject to an intellectual law of gravi- 

At this stage Dr. Kinsman had arrived in 1919. It was a 
goal for which he had been unconsciously headed for seven or 
eight years; years in which he had been, one by one, shedding 
his illusions about Anglicanism and getting down nearer and 
nearer to the bedrock of reality. The proof of his ecclesias- 
tical pudding was in the eating. Anglo-Catholicism was all 
very well on paper or in the professor's seminar-room. In the 
highways and hedgerows of Delaware the thing refused to 


function. In the working-out it became poignantly evident 
that Episcopalianism was "merely a form of Congregational- 
ism to which 'the historic episcopate' forms an anomalous 
adjunct. If a minister is personally agreeable, a congre- 
gation is disposed to follow his lead in thought and parochial 
action; if his successor is also personally agreeable, they will 
with equal readiness follow him along quite different lines. 
The important thing is not church principles, but ministerial 

As early as 1912 he thought of resigning at the General 
Convention of 1913, and he took his troubles to his brethren 
in the episcopate, Bishops Hall of Vermont and Brent of the 
Philippines (now of Buffalo) . To the former he wrote : "The 
older I grow, the more I feel that the ideals of Anglican Catho- 
lics are the noblest things I know; but I have ceased to feel 
that they can be regarded as those of the Church or much 
more than the aspiration of a party using its Protestant private 
judgment in a Catholic direction. But for effective action we 
must have the Church, not merely a party within the Church, 
behind us." And to Bishop Brent he was able at that time to 
make this unequivocal disclaimer : " I have not the least 
touch of Roman fever. Actual Rome repels me." What he 
was really suffering from, he adds quippishly, was Protestant 
chills! Protestantism, he is frank to confess, is drearily un- 

It was now that he turned to reconsider the history of the 
English Reformation settlement, no longer as a college lec- 
turer, but as a bishop who had seen the practical working-out 
of that system in its principles and fruits in an American dio- 
cese in the twentieth century. Here Gairdner and Gasquet 
were his chief illuminations. "It seems to me," he writes with 
touching earnestness at this point, "that in my historical work 
I have always had a sincere desire to get at the truth. I have 
wished to avoid the blinding influence of prejudice and 
frankly to admit everything that told against my own conten- 
tions. I am quite certain of the honesty of my motives; but 
I have come to see that in many things I have been mistaken 
and that, without knowing it, I have let prejudice cover my 
view of facts." One main result of this review of Reforma- 
tion history in its sources and in the pages of coldly impartial 
historians like Gairdner, was to convince Dr. Kinsman of the 


essential Tightness of the view of the English Reformation 
presented in the Cambridge Modern History, i. e., that it was 
to be bracketed with the Continental and Scottish. Another 
result was his realization of the weakness of the Elizabethan 
settlement: it "aimed at comprehension and ended in com- 
promise." It was "the ecclesiastical counterpart of the politic 
coquetry habitually practised by the Virgin Queen." From the 
midst of these investigations Oxford summoned him to receive 
an honorary D. D. On this journey he was the guest at Oxford 
of his old tutor, Walter Lock, now Warden of Keble, and he 
visited, while in England, Bishops Gore, Paget, ;and John 
Wordsworth, and the Archbishop of Canterbury. 

It was the most interesting three weeks I ever spent, filled 
with pleasant experiences, all tending to make me thankful 
for my connection with the Church of England, and sug- 
gesting possibilities of useful and delightful contact in 
future. Yet to this visit, when I was least expecting such 
impressions, belonged certain uncomfortable thoughts of 
the breaking of Catholic continuity at the English Reforma- 
tion. In St. Paul's Cathedral, noting the incongruity of 
the surplice as a vestment for a celebrant in such a place, 
I was set to thinking of the significance of the abolition 
of the Eucharistic vestments; the portraits at Lambeth 
set me thinking of the historical significance of the "mag- 
pie;" in Lincoln Cathedral and again at York I was struck 
by the inadequacy of the modern rite of Holy Communion, 
and much more of Evensong, to make use of the magnificent 
minsters built by monks for the Mass . . . 

And he perceived only too clearly that the change from copes 
and mitres to chimeres and balloon sleeves signified a profound 
alteration in the conception of the episcopate and the priest- 
hood. In spite of all this he was believing, as late as 1914, 
that the Anglican Churches constituted a Catholic Communion. 
By 1917, however, he was unwilling to place them as hereto- 
fore on an equality with Easterns and old Catholics, but rather 
ranked them " with the Danish Church and Scottish Kirk, and, 
for an especially close parallel, with the Church of Sweden." 
In the course of this investigation he found himself at 
length in accord with sturdy Cobbett's stentorian verdict that 
"the Reformation was engendered in lust, brought forth in 
hypocrisy and perfidy, and cherished and fed by plunder, dev- 


astations, and rivers of innocent English and Irish blood." 
Reduced to its plainest terms the Reformation had this for im- 
mediate result, that "the provinces of Canterbury and York, 
under compulsion of the English King, cut themselves loose 
from Catholic Christendom, and more and more, partly by 
choice, more as victims of violence, assimilated themselves to 
Lutheran and Calvinistic standards. The plea of conformity 
to primitive standards did not alter the willfulness of the 

Then came the vexed question of the validity of Anglican 
Orders. His thought upon this subject passed through four 
well-defined stages: "(1) That they were schismatical; (2) 
that they were futile to guarantee some of the purposes of 
Orders; (3) that they were dubious, and (4) for this rea- 
son and because of breaks in Catholic continuity, invalid." 
The whole treatment of Anglican Orders in this chapter seems 
to the lay student of the question assuredly the most illuminat- 
ing discussion in brief space that he has so far read. It is im- 
possible to do more than tabulate Dr. Kinsman's conclusions 
and quote one or two of his penetrating side-comments. In 
effect, he observes, this is what the Anglican Church says: 
"We have kept the ancient Orders, Bishop, Priest and Deacon; 
we require episcopal ordination for those who minister in 
our own churches; but we do not say that it is absolutely 
necessary, nor do we require those who submit to it to have 
any particular opinion concerning it. It is to be assumed that 
our Church has a mind; but on this subject she has no opinion 
to express." The official attitude of an Anglican Bishop con- 
ferring Holy Orders is therefore: "I perform this solemnity 
whereby you may be admitted to minister in our churches; 
but as to what it is in itself, or as to what you and others 
are to think of it, I have officially nothing to say. Though 
personally and privately I and so may you hold Orders to 
be a Sacrament, officially I must treat them as doubtfully 
sacramental, and merely urge them as non-committally harm- 
less." And as to the power of the keys: 

If you think this commissions you to hear sacramental 
confession, you may hear them as a permissible extra; as 
to knowledge of spiritual medicine and surgery, you are 
left to your own device. Examination of the canons of 
Moral Theology suggests that there is something doubt- 


ful about a commission which in practice is taken to mean 
so little or so much and, often, to mean nothing at all. 
Doubt about the Church's doctrine of Confession and Abso- 
lution throws analogous doubt on the commission to remit 
and retain sins. Doubtful doctrines of the Eucharist and 
Penance imply doubtful Orders; and doubtful Orders as 
such are not conferred by the Catholic Church. 

Slowly, reluctantly, with clinging unwillingness, driven 
from point to point, like a fighter falling back before a con- 
quering adversary, never yielding in anything until the last 
citadel of counter-argument had been stormed and taken and 
utter conviction had ensued, this Protestant Bishop made his 
painful pilgrimage to the gates of the City of Peace. There re- 
mained at last almost the stubbornest obstacle of them all: 
his prejudices against Rome. His Connecticut Yankee boy's 
mind had fed as a matter of course on the notorious Thousand 
and One Protestant Nights Entertainment, as Manning acidly 
called it. Until he was sixteen or seventeen he did not know 
what the inside of a Catholic church was like. Then one day, 
out of curiosity, he went to Mass with his mother at the Cathe- 
dral in Cleveland, where he was impressed by the rapt ex- 
pression of a young man going to Holy Communion, and 
offended by the rather crude peroration of the sermon. His 
second contact with Catholicism occurred when at the end of 
his first term in Oxford, he went, in January, 1892, to the 
lying-in-state of the dead Manning at Westminster. Dr. Kins- 
man hints darkly at a strange experience he had there "of 
which I have never spoken to anyone but my sister, which 
suggested the thought that I might, or even ought, some day 
to become a Roman Catholic, in so forcible a way that the 
memory was indelible, though there was no practical conse- 
quence of any sort." Four weeks of an Italian Lent in 1895 
did nothing except convince him that the Roman Holy Week 
observances were inferior to the Anglican in their confusion 
of the strict sequence of events. Idolatrous superstition was 
not nearly as much in evidence as he expected. On the whole 
the greater Roman churches "measured up fairly well to the 
standard of the Oxford Movement!" When he left Rome this 
time it was with the feeling that "Rome was not wholly bad," 
and the conviction that "Roman Catholicism was best for 
Italians, Spaniards, and French." (!) A little later, conver- 


sation with a Belgian Capuchin priest gave him his "first expe- 
rience of the varied delights and surprises of intercourse with 
a well-educated priest." Then he began to read the books of 
such men as Duchesne and Batiffol, and came very speedily 
to admit that "we had much more to learn from Catholic 
writers than from rationalizing Germans, whose authority 
was slavishly followed by many in America and England." 
With his fundamentally sound Catholic instinct Dr. Kinsman 
was able to read Loisy without assent, and to appreciate to the 
full Pope Pius X.'s discernment of the character and tendency 
of Modernism, and his unhesitating condemnation of it. He 
even found himself in sympathy with The Tablet's strictures 
on the lack of authority in the Anglican Church. The read- 
ing of certain utterances of Cardinal Gibbons and the result 
of his determination, thereupon, to follow the Cardinal's re- 
marks quoted in the press, and to read his books, demonstrated 
to Dr. Kinsman that Cardinal Gibbons was nothing less than 
a very great American citizen, as he felt, too, Archbishop Ire- 
land was. 

The beginning of the end came when "it gradually dawned 
upon me that Catholicism coming from Italy by way of Ire- 
land, might possibly be naturalized and become as truly and 
loyally American as Catholicism from England or anywhere 
else: and I had already shrewd suspicions that whatever its 
degree and shade of Americanism, it was certainly full as 
Catholic!" And when he started out to test the nature of the 
influence exerted by Roman Catholicism on American life, 
using as his touchstone and text, "By their fruits ye shall know 
them," the revelations came fast and furious. He saw, among 
many other things, the marvelous record achieved by the 
representatives of this alleged alien and un-American faith in 
the Great War; he saw the constant and fruitful insistence by 
this Church on "the sanctity of marriage and of the home as 
the basis of personal and social morality" (of the Anglican 
Church, the cynical Lord Melbourne once said that it was the 
chief bulwark against Christianity in England) . And, although 
his eyes were never closed to the melancholy fact that there are 
many who are nominally Catholics but who do not, in the old 
Irishman's phrase, "work at it," he could not help seeing also 
that "there is no doubt what the Catholic standards are, and 
they are nailed to the mast. Against all the evils that 


threaten America by insidious undermining of the foundations 
of the home, there is no stronger or more effective bulwark 
than the Roman Catholic Church." One would put it even more 
strongly than this. The simple truth today is that the Catho- 
lic and Roman Church is the only bulwark, in any serious 
and effective sense, against the greatest social evils of today, 
race suicide and divorce. The trend of American life will 
indubitably reveal this within the next twenty years. As 
guardian and guarantor of social morality in these United 
States, all other so-called Christian denominations are to 
Catholicism as children playing with bow and arrow to trained 
soldiers with machine guns. 

Rut the Anglican churches were the churches of sound 
learning and the fearless quest for truth, and there was little 
real scholarship among Catholics. Did not the Catholic sys- 
tem suppress honest and candid criticism? Was not Catholic 
scholarship really a contradiction in terms? This was another 
of the Bishop's notions which went by the board as soon as he 
had investigated at first-hand the facts of the case. It "received 
a severe shock when I first examined The Catholic Encyclo- 
paedia." Dr. Kinsman says a true word when he observes dryly 
that "a distinctly sobering effect is in store for any clergyman 
of the Episcopal Church who wishes to examine this [Encyclo- 
paedia] and then imagine what he and his colleagues would 
have made of a similar attempt!" Next Dr. Kinsman famil- 
iarized himself with the work being done by the great Con- 
tinental Catholic scholars, especially the Benedictines. About 
this time he wrote : 

Lately I have been reading Roman Catholic writers cover- 
ing ground with which I considered myself fairly familiar. 
They have shed floods of light: some of them are the best 
I know: some do bits of work I longed for in seminary 
days and could not find: they have given a sense of free- 
dom which I never had in reading only Anglican author- 
ities; and by revealing unsuspected abysses of ignorance 
they have made me wish to do all my history work over 
again. If this were possible, my lectures would have a 
fullness, accuracy, and freedom they never before pos- 

But happiest day of all surely it was? came when Dr. 

VOL. CXI. 11 


Kinsman discovered what a Catholic nun can do for a good 
man. By a fortunate accident he became acquainted with the 
Visitation Sisters of Wilmington and with one of them in es- 
pecial, and found himself deeply interested to know the man- 
ner of life these good women led, and to behold in them a sort 
of spiritual power-house in his diocese. "I felt the charm of 
their conversation which showed that delicate gayety which 
is only possible in consecrated lives." (It would be difficult, 
by the way, if not impossible, to put this more felicitously.) 
This friendship with the Sisters "gave a touch and a tone" 
to the last years of his life as a Protestant bishop. Then he 
learned much also from the young Oblate Father, chaplain 
to the nuns, concerning the discipline and training of a Roman 
Catholic priest, and it occurred to him that his clergy were 
amateurs and the Roman clergy professionals. 

Of the Petrine claims, his reconsideration led him to be- 
lieve that 

Our Lord's commission of St. Peter is quite as formal as 
that of the Twelve; that, so far as the Gospels record, they 
are of parallel importance; and that it is just as reasonable 
to take the one set as part of the constitution and charter 
of the Church as the other. In any case I can only bear my 
witness that, in daring to see special meaning for all time 
in Our Lord's dealing with St. Peter without fear of con- 
troversial admissions, I have a sense of freedom in reading 
the Gospels I never had before. I have dropped fetters, not 
assumed them. 

Indeed, the whole chapter on the Papacy is one of the best 
brief treatments of the subject outside Allies' monumental 

* * * * 

Throughout this article I have frankly endeavored to per- 
mit Dr. Kinsman to speak in his own person wherever possible. 
And I have, even at that, been able to give only some of the 
general lines of his development and argument. That implac- 
able niggard, space, forbids any attempt to present even the 
outlines of his gradual change of attitude toward the cult of 
the Saints and "new dogmas;" or of how he came to disen- 
cumber himself of certain prejudices against the Jesuits; pre- 
judice derived obviously from the reading of works hostile to 


the largest religious Order in the Catholic Church today; or 
of many other deeply interesting and important matters. It 
seems to the present writer that it is nothing less than his duty 
to urge that every cultivated American Catholic buy, read, 
re-read, and inwardly digest this most remarkable work. One 
is tempted to affirm without reservation that, in the literature 
of its type, it is the most entrancing piece of self-revelation 
which has been given to the world since those anxious days of 
the early summer of 1864 when John Henry Newman wrote 
out of a tremulous agony of soul the immortal pages of his 
Apologia. Frederick Kinsman has now been admitted to 
fullness of spiritual joy in the True Faith; the tides of grace 
and healing are flowing over his soul. He need no longer 
agitate himself with the passions of Protestantism, Low 
Church or Chasubled, or with the vagaries of the newest An- 
glican "Liberalism." He has desisted from the vain task of 
"reforming the Church;" he is now going "to let the Church 
reform him." 

And as we close Salve Mater, we may well be moved to 
pray as once upon a time the great Thomas William Allies 
prayed in a passage worthy to be set beside the words of 
Basil, of Augustine, and of Chrysostom: 


O Church of the living God, Pillar and Ground of the 
Truth, bright as the sun, terrible as an army in battle 
array, O Mother of Saints and Doctors, Martyrs and Vir- 
gins, clothe thyself in the robe and aspect, as thou hast the 
strength, of Him Whose Body thou art, the Love for our 
sake incarnate: shine forth upon thy lost children, and 
draw them to the double fountain of thy bosom, the well- 
spring of Truth and Grace ! 



T is awkward to attempt an appreciation of a 
great living author, particularly when the object 
of our appreciation happens to be a clever satir- 
ist, and to have felt no scruples about exercising 
his gift now and then at the expense of "certain 
literary critics." But misgivings of this sort may not stop 
the sincere admirer, one who thinks that Ayscough deserves to 
be known better in this country than he is, through the books 
which have earned for him his high reputation as a master 
of fiction. 

The passing of Canon Sheehan and Monsignor Benson, 
with whose names that of Monsignor Bickerstaffe-Drew will 
always be closely linked, has left him at the head of the able 
and comparatively numerous group of English novelists who 
are Catholics. I purposely avoid the expressions "Catholic 
novelist" and "Catholic novels." Ayscough himself dislikes 
such terms, not because they are objectionable in themselves, 
but because they usually convey the impression that Catholic 
fiction, Catholic literature, occupies ground distinct and apart 
from literature properly so-called, or is to be classified under 
it in opposition to what might be denominated mundane liter- 
ature. "In one sense," he says, "I would submit that there 
is no such thing, apart from such specialized subjects as 
theology, as Catholic literature: in another that all literature, 
that is true literature at all, is Catholic: that is, that all true 
literature is a part of the common inheritance which belongs 
to us and to all men." 

In his lectures he is fond of developing and emphasizing 
this contention, and of proceeding thence to explain why, de- 
spite well-meant hints and suggestions, he has written no novel 
of an exclusively Catholic appeal. His aim has been to pro- 
duce fiction which, Catholic in tone and spirit, should never- 
theless find a place on the bookshelves of Protestant and un- 
believing homes. There is where it will do most good, and 


there, obviously, it has little chance of arriving if it carry un- 
mistakeable proofs of an ecclesiastical imprimatur on every 
page. Hence in none of his novels does he attempt a strictly 
Catholic theme, nor obtrude religious lessons liable to repel 
any fair-minded person whomsoever. He nowhere preaches, 
nowhere strikes the attitude of the avowed apologist or con- 
troversialist. His Catholic characters are quite interestingly 
human, clerics and religious as well as laymen. Along with 
such inspiring and loveable figures as Poor Sister and Father 
Ryan and the little Prioress of Jaqueline, he gives us good- 
humored pictures of the gossiping Prioress of Marotz, close- 
fisted Don Ercole, and loud Canon O'Hirlihy. On the other 
hand plenty of attractive non-Catholics are introduced, whom 
he handles with respect unmingled with condescension, and he 
is not so sanguine as to make the closing chapter of each book 
a catalogue of edifying conversions. 

I trust no one will gather from this that Ayscough's books 
are lacking in spirituality; that they rarely bring home re- 
ligious lessons, clear up Catholic doctrines, or dwell on sub- 
jects Catholic. Everyone of his readers knows how far this 
would be from the truth. A single sentence in "King's Serv- 
ants," perhaps his finest essay, which I quote more than once 
in these pages, embodies what is the true purport of all his 
great novels: "It seems to me that from the pages of high 
romance we may draw a more serene patience, and a more 
practical remembrance that it is by God, and not by us, that 
the world is ruled; that somehow, after all our boggling and 
our crossness, His providence unties our knots and may cor- 
rect our blunders." 

How successful he is in handling purely Catholic themes 
may be judged from his portrayal of life in the cloister. A 
more ardent champion of the high vocation of contemplative 
religious would be hard to find. Yet his books contain little 
argument and no controversy on the subject. It is his wonder- 
fully realistic pictures of the everyday life these secluded men 
and women of prayer lead which win us. We never leave 
one of his convents or monasteries or hermitages without a 
clearer understanding and deeper appreciation of the sub- 
limity, as well as the profound reasonableness, of what those 
within its walls are doing. So captivating did George Mere- 
dith find the saintly Superioress in Marotz that he wrote the 


author assuring him he had completely "fallen in love" with 
Poor Sister. In San Celestino, which has enjoyed the distinc- 
tion of being the only book by a living author in the English 
course at Oxford, we are led up to a lonely cave on a mountain, 
and witness with awe the grim austerities and temptations and 
ineffable consolations of a hermit saint. Nor must we forget 
the delightful visit of the Ancient and his two English of- 
ficers to the Cistercian monastery in French Windows. I doubt 
not the old man's answer there to Chutney's, "Tell us what it 
means?" has enlightened more non-Catholics as to the sig- 
nificance of the contemplative life than anything written these 
two decades. 

Himself a convert, Ayscough obviously feels that what 
his former co-religionists stand in need of is not controversy, 
not exhortation, not an elaborated and idealized picture of the 
Church militant, which would carefully throw into the blurred 
background the weaknesses of her human instruments, but an 
honest glimpse or two of her simple, compelling grandeur, 
and of God's workings through her on the hearts of her im- 
perfect children. His tone is never supercilious, but it has 
nothing of shy and timid apology. When occasion offers he 
combats boldly those false notions of the Church which are 
particularly prevalent in educated circles, that she is, for in- 
stance, "merely a feature of the Middle Ages," as one of his 
characters put it, "a fine thing out of date like chivalry and 
the feudal system: a great idea that made the Middle Ages 
more picturesque than our own." Nor can he suffer patiently 
the High Church habit of simply ignoring the Reformation 
in England. At the same time the good-natured satire he 
directs at the oddities and inconsistencies and prepossessions 
of the Church by law established is hardly apt to offend, since 
it evinces neither ignorance nor malice, and is of a sort not 
unfamiliar on the lips of Anglicans themselves. 

It may seem superfluous to add that any number of whole- 
some lessons of a more secular nature are insinuated into the 
pages of Ayscough. Jaqueline emphasizes almost as forcibly 
as The Newcom.es "the horrible degradation of marriage with- 
out love, as impure, I think, as love without marriage," and 
Monksbridge satirizes delightfully the masterful campaign of 
Sylvia, the clever, to make "somebodies" of herself and her 


Though Ayscough's plots are by no means lacking in inter- 
est and ingenuity, he is too absorbed in his men and women 
to achieve high excellence of technique. His manner has more 
in common with that of the old classics, his favorites, Jane 
Austen, Emily Bronte, Mrs. Gaskell, Eliot, and Thackeray, than 
with current fiction, "if," as he observes, "that can be called 
current which loves to crawl and snuff its inspiration from the 
dung and slime of a civilization turned rotten." Even his 
critical essays would make evident that his concern is with 
character rather than action. He has, in fact, but one plot, 
which appears, with minor divergencies, in Marotz, Mezzo- 
giorno, Faustula, and Jaqueline, from which Hurdcott does 
not depart far, and which runs through a goodly part of Dro- 
mina. A girl, beautiful, extraordinarily gifted, of odd, fasci- 
nating traits, occupies the centre of the stage. The unfolding 
of her soul, that critical stage especially at which the untem- 
pered girl passes, as by fire, to the maturity of noble, lovely 
womanhood, is the heart of the story. The heroine's purgation 
is generally effected through a hasty and unhappy alliance 
without affection. But in the end the painful bonds are loosed, 
and the story closes with the wedding bells of true love. 

San Celestino and Monksbridge, it is true, break new 
ground. In the former the author is guided by the historical 
sequence of events, and as to Monksbridge, its attenuated 
framework can hardly be called a plot at all. The book is 
strongly suggestive of Cranford, but with a Deborah, instead 
of Miss Matty, the central figure. 

The critic on the lookout for such things will detect struc- 
tural imperfections in all of Ayscough's novels, though they 
are rarer in his later works. He himself realizes that he was 
too prodigal of material in Marotz and Dromina. The first 
carries us down through four generations of the San Vito 
family; the other, a stirring, passionate romance, but in point 
of technique most open to criticism, pieces together three or 
four distinct stories, and shifts its setting from Ireland to 
Spain, to France, to California, to Hispaniola. Sometimes 
characters in whom our interest has been keenly awakened, 
are allowed to drop quietly out of sight. We want to hear 
more of Arrigo in Marotz, of Phelim and Con and Agar in 
Dromina, of the devoted Arab, Bringali, in Mezzogiorno, of 
the Lambs and Hazlitt in Hurdcott. Piccolo's sudden and 


fearful fall taxes our credulity, and the happy ending of Faus- 
tula comes as a sort of anticlimax. 

Ayscough begins a story in Prodigals and Sons with the 
observation that "warnings out of and above the natural order 
are given not now and then, but often; if we would only be- 
lieve in them, if we would only learn to read and recognize 
them." Fortunately, he does not carry this hazardous theory 
into his novels as freely as into his short stories. Since Dro- 
mina alone, so far as I recall, introduces preternatural agen- 
cies in a fashion which might be objected to, it suffices to have 
called attention to what seems to be his attitude on the subject. 

Beyond doubt it is Ayscough's gallery of female portraits 
which gives him his rank among fiction writers. No novelist 
of this century has produced a more exquisite group than 
Marotz, Gillian, Consuelo, Faustula, and Jaqueline. They 
have the natural nobility, the depth, the subtle feminine graces 
of the finest female figures in our classics, and they add to this 
a further charm, not to be achieved by the unbelieving artist, 
which a profound faith lends them, and a familiar love of God, 
and a readiness for unbounded sacrifice when His love calls. 
The light upon their faces, when the Master's brush has put 
the final touches, is the far-off radiance of another world. Yet 
they are not cold, passionless, statuesque creatures, these 
women of Ayscough. Depth of soul, warm and intensely hu- 
man, is their hallmark, and a peculiar loveliness, "of a quality 
belonging to those across whose life the shadow of tragedy is 
to fall." 

There is a similarity about them, it is true, resulting from, 
or rather accounting for, the similarity of the romances in 
which they live. For Ayscough is not the man to fit his char- 
acters into a prearranged story. He builds his story up around 
his characters. This resemblance, however, does not approach 
that, say, of Harland's heroines, who blend themselves in our 
minds beyond recognition a few weeks after we have laid aside 
his books. Here there is a genuine and vital differentiation. 
Faustula, the proud, fiery little pagan, hungering for love, her 
gorge rising against the hollow sham of a vestal's life, is far 
removed from Marotz, ever serene and reposeful, "in patience 
possessing her soul." Jaqueline is a headstrong English girl, 
whose nature would brook neither censure nor contradiction, 
till the blow falls which chastens her. There is more stateli- 


ness, more reserve, about Gillian, more of the dreamer, whom 
a life of boredom has brought to maturity before her time. 
Consuelo is, I think, the most loveable of them all, a fair, fresh 
flower from the South, ablush with the first delicate glow of 
unfolding womanhood, interested in everybody, amused by 
every oddity and touched by every form of suffering, utterly 
indifferent to rank and position, and at the end marrying in 
prison the man she loved, though he stood convicted before the 
world of vice and murder. 

Ayscough, moreover, has plenty of first-rate women besides 
his heroines. None of his creations surpass Sylvia, the thor- 
oughbred strategist, as ambitious and mettlesome as Becky 
Sharp, but too superlatively genteel to descend to cheap, or 
compromising, or merely shrewd manoeuvres. He depicts with 
equal verisimilitude the simple devout nun, and the vain, 
hardshelled, pharisaical vestal. We have masterful Roma, 
chattering, worldly ladies Louisa and Caradoc, the mad artist 
Adalgitha. Then there is haughty Sabina, Roman matron to 
the backbone, and beside her cheerful, unpretentious Melania, 
the model Christian mother; crabbed old Zia, ironing the 
crumples out of her darling banknotes with repeated ironings, 
yet hiding a heart withal under her yellow skin, and stately 
Berengaria, gentlest of the sex. Of his peasants the best per- 
haps are old Maso, the cobbler's wife, and Mrs. Nadder of 
Hurdcott; Norah, the simple, good-hearted girl, who met a 
great temptation and fell pitifully, and Jocha, fast and loose, 
whose eyes turn wistfully towards the muddy pastures of the 
great city. 1 

There is much less to be said in praise of our author's 
men. To begin with, they are less numerous than his women, 
less prominent, and more restricted in range. We naturally 
call to mind Gracechurch, where he lived as a boy alone with 
his mother in the midst of an overwhelmingly female society, 
where "there were four Miss Gibbs, four Miss Shrimptons, four 
Miss Trees, and four Miss Fentons, ... all there when we ar- 
rived and all there when we left young ladies when we first 
saw them and young ladies still when we said good-bye," where 
"if half-a-dozen families with four sons apiece and no daugh- 
ters had settled in the town it would have been an act of poetic 
justice, but nothing of the kind happened." San Celestino is 
the only man who dominates a novel. 


When we wander back through Ayscough's romances, 
singling out his male characters, we find that the number of 
those which have haunted our memories is small, and that 
these latter are, with scarcely an exception, odd, perplexing, 
exotic figures, like Piccolo, Mudo, Arrigo, Lope, Hurdcott, Mark 
Herrick, Count Selvaggio, who have arrested our attention as 
much by the strange halo of mystery which surrounds them as 
by any depth or power or firmness of outline. Those drawn 
in a more realistic spirit lack the vitality and individuality of 
his women. Certainly Ayscough's men are not remarkable 
for "muscular Christianity." About the only rugged, four- 
square male among them is Mark Herrick. French Windows 
does give us touching glimpses into the tender hearts of strong, 
brave men. But fragmentary sketches of this sort differ wide- 
ly, of course, from the full-length, finished portrait of the novel- 
ist. One does wish, that one or two of these hearty fellows 
had found places somewhere among the author's dramatis 

Ayscough remarks of Mr. Street's style, in his charming 
little "Essay on Essayists," that it "is so good there is nothing 
good to be said about it, which I take to be a proof of excel- 
lence." After much groping to lay hold on just what it is we 
admire in his own style, we find relief in ruminating this para- 
dox. The vague consciousness at least is never wanting of its 
easy, perfectly poised, unobtrusive refinement. We recognize, 
too, that exquisite touch, so much admired by Sir Walter in 
Jane Austen, "which renders ordinary, commonplace things 
and characters interesting, from the truth of the description 
and sentiment." Yet he can be ardently imaginative and 
picturesque, for though Monksbridge and Gracechurch are de- 
lightful achievements in realism, he is at heart a romancer. 
His expression is never labored. It flows along, to fall back 
on a hackneyed metaphor, in a free, supple, sinuous stream, 
here broken all over with glancing ripples of playful humor, 
now gliding into brooding depths of silent pathos, pouring at 
times with swift precipitancy down abysmal gorges of passion, 
but ever breaking into the smooth water below without taking 
us through gurgling rapids or over the cataract. We are 
tempted to believe that the architectonics of his romances oc- 
casioned him no little embarrassment, but we do not picture 
him agonizing over individual phrases or sentences. 


The feature of Ayscough's writing which we most readily 
find a name for, though it is withal elusive enough, is his dry, 
urbane, British humor. A reviewer of one of his books in The 
Month thinks that the "hasty and literal tendency" which Miss 
Gibbs discerned in her seven-year-old pupil, suggests a key to 
it. Certainly many of those sparkling Ayscoughisms which 
tingle our risibles on every page like mild electric shocks, 
when the author is writing in his lighter vein, are precisely a 
"hasty and literal" interpretation put upon some commonplace 
remark or occurrence. 

His satire has the pungency and geniality of Mr. Chester- 
ton's, though its scope is more limited. It is seldom we miss 
the good-humored smile for the foibles he is exposing, and 
there are no lapses into Shavian pessimism or Thackerayan 
cynicism. That caustic vein, which comes to the surface in 
his essays, reveals itself very rarely in his later novels, though 
we come across traces of it here and there in the earlier ones. 
But it is in scenes of brooding pathos that Ayscough 
touches his most stirring chords. Few have known better how 
to sound the black recesses of a noble woman's stricken, bleed- 
ing heart. Marotz when she learns of Roderigo's double life, 
Gillian when she discovers the treachery of Eustachio, Faustula 
wandering, a hopeless but defiant prisoner, through the chill 
halls and gardens of the Atrium Vestae, Jaqueline, chaining 
her proud spirit to the will of a cruel, mad mother whom she 
loved, but who hated her even to murder these are pictures 
which burn themselves into our imaginations and will linger 
there long after the stories are forgotten. Then, too, the whole 
pontificate of San Celestino is a wonderful appeal to our com- 
passion, and over French Windows hangs a tender, subtle 
"mist of tears," a pervading sense of the unspeakable pathos 
of it all that here, too, in this wild maelstrom of destruction 
sunt lachrimae rerum, et mentes mortalio. tangunt. Yet I dare 
not say that our author has a keen appreciation or love of the 
dramatic. He frequently mentions as fails accomplis or re- 
lates with deliberate suppression of emotion events pregnant 
with dramatic possibilities. Rarely is it the action itself 
which grips us, but the workings of the soul of the central 
actor. In truth, his power lies in situations of thrilling psycho- 
logical interest, and not in scenes impressively dramatic. 

The casual reader usually pronounces the opening chap- 


ters of Ayscough's novels a bit slow and unpointed, and 
grudges the effort required to get a clear grasp on the when 
and where of the action. Now and then, too, lengthy passages 
of description or character analysis crop up, which only a 
sense of duty will prevent him from reading rather perpen- 
dicularly. But we still feel justified in saying that the won- 
derfully convincing and sympathetic setting of his stories con- 
stitutes one of their chiefest charms. The prosiest of us must 
own his power of spiriting us away from our dull third-story 
walls and rocking-chair into the very heart of the scenes he is 
depicting, of making the plains and downs, the villages and 
manor houses of rural England, the fairy skies and classic 
landscapes of Southern Italy, the rocky coasts of Sicily, the 
thick fogs, the icy winds, the naked trees of wintry Flanders 
spring up, real and visible, around us. He has the true artist's 
eye for beauty and can put upon his canvas "both the loveli- 
ness and the significance of it." If I were called upon to ex- 
plain to a class in literature the famous formula that "Art is a 
bit of nature seen through a temperament," I would not know 
where to find a better prose illustration than this passage from 
Hurdcott: 1 "Far away the spire of Chalkminster Cathedral 
pricked up above the plain, much further away to the north- 
west the White Horse seemed to hang in the air. Now and 
then a thick cloud of starlings fluttered up, and sank down 
again a hundred yards away, as if a handful of titanic black 
dust had been flung up from the earth. There was a patch of 
ploughed land dotted with the white breasts of plovers whose 
bodies were invisible as they sat motionless: perhaps they 
knew that the white spots on the dark brown earth looked like 
so many flints;" or the description of Hals in Marotz, 2 as "in 
the sunset he sat on the broken wall of the Greek theatre, and 
looked along to where the lips of Sicily and Calabria all but 
meet; looked across the dark iris-blue sea to where the south- 
ernmost Apennines wove their incredible mesh of beauty, and 
caught his soul in it; looked beneath him at the leaping preci- 
pice, that was a steep ladder of beauty at whose summit he 
himself was seated." 

No appreciation of John Ayscough should close without 
a word concerning his healthy, unaffected optimism. It is per- 
ennial with him because it has its root in the love and good- 

J Page 273. 'Page 7. 


ness of God. He has that gentle leniency towards sin and folly 
in his fellowmen, so peculiar to those who have grown gray in 
the care of souls, which knows how to compassionate and for- 
give "seventy times seven times," without making us feel there- 
by on one whit the easier terms with our own personal failings 
and misdeeds. He will not presume to damn a man for any 
crime, nor despair of any soil as too hard and dry to bubble 
up with sweet wellsprings of good, if delved into deeply 
enough. Aunt Zia is simply a ridiculous, sharp-tongued old 
miser, till we learn on her deathbed of the cruel secret eating 
at her heart and heroically hidden for fifty years from those 
around her. Who would have discerned in the early Fergus 
of Dromina Castle the timbers of a Christian martyr? Yet we 
acknowledge at the end that they were always there. A mir- 
acle is performed to prove to her pitiless brothers and towns- 
folk that the soul of poor Norah is not, in despite of every- 
thing, numbered among the reprobate. 

One phase of this kindly optimism is his preference for 
happy endings. Both he and Monsignor Benson are full of the 
world-old theme that not self-indulgence, but self-forgetfulness 
and self-sacrifice are the conditions of true happiness. But 
Benson's books seldom leave their leading characters in the 
enjoyment of human felicity. He does not stop with disci- 
plining them into a manifest disposition to bear crushing tribu- 
lation patiently, and even joyously, for love of God. He calls 
upon them to do so. Ayscough, on the contrary, is content 
with the proved disposition. He knows that God Himself fre- 
quently accepts the readiness of His servants to bear their cross 
unlightened, in lieu of the actuality. It is his practice to so 
manipulate the workings of Providence in his romances that 
the hero and heroine, after drinking deep draughts of bitter 
waters, are allotted a goodly measure of terrestrial happiness. 
And I daresay, being but men, we like him the better for it. 



I AM Our Lady's knight, 

Though I have never seen her; 

Would that my heart were right, 
My mind and fancy keener, 

That I might fashion her as she 

Was known in far-off Galilee! 

A-begging I must wait 

Beside the world's broad highways; 
I beg at door and gate 

And scour obscurest by-ways, 
Collecting like a store of pence 
Hints of Our Lady's excellence. 

All ladies, hear my suit, 
Contribute to my treasure 

The soft tones of a lute, 
Mercy without measure, 

The whitenesses of mountain snows, 

The fragrance of a June-tide rose. 

Sorrow that weaves 

The richness of low laughter, 
The virgin glance that cleaves 

Through time to the Hereafter, 
Love that sweeps all flesh aside, 
Humbleness that strikes down pride. 

And thus I beg a dole 

Of every maid and matron, 

To help my meagre soul 
Image my fair Patron, 

Our Lady, once of Galilee, 

Now Queen of Heaven's citizenry. 



Commissioner to Lithuania from the National Catholic War Council 

of America. 

HEN the German Army retired from Kovno, or 
Kaunas as the Lithuanians call their ancient city, 
now the provisional capital of their new Repub- 
lic, they left behind them only the shell of what 
was once a prosperous centre of some sixty thou- 
sand inhabitants. "When they went," said a prominent citi- 
zen, "they took all of Lithuania with them!" So thorough was 
their looting of furniture, clothing, food, and live stock. It is 
true, the Russians had practised here the direst of their ty- 
rannies, forbidding the use of the Lithuanian tongue, and in- 
terfering in many ways with the development of trade, educa- 
tion and church administration. But towards the era imme- 
diately preceding the Great War they had shown themselves 
more lenient masters, until, just before his downfall, Tsar 
Nicholas had granted the Lithuanians the full measure of their 
freedom to use their native tongue. In spite of these conces- 
sions there were many Lithuanians who, on the arrival of the 
armies of General von Hindenburg, looked for an amelioration 
of their native conditions. The realization of the outrages of 
the Germans in stripping and destroying the harmless, not- 
unfriendly Lithuanian civilization calls for the most profound 

But the Lithuanians were accustomed to hardships; they 
are a race that thrives and persists in spite of centuries of op- 
pression. They are a race whose ruling class has for cen- 
turies permitted itself to be estranged through the influences 
of Russian and Polish culture, so that a large number of the 
historic figures whom we ordinarily consider to be Polish, 
prove, on examination, to have been descended from Lithu- 
anian ancestors. The traditions of such a race are usually 
left as a folk-lore in the mouths of country folk; yet with the 
lack of cultivation there persists a primitive quality that is of 
peculiar value to the student, and is very often the true poetical 
essence that calls forth the admiration of the critic and artist 
of later times. The sober judgment of the German philoso- 


pher, Emanuel Kant whom the Lithuanians claim as a fellow- 
countryman that Lithuania "must be preserved, for her 
tongue possesses the key which opens all the enigmas not only 
of philology, but of history," has been taken seriously for 
twenty years (1886-1905) by five Lithuanian publishing houses 
in the United States. Their work in the preservation of 
ancient literature can never be forgotten by the people of Lith- 
uania. Nor, on the other hand, can America ever forget the 
service rendered in her hour of need by the great Kosciusko 
of Lithuania. 

Judging from appearances in Lithuania, it would seem to 
be the main object of military invaders to destroy the most im- 
portant edifices of the towns through which they pass. Every- 
where the bombardments resulted in the destruction of the 
most solid structures of residence and factory sites, while the 
humble dwellings around them were left noticeably intact. 
Heaps of bricks and mortar are still standing without roofs or 
windows to attest to the industry of Lithuania that has been 
destroyed. On the other hand, the small dwellings and barns 
are being rapidly repaired from the debris of the more impor- 
tant buildings. 

In spite of the scarcity of fresh timber there are even new 
structures being erected in the country-places. Old materials 
and new are being treated in the old fashion, the logs being 
sawed lengthways by great saws that are operated on a high 
platform, one operator standing above and working against 
his fellow who stands underneath. The result is a log house 
of a very Russian appearance : squared logs are laid one above 
the other, making a solid wall, riveted at the corners in a tidy 
manner. There is a small porch and doorway in the middle 
flanked by one or two small windows that speak of the severity 
of the winter weather, against which these solid homes must 
prove a comfortable protection indeed. The same style of 
buildings is to be found also in the towns and cities, sometimes 
with a second story and ornamented with shutters and carved 

The sounds of saw and hammers echo over rich fields 
and hills and valleys of unusual fertility and beauty. There 
are few fences or hedges, but numerous roadside crosses and 
rural shrines, for we are in a country that is very devout in its 
practices, although the last to relinquish its pagan deities of 


wood and stream for the religion of the Cross. Here and there 
on the pastures are to be seen the herds of cows that are the 
remnant of the mighty dairy industries for which Lithuania 
has been famous for centuries. The German invaders, in 
carrying off the live stock from the country, left a paper re- 
ceipt for what they took, and spared one or two of the cows 
from each large establishment to provide the necessary ali- 
ment for the owner's family. Therefore the butter of Lithu- 
ania scarce as it is at present is still the finest in the world. 
There has never been known to be richer churning, and it is 
to be hoped that these famous dairy-farms will soon be re- 
stored to then- former efficiency. 

The horses, even now the poor remnant spared to the 
natives by the German cavalry, begin to show the fine, sleek 
qualities for which Lithuanian stock has always been noted in 
Europe. Many of the animals are small, but the vehicles, 
droskies and open carts of light, springless construction, are 
sturdy and suitable to the native uses. 

Driving through the country one remarks large numbers 
of boys and girls gathering nuts under the mighty oaks that yet 
remain on the hillsides. From the nuts of the acorn they brew 
a sort of coffee, bitter but not altogether unpalatable, which is 
now the one substitute for coffee. Of tea a passion here as 
well as throughout Russia there is nothing left; but the native 
housewife has had resort to her herb-gardens, and from the 
wild flowers and cultivated blooms she is able to concoct some 
very delicious beverages. Thus one encounters all sorts of 
flower-teas and tisanes, fragrant and refreshing, with a fresh 
odor such as must greet the Chinaman over his own tea freshly 
brewed from the growths of his own garden. 

As we sat at some choice tables for as foreigners and 
especially as Americans we were treated with the finest our 
hosts could procure we could not help remarking the freshly 
woven linen table cloths and napkins, made of the gray and 
golden-toned flax and woven in antique Lithuanian designs. 
They are works of a primitive art, long in observance in the 
country, and are worth, literally, their weight in gold. They 
are too personal and rare to be the objects of barter, and we 
could only do reverence to the spirit of the women who wove 
them. In several places they also showed us the clothing-stuffs 
that are woven around the fireplaces in the Lithuanian kitchens 

VOL. CXI. 12 


during the long winter nights; excellent weavings of wool and 
flax, dyed in the vegetable dyes procured along the roadsides. 
The natural grays and blues of these weavings would delight 
the soul of any true artist. 

The native tailors have contributed their share in the 
restoration of the country. Some of the Lithuanian Commis- 
sioners now in this country, are clothed in home-made cloths 
made into wearing apparel by cutters whose work compares 
favorably with the best that we know. At home they content 
themselves for the most part with square-cut garments, the 
coats in blouse fashion and the trousers cut straight and roomy, 
somewhat in the fashion affected a few years ago in the 
Parisian studios. The same industrialism shows itself in the 
shoes. The shoemaker has taken good American lasts and 
modeled his own tanned leather accordingly. The result is a 
good, durable shoe not without style, for the Lithuanian has a 
sense of daintiness about his feet that is very noticeable. 

The carpenters and cabinetmakers have not been idle, and 
examples of their skill begin to appear in beds and tables and 
sideboards to take the place of the articles of furniture carried 
off by the Germans. These new pieces of household furniture 
are quite superior to the ordinary commercial article. They 
are constructed in simple, graceful lines and modestly orna- 
mented with carved wooden designs that put to shame the 
gimcrackery of our wholesale factories. 

All this seems to go to show that a people reduced to sup- 
plying itself from its own products, is not too hardly off in the 
result. An artist and craftsman can but delight in this Lith- 
uanian spirit of self -helpfulness, similar to the spirit that must 
have prevailed in the old guild days of the thirteenth century, 
when all Europe arose and recovered from its period of bar- 
barian devastation. Certainly it is a pleasant sight to discover 
beds that for years have been without sheets and pillow-covers 
now furnished with the new, sturdy linen covers; to see 
windows long shattered now with new glass and the curtains 
of paper replaced by spotless muslins; to behold the farm 
lands beginning to deliver their harvests, in the wake of the 
peace and pastoral joys that are spreading over Lithuania. 


HE personal pronoun "I," referred to frequently 
as ego, possesses a wonderful range of meaning. 
Mine, my and me share in this richness since 
they indicate relations between me and the world 
about me. These words are full of mystery and 
wonder because they indicate existence, consciousness, per- 
sonality, temperament, experience, capacity and the entire 
range of social relations. "I" represents one who thinks, acts 
and is responsible, the centre from which mysterious living 
influences go out and touch the world at a thousand points. 
Influences come from the past and the outer world affecting 
my life, my powers, my influence. My property indicates por- 
tions singled out from the total mass of wealth in the world 
over which portions I have an exclusive, inviolable sanctioned 
control. I identify my property with my personality. My 
spirit hovers over it and wards off every other human being 
from trespass. My reputation indicates the estimate of me in 
a thousand or ten thousand minds. My ambitions, my aspira- 
tions indicate those features of the dream world that become 
law to me and give direction to my life. They indicate the 
way in which I am touched by the dreams that inspire the 
world and rouse the latent energies of man to glorious action. 
My influence represents the sway that I exercise over the lives 
of other human beings. Mine, my, me, are wonderful words 
full of mystery, rich in suggestion, commonplace beyond de- 
scription yet defying adequate explanation. 


I am the outcome of the creative act of God. I am an im- 
mortal soul, whose faculties of intelligence and will indicate 
the God-like power of sharing truth and seeking the good. I 
am individualized by my soul, set apart in all the confusion of 
the world, intended for a particular destiny in the plans of 
God, endowed with particular capacities to be used in the 


service of Him, guided by consciousness and conscience toward 
my eternal destiny. And throughout this experience I am the 
object of a special providence of Almighty God. The roots 
of my dignity, the nature of my personality, the explanation of 
every approved relation into which I enter in the world are 
fixed by this spiritual element that is I. The standard of every 
judgment of me and mine is written down by the Hand of 
God. I cannot suspend neither may I forget it or degrade my- 
self below this spiritual level fixed by my soul. If I degrade or 
ignore it I misunderstand the God Who created me. He 
deals with me always as with an immortal soul, intelligent, 
responsible and destined to glorify Him. If I ignore the spirit- 
ual element within me I shall be wrenched out of harmony 
with God's government of the world. 

We thus discover the fundamental meaning in the per- 
sonal pronoun I. I represents spirit, will, intelligence, the 
touch of God by which where nothing was, an everlasting 
soul appears, to declare forever His omnipotence. 

The soul is hidden in the human body. The body is ma- 
terial, visible, perishable. The union of soul and body is 
human nature, is life as we see it. Perhaps it were better to 
say that the body is made visible by the soul, since the exist- 
ence of the former is absolutely conditioned on its union with 
the latter. Union of soul and body represents the Will of 
God. My body is the envelope of my soul. We know of the 
soul by means of its organic expression through the body. 
It is the soul that hears. It is the soul that speaks. It is the 
soul that thinks. Spirit uses organ. The invisible employs 
the visible. The everlasting makes itself known by what is 
material and transitory. In this way we find the second, the 
material content in human nature. It is spiritual. It is ma- 

God, the Creator, associates the intervention of man with 
his own creative act in the development of the race. It is His 
Divine Will that we, as individuals, have a social origin in 
the family. It is His ordinance expressed in the constitution 
of nature that we begin life as helpless infants and attain to 
maturity in the midst of complex social relations with others. 
Mysteries now multiply upon one another. I am separate from 
others, individualized. I am part of others, socialized, in 
profound unity with them. I am one in the family group. I 


am one in a city group. I am one in other social groups. 
These group attachments in their mysterious operation seem 
to make me almost another being. Sympathy, association, 
longing, affection, lead me to diminish myself and expand the 
power of others over me. Our Lord told us that the supreme 
expression of love for another is to die that that other live. 
These groups, whether -essential or accessory, become so thor- 
oughly part of me, part of my consciousness, so related to 
my interests and dreams, so interwoven into my experience, 
so organized into my very aspirations that I find it impossible 
to maintain a satisfying distinction in thought, and judgment 
between myself and others who are part of me. 

At this point we meet the wonderful double process that 
is life. On the one hand, the deepest forces within us, touched 
by the instinct for self -existence and self-expression, drive me 
to maintain myself, to assert myself, to develop my powers 
and to attain to sway, or lordship, over things and persons. 
This process enhances individuality or separateness. On the 
other hand I am drawn irresistibly into the social vortex. He 
was right, who said ages ago, "I am part of all whom I have 
met." Sentiment, memory, emotion, interest, ambition, ne- 
cessity force us with stern power into the social mold, merg- 
ing our consciousness with that of others into a social product 
that is deeper, wider and more striking than I, myself. By 
the law of life we are merged into the lives of others. We 
are socialized. We are in a sense diminished, made parts of 
larger wholes that we call social groups. We must be made 
independent. We must be made dependent. We must act and 
live and think as independent persons. We must act and live 
and think as dependent persons. The combination of the two 
processes which will maintain personality and society in their 
intended harmony is the supreme problem of civilization. It 
is the final function of religion to assert, protect and develop 
individuality, personality, because individuals alone go back to 
God. Social groups remain forever glued to earth. 

We have found three elements in the meaning of the 
personal pronoun I. We find a spiritual element that eternally 
individualizes us. We see a material organic sensible ele- 
ment called the body, through which we are prepared for 
social life. We find finally the social element, that is the 
whole range of contacts with other human beings which I 


experience. Therefore, I am spiritual. I am material. I am 
social. I, as a Catholic, am conscious of a wonderful range of 
social contacts, aspirations and experience. I, as an American, 
am conscious of another enriching range of social contacts, 
aspirations and experiences. I, as of Irish ancestry, am in- 
volved in another wonderful range of social contacts, aspira- 
tions and experiences. I, as a member of a University, am 
conscious of still another range of social contacts, aspirations 
and experiences. Thus I, an individual, become the centre of 
a number of concentric social circles. On each of these planes 
I gain the double experience of separateness and of associa- 
tion, of diminution and of growth, of surrender and of gain. 
The spiritual element in me sets the high level toward 
which all other elements must be coordinated and subordin- 
ated. The soul determines what is desirable and what is un- 
desirable, what is good and what is bad, what is helpful and 
what is hurtful in the sight of God and man. The supreme 
problem of institutions, of moral codes, of scholarship and 
statesmanship, of religion, is to understand the law of the soul 
and to enforce it, to safeguard spiritual interests and terrace 
the sloping sides of the world so that the soul may find easy 
and sure ascent to the throne of the Everlasting God. Each 
of us is a chapter in the Book of Life, independent and com- 
plete, nevertheless a subordinate chapter in the wonderful 
Book that reveals the plans of God and unfolds to us the 
secrets of His majestic action in the government of the world. 


The world has supreme need of a method that will guide 
humanity to meet the problem of maintaining the individual 
while merging him into the social process. The thought of 
the world has done this under the direction of the providence 
of God. It is the mission of human rights to maintain the 
individual. It is the mission of social obligations or duties to 
merge him. Bights are extensions of our personality built 
into and through the confusion of the world in order that we 
may not be crushed. Social duties indicate the manner of 
thought and of action demanded of us in order that social 
groups may be strong, helpful and orderly. We gain, we re- 
ceive, when we enjoy our rights. They are our social divi- 


dends. We give, we surrender, when we do our duties. They 
are our social taxes. Duty is our measured contribution toward 
the social whole, immediately for the welfare of the whole. 
Natural rights are defined, not created, by the group for the 
immediate sake of ourselves, ultimately for the sake of our 
souls. Our rights separate us. Our duties merge us. Justice 
individualizes. Charity socializes. 

Since rights are extensions of personality they are inviol- 
able. They are organized into the foundations of the world. 
Their fibre, their content, their sanctions are for the sake of 
personality. They are essentially protective. They hinder 
others from interfering with us. My right to property identi- 
fies my property with my personality. My right to my reputa- 
tion identifies my reputation with my personality. My civil 
rights, my moral rights to civil liberty, health, to the members 
of my body, to the development of my mind are nothing other 
than elaborations of my personality, the widening concept of 
me. My rights are the ramparts of my soul. The passion for 
justice that lights up the pages of the history of the world is a 
fundamental expression of the passion of personality, of the 
determination of men to live, to grow, to express themselves, 
to gain their essential destiny, helped, not hindered, by others. 
Not all of the mistakes of the passion for justice scattered 
over the history of the world can change its essential and 
approved mission. Not all of the volcanic outbreaks of popu- 
lar fury and even malicious power of revolution can disturb 
in any way the essential social mission of the passion for 

Deep in the heart of the world lies the impulse to expand 
personality. The collective and upward and outward pressure 
of this impulse is exerted always upon the heavy social insti- 
tutions that blundering civilizations have constructed. Not 
more impressive in their grandeur nor more determined in 
their action are the cosmic forces that have lifted continents 
from beneath the waters and have driven the very oceans 
themselves from their strongholds, than are the emotional and 
intellectual forces that have overturned the structure of civil- 
izations in order that room might be made for the larger and 
wider personality that demanded freedom in moving about 
over broad savannahs of the fair earth. Might not all histor- 
ical social philosophies be classified by their concept of human 


personality, of the meaning of I and of the relations among 
men? Do not all social institutions reduce in last analysis to 
some kind of understanding of the meaning of personality, 
the drift of its tendencies, the sway of its passions, the tyranny 
of its purposes and the law of all relations among men? Do 
not democracy and monarchy differ chiefly in their concepts of 
human persons, of the extension of personality through social 
rights and in the institutions that define and protect them? 

There is, however, equal sanctity, equal moral power in 
duty. The dignity of life is in its obligations. My obligations 
are echoes of the rights of others or of the rights of groups 
of whatsoever kind. Out of the collective sense of duty that 
the world has established we draw the material for the very 
basis of civilization. The rights of the Church are my obliga- 
tions. The rights of the State are my obligations. The prop- 
erty rights of others are in equal proportions my obligations. 
Since I may invade the personality of others, their rights must 
protect them against me. This constraint upon me takes the 
form of duty. Since I may endanger the stability, the work, 
the moral personality of sanctioned groups, I must be pre- 
vented from so doing. Hence groups have rights which con- 
strain me, and this constraint upon me takes the form of duty 
toward the group. Thus my civil personality is protected by 
my rights. The moral personality of sanctioned social groups, 
such as the family, Church, State, is protected by their rights 
which create my duties. In the spiritual interpretation of 
the world which alone is the adequate and true interpretation, 
rights and obligations relate to personality. Personality is 
directly and exclusively of the soul. The soul is the outcome 
of the creative act of God. Rights and obligations rest, there- 
fore, in last analysis upon God. God is the God of justice 


Definitions of human rights, with which we are familiar, 
are based on varied and converging experiences of man. Since 
rights are ordinarily protective they are defined in the face of 
some kind of real or imagined danger to personality. Deeper 
than the moral sense of the individual lies the moral sense of 
mankind. Deeper than the moral judgments of the individual 
lie the moral judgments of the world concerning rights and 


duties among men. As our concepts of human personality will 
vary with time, place and relations, variations naturally occur 
in definitions. But beneath these accidental differences, 
which are often of far-reaching importance, we find the great 
plane to which we give the term, the order of nature. All of 
the historical States that have arisen have endeavored to ex- 
plore, to define, to sanction, natural concepts of personality, 
natural rights and obligations. In our own history the Declara- 
tion of Independence stands forth as a supreme attempt at an 
interpretation of human rights, for the definition and protec- 
tion of which the majestic structure of the American nation was 
undertaken. The constitution of nature expresses the Will 
of God more or less clearly in respect of human rights and 
obligations. States arising as the organized sovereign will of 
society, incorporate into their institutions and laws certain 
concepts of personality, of rights and obligations. States do 
not protect all rights. They protect them only as they define 

We who have the blessed privilege of belonging to the 
Church of God accept our Divine faith as the herald of eternity, 
furnishing the law of relation between God and man. Through 
faith supernatural revelation is added to natural knowledge 
concerning personality, rights and obligations. God super- 
imposed the Divine concept of man which clarified and en- 
nobled the natural concept and imparted unimaginable dig- 
nity to human persons. Out of the Divine Revelation of Our 
Blessed Lord we have, therefore, new understanding of human 
rights and obligations, added reverence for their sanctity, 
added strength in Divine grace to meet the discipline of duty, 
sanctions rooted in eternity, which follow our respect for 
human rights or violation of them. We accept the Church 
as of Divine origin, the organized expression of supernatural 
life, the authorized moral teacher of the world in applying 
the truths of Revelation to human conduct. But even here this 
nobler reading of human relations does not in any way set 
aside the social functions of rights and obligations as these 
protect the individual against others or as they protect others 
against the individual. The natural law compels children to 
respect parents. The civil law may compel them to support 
parents. The supernatural law demands love, respect, obe- 
dience these intimate loyalties of the human heart. 



We notice then that in the term "I" there are involved spir- 
itual, material and social elements. We find ourselves sub- 
jected to two processes, one of which emphasizes and saves 
individuality; the other emphasizing the process which so- 
cializes us, merging us into social communities. We see that 
rights are extensions of personality which set forth our funda- 
mental understanding of human persons. We find obligations 
or duties indicating our contributions toward group life, 
toward those social units which are necessary to our existence 
and development. We note that there is a spiritual concept 
of personality, rights and obligations and as well a civil con- 
cept of rights and obligations. A full account of these would 
cover the history of the world. Only the most fragmentary 
application of these general truths may be undertaken. 

Humanity dislikes discipline and loves an easy wayward- 
ness of desire and self-assertion. Hence, we find throughout 
all history spontaneous insistence upon rights, lingering and 
reluctant insistence upon obligations. Humanity drifts to- 
ward insistence upon individual ends and away from social 
ends. Hence individuals love to assert themselves and to 
subject their interpretation of group duties to their own in- 
terests or whims. Passionate love of life, liberty, power and 
property has always led to general invasion of personal rights 
and neglect of larger obligations. Pitiable mistakes of civil 
and social authority have made occasions for the masses to 
rise to a resistance that has only too often resulted in rebel- 
lion and revolution. Pride, covetousness, lust, envy and anger 
have throughout all the centuries been social evils because they 
are sins. They have led to false conception of personality. 
They have promoted selfish ends that have led to grave in- 
justice. These have been, on the whole, ugly offspring of 
mistaken individualism, mistaken understanding of human 
rights, human destiny and dignity: the result of lamentable 
failure to understand the balance brought into human life by 
.the dignified sense of social and civil obligations. The great 
moral task of humanity is to make the sense of duty as keen 
and as alert as is the sense of justice; to place behind the 
former a noble vehemence that will hold men true to the larger 
ideals in which they may find their peace. They who accept 


the Gospel of Jesus Christ as a declaration of the dignity and 
duty of men will come very near to understanding the heart 
of Christ as He would wish. If the Saints may be trusted as 
our spiritual and social guides; if noble men and noble wom- 
en of all time may be followed with unoffending step, this is 
the reading of the Gospel that brings understanding. 


These thoughts bear directly on certain of the problems 
that confront the world today. We have insisted in the history 
of our democracy on our rights and exemptions, and we have 
slurred civic and social duties to such a degree that moral 
and social confusion has everywhere prevailed. If, in the 
past, property had been conscious of its obligations and gener- 
ous in interpreting them, we could not have experienced the 
social cleavage that has reached to the foundations of life. If 
industrial power, after gaining lordship over millions of lives, 
had been as keen in understanding the social limitations under 
which it should have worked, the laboring class had never 
been led into conditions that we have known. If the laboring 
class itself, in spite of wrongs and long-delayed justice, had 
been able to maintain the balanced sense of duty that holds 
men true to larger ideals at whatsoever cost, we might have 
been spared many sad pages in our history. If those to whose 
hands civil authority was intrusted as a sacred charge, had had 
the gift of wider vision and sterner consecration to general 
welfare, the rights of the weaker classes would have had 
earlier definition and far more effective sanction than they 
have known. Had this moral and spiritual balance been main- 
tained; had the coordinate and spiritual function of social 
obligations been rightly estimated and loyally accepted, we 
would have been adequately protected against those allure- 
ments of futile idealism that are causing so much disturbance 
today. And, furthermore, had our citizens been as noble in 
fulfilling all of their civil duties as they have been alert in 
claiming their rights, we might have been spared much grave 
concern. A citizenship that hates taxes and loves dividends 
is not fit for democracy. A citizenship that feels no stirring of 
moral indignation at social injustice is not fit for democracy. 
A citizenship that is indifferent to outstanding types of civic 
virtue and trims its vision of duty to fit the demands of par- 


tisanship; seeks lower and not higher types of civic behavior 
for imitation, is not fit for democracy. 

Democracy is primarily an experience in character. Can 
we conceive of noble character without a noble sense of duty, 
without a certain tenacious humility that accepts one's minor 
place in the plan of the world, does duty promptly and finds 
compensation within the heart? If the ideal of democracy is 
a maximum of order and justice with a minimum of coercion, 
democracy implies that education, religion, home, public 
opinion, public leaders, do their full first share in setting up 
effective ideals of life, leaving to coercion a minor, but none 
the less, honorable role in bringing order to the world. Con- 
science, not a jailer, is the symbol of democracy. 

On the whole, we have deserved much punishment for 
our neglect of social justice. There has been evidence every- 
where of a sense of duty so dull as almost to have made us, as 
a people, moral defectives. The history of conservative re- 
form movements is, in one sense at least, an indictment of our 
wisdom. The appeal that radical movements now make to 
thousands whom they mislead, is effective because of the tra- 
ditions of the bitter social struggle that we carry in our 
national memory. 

Concurrent testimony of many of our leaders in every 
walk of life declares that re-statements of many human rights 
must be made in the work of social reconstruction. Of what 
will this avail, unless the work of reconstruction re-educate 
the world in the understanding of duty and of its place in the 
moral balance of the universe. Social reconstruction must 
be, of course, to a great extent institutional. But to a greater 
extent it must be moral, social and spiritual. New under- 
standing of the place of society in the life of the individual is 
imperative. No social institution that is founded on rebel- 
lious hearts can be stable. Our moral, spiritual, social and 
cultural agencies must undertake to purify and strengthen the 
general sense of duty; to convince the world of the social, no 
less than the spiritual, value of renunciation and sacrifice. 
They must uncover to the eyes of men the deeper and purer 
charms of duty. All else without this is vain. 

This is in last analysis a moral task. It is professedly the 
task of the religious forces of the nation. Statesmen as states- 
men may not undertake it on account of the spirit of our 


institutions. The general educational system which the coun- 
try accepts undertakes it with hesitation, in only a fragmentary 
way and without specific sanction. It is a recognized social 
mission of religion to arouse the social sense, to awaken the 
impulse and the spirit of service. Thus the challenge is car- 
ried to the threshold of the Church. It must teach men to find 
their happiness in the intangible compensations of life. The 
instincts of men must be controlled. They must be taught to 
believe that the pathway to peace leads one away from selfish- 
ness and toward the ways of service, trust, sympathy, under- 
standing. When our citizenship respects moral and social 
obligations with honest conviction and sympathy, we shall 
have prepared the nation for those institutions of social recon- 
struction for which the world now asks. 

If religion has this social mission in the work of personal 
welfare, may be not feel reassured since our own dear Church 
brings so much of truth in its message, so much of promise in 
its resources, so much of strength in its sacramental ministry, 
so much of spiritual appeal in its effective words and its his- 
torical power. If each of us will but understand the glory 
of this present opportunity for us and for the Church, may we 
not hope that as a body we shall stand forth our own witnesses 
by the Grace of God. The Church must do her honorable part 
in standing before a world that is now the unhappy victim of 
divided council, and point the way to peace. New under- 
standing of social values, keener sense of duty, respect for the 
discipline that spiritual and social ends offer to selfishness, are 
first steps in any serious social reconstruction. And these 
steps lead toward God. How shall we find peace apart from 


ITH much shrieking the Strasbourg express pulls 
out of the great shed of the Gare de 1'Est and we 
are on our way. The train proceeds slowly 
through the inner ring of dingy suburbs; then 
goes faster and faster between rows of prosperous 
villas until we reach the country, basking in the mellow Oc- 
tober sunshine. 

We flash by one town after another: Meaux, with its 
ponderous, square-towered cathedral, associated for all time 
with the name of the eloquent Bossuet, who lies buried within 
its walls; Chateau Thierry, with war wounds agape; past 
roofless farmhouses, whose "strange, sad windows look out 
across fresh meadows, now like staring blinded eyes. They 
are so still, so deathly still not a single wisp of friendly 
smoke, no human color, only a garish patch, perhaps, where 
some unremembering bush flaunts its green branch across the 

Late afternoon brings us to Bar-le-Duc, where with deep 
regret I exchange the comparative comfort of the express for 
the unqualified discomfort of the Neufchateau local. Made up 
of weather-beaten coaches of obsolete and nondescript pat- 
tern, it resembles nothing so much as a child's train of cars, 
assembled from playhouse relics handed down by elder 
brothers and sisters. Although there is an hour to spare, the 
carriages are filling up rapidly with genial travelers. They 
stare, round-eyed, at the American in uniform, with the 
strange-looking pack swung over his shoulder, for in true pil- 
grim fashion I had brought with me only my haversack, con- 
taining the articles that should suffice for my few small needs. 
The scenes that enact themselves as the train jerks along 
puffily on its three hours' journey to Neufchateau are not 
French they are simply human. The gentleman and lady 
who share the compartment with me are sedately forty and 
anxious to get back to the children, just as Mr. and Mrs. Smith 


or Jones or McGuire are after a day at the county seat. The 
dashing young officer who joins us as we are leaving Bar-le- 
Duc, is a friend, homeward bound on furlough. They greet 
him effusively, and when he disembarks at a tiny station 
down the line he is charged with many messages for his peo- 
ple. He is a sturdy peasant type and I fall to wondering if he 
has a sweetheart waiting for him. At the next station my mar- 
ried friends depart, with much rattling of knobby parcels. 
Again there is a family reunion. It is dark now and I am 

By the time we reach Gondrecourt, a name to be remem- 
bered, but lightly treasured by the doughboy, the train is al- 
most empty. A couple of American soldiers hurrying along 
the platform hail me with a jovial, "Hello, Casey!" I bid them 
enter and make themselves at home. It seems that they are 
with the Graves Registration, and having had an accident en 
route to Paris, are on their way back to headquarters to report 
the difficulty. 

After a time the wheels grind slowly to a stop and the 
guard calls the name of a station, which we discover to be 
Neufchateau. Although it is only nine o'clock, the little town 
is in Stygian darkness. We follow the crowd up the main 
street, searching in vain for anything that looks like a hotel. 
While we are holding anxious debate a fresh young voice at 
my elbow exclaims in perfect English: "Ah, here are some 
Americans!" Then, to me: "Is there anything I can do for 
you, sir?" 

The speaker is a trim-built chap of about eighteen, in the 
uniform of a French private. He goes on to explain that 
during the War and until recently, he acted as interpreter at 
the American hospital just out of Neufchateau. Now the hos- 
pital is closed and his friends, the Americans, are gone. He 
would be most happy to serve us. Upon hearing of our plight 
he conducts us without delay to Neufchateau's leading hos- 
telry. A door on the first floor of a tightly-shuttered house 
opens to his touch and we find ourselves standing in a quaint, 
low-ceilinged room, lighted by swinging oil lamps and fur- 
nished with a long table, around which a few elderly French- 
men are seated, drinking wine and smoking. 

Madame appears and says she has two rooms: one with 
two beds, and another, a single room, suitable for Monsieur 


le Secretaire. Our guide bids us a hearty good-night, after 
grateful acceptance of a packet of cigarettes, extracted from 
my haversack. For six weeks he has smoked nothing but 
French cigarettes and he much prefers the others. My sol- 
dier-pals are leaving by an early train, so we also say good- 
bye. Madame shows me to my room, and deposits the old- 
fashioned candlestick on the shiny mahogany table at the head 
of the bed. 

At seven the next morning I step out into a radiant world 
blown across by a stiff breeze that invigorates like new wine. 
All about me are friendly, smiling faces, for Americans are 
popular in Neufchateau. After a cup of black coffee at the 
cafe nearby, I saunter along the narrow, winding Rue St. Jean. 
On the corner, near the Hotel de Ville, there is excitement, for 
the town-crier is about to give out the morning news. This 
functionary is a war veteran, clad in faded blue. He carries 
a scrap of paper in one hand, and with the other beats loudly 
upon a drum suspended from his neck by a leather strap. At 
the first strident rat-a-tat-tat the crowd, mostly old women 
and dogs, begins to congregate. When his audience reaches 
what he considers respectable proportions, he puts up his 
drumstick and reads solemnly from the paper. 

A walk of a few paces brings me to the short Rue St. 
Christophe, at the head of which stands the ancient church of 
the same name. With its battlements and broad-faced towers, 
it reminds one of the robust, kindly folk who dwell in its 
shadow. I push open the heavy oaken door and enter softly. 
Mass is long since finished and I have the church to myself. 
The carving, both wood and stone, is curious and palpably of 
great age. Tucked away in the corners are tiny chapels where 
crimson lamps burn before half-hidden shrines. To what 
stirring sermons, one thinks, and to what heartfelt prayers 
must not these sober-miened saints and angels have listened 
in their time! 

I experience no difficulty in finding the way to Domremy; 
in fact, an embarassing number of citizens are ready with 
directions. It is not over ten kilometres distant (between six 
and seven miles) and there is an inn in the village next to 
the church if Monsieur wishes to remain overnight. And 
so, in high, good humor, I set out. 

There is something of eternal unchangeableness about 


those favored spots of earth that have once sheltered the good 
and great. As I take the road pointed out to me by the stout 
Alsatian who tends the railway crossing on the edge of the 
town, I am no longer in twentieth century France; I am, 
rather, a pilgrim on highways that have but yesterday echoed 
the heavy tread of Burgundian soldiery; that have witnessed 
the tragedy of Agincourt and Neuf chateau in flames; a France 
prostrate, inert, broken beneath the heel of the oppressor. 
Wars and rumors of wars have penetrated even to the midst 
of those quiet hills that lie ahead of me, crowned with the 
basilica whose outlines show indistinctly against the russet 
of the forest. 

Today, as in the days of Jeanne d'Arc, the Chateau Bourle- 
mont frowns from the heights on my left. Indeed, its history 
is inextricably associated with that of the district. One recalls 
that it was L'Arbre Fee de Bourlemont, "the Fairy Tree of 
Bourlemont," about which the children of Domremy danced 
and sang and upon which they hung their garlands; the tree 
that figured in the early life of the Maid and, later on, at the 
time of her condemnation, so prominently. 

Here in these fruitful fields the present and the past inter- 
mingle strangely. A turn in the road brings me suddenly upon 
a row of dilapidated barracks, occupied during the War by 
some of our American boys. I have scarcely left these behind 
when I am back again in the past. There in the meadow by 
the roadside is a flock of sheep, and walking in and out 
among them the shepherd, staff in hand and dressed in cloak 
and pointed hood. In bewildering contrast I hear the familiar 
"honk" of a motor horn, and, speeding in my direction from 
the village just ahead, there emerges what upon closer inspec- 
tion proves to be, of all things, a Ford automobile! 

The village is Coussy and very interesting it is. At the 
square some black-smoked workmen are watering their horses, 
great powerful animals that toss their manes and stamp upon 
the turf. They are drinking from a circular trough, in the 
centre of which rises a small bronze statue of Jeanne d'Arc. 
I take my "Brownie" from my haversack and snap men and 
horses before they file away to dinner. I realize that I, too, 
am hungry, and so I find my way to the inn on the corner of 
the square. The proprietor assents to my request for dejeuner. 
The luncheon is an excellent one and the red wine of a sweeter 

VOL. CXI. 13 


sort than one is served in Paris; it is more like the wine of 
the south, round about Lourdes. 

Having finished and paid for my meal I hasten to see the 
church. Like St. Christophe at Neufchateau, it is of great age. 
The walls and tower are massively built and pierced with small 
windows, which gives the whole a fortress-like appearance. 
The doorway is low and I am prepared for architectural 
treasure as I grope my way inside. So much for my hopes! 
The church, sad to say, has been "restored," and not too artis- 
tically. One look at the stained glass and I made a rapid 

Instead of taking the main highway to Domremy, I choose 
the detour that bears out of Coussy to the left and brings me 
to the basilica, whence it descends the hill to the village a mile 
beyond. From Coussy to the basilica the road climbs upward 
all the way. The fields spread at my feet are suffused with 
the golden glow of mid-afternoon. Scores of old men and 
women are digging their winter supply of vegetables and, 
here and there, a group of cattle or a few sheep make a splotch 
of white upon the meadows, emerald green even in autumn. 
The peasants straighten for a moment from their toil and 
call to me in respectful greeting. I, of course, call back, 
and our voices echo and reecho in the still air. I have a cur- 
ious sensation of detachment, as if I were part of a 
Millet painting, come suddenly to life and stepping out of its 

The basilica above Domremy is small and new, but it 
reflects the spirit of the place quite as faithfully as the great 
church at Lourdes does that of the grotto beneath. Lourdes 
speaks of cures of soul and body; of mighty spiritual forces 
that work startlingly near the surface of things. Domremy 
breathes of visions, of sweet communings that have left but 
a haunting memory upon the peaceful height. 

As at Lourdes, the architecture of the basilica on Bourle- 
mont is heterogeneous. In spite of this it presents a handsome 
appearance and special grace is conferred upon it by the 
slender spire. Connected with the church by a cloister is a 
modern and well-built presbytery, and on the opposite side of 
the road and a little towards Coussy is a large convent of nuns. 
My attention focuses upon the two heroic figures that adorn 
the front of the basilica. That on the right corner is of the 


Saint's father, Jacques d'Arc, and the one on the left is of her 
mother, Isabel Romee. One is pleased that the world has not 
entirely neglected the worthy couple who bestowed upon it 
so choice a gift. 

A portly priest, a monsignor, if I may judge from the strip 
of purple at his throat, is walking up and down saying his 
Oflice. As soon as he sees me, he comes forward and offers 
to show me the church. He explains, meanwhile, that the 
basilica was built on the hill rather than in the village, because 
it was here that Jeanne tended her sheep, had her Visions, 
and held converse with her Voices. We go first into the crypt, 
where Mass is said daily and which does duty as a commem- 
orative chapel for those who gave their lives in the War. 
Then I am given carte blanche to climb the winding stairs 
and make what investigations I please in the nave above. 

I do not remain long; partly because there is little to see, 
partly because I am anxious to reach Domremy before the 
day is farther spent. The interior is still incomplete and there 
is not much to attract the visitor, aside from the beautifully 
executed gilt carvings of the ceiling and the series of six 
panels upon the walls done by Lionel Royer. These last show 
the most notable scenes in the life of the Maid, and in the vivid- 
ness of their coloring remind one somewhat of Abbey's work 
in our own Boston Library. 

The day is drawing to a close as I descend the hill. I pass 
the Calvaire by the roadside, skirt the marshy border of the 
Meuse and find myself in a crooked lane, set on both sides 
with aged, tile-roofed houses (they were thatched in Jeanne's 
day) that look ready to crumble apart. A buxom, black-eyed 
woman is talking with some men at a stable door. "Bon soir," 
I remark in passing. The woman tosses her head and replies 
in a loud voice, "Bon soir, Monsieur I'Americain!" 

The lane ends abruptly at what looks to be a fair-sized 
park encircled by iron paling. At the farther side stands a 
stone house which I immediately recognize, from pictures, as 
the birthplace of the saint. Just beyond is the parish church 
of St. Remy, and in front of the church an open space scarcely 
formal enough to be called a square, on the opposite side of 
which is a substantial stone bridge spanning the Meuse. A 
straggling line of houses, stretching away from St. Remy, 
forms the main street of the village. First in the line and 


separated from the church by a narrow lane is the inn, the 
Hotel de I'Heroine. Were I unacquainted with rural French 
hostelries I should hesitate before spending the night in a place 
that, exteriorly at least, smacks so little of comfort. Having 
had excellent food and lodging in many a worse looking place, 
I give hostages to fortune and enter boldly. 

Madame, elderly, neatly garbed and possessed of the 
poise which a recent writer assures us is the characteristic 
of Frenchmen, Turks and Japanese, but rarely of Americans, 
gives me welcome and says my room will be ready for me 
immediately after diner. I deposit my haversack on the broad 
window seat, where a sleek tabby cat purrs and nods, and 
prepare to explore Domremy in the hour left to me before 
darkness sets in. 

The age of the village church is more apparent than real. 
Here, too, there has been "restoration," though happily of finer 
order than at Coussy. The stained windows are good and the 
general scheme is one of beauty and harmony. In touching 
reminder of perils past, there is a notice by the door, dated 
in the fall of 1914, but looking as fresh as if it had been 
printed but last week, announcing a novena for the deliverance 
of the village and its inhabitants from the advancing German 
armies. The petitions were heard and the tide of invasion 
checked, although Domremy lay too near the front for com- 
plete comfort. 

Save for the time-stained font and the tablets set in the 
wall, identifying various parts of the church with portions of 
the original edifice, as, for example, the chapel where Jeanne 
prayed, the place at which she received Holy Communion, etc., 
there is little to bring her clearly before one. The same is 
true of her birthplace, the Maison de Jeanne d'Arc. It is really 
no more than a museum these days, presided over by an 
elderly dame, the floodgates of whose eloquence seem per- 
manently loosed for the trifling sum of a franc. 

I experience, to be sure, a feeling of awe as I reflect that 
I am standing within the walls which saw the birth of the 
Maid; that before the ample fireplace, on many a winter night, 
she crouched with her brothers and sisters listening to the 
thrilling tales told by grizzled veterans of the wars; that 
across the threshold of yonder doorway she fared forth into 
a world that was to treat her with studied cruelty. But these 


are, for the most part, cogitations of a later hour. I am given 
slight opportunity to indulge them now, for the crone is at my 
elbow. I am glad to make my escape to the deserted bench 
before the inn, where I am free to enjoy the homely sights 
and sounds of the day's closing. 

Presently the Angelus rings. Its last notes have scarcely 
died away before the cattle begin to come in: a long proces- 
sion of mild-eyed kine, with bells jangling and breath rising 
odorously in the keen air. They are driven by ruddy-cheeked, 
strong-limbed girls, who chatter to one another and look 
curiously at me as they pass. I am hungry when Madame calls, 
and do ample justice to the steaming supper that is served 
me where I sit in solitary state in the rear of the inn. No, 
I am not quite alone, for the tabby cat comes in and climbs 
upon my lap. 

At seven the bell in the tower rings again and I remember 
that the white-capped Sister, who was sweeping out the church 
this afternoon, told me there would be Benediction tonight, 
for it is October, the month of the Rosary. 

The congregation has assembled when I slip into a chair 
near the door. Most of the church lies in shadow, for there 
are no electric lights in St. Remy only candles placed in 
sconces upon the vaulted walls. Dimly outlined forms of 
kneeling worshippers melt into the dusky background, and 
up in front tapers glow, starlike, on the marble altar. 

The priest comes out with his acolytes, two half-grown 
slips of lads. They wear surplices but no cassocks beneath, 
and their bare, brown legs contrast oddly with the expanse 
of snowy lawn above them. Scattered about the church are a 
number of women and children and a few old men. There is 
no choir. The congregation signs the hymns, nasally but 
with right good will. 

After Benediction M. le Cure comes down among his peo- 
ple and speaks to them, briefly and intimately, of the Rosary 
and its Mysteries and of the Virgin Mother whose sweet, 
grave face looks down from the altar-piece of the Lady Chapel 
close by. 

He is a stockily built man, the Cure, with a firm jaw 
and iron gray hair brushed stiffly back from a broad forehead. 
I am inclined to think I should get the worst of it if I were 
to meet him in a contest of either brains or brawn. Yet I am 


sure that underneath the strength lies tenderness. Even the 
most careless and the most casual must be impressed by these 
French priests with their fidelity to ideals and their devotion 
to a cause. The sacrifices made by scores, nay hundreds, of 
obscure Cures go to make up a chronicle that the angels can 
but love to read and, in the reading, smile. Le Querdec caught 
something of it, and passed it on to us in his Letters of a 
Country Vicar, but, human as that is, it yet falls short of 

Upon my return to the Hotel de I'Heroine, Madame lights 
me to my room. I fling wide the shutters and look out over 
the village, bathed in the light of a harvest moon. Except for 
the occasional stirring of some night bird in wood or meadow 
all is wrapped in silence. A veil of filmy mist rests upon the 
Meuse, and beyond it the highway stretches, ribbon-like, down 
the avenue of trees. 

In the corner of my chamber the curtained bed invites to 
rest. All my life I have wished to sleep in a canopied bed. 
I blow out my candle, perform successfully the feat of mount- 
ing the heavy frame, and slip contentedly between fragrant 
sheets. My dreams are of marching soldiers; of loud alarms; 
of armor-clad, clanging hosts, led by a slender, erect form on 
a coal black charger, urged forward by thunderings and 
Visions and Voices from on high. 

Long before daybreak the market carts are creaking past 
my window. These, mingled with familiar barnyard sounds 
the rattle of milk pails, crowing of roosters and clucking of 
hens serve as accompaniments to a confused wakening from 
slumber. By the time I finish dressing dawn has broken over 
Domremy, leaden and threatening rain. The little church 
is quite dark, except for the flickering altar tapers, as I hear 
Mass for the last time in France. 

During breakfast Madame grows communicative. She 
has spied the plain gold band upon the third finger of my left 
hand, and naive curiosity struggles quite obviously with native 
politeness. Curiosity ultimately triumphs and Madame wishes 
to know if I am married, and if so how many "petits garcons" 
are mine. Her kindly face registers disappointment, not to 
say disapproval, when I assure her that the ring is a family 
heirloom and in no way connotes matrimony. Moreover, her 
manner indicates quite plainly a suspicion of strangers over 

1920.] JESUS 199 

thirty-five who travel about with counterfeit credentials of 

Nine o'clock strikes. I shoulder my haversack, wish Ma- 
dame "Bon jour," and cross the stone bridge that spans the 

I turn for a last look at the roofs of Domremy where it 
nestles in the peaceful valley. Possibly, quite probably, I 
shall never again see it in this life. I think of the Blessed 
Maid who thus said farewell to it five hundred years ago. 
Never more should she see the smoke from its happy firesides 
rise upward to the sky. Never more would the church bell 
call to her, or the branches of the Fairy Tree on Bourlemont 
wave in friendly greeting. My eyes fill with tears and I face 
about and take up my journey to Neufchateau. Like Jeanne 
d'Arc, I go forth into a world of conflict. 



THE spring is here, 

Yet bloomed for me nor rose nor eglantine, 

Wert Thou not near. 

The skies are fair, 

Yet in my soul the sun could never shine, 

Wert Thou not there. 

Aye, though the thrush and skylark joyous sing, 
And back the great blood-breasted robins wing, 
And Maytime breezes Maytime fragrance bring, 

Winter shall ever shroud the heart 

From Thee apart. 



OME people may be tempted to turn aside from 
Abbot Butler's important volume on Benedictine 
Monachism, 1 believing it to be a monument of 
extensive and peculiar learning. It is learned, 
but in a simple and straightforward way; it is ex- 
tensive, for it covers, or rather uncovers, the monastic founda- 
tions of Western Christendom during fourteen hundred years; 
but it is not peculiar; it is Benedictine, and therefore it dis- 
criminates against everything that is unreal, unhealthy or un- 
sound in the spiritual life. In truth, it is an honest historical 
record of the Benedictine attempt to realize amid earthly con- 
ditions that Christian ideal set forth by Our Lord Himself. 

St. Benedict was born at Nursia not far from Spoleto 
in the province of Umbria about the year 480 and died about 
544. Coming of a well-to-do country family, he was sent to 
complete his education in Rome. But the licentiousness of the 
place, and perhaps of the students among whom he lived, led 
him to leave it secretly, "despising," as St. Gregory tells us, 
"the pursuit of letters, abandoning his father's home and prop- 
erty, and desiring to please God alone." He then betook him- 
self to the lonely district of Subiaco; and finding a cave in 
which he could dwell, gave himself up to the eremitical life. 

Like many young men both before him and after, in the 
first fervor of his turning to God, he took the line of extreme 
isolation and austerity. And there was much in the nature 
of the times to give him countenance in so doing. Italy (and 
most of Romanized Europe) was in a state of "disorganization 
and confusion almost without parallel in history." It was 
over-run by barbarian invaders, corrupted by the viciousness 
of a dying paganism, and given up for the most part to the 
Arian heresy. Finally, there was the example of countless 
spiritual men who had betaken themselves to the strictest 
monasticism as a refuge from moral disaster. The most 

1 Benedictine Monachtsm. By the Right Rev. Cuthbert Butler, Abbot of Downside 
Abbey. New York: Longmans, Green & Co. ?G.50 net. 


prominent of these was the great St. Antony, 2 and also, living in 
the Nitrian deserts of Egypt, there were thousands of monks, 
gathered from all parts, who, while they could not equal St. 
Antony in his solitude, want far beyond him in their astonish- 
ing feats of individual asceticism. 

For three years, then, Benedict lived his life of severity 
and solitude in the cave of Subiaco. But at the end of that 
time the fame and attractiveness of his personality led many 
people to put themselves under his spiritual guidance. Here 
he continued until certain troubles brought on by the jealousy 
of a local priest induced him to leave the district, and go with 
a chosen band of monks to Monte Cassino. 

He reached Monte Cassino in 525, being then about forty- 
five years of age. Here he lived for the remaining twenty 
years of his life; and here he wrote his famous Rule. 

When we remember the youthful Benedict of twenty or 
so dwelling (like the Forerunner of Our Lord) alone with 
rigorous severity in his cave at Subiaco, and compare him with 
the St. Benedict of about fifty who wrote the Rule, we become 
aware that his idea of what was essential to a true monasticism 
has undergone considerable change in that lengthy interval 
of thirty years. And yet (as Dom Butler shows us so clearly) 
this change of mind on the part of St. Benedict was the gradual 
outcome of his own growth in spiritual wisdom, in knowledge 
of monastic history and in experience of human nature. 

Furthermore, as the Rule is the final and authoritative ex- 
pression of St. Benedict's mind on the whole matter of mon- 
achism, it must be taken as the form of all subsequent Bene- 
dictine development. It will be well therefore to notice its 
main characteristics. 

That the Rule would reflect St. Benedict's own mature 
character is a thing to be expected, and that it does so we know 
from St. Gregory. A comparison of the two records, the one 
given us by the Rule, which is mainly a record of ideas, and 
the other given us by St. Gregory, which is a record of bio- 
graphical facts, leads to the conclusion that in the long period 
of years which passed between early youth and later manhood, 
the spirit of Christ Himself gradually took possession of St. 
Benedict's soul and in the end possessed it to the uttermost: 
it enlightened his mind, enlarged his heart and gave to his 

Page 305. 


character a full endowment of Christian graces a holy fear, 
a deep humility, high courage, wide tolerance, unending pa- 
tience and great magnanimity; a very human tenderness, a 
quiet gravity, a sound moderation and, crowning all, an im- 
perturbable faith. "His Rule," writes Abbot Butler, "begins 
with Christ and ends on Him. . . This is the sum of St. Bene- 
dict's teaching on the Spiritual Life." 3 

An important thing to be noticed about the Rule is that it 
is a rule it prescribes a way of Christian living which may 
be freely chosen or freely refused, but if chosen must be 
obeyed, "that through this labor of obedience the soul may re- 
turn to God." Men leave God by the easy way of disobedience; 
they can only return to Him by the difficult way of obedience. 
And the nature of this obedience is a simple following of the 
Rule as interpreted by the Abbot "as if the command came 
from God." It will be "an obedience acceptable to God and 
sweet to man if what is commanded be done not hastily nor 
half-heartedly, but with zest; not with a murmur nor with a 
grudging assent;" an obedience that should be interior as well 
as exterior, for "if the disciple murmur not merely with the 
mouth, but even in his heart, although he fulfill the command, 
it will not be acceptable to God:" and an obedience even to 
impossible commands; for "if they are enjoined the monk 
shall receive them quietly; and if he sees that they altogether 
exceed his powers he may patiently and opportunely explain 
the reason of his inability, but without resisting or contradict- 
ing. If after this the superior persists in the command, the 
subject is to do his best to try to carry it out, trusting to God's 
help, and he is to know that so it is best for him." 

And lastly, St. Benedict describes the relations of the 
monks to each other as "a path of obedience by which they will 
go to God." Such an obedience as this persevered in until it 
becomes almost a second nature, "provides the principal ascet- 
ical element in the Benedictine life." For so practised it is 
the "outward expression of true humbleness of heart and the 
renunciation of self-will." 

This leads us to the consideration of stability, the central 
determining quality of the Benedictine life as laid down in 
the Rule. To choose a life-work wholly worth while, and to 
go on with it in the same place, in the same way, with the 

3 Benedictine Monachism, p. 57. 


same people, until death brings it to completion, is a difficult 
thing to do. And when it is done (as it has been done by in- 
numerable men and women throughout the Benedictine cen- 
turies) without any noise or ostentation, with dignity, with 
gentleness and gayety, with sweetness, serenity and strength, 
who shall estimate its spiritual value or its social fruitfulness 
upon the earth? 

St. Benedict was a man with a big mind and a big heart 
his mind being as full of sound common sense as his heart was 
full of human tenderness. He wished his monastic houses to 
be real homes, where the abbot was a father in his calm and 
equable rule, where the monks were real sons in their generous 
obedience to their abbot, and real brothers in their unselfish 
relations with each other. As St. Benedict conceived it, home- 
liness was to be the native air of every Benedictine house; 
there was to be no admixture of stuffy professionalism, noth- 
ing sanctimonious or merely official. 

But while ordinarily homeliness is the product of paternal 
goodness and of family obedience rooted in family stability, 
Benedictine homeliness is something more. Its real home is 
in heaven. Nostra conversatio est in cselis, our conversation 
is in heaven, is a Pauline phrase which gives us the Benedictine 
idea of private prayer and public worship. There is another 
phrase used in the same Epistle which conveys the active, 
practical, social side of the Benedictine life : Digne Evangelio 
Christi conversamini let your conversation (your everyday 
behavior) be worthy of the Gospel of Christ. And these two 
ideas are unified by the Benedictine vow that still remains to 
be noticed Conversatio morum, the solemn promise of true 
Christian behavior both towards God and man. And it is of 
more than scholarly interest that the word conversatio has been 
shown by Abbot Butler to have been the original one used by 
St. Benedict when he drew up the Rule Conversatio morum 
and not conversio morum, as the later variant has it. 

Benedictine behavior, then, is inspired from above by 
the Father of all men, and just in so far as this is so, does its 
homeliness descend like gentle dew upon the earth. And per- 
haps this same word homeliness gives a clue to the mind of 
St. Benedict upon most Benedictine matters. 

When does a home cease to become a home and become 
something else? Such a question may very well have oc- 


curred to St. Benedict as he was thinking out his Rule. And 
the answer to it may be read even now in the pages of the Rule 
itself. As far as can be judged from Abbot Butler's book, it 
was St. Benedict's wish that his monasteries should always be 
homes and never become anything else however grand, glor- 
ious or efficient. Homes cannot pass a certain point in size, 
numbers, wealth, extent and jurisdiction without becoming 
institutions. But is not an institution a thing from which the 
true family spirit has departed? By wishing that every one of 
his houses should be a home, St. Benedict evidently thought 
to avoid the extremes of individualism on the one hand, and 
of institutionalism on the other. His abbot was to be a spir- 
itual father keeping home for a spiritual family; but no ab- 
bot, however good, can keep home for a multitude, much less 
a scattered multitude. He may, however, do something differ- 
ent and something very good of its kind. As Abbot Butler re- 
marks, the feudal abbot was really great; but he was not and 
could not be St. Benedict's abbot. 

And now we come to St. Benedict's idea of asceticism. An 
ascetic has been defined (by Dr. Johnson) as one wholly em- 
ployed in exercises of devotion and mortification. It is re- 
markable, therefore, that the words mortificare and mortift- 
catio are not to be found in the Rule at all. St. Benedict knew 
what extreme asceticism was from his own three years' expe- 
rience of it in the cave at Subiaco; but having experienced it, 
he did not recommend it in later life either by precept or ex- 
ample. His asceticism differed a good deal from that of many 
of his monastic predecessors; it neglected much that they 
thought important; but for all that it was thoroughgoing to 
the point of austerity it was of the inward rather than of 
the outward man, and it was concerned primarily with the 
growth, order, unity and simplification of the personal powers 
of the soul; this indeed was a difficult and lifelong task, but 
its gradual achievement enabled the soul to rest in its proper 
Object (which was God), and at the same time to keep the 
body in reasonable subjection. St. Benedict once met a hermit 
who had chained himself to a rock and spoke to him as fol- 
lows: "If thou be God's servant," he said, "let the chain of 
Christ and not any other chain hold thee." 

Personal devotion to Our Lord was, in fact, the motive 
power of all his life. He had also the habit of seeing him by 


faith in everyone he came across. And this habit he im- 
pressed upon his monks; for he knew it to be a means of true 
recollection amid worldly intercourse, and the secret of the 
most delicate and genuine courtesy possible between man and 

The Benedictine life may be described as one of devoted 
work for God and for the likeness of God in man. And St. 
Benedict lays great stress upon work. Idleness is the enemy 
of the soul and only work hard, quiet, persistent work will 
put that enemy to flight. Work is the way to every kind of 
achievement and the safeguard of whatsoever has been 
achieved. A stranger came one day and asked to be admitted 
to the monastery. St. Benedict gave him a bill-hook and told 
him to clear away some briers as a first step towards making 
a garden. "Ecce labora!" he said, "Go and work!" 

Three principal traditions of work were established by St. 
Benedict and laid down in the Rule the tradition of bodily 
labor, the tradition of learning and education, and the tradi- 
tion of prayer. 

The idea was common in St. Benedict's time that bodily 
labor was degrading to an honorable man. It was the sort of 
thing that only slaves should do. Unfortunately, the idea is 
still common but it is utterly unchristian for all that. Ac- 
cording to St. Benedict's scheme of the monastic life, bodily 
labor took up more time daily than either study or church 
services, and was done either in the fields or garden or about 
the house. But the amount of time spent upon it varied very 
much according to circumstances as St. Benedict evidently 
foresaw that it would; for he writes in the Rule that "if the 
needs of the place, or the poverty of the monks, oblige them, 
they should themselves labor at gathering in the crops and 
not be saddened thereat; because they are truly monks when 
they live by the labor of their hands as did our fathers and the 

It was by this "labor of the hands," as well as by that of the 
mind and spirit, that the Benedictines renewed the arts of 
industry and peace in those parts of Europe which for the time 
had been given over to barbarism. And then they set out in 
the same quiet and practical way to convert a northernmost 
Europe that as yet had hardly been Christianized at all. In 
England, Germany, Holland, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Bo- 


hernia and even in Slavdom "by the mere fact of settling 
among a people and exhibiting to them the excellence and 
beauty of the Christian life, the Benedictines won them in- 
sensibly to adopt the Christian creed." And Augustine, Wil- 
frid, Willibrod, Wulfram, Boniface, Ansgar, Sigfrid, Boso, 
Vicelin and Adalbert were the monks who led this splendid 
apostolate. A summary of what it effected in Saxon England 
may give some idea of its effectiveness in other countries. 

When the Benedictines came to England they found an 
Anglo-Saxon race, which, during the hundred and fifty years 
of its occupation, had made no progress whatever. The monks 
taught the English a life of cooperation and free labor, a life 
of obedience, order, regularity and economy, a life which 
was nothing else than an unconscious imitation of Benedictin- 
ism itself: how to farm and drain the land, how to regulate 
their domestic and political affairs, how to practise punctual- 
ity and dispatch. They impressed upon our rough and hardy 
ancestors a gentler manner and breeding, new duties of re- 
spect to themselves and others. They taught them the mean- 
ing of justice and charity. The discipline of life as set forth 
by the monks "reached from the highest to the lowliest duties 
of man, as if all were bound together in one indestructible 
union. It allowed no fervor of devotion to be pleaded as an 
excuse for neglect, or waste, or untidiness; no urgency of 
labor as a set-off for want of punctuality; no genius or skill 
or rank as an exemption from the tribute of respect, considera- 
tion and kindliness due to others. The broken fragments of 
their frugal meal were as carefully gathered up to be given 
to the poor, their clothes washed, mended, and put away, 
their kitchen utensils and linen, their spades and implements 
of husbandry kept in as trim order and ready for use, as if 
their spiritual advancement depended upon these things (as 
in fact it did). . . . These societies of well-bred and educated 
men took their turn at the trowel or the dungcart, and were 
deft and skillful in the kitchen, the brew-house, and the bake- 
house, in the workshop and in the field, as they were in il- 
luminating manuscripts, in choral music, in staining a glass 
window or erecting a campanile. Talk, indeed, of an aristoc- 
racy of labor! Why the very notion of such a thing was in- 
conceivable to the old world, as it would have been to us, but 
for the disciples of St. Benedict." 4 

Giraldl Cambrensii Opera, vol. iv., edited by J. S. Brewer, M.A., pp. 323-25. 


It is not surprising that another non-Catholic historian 
should assert that "the chief claim of the monks to our grati- 
tude lies in this, that they helped to diffuse a better apprecia- 
tion of the duty and dignity of labor." 5 But it is surprising that 
while so many of our learned or leisured people belaud the 
duty and dignity of labor, so few of them can make with their 
own hands any single thing of beauty or usefulness. At any 
rate they might go so far as to insist that their children should 
be taught some manual skill either at home, at school, or at 
the universities. Our schoolmasters (a timid race) might then 
be encouraged to go back to St. Benedict's sound notions on 
the importance of bodily labor, and take some practical steps 
to carry them out and all this without any detriment to 
games which should always have a place (but hardly the first 
place) in the order of educational importance. If this were 
done there would be a great renewal of social sympathies, a 
great bridging over of social chasms. 

In matters of learning and education the value of Bene- 
dictine work is admitted. In St. Benedict's rule a certain time 
daily was prescribed for reading of a kind that was almost 
entirely devotional. It was limited to the Scriptures, to the 
writings of the Fathers in general and those of St. Basil and 
Cassian in particular. Out of this arose, as time went on and 
circumstances gave occasion, other educational and learned 
undertakings, upon which Abbot Butler has an interesting 
chapter, until at last we come to that specialized, historical and 
textual scholarship which owes its spacious foundations to the 
corporate labors of the Benedictines of St. Maur. 

The Venerable Bede (673-735) stands out as the first 
Benedictine historian and critical scholar, "who always took 
delight in learning, teaching and writing amid the observance 
of regular discipline and the daily care of singing in the 

St. Dunstan (924-988), who was educated by the monks of 
Glastonbury, becoming their abbot and finally Archbishop of 
Canterbury, was a less specialized scholar than St. Bede. He 
is representative of a splendid Benedictine type that still 
endures. Full indeed of the book learning of his time, he was 
also skilled in "handicrafts, masonry, carpentry, smith-work, 
metal-casting, could draw, paint and design beautifully, was 

An Essay on Western Civilization, by W. Cunningham, D.D., vol. Ii., p. 35. 


an excellent musician, playing, singing and composing well, 
and being especially fond of the old English songs and lays, 
which (St. Aldhelm and) King Alfred had delighted in." He 
also guided the policy of King Edgar, who was called the 
Peaceable and was the first acknowledged ruler of a united 

Aldhelm, Benedict Biscop, Lanfranc and Anselm are other 
Benedictine names that savor of the same sound but inspired 
learning, combined with the same radiant social beneficence. 

In a short space it is impossible to convey the fact and 
effect of the Benedictine life as lived throughout Western 
Europe between 650 and 1100 a period which Abbot Butler 
has called par excellence the Benedictine centuries. Through- 
out its duration the Benedictines undoubtedly and substan- 
tially fulfilled the intentions of their Founder. They glorified 
God by public worship and private contemplation; they cher- 
ished His likeness among men by an example that was whole- 
some, practical and inspired; they rescued and multiplied 
the treasures of ancient and patristic learning and by a crafts- 
manship, magnificent in scope and beautiful in detail and 
color, they touched with divine perfection whatever their 
hands found to do. 

Work without inspiration is valueless, for it destroys true 
manhood. To work like a slave is to become a slave, whereas 
toil of body or brain, hard though it may be, grows sweet and 
dignified in the light of some noble end. Idle dreams are use- 
less, but so are deeds without inspiration. Benedictine inspira- 
tion is from above donum perfectum desursum est, de- 
scendens a Poire laminum. And it comes through prayer. 
Prayer is the principal work of the Benedictine life. The 
Church has always insisted that prayer is work; that it is a 
necessary activity of the soul, and that therefore it should be 
a deliberate and regular activity. Consequently, it needs guid- 
ance on the part of superiors, who are themselves men of 
prayer, and can discern the working of the Holy Spirit with- 
out disturbing it in any individual soul. It also needs serious 
self-discipline, of the honest interior sort, on the part of each 
individual monk. "We may not look," said Blessed Thomas 
More, "at our pleasure to go to heaven in feather beds. It is 
not the way." For every spiritual wayfarer there are places 
and times of genuine refreshment and relaxation; but these 


are by the way; they are a necessary spiritual offset to other 
times of hardship and difficulty. In prayer as in every other 
serious occupation, men have to do honest work before a real 
foothold is gained, much less a livelihood of increasing excel- 

Prayer, like every other kind of effort, has its end; but, 
unlike any other kind of effort, its end is unique it is the 
union of the soul with God. Prayer is a graduated thing of 
different degrees and stages, but in each of these the soul 
becomes more and more as God wishes it to be; it gives and 
loses and gets and gives itself again; it gives itself to God, 
it loses its own selfishness, it receives of God's goodness in 
return, and again gives this to others without any spiritual 
loss. And so, quietly, surely and persistently, now in one way 
and now in another, in darkness, in grayness or in light, in 
yearning or in hardship, in refreshment or in ease, the soul 
goes on to God, until God, Who is ever becoming more at- 
tractive to it, becomes in the end, the one and only Object 
of its life. 

There are people who think that somehow or other the 
life of prayer must be a selfish life. But whatever it is, it can 
hardly be that. A man who does not pray has one tingling 
centre of personal reality and that is himself. He may speak 
about God and argue about God and even dream about God, 
but for all that he is more real and personal to himself than 
God is to him. With the man of prayer exactly the opposite 
is the case. He has two centres of personal reality, himself 
and God, and of the two God is the more real. God is more 
intimately real and personally present to the man of prayer 
than he is personally real and present to himself. If there 
is one true thing that can be said of men who make prayer 
their lifelong and determining activity, it is that they are un- 
selfish. They are men becoming more and more emptied of 
selfishness and more and more filled with the goodness of 
God. They are ready, therefore, as none else are ready, to do 
good work for the world, and that they have done it in the 
past is evident from the Benedictine history. 

Prayer, then, is a social as well as an individual activity, 
and so it has a public as well as a private way of expressing 
itself. At one time the monk takes part with all his brethren 
in the Community High Mass or in the recital of the Divine 

VOL. CXI. 14 


Office; and at another he engages in private prayer or con- 
templation; but in each of these actions he is informed by 
one and the same spirit of prayer. This is brought out very 
clearly by Abbot Butler in three chapters entitled respectively, 
"St. Benedict's Teaching on Prayer," "Benedictine Mysticism," 
and "Benedictine Contemplative Life." 

"It is sometimes asked," writes the Abbot, "which is the 
principal and best kind of prayer for Benedictines, the public 
prayer of the Liturgy, or private interior prayer? The answer 
is simple: each in its turn is best. Each kind of prayer 
answers to one of the two great instinctive tendencies of the 
human heart, the social and the individualistic. Man is a so- 
cial animal, and it is a fact that he does many things best in 
company . . . and so in every religion recourse is had to 
social worship of God and common prayer, with their accom- 
paniments of music and singing and ritual, as helps to the 
evoking of religious feeling and action. And the Catholic 
Church, true to that instinct which makes her take men as 
God made them, and which has been one of her principal 
sources of strength through the ages, appeals to men's souls 
through their senses and through the contagion of numbers, 
and so has made her public worship of God a solemn and 
stately social act of her children; like the glimpse vouchsafed 
in the Apocalypse of the worship of God by the saints in 
heaven where it is represented under the symbol of a grand 
act of solemn liturgical social worship. 

"But there is that other instinctive way in the worship 
of God, expressed by Our Lord when He said: 'Thou when 
thou prayest, enter into thine inner chamber, and having shut 
thy door, pray to thy Father, Who is in secret.' This is that 
instinct that makes us seek God in our hearts and in our 
souls; introversion it is called, for the kingdom of God is 
within us. This is the solitary communing of the soul with 
God, spirit with Spirit, in interior prayer. 

"Both these kinds of prayer are Scriptural: the Gospels 
show us Jesus Christ exercising both. Both are set before us 
by St. Benedict by word and example. And Benedictine 
monks, like others, must do their best to travel along both 
these great roadways of the soul to God. Nor is there any 
antagonism between them : they will mutually help each 
other. The more we are penetrated with the spirit of the 


Liturgy, the better able shall we be to reach the heights of 
interior prayer; and the more sedulously we cultivate mental 
prayer the more spiritual and contemplative will our recita- 
tion of the (Divine) Office become. 

"For it must be remembered that contemplation is not 
attached to interior mental prayer only; its heights may be 
attained also, and often are, in vocal prayer, whether the 
Office or some other." 

But Benedictines are counseled by the Abbot ever to bear 
in mind St. Benedict's words: "Let nothing be placed before 
the work of God," the Opus Dei by which St. Benedict always 
means the Divine Office. 

Monks who recite the Office with becoming devotion will 
experience the truth expressed by Dame Gertrude More, an 
English Benedictine nun and mystic : "The Divine Office is such 
a heavenly thing that in it we find whatsoever we can desire: 
for sometimes in it we address ourselves to Thee for help 
and pardon for our sins, and sometimes Thou speakest to us, 
so that it pierceth and woundeth with desire of Thee the very 
bottom of our souls; and sometimes Thou teachest a soul to 
understand in it more of the knowledge of Thee and of herself 
than ever could have been by all the teaching in the world 
showed to a soul in five hundred years; for Thy words are 
works." 7 

An attempt has been made to summarize the general char- 
acteristics of the monastic life as Abbot Butler has given them 
to us, and as he believes St. Benedict himself to have con- 
ceived them. How the Founder's intentions were carried out 
through the ages, how they were developed, and how on oc- 
casion they deviated in their development, the reader may 
gather for himself by a perusal of the Abbot's book. The fact 
remains that after fourteen centuries the Benedictine life in- 
creases its quiet activity in a still unquiet world. 

Benedictine Monachism, pp. 69, 70. 

* The Inner Life and Writings of Dame Gertrude More. Revised and edited by 
Dom Weld-Blundell. Vol. 1., p. 58. 



Director, Society for the Propagation of the Faith. 



S each successive Mikado is but a link in the "di- 
vine" family line, he is not only the living god of 
Japan, but also the supreme pontiff in the cult of 
his divine ancestors, so that the performance of 
religious ceremonies takes up a good deal of his 
time. From early ages the celebration of rites in honor of the 
gods was considered to be the chief function of the Mikados, 
and it is more than ever so now. 

There are three sanctuaries or shrines in the precincts of 
the imperial palace: one, dedicated to the spirits of defunct 
Emperors from Jimmu downward; the second, to the divine 
ancestress, the sun-goddess and other deities of her family, 
while the third contains a facsimile of the regalia of Japan, and 
its name may be translated, "Awe-Inspiring Place." 

These regalia consist of three sacred emblems : the copper 
mirror, the steel sword and the precious stones, symbolizing 
respectively knowledge, courage and mercy. The original mir- 
ror, said to be kept in the famous temple of the sun-goddess 
at Ise, and which perhaps for centuries no living person has 
ever seen, is the palladium of Japan, the most sacred and pre- 
cious thing in the whole Empire. Shintoists of today tell us 
that the sun-goddess is embodied or rather "transubstantiated" 
in it; therefore it is more than a symbol. Almost the same 
dignity is accorded to the replica preserved in the palace of 
Tokyo. The original sword has found its abode at the temple 
of Atsuta, near the large city of Nagoya. The three crescent- 
shaped jewels, one red, one white, and one blue, remain near 
the Emperor in the palace shrine. 

These regalia, having been bestowed by the sun-goddess 
on her grandson when she sent him down from heaven to rule 
Japan, were thenceforth transmitted from generation to gener- 


ation of the Mikados. Without them the Empire would hardly 
be conceivable to the Japanese people, for the whole tradition 
of the imperial people is bound up in them; their possession 
bestows sovereignty by divine right, and the instinct of the 
people is to acknowledge no man as Emperor unless he possess 
the regal symbols. Hence their supreme importance. 

Shortly after the restoration of 1868 a new set of thirteen 
festivals celebrating imperial official events was established; 
these are national holidays, compulsory for all public offices, 
schools, banks, etc. But the religious calendar of the palace is 
still more burdened with anniversaries, purifying ceremonies 
and so on. The rites are mostly performed in the sanctuary 
of imperial ancestors, with offerings of rice, food and rice-beer, 
prayers and sacred music. A board of ritualists and special 
musicians are in charge of the ceremonies under the direction 
of a court noble as Grand Master of Rites, but the Emperor 
presides in person and reads a prayer. The morning ceremony 
is often repeated at four P. M., sometimes with a sacred dance, 
and in the interval those high officials and exalted personages 
who did not attend the rites, are "admitted" to worship before 
the shrine. On these occasions the Emperor and ritualists are 
robed in the ceremonial garb of the eleventh century, while the 
music flutes and fifes, and sometimes a small drum is the 
legacy of an epoch anterior to the ninth century. 

Still more peculiar are the ceremonies of the last day of the 
year, a grand purification lasting for five or six hours, those of 
January 1st, beginning at half past five in the morning, and of 
the harvest festival, November 23d, repeated twice over the 
same night from 6 to 8 P. M., and from 1 to 3 A. M.; after the 
Emperor has again offered to his divine ancestors the newly- 
harvested rice and some rice-beer sent to the court from every 
prefecture, he himself partakes of the new rice of the year. 

This latter rite, by the way, is an essential part of what we 
improperly call the coronation of a Mikado (as the Mikado has 
no crown at all), and must therefore always take place in No- 
vember. At the so-called coronation the Emperor formally 
takes possession of the three regalia in announcing his acces- 
sion to his divine ancestors; he then proclaims his accession 
to his faithful subjects, represented by a plenary meeting of all 
princes, nobles, higher officials and members of the Diet, and, 
finally, after one day of silent preparation and purification 


during which the whole Empire must also observe silence, he 
passes the night in a specially built rustic shrine, attended by 
only one young female, in the mysterious company of his 
ancestors, offering to them rice and various viands and par- 
himself of the banquet. 

Obviously the characteristic of this cult is that it considers 
the divine and imperial ancestors as beings who still form the 
actual family of the Mikado and are really living in our midst, 
so that the duties of filial piety must never be neglected. A 
large staff of chamberlains and ritualists, to say nothing of 
princes of the blood, are constantly going and coming from the 
capitol to various Shinto temples and tombs of former sove- 
reigns either to report important events to the gods and im- 
perial ancestors or to represent the Mikado at ritual cere- 
monies. For all these religious performances are duplicated, 
one being held in the palace shrines and the other at the par- 
ticular temple or grave of the ancestor concerned. The 
Mikado sends special envoys to apprize the sun-goddess and 
his nearer ancestors of family events, and events of national 
importance. On more solemn occasions he visits the grand 
shrine of the sun-goddess, and once a year worships before 
the grave of his father near Kyoto. These pious duties con- 
stitute the most important occupation of the Mikado. 

Apart from the cultural or liturgical life of the Mikado 
there is little to say of this Emperor, who reigns and yet does 
not rule, leaving the real political power in the hands of a 
small clannish oligarchy. As becomes a superhuman monarch, 
he leads a very secluded life, restrained by the sternest pro- 
tocol. The pitiless clique of stubborn officials of his house- 
hold keep the four young imperial children dwelling apart 
from their parents in distant palaces, and hold their august 
master more confined, more enslaved than any of his subjects 
could possibly be. They make their living god pay dear for 
his divinity. 

Out of respect for the sacred person of the Mikado his 
subjects never use his personal name either in speech or in 
print. Whereas "Mikado" (Sublime Porte) is a very old word, 
now utterly fallen into disuse in Japan, the ordinary term is 
Tenno (Celestial Emperor), and sometimes in print Seijo (All- 
Wise or Supreme Wisdom). Even the language used by the 
papers in announcing or recording the Emperor's actions and 


journeys is strictly proper to His Majesty, and could not be 
used with reference to the actions of his subjects. 

One rarely passes the main gate leading to the imperial 
palace, without seeing numbers of people approach the en- 
trance of the "Double Bridge" with bared heads, bow pro- 
foundly in the direction of the palace, and then reverently 
withdraw. The palace buildings are not visible, and its pre- 
cincts are separated from the esplanade by a wide moat and 
an embankment forty feet high. As His Majesty is unap- 
proachable, his devout subjects have no other means of paying 
him obeisance, and so they display their devotion from afar, 
even though the Emperor be absent from the palace. 

The citizens of the capital gaze reverently on his carriage 
when he drives through the streets to attend some official 
function. But, as it is considered wholly unbecoming and 
is rigidly forbidden to gaze on the Emperor from above, 
every upper window must be closed up and curtains drawn 
when the imperial retinue passes; boys cannot climb trees, 
fences, wagons, lamp-posts or near-by slopes; the street cars 
are stopped in side streets at a distance of two or three hun- 
dred yards, with all blinds lowered. The same rules hold 
good when the Mikado travels by rail, so that, if he raises his 
eyes, no matter when or where, he never sees anybody above 
himself. Cheers and applause are never indulged in: "stand 
silent and bare-headed" is the order. 

For about twenty years after the restoration of 1868 it 
was almost forbidden to private persons to have in their pos- 
session the picture of the Emperor it is still forbidden to snap 
a photo of His Majesty but when it was decided to promote 
the imperial cult by every available means, the Shintoists 
decided the worship of the imperial picture would help enor- 
mously to this end. Since then the Emperor's photograph has 
been hung up in every school of the land, in barracks, on board 
warships, in all state and municipal administrative offices. 
On national holidays school children and students, army and 
navy men, must reverently bow down worship, as they say- 
before this picture. In case of fire, the first and foremost care 
of reputable people is to snatch away from the blaze such a 
precious treasure even at the peril of their life: to neglect 
so sacred a duty is to be dishonored forever. 

To understand why the Japanese have so readily accepted 


the imperial cult, you must know the mental attitude of the 
race towards religion. The Japanese is religious, but he does 
not take religion seriously. It is for him a thing of secondary 
importance, optional, indifferent, and which he considers 
mostly from a utilitarian viewpoint. This is due to his intel- 
lectual training and to the lack of well defined principles of 
logic. For instance, neither Buddhism nor Confucianism has 
impressed upon the Japanese a clear distinction between 
matter and spirit; that notion, so familiar to us, is not clear 
in their mind, hence they attach little importance to it. Again, 
while certain Buddhist sects have taught the moral sanctions 
of a future life in which reward and punishment will be 
meted out according to strict justice, this doctrine has not 
penetrated the conscience of the Japanese to the extent of 
affecting seriously his moral conduct. Furthermore, its in- 
fluence has been practically annihilated by other factors. 

The first Regent of the family of Tokugawa, in 1600, with- 
out giving up Buddhism, which remained the national religion, 
thought it necessary, for political ends, to give a new impetus 
to Confucianism. With the rigor of an autocrat he imposed 
its doctrines, not on the mass of people incapable of grasping 
them, but on the military and educated class, which monop- 
olized the intellectual and official life of Japan. Now to the 
orthodox Confucianist, what we call religion is mere super- 
stition. For him there exists neither God nor future life, con- 
sequently all relations with a spiritual world, all notions of a 
supernatural life, all religious dogmas, are devices to impose 
upon the ignorant, tame the multitude, and console the unfor- 
tunate. Since all religions are regarded as radically false and 
imaginary, it follows that morality can have no connection 
with the religious idea, and could not but be weakened by 
being based on it. Morality is a matter of education, and is 
part of the political sciences. As far as the individual is con- 
cerned, his duty is to obey whether or not he understands the 
laws made for him: morality is defined by legality. 

Such, for two centuries and a half, was the attitude of the 
leading class of Japan towards religion and such it is today. 
But, by a singular inconsistency, while professing Confucian- 
ists despised Buddhism and considered it their duty to ridicule 
its practices and attack its doctrines, the official world and 
scholars continued to profess Buddhism at least externally. 


The third Regent, Tokugawa, in 1624 built at Edo (Tokyo) 
the magnificent Buddhist temple of Ueno, which is now de- 
stroyed; the tombs of the Regents, feudal lords, Samurai, 
were intrusted to the care of bonzes, and the spirits of those 
illustrious personages were honored according to the Buddhist 

This example of inconsistency, given to the people by the 
leading classes for two hundred and fifty years, naturally in- 
creased their indifference to the religious question. The peo- 
ple remained strongly attached to their superstitions, to cer- 
tain traditional celebrations and especially to their worship 
of the dead. Nothing would induce them to relinquish those 
pilgrimages to the tombs of the departed, which, for the most 
part, are only pleasure trips. These were quite sufficient to 
satisfy their religious instinct, and from the moral point of 
view, makes them neither better nor worse, since for them 
morality does not rest on religion but on filial piety and 

This state of mind explains how the Japanese nation, far 
from opposing the official introduction of the imperial wor- 
ship, could not but welcome it. They were not handicapped 
by any previous religious conviction. On the contrary, the 
tradition of the divine nature of the Emperor, always tacitly 
admitted but little invoked, offered a natural basis for the new 
religion. Furthermore, the history of Japan shows that its 
people have always been coerced into passive submission to 
the civil power. They are the slaves of unrelenting customs 
and restrictions, so the administrative pressure in behalf of 
the worship of the Mikados met with no opposition. 

As a matter of fact the spread of the new ideas has been 
easy. A large class derives power from their diffusion, and 
it is the business of no one in particular to oppose them. These 
ideas shock, disturb or hinder nobody, they clash with nothing 
dear to the people. Moreover, in the East the disinterested 
love of truth for its own sake is rare; the patience to unearth 
it, rarer still. Last, but not least, national pride works in the 
interests of credulity, for Japanese national pride has every 
reason to feel gratified with the doctrines enforced from above. 

Owing to the "facts" that the Japanese land was begotten 
by the two gods, Izanagi and Izanamu; was the birthplace of 
the sun-goddess, and is ruled by her sublime descendants for 


ever and ever as long as the universe shall endure, Japan is 
infinitely superior to other countries, whose chief and head it 
is. The descendants of the gods accompanied the grandson 
of the sun-goddess when he went from heaven to rule the 
country, and also the offspring of the successive Mikados, 
and have gradually increased and multiplied, and become the 
Japanese people. From the fact of the divine descent of the 
Japanese people proceeds their immeasurable superiority in 
courage and intelligence to the natives of other countries. 
Therefore, between the Japanese nation and other peoples 
of the world there is a difference of kind rather than of degree. 
No other nation is entitled to equality with her, and all are 
bound to do homage to the Japanese sovereign. 

The absence of a Shinto moral code is accounted for by 
the innate perfection of the Japanese race, which obviates the 
necessity for such outward props. Every Japanese, being a 
descendant of the gods, is born with a naturally perfect and 
upright disposition, which, from the most ancient times, has 
been called yamato-damashii, and, being absolutely upright 
and straightforward, needs no moral teaching. While the 
mind of each Mikado is always in perfect harmony with that 
of his ancestress, the sun-goddess, so his ministers and people 
live up to the tradition of the divine age. In this way the age 
of the gods and the present age are not two, but one. 

Foreign countries were of course produced by the power 
of the creating gods, but they were not begotten by Izanagi and 
Izanami, nor did they give birth to the sun-goddess, hence 
their inferiority. Further, as they are not the special domain 
of the sun-goddess, they have no permanent rulers, and evil 
spirits, having found in them a field of action, have corrupted 
mankind. In those countries any wicked man who could man- 
age to seize on the power became a sovereign. 

Such are the views of the "pure" Shintoists as described 
by Sir Ernest Satow in his Revival of the Pure Shinto. In 
this system the divinity and the mutual relations of the land, 
its creators and gods, its rulers and its people are so inter- 
mingled and inseparable that the Japanese believe themselves 
justified in asserting that everything pertaining to their origin, 
their nationality, their Emperor, their patriotism, their na- 
tional spirit and soul, is absolutely unique and incomparable, 
and consequently foreigners are, and shall be forever, unable to 


understand such sublime things. The Imperial Household 
Department, fountainhead and stronghold of revived Shinto, 
has ordered the pupils of all schools in the Empire to be 
indoctrinated with these views, so that every Japanese may 
be fully conscious from childhood of his superior nature. 

Moreover, Japan has wonderfully prospered for the last 
fifty years, and her warriors have gained great victories. As 
Professor Chamberlain has rightly pointed out, the prestige 
thence accruing to Imperialism and to the rejuvenated Shinto 
cult was enormous. All military success was ascribed to the 
miraculous influence of the Emperor's virtues and to the vir- 
tues of his imperial and divine ancestors. Imperial envoys 
were regularly sent after each great victory to carry the good 
tidings to the sun-goddess at her great shrine at Ise. Not there 
alone, but at the other principal Shinto shrines throughout the 
land, the cannon captured from Chinese or Russian foes were 
officially installed with a view to identifying Imperialism, 
Shinto and national glory in the popular mind. Why should 
the shortsighted and insular Japanese not believe in a system 
that produces such excellent practical results, and is so power- 
ful an instrument for the attainment of national aims? 

Many Japanese Protestants are carried away by the ir- 
resistible tide. The Reverend Dr. Ebins (independent and 
undenominational), one of the leading lights of the Protestant 
sects in Japan, thus expounds his position: "Though the en- 
couragement of ancestor-worship cannot be regarded as part 
of the essential teaching of Christianity, it (Christianity) is 
not opposed to the notion that, when the Japanese Empire was 
founded, its early rulers were in communication with the 
Great Spirit that rules the universe. Christians, according 
to this theory, without doing violence to their creed, may ac- 
knowledge that the Japanese nation has a divine origin. It is 
only when we realize that the Imperial Ancestors were in 
close communion with God (or the gods) that we understand 
how sacred is the country in which we live." Dr. Ebins ends 
by recommending the Imperial Rescript on Education as a 
text for Christian sermons. 

How thoroughly the nation must be saturated by the 
doctrines in question for such amazing utterances to be pos- 
sible ! 

In Japan there is a party of zealots always ready to fight 


whoever is not bowed down before their national god and the 
incomparably perfect nature of the Japanese. While Chris- 
tians may not utter a word or allude to these intangible ques- 
tions, that party delights in launching against them the most 
disparaging and insulting attacks. From August to November, 
1916, there appeared four numbers of a self-styled monthly 
review, the Dai Kokumin (Great Nation), treating solely of the 
"Extermination of Christianity." The cover of these four num- 
bers show ignoble caricatures representing Christ in the shape 
of a dog with human head or of an ugly monster half-man, 
half-dog, and crushed beneath the colossal fist or heel of 
Japan. Some American papers, to which these caricatures 
were sent, deemed them too scandalous to be reprinted in the 
United States. The three hundred pages of text are entirely in 
keeping, in their infuriated and slanderous attacks on Chris- 

The promoters of this outrageous campaign were cow- 
ardly enough to remain anonymous, although the names of 
some would not be hard to guess. They are men of standing, 
else their publication could not have been printed at the Koku- 
min's (a great Tokyo daily owned and edited by a Peer, Mr. 
Tokutomi), published at the M. P.'s Club in the House of the 
Diet, and have contained articles or essays from many in- 
fluential people. The four issues of the pseudo-review are 
numbered from 782 to 785, which figures would indicate a 
duration of sixty-five years for a monthly magazine, and this 
is nonsense in Japan. Indeed, no review with the title of Dai 
Kokumin was published before or after the four slanderous 
numbers: the Dai Kokumin was entered at the Post-Office 
as third-class matter on June 15, 1916, six weeks before the 
appearance of the first issue. This is a pretty good demonstra- 
tion of that vaunted yamato-damashii or Japanese spirit, 
"without blemish and shortcomings, incapable of fault or sin, 
irreproachable and immaculate, unequaled all the world 

It is neither possible nor advisable to translate here the 
attacks against particular Christian bodies in Japan, the silly 
blunders with regard to the social and religious conditions of 
the Western World, or the blasphemous and abusive language 
concerning Christ and His doctrine. We can give only a sum- 
mary of the lucubrations of those infatuated minds. 


"There could be no greater curse for Japan than the spread 
of Christianity, which, with its God and its Bible, excludes 
any other religion, overthrows the great law binding subjects 
to their sovereign, disobeys the Imperial Rescript on Educa- 
tion, diffuses dangerous opinions, hinders the liberty of 
thought, the study of art and the progress of civilization. 
Christianism is hurtful, wicked, fiendish, because it is es- 
sentially anti-national; its triumph would prove ruinous to 
the Japanese Commonwealth, to our national soul and ideals, 
to our peculiar spirit; in short, to our whole people. Whereas 
the peerless morality special to Japan rests primarily on the 
loyalty to the Emperor and on patriotism, Christianity does 
away with that noble foundation. In teaching that it is a 
crime to pray to the divine spirits of the imperial ancestors 
and to worship our Celestial Emperor, in putting one so-called 
Heavenly Father above our sovereign, in lowering the latter 
to the level of mortals born with sin and sinners, Christianism 
makes the Japanese who accept such doctrine disloyal, guilty 
of high treason, at war with their own country, rebellious peo- 
ple to be curbed by every means. Therefore, since Christian- 
ism cannot co-exist with our national organism, we want to 
drive it out of the land, so that it may not defile the divine 
religion of our Empire. Our gods, our ancestors, our imperial 
family, our nation form, so to speak, one soul, sublime, sacred 
and venerable. As Christianity is openly opposed to it and 
strives to wear it away, there can be no more urgent duty 
for us than to preserve our country from so harmful a re- 
ligion and, in spite of the recognized liberty of worship, to 
resort to violence for preventing its diffusion, or else it will 
do away with the unity of thought on most essential and holy 
things and endanger the very existence of the Empire. Since 
we have divine ancestors who founded our country and 
lavished on it inestimable benefits, since the true religion of 
Japan is the worship of our Emperor, real and visible god, 
why should we adore foreign and barbarian gods or an 
imaginary Heavenly Father? If Christianity cannot adapt 
itself to the national organism and morality of Japan, then it 
is a poison and must be expelled outright." 

These ideas are not the fancies of anonymous publicists 
or their obscure hirelings, but are endorsed and uttered by 


many exalted personages who willingly contributed articles to 
the Dai Kokumin. Among them, Dr. S. Takata, then (1916) 
Minister of Education in the Okuma Cabinet, and for long 
years President of Waseda University; the presidents of the 
Tokyo Imperial University and of the private Universities, 
Keio and Chuo; a former president of the Kyoto Imperial 
University; a dozen of the most renowned university pro- 
fessors, one of whom, Dr. Y. Haga, was most kindly welcomed 
in America at the very time Dai Kokumin appeared in Japan; 
Lieutenant General G. Tanaka, Deputy-Chief of the Army 
General Staff; Rear Admiral T. Sato, President of the Naval 
Staff College; Dr. Yokota, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court; 
K. Nishikulbo, then Chief of the Metropolitan Police; Baron 
T. Hirata, several times Minister of State, one of the heads 
of the reigning bureaucracy; Baron K. Takagi, Surgeon Gen- 
eral of the Navy, retired, founder and director of a medical 
school and charity hospital in Tokyo; M. Kato, for many years 
Vice- President of the great shipping concern, Nippon Yusen; 
Dr. C. Egi, foremost jurist and barrister, and the chief editors 
of two Tokyo dailies. 

In conclusion, I will repeat what is known to every mis- 
sionary in Japan: as long as the Government continues to 
assert the divinity of the Emperor, and the official world ap- 
parently believes in it; as long as all classes of citizens have 
not full liberty to embrace the Christian religion and practise 
its tenets without hindrance, the Church will not make serious 
progress in the country. 

The problem for Japan is how to get rid of the divinity 
of its ruler. Forty years ago it would have been easy; today, 
with all the scaffolding erected around that doctrine, it is a 
difficult task. It is to be feared that, in discarding the doc- 
trine, the Japanese people might take occasion to overthrow 
the Emperor himself, and the remedy would be worse than 
the evil. The Japanese are not ripe for a republican form of 
government; they need to be ruled by a strong hand. 

Let us hope that Divine Providence, which has means of 
solving human problems unknown to us, will bring about a 
happy solution to that mooted question. Then it will be seen 
that the obstacles to the conversion of the nation to Chris- 
tianity are fewer in Japan than in several other pagan coun- 
tries of the Far East. 



BOUT the beginning of the last century the terms, 
fancy and imagination, entered largely into all 
literary criticism, and for much the greater part 
of the nineteenth century writers were busy de- 
fining, illustrating and applying the ideas of 
fancy and imagination to literature and art. Wordsworth in 
his Prefaces, Coleridge in his Biographia Literaria, were the 
pioneers. Leigh Hunt followed with his book, Imagination 
and Fancy. Ruskin in his Modern Painters developed the 
ideas, analyzed the imagination and fancy into species and 
applied the terms to painting. He afterwards spoke slightingly 
of this part of his work. Other critics, like Poe and Hutton, 
made use of the same terms. Philosophers followed in the 
wake of the critics and investigated the nature of fancy and 
imagination. But in more recent years there is less heard of 
these terms. What is the reason for this silence? Perhaps 
readers have been surfeited with fancy and imagination, or 
did not understand very well what the terms meant, or could 
not follow the multiple varieties which each new critic added. 
Perhaps they could not make out whether fancy and imagina- 
tion were qualities in word or speech or faculties of the mind 
and, if the latter, whether they were distinct from each other 
and each divided into many species or simply two phases of 
the same faculty, and finally, whether that faculty was the 
immaterial mind or some material power. 

The trouble all along with these terms has been their 
vagueness. Those who used them had no consistent philos- 
ophy or definite theory of thought, and could not speak of 
imagination and fancy without confusion. Coleridge brought 
in very early some of the terms of German idealistic philos- 
ophy, and further complicated things by tangling up the imag- 
ination with personality and consciousness. He calls, too, the 
imagination an "esemplastic" faculty, but one diligent reader 
can find no tangible meaning in that learned phrase unless it 
signifies the mind applying an adjective to a noun or assert- 


ing a quality of a subject, in a word the intellectual process of 
attribution, "a good man," and of predication, "the man is 
good." Wordsworth and Hunt kept away from the philosophy 
of the subject, and by their illustrations led their readers to 
identify imagination and fancy not with any particular facul- 
ties. They kept strictly to the products of these faculties in 
language. Ruskin rejects the explanation of a Scotch meta- 
physician and refers everything to mystery. Poe has a clear, 
well-reasoned theory, easy at any rate to understand, if it 
does not explain the whole truth. He claims that imagination, 
fancy and humor are all products of one and the same faculty, 
the mind, which by attribution or predication, brings two or 
more ideas together. When the combination satisfies us as 
being true and natural, we have imagination; if the combina- 
tion startles by its novelty, we have fancy; if the combined 
elements are incongruous, we have humor. 

More recent literary criticism has made a fetish of emo- 
tion. Imagination had some meaning, but what meaning is 
attached to emotion by many critics it is very hard to deter- 
mine. Imagination, too, was nearer to the truth because imag- 
ination is a faculty of knowing, and beauty, the object of 
literature, effects subjectively a pleasure in the cognitive 
faculty. Besides, the term, imagination, is not exposed to the 
excesses of the term, emotion. If imagination was a cloak for 
ignorance, what shall we say of emotion? A professor of 
theology used to warn his class that it was a good thing to 
know the precise point where reason ended and where mystery 
began. It was not good theology to cry mystery when the 
mind grew weary or was deficient in acumen. Neither is it 
good criticism to cry emotion when nobody knows just what is 
meant by emotion. 

In a splendid book, the Principles of Literary Criticism, 
which is sane and sound despite its philosophy or lack of 
philosophy, Professor Winchester, the author, on every page 
speaks of literature in terms of emotion, and yet refuses to 
define emotion. "I have not thought it necessary," he states, 
"to enter into any investigation of the nature and genesis of 
emotion." 1 If the author wishes to make emotion the essential 
element in literature, he need not, of course, be able to com- 
prehend fully what emotion is and how it is generated, but he 

'Page 55. 


should have at least a definite objective meaning to the term, 
which would identify it for the mind when he uses the term. 

Such a definite meaning would have saved him from in- 
consistency in saying that "emotions are motives, as their 
name implies; they induce the will; they decide the whole 
current of life," 2 and then later 3 rejecting from literature all 
self-regarding emotions. All action, it is well known, orig- 
inates in good and every emotion appealing to the will is self- 
regarding. Again a definite meaning for emotion would have 
kept him from making one difference between imagination and 
fancy to be that imagination awakens emotion and fancy does 
not. 4 If fancy does not awaken emotion, then fancy is ruled 
out of literature by the author's essential definition, and that 
would result in absurd consequences fatal to his theory. 

Professor Winchester's good taste keeps him from the 
conclusions to which his theory, logically followed out, might 
lead. He has no sympathy with the school of literature or 
poetry which makes the spinal thrill the final test of poetic 
and literary excellence. A professor in one of our large uni- 
versities subscribes to the theory of the spinal thrill. 5 The 
ex|reme statement of the theory is found in the preface of 
At A Venture, a volume of poems issued by Blackwell, Ox- 
ford. "The wisest know that poetry is a human utterance, at 
once inevitable and unforced, and leave it at that. This much 
is certain: Reason has no part in it. There is no Muse of 
Logic. Feeling, which of its essence defies logical limitation, 
is the be-all and end-all of Poetry. Ultimately, perhaps, the 
spinal thrill is the surest working test." How far this state- 
ment is from Wordsworth's description of poetry as the 
"breath and finer spirit of all knowledge," and from Pater's, 
"All beauty is in the long run only fineness of truth or what 
we call expression, the finer accommodation of speech to that 
vision within!" 

The earlier critics did not neglect emotions in their criti- 
cism of literature and of poetry, but Keble was probably the 
first who made the fe'elings and emotions so prominent a fac- 
tor in poetry, which in his Oxford lectures he described as a 
relief of the emotions. It may have been due to these lectures 
that Newman added a note to his essay on Aristotle's poetics, 
making "the moving of the affections through the imagination" 

Page 48. "Page 63. Page 127. 'Bookman, October, 1917, p. 133. 

VOL. czi. 15 


the function and aim of poetry. With Keble emotions were 
the efficient cause; with Newman the "affections," not a happy 
term, seem to be the final cause of poetry. 

All this confusion about the emotions in poetry and fine 
art arises from a neglect or obscuring of the distinction be- 
tween the appetitive emotions and the cognitive or aesthetic 
emotions. Balfour, in a lecture, "Criticism and Beauty," given 
at Oxford in 1909, after a depressing and skeptical rejection of 
all else connected with the idea of beauty, makes the following 
declaration : "What are the aesthetic emotions about which we 
have been occupied in these pages? They are the highest 
members of a great class whose common characteristic is that 
they do not lead to action. It is their peculiarity and their 
glory that they have nothing to do with business, with the 
adaptation of means to ends, with the bustle and dust of life. 
. . . They are self-sufficing, and neither point to any good 
beyond themselves, nor overflow except by accident into any 
practical activities." 6 "Here then we have two great divisions 
of feeling the one self-sufficing, contemplative, not looking 
beyond its boundaries, nor essentially prompting to action; 
the other lying at the root of conduct, always having some 
external reference, supplying the immediate motive for all the 
actions of mankind. Of highest value in the contemplative 
division is the feeling of beauty; of highest value in the active 
division is the feeling of love." 7 

Balfour states here at length what St. Thomas puts suc- 
cinctly and comprehensively : "Good has the nature of an end 
or final cause; beauty that of a formal cause." 8 "Beauty re- 
gards knowledge." 9 "It belongs to beauty to satisfy by its 
sight and contemplation." 10 This is the teaching of all Scho- 
lastic philosophers from his time down to Coffey's Ontology 
and Mercier's Ontologie. 

The neglect or obscuring of the fundamental distinction 
between the emotions which are of the will and those which 
are of the mind, permeates Winchester's Principles of Literary 
Criticism and much recent criticism. Taste and a subcon- 
scious feeling for the truth keeps most critics from the spinal 
thrill absurdity, but it is unfortunate that this clear and funda- 
mental distinction should in the slightest way be obscured. 

Page 41. ' Page 45. s S. la., q.v., a.iv. Ibid, 

10 S. la., 2ae., q.xxvii., ad.iii. 


^Esthetic emotions differ from other emotions in faculty, 
in origin, in nature. To desire a fruit, to hope for it, to joy in 
its possession or grieve for its loss, these are emotions which 
are not aesthetic. Hope, desire, fear, joy, sadness and the like 
are tendencies towards good or away from evil, and are modi- 
fications of the primal emotions of love and hate. Even dis- 
interested love begins in appetitive tendency and when it 
reaches the stage of so-called benevolence, it is still tending 
towards good, but now towards a higher and unselfish good. 
On the other hand, aesthetic emotions are not characterized by 
that outward tendency to an end. Interest, taste, wonder, 
mental delight, awe, inspiration, enthusiasm are some of the 
aesthetic emotions, although not all of these terms have the 
precise meaning and definite use which belongs to the corre- 
sponding terms of the other class of emotions. In truth, the 
specific kinds of aesthetic emotions have not been as definitely 
determined or as carefully differentiated as the kinds of emo- 
tions awakened by good or evil. Yet experience testifies that 
to call to imagination the vision of a fruit, to contemplate it, 
to admire shape, color or other beauties may be just as free 
from desire, hope and other species of love and hate as the 
contemplation of a painted or sculptured fruit would be. The 
aesthetic emotions belong to the faculty of knowing, which is 
not self-seeking. The other emotions belong to the will and 
appetite which are of their very nature and always must be 
self-seeking. Only good, or an end, can actuate will and ap- 
petite, and beauty, as such, has not, in the words of Aquinas, 
"the nature of an end." 

What has led some astray is the fact that literature and 
all the arts may present emotion as their subject matter, just 
as they present persons and actions. "Even dancing," says 
Aristotle, "imitates character, emotion and action." Such emo- 
tions are the material objects of art, and are no more its for- 
mal object than character or action constitute such a formal 
object. Certain specific emotions are essential to certain 
species of literature, as fear and terror to tragedy, but these 
emotions are essential to the species not to poetry in general, 
any more than because to shave the beard is the specific work 
of the razor as distinguished from other knives, therefore all 
knives cut beards. In Aristotle's teaching it is the "imitation" 
which is the essential note of art; it is the "imitation" which 


gives the artistic pleasure; it is the "imitation" which, by trans- 
ferring nature to another universe through the different me- 
diums of words, sounds, pigments and solids, generalizes the 
artist's subject, frees it from actuality, puts characters, actions 
and emotions into a sound world or color world or shape 
world or word world where appetitive emotions are released 
and awakened, but are robbed of their personal application by 
being transferred through imitation to another sphere. The 
emotion of fear is as innocuous for the spectator of a tragedy 
as the emotion of desire for the admirer of a painted apple. 
"Imitation" is originally a dramatic term and was transferred 
from the stage to all arts. Dramatization or staging would 
give the various suggestions of the term better than imitation. 
Whatever be Aristotle's full meaning, it is in dramatization 
that he places the essential note of all arts. 

This digression to Aristotle has taken us away from the 
main question, which is, that aesthetic emotions are essentially 
different from the emotions which lead to action. ^Esthetic 
emotions are caused by beauty, are cognitive and unselfish in 
nature and are connected with the senses, imagination and 
mind, whereas the common emotions of love and hate with 
all their species are awakened by good and evil, are self-seek- 
ing emotions, and are connected with the spiritual or corporal 

The earlier criticism which judged all literature and art 
in terms of the imagination, and the later criticism which 
judges all literature and art in terms of emotions, are both right 
but are both defective through lack of definition. The term 
imagination should be restricted to its usual meaning, the 
material faculty which stores up the impressions of the senses 
and images objects in their absence. The imagination works 
always in union with the mind but is not the mind. In art the 
imagination is important because the beauty of art is embodied 
in a concrete medium, and the vivid imagining of the artist's 
product precedes, accompanies and perfects his work. The 
term, emotion, should likewise be carefully distinguished into 
its two kinds. When we agree upon what is meant by these 
terms and keep to that agreement, literary and artistic criti- 
cism will be greatly benefited. 




T was a hot October day. A torrid wave generated 
somewhere in the far west and aided by the pre- 
vailing trade winds, had swept relentlessly across 
the country, reaching the city at a most unusual 
time. It had not come unheralded, however, for 
the sun of yesterday had gone down a blazing red, 
illuminating the sky like the rays from a mighty furnace, and 
tingling the evening landscape with the reddish and purplish hues 
of an Indian summer. And what a blanket of humidity accom- 
panied it! Like a cloak it settled down upon the land, making 
breathing laborious and driving every living creature out of doors. 

Jim Cadwalader and his wife sat on the lawn, if the patch of 
brownish grass to the side of their little house could be termed 
a lawn, and awaited the close of the day. Three huge elms, mo- 
tionless in the still sunshine and, like all motionless things, add- 
ing to the stillness, afforded a canopy against the burning rays of 
the sun. What mattered it that the cool, shaded air was infested 
with mosquitos and house-flies or that the coarse grass was un- 
even and unkempt, from the low mounds which ran all over it, 
and the profusion of leaves which had fluttered down from the 
great trees. Neither Jim nor his wife had found time for the 
proper care of the premises, and even, had they had the time, 
inclination was wanting. 

"Sumthin's got t' turn up in sum way 'r other b'fore long. I 
ain't see the sight o' work here in nigh two year." 

"Guess you won't see it fur a while," responded the wife, from 
her straight-backed chair, her arms folded, her body erect. 

"Like as not a man 'd starve t' death in these here times, 
with nuthin' t' do." 

Jim sat with his elbows resting upon his yellow buckskin 
breeches, his rough stubby fingers interlocked, his small fiery 
eyes piercing the distance beyond the fields. 

"If this business o' war was through with, things 'd git right 

"But it aint goin' t' be over, let me tell yew that." 


They became silent. 

Sad as was their plight, it was no sadder than the plight of 
many of their class. The horrors of a protracted war had visited 
with equal severity the dwellings of the rich and the poor. It 
was not a question of the provision of the sinews of war; tax 
had been exacted of all classes alike. But it did seem as if the 
angel of poverty had tarried longer at the doorposts of the less 
opulent and had, in proportion to their indigence, inflicted suffer- 
ing and privation. Figuratively speaking, this was the state of 
affairs with Jim's house. 

Everything that could stimulate or gratify a middle-aged 
couple; the blessings of health, the daily round of occupation, the 
joys of life and the hopes of at length obtaining possession of a 
little home, all these and the contentment of living, were swept 
away from Jim Cadwalader and his wife by the calamities of war. 
They had lived as many had lived who have no different excuse to 
plead for their penury. The wages of their day's labor had been 
their sole means of support, and when this source of income had 
vanished, nothing was left. In the low, dingy rooms which they 
called their home, there were no articles of adornment and many 
necessary for use were wanting. Sand sprinkled on the floor did 
duty as a carpet. There was no glass upon their table; no china 
in the cupboard; no prints on the wall. Matches were a treasure 
and coal was never seen. Over a fire of broken boxes and barrels, 
lighted with sparks from the flint, was cooked a rude meal to 
be served in pewter dishes. Fresh meat was rarely tasted at 
most but once a week, and then paid for at a higher price than 
their scanty means could justly allow. 

"The way things 're goin' a pair o' boots 'II soon cost a man 
'most six hundr' dollars. I heard a man say who's good at fig- 
urin' out these things, that it now takes forty dollar bills t' make 
a dollar o' coin. We can't stand that much longer." 

"Unless a great blow is struck soon," observed Nancy. 

"But it won't be struck. Washington's watchin' Clinton 
from Morristown. The Americans are now on the offensive an' 
Clinton's busy holdin' New York. The French 're here an' who 
knows but they may do somethin'. 'Twas too bad they missed 
Howe's Army when it left here." 

"Were they here?" 

"They were at the capes when the chase was over. Lord 
Howe's ships had gone." 

Again there was silence. 

"I guess Washington can't do much without an army. He 
has only a handful an' I heard that the volunteers won't stay. 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 231 

Three thousan' o' them left t' other day. Can't win a war that 
way. If they'd only listen to Barry they'd have a navy now, an' 
if they want to catch Clinton in New York they'll need a navy." 

"Is the Captain home?" 

"I saw him t' other day. He is goin" t' Boston t' command 
the Raleigh, a thirty-two gunner. But one's no good. He needs 
a fleet." 

"Thank God! The French have come. Peace is here now." 

"It's money we need more'n soldiers. We can git an army 
right here if we could only pay 'em. No one '11 fight fur nuthin'. 
They're starvin' as much as us." 

The fact that the hopes of this American couple had suffered 
a partial collapse, must be attributed rather to the internal state 
of affairs than to the military situation. While it is true that no 
great military objective had been gained as a result of the three 
years of fighting, yet the odds at the present moment were de- 
cidedly on the American side. Still the country was without any- 
thing fit to be called a general government. The Articles of Con- 
federation, which were intended to establish a league of friend- 
ship between the thirteen States, had not yet been adopted. The 
Continental Congress, continuing to decline in reputation and 
capacity, provoked a feeling of utter weariness and intense de- 
pression. The energies and resources of the people were without 

Resources they had. There was also a vigorous and an ani- 
mated spirit of patriotism, but there were no means of concen- 
trating and utilizing these assets. It was the general adminis- 
trative paralysis rather than any real poverty that tried the souls 
of the Colonists. They heartily approved of the war; Washing- 
ton now held a higher place in their hearts than he had ever held 
before; peace seemed a certainty the longer the war endured. 
But they were weary of the struggle and handicapped by the 
internal conditions. 

Jim and his wife typified the members of the poorer class, 
the class upon whom the war had descended with all its horror 
and cruelty and desolation. Whatever scanty possessions they 
had, cows, corn, wheat or flour, had been seized by the foraging 
parties of the opposing forces, while their horse and wagon had 
been impressed into the service of the British, at the time of the 
evacuation of the city, to cart away the stores and provisions. 
A means of occupation had been denied Jim during the period of 
stagnation, and to eke out a mere existence now, he depended 
solely on the tillage of the land upon which he dwelled. Never- 
theless the Cadwaladers maintained their outward cheer and ap- 


parent optimism through it all, although they yearned inwardly 
for the day when strife would be no more. 

"I can't see as t' how we're goin' to git off eny better when 
this here whole thin's over. We're flghtin' fur Independence, but 
the peopul don't want to change their guverment; Washington '11 
be king when this is over." 

Jim was ruminating aloud, stripping with his thumb nail the 
bark from a small branch which he had picked from the ground. 

" 'Twas the Quebec Act th' done it. It was supposed to re- 
establish Popery in Canada, and did by right. But th' Americans, 
and mostly those in New England who are the worst kind of Dis- 
senters and Whigs, got skeered because they thought the Church 
o' England or the Church o' Rome 'd be the next thing established 
in the Colonies. That's what brought on the war." 

"We all don't believe that. Some do; but I don't." 

"You don't?" he asked, without lifting his eyes to look at her. 
"Well, you kin. Wasn't the first thing they did up in New Eng- 
land to rush t' Canada t' capture the country or else t' form an 
alliance with it? And didn't our own Arnold try t' get revenge 
on it fur not sidin' in with him by plunderin' th' homes of th' 
peopul up there and sendin' the goods back to Ticonderoga?" 

She made no reply, but continued to peer into the distance. 

"And didn't our Congress send a petition to King George t' 
have 'em repeal the limits o' Quebec and to the people t' tell 'm 
the English Gover'ment 'is not authorized to establish a religion 
fraught with sang'uary 'r impius tenets.' I know, 'cause I read 

"It makes no diff'rence now. It's over." 

"Well it shows the kind o' peopul here. They're so afreed 
o' the Pope." 

She waved her hand in a manner of greeting. 

"Who's that?" asked Jim. 


He turned sideways looking over his shoulder. Then he 
stood up. 

That there was more than a grain of truth in the assertion 
of Jim Cadwalader that the War for Independence had, like the 
great rivers of the country, many sources, cannot be gainsaid. 
There were oppressive tax laws as well as restrictions on popular 
rights. There were odious navigation acts together with a host 
of iniquitous, tyrannical measures which were destined to arouse 
the ire of any people, however loyal. But there were religious 
prejudices which were likewise a moving cause of the revolt, a 
moving force upon the minds of the people at large. And these 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 233 

were utilized and systematized most effectively by the active mal- 
contents and leaders of the strife. 

The vast majority of the population of the Colonies were Dis- 
senters, subjects of the Crown who disagreed with it in matters 
of religious belief and who had emigrated thither to secure a 
haven where they might worship their God according to the dic- 
tates of their own conscience rather than at the dictates of a body 
politic. The Puritans had sought refuge in Massachusetts and 
Connecticut, where the white spires of their meeting houses, pro- 
jecting above the angles of the New England hills, became indic- 
ative of Congregationalism. Roger Williams and the Baptists 
found a harbor in Rhode Island. William Penn brought the 
Quaker colony to Pennsylvania. Captain Thomas Webb lent ac- 
tive measures to the establishment of Methodism in New York 
and in Maryland, while the colony of Virginia afforded protection 
to the adherents of the Established Church. The country was in 
the main Protestant, save for the vestiges of Catholicism left by 
the Franciscan and Jesuit Missionary Fathers, who penetrated 
the boundless wastes in an heroic endeavor to plant the seeds of 
their faith in the rich and fertile soil of the new and unexplored 

Consequently with the passage of the Quebec Act in 1774, a 
wave of indignation and passionate apprehension swept the coun- 
try from the American patriots of Boston to the English settle- 
ments on the west. That many and influential members of the 
Protestant religion were being assailed and threatened with op- 
pression, and the fear of Popery, recently reestablished in 
Canada, became an incentive for armed resistance and proved 
motives of great concern. The people reminded King George of 
these calamities and emphatically declared themselves Protes- 
tants, faithful to the principles of 1688, faithful to the ideals of 
the "Glorious Revolution" against James II., faithful to the House 
of Hanover, then seated on the throne. 

"Can a free government possibly exist with the Roman Catho- 
lic Church?" asked John Adams of Thomas Jefferson. This 
simple question embodied in concrete form the apprehensions of 
the country at large, whose inhabitants had now become firmly 
convinced that King George, in granting the Quebec Bill, had be- 
come a traitor, had broken his coronation oath, was a Papist at 
heart, and was scheming to submit this countr- to the unconsti- 
tutional power of the English monarch. It was not so much a 
contest between peoples as a conflict of principles, political and 
religious, the latter of which contributed the active force that 
brought on the revolt and gave it power. 


Strange to relate, there came a decided reversal of position 
after the formation of the French Alliance. No longer was the 
Catholic religion simply tolerated; it was openly professed, and 
owing in a great measure to the unwearied labors of the Domin- 
ican and Franciscan Friars, made the utmost progress among all 
ranks of people. The fault of the Catholic population was any- 
thing but disloyalty, it was found, and their manner of life, their 
absolute sincerity in their religious convictions, their 
generous and altruistic interest in matters of concern to the pub- 
lic good, proved irrefutable arguments against the calumnies and 
vilifications of earlier days. The Constitutions adopted by the 
several States and the laws passed to regulate the new govern- 
ments, show that the principles of religious freedom and equality 
had made progress during the war, and were to be incorporated as 
vital factors in the shaping of the destinies of the new nation. 

The supreme importance of the French Alliance at this junc- 
ture cannot be overestimated. Coming, as it did, at a time when 
the depression of the people had reached the lowest ebb, when the 
remnant of the army of the Americans was enduring the severities 
of the winter season at Valley Forge, when the enemy was in pos- 
session of the fairest part of the country together with the two 
most important cities, when Congress could not pay its bills, nor 
meet the national debt, which alone exceeded forty million dollars 
when the medium of exchange would not circulate because of 
its worthlessness, when private debts could not be collected and 
when credit was generally prostrated, the Alliance proved a bene- 
fit of incalculable value to the struggling nation, not only in the 
enormous resources which it supplied to the army, but in the 
general morale of the people which it made buoyant. 

The capture of Burgoyne and the announcement that Lord 
North was about to bring in conciliatory measures, furnished con- 
vincing proof to France that the American Alliance was worth 
having. A treaty was drawn up by virtue of which the Americans 
solemnly agreed, in consideration of armed support to be fur- 
nished by France, never to entertain proposals of peace with Great 
Britain until their independence should be acknowledged, and 
never to conclude a treaty of peace except with the concurrence of 
their new ally. 

Large sums of money were at once furnished the American 
Congress. A strong force of trained soldiers was sent to act 
under Washington's command. A powerful fleet was soon to set 
sail for American waters, and the French forces at home were 
directed to cripple the military power of England and to lock 
up and neutralize much British energy which, otherwise, would be 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 235 

directed against the Americans. Small wonder that a new era 
began to dawn for the Colonists! 

When we remember the anti-Catholic spirit of the first years 
of the Revolution and consider the freedom of action which came 
to the Catholics as a consequence of the French Alliance, another 
and a striking phase of its influence is revealed. The Catholic 
priests hitherto seen in the Colonies had been barely tolerated in 
the limited districts where they labored. Now came Catholic 
chaplains of foreign embassies; army and navy chaplains cele- 
brating Mass with pomp on the men-of-war and in the camps and 
cities. The French chaplains were brought in contact with all 
classes of the people in all parts of the country, and the Masses 
offered in the French lines were attended by many who had never 
before witnessed a Catholic ceremony. Even Rhode Island, with 
a French fleet in her waters, blotted from her statute book a law 
against Catholics. 

"What have we here, Marjorie?" asked Jim as he walked part 
of the way to meet her. 

"Just a few ribs of pork. I thought that you might like 

She gave Jim the basket and walked over to Mrs. Cadwalader 
and kissed her. 

"Heaven bless you, Marjorie," exclaimed Nancy as she took 
hold of the girl's hands and held them. 

"Oh, thank you! But it is nothing, I assure you." 

"You ken bet it is," announced Jim as he removed from the 
basket a long side of pork. "Look 't that, Nancy." And he held 
it up for her observation. 

Marjorie had been accustomed to bring little gifts to Jim and 
his wife since the time when reverses had first visited them. Her 
good nature, and the long friendship which had existed between 
the two families, prompted her to this service. Jim would never 
be in want through any fault of hers, yet she was discreet enough 
never to proffer any avowed financial assistance. The mode she 
employed was that of an occasional visit in which she never failed 
to bring some choice morsel for the table. 

"How's the dad?" asked Jim. 

"Extremely well, thank you. He has been talking all day 
on the failure of the French to take Newport." 

"What's that?" asked Jim, thoroughly excited. "Has there 
been news in town?" 

"Haven't you heard? The fleet made an attack." 

"Where? What about it?" 


"They tried to enter New York to destroy the British, but it 
was found, I think, that they were too large for the harbor. So 
they sailed to Newport to attack the garrison there." 


"General Sullivan operated on the land, and the French 
troops were about to disembark to assist him. But then Lord 
Howe arrived with his fleet and Count d'Estaing straightway put 
out to sea to engage him." 

"And thrashed m " 

"No," replied Marjorie. "A great storm came up and each 
had to save himself. From the reports father gave, General 
Sullivan has been left alone on the island and may be fortunate 
if he is enabled to withdraw in safety." 

"What ails that Count!" exclaimed Jim thoroughly aroused. 
"I don't think they're much good." 

"Now don't git excited," interrupted Nancy. "That's you all 
th' time. Just wait a bit." 

"Just when we want 'im he leaves us. That's no good." 

"Any more news, girl?" 

"No. Everything is quiet except for the news we received 
about the regiment of Catholic volunteers that is being recruited 
in New York." 

"In New York? Clinton is there." 

"I know it. This is a British regiment." 

"I see. Tryin' t' imitate 'The Congress* Own?" 

"So it seems." 

"And do they think they will git many Cath'lics, or that there 
're enough o' them here?" 

"I do not know," answered Marjorie. "But some hand-bills 
have appeared in the city which came from New York." 

"And they want the Cath'lics? What pay are they goin' t' 

"Four pounds." 

"That's a lot o' money nowadays." 

"That is all I know about it. I can't think what success 
they will have. We are sure of some loyalists, however." 

"I guess I'll hev to git down town t' see what's goin' on. 
Things were quiet fur so long that I stayed pretty well t' home 
here. What does yur father think?" 

"He is angry, of course. But he has said little." 

"I never saw anything like it. What'll come next?" He 
folded his arms and crossed his knee. 

An hour later she stood at the gate taking her leave of Jim 
and Nancy. 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 237 

"Keep a stout heart," she was saying to Jim, "for better days 
are coming." 

"I know 't, girl. Washington won't fail." 

"He is coming here shortly." 

"To Philadelphia?" asked Nancy. 

"Yes. So he instructed Captain Meagher." 

"I hope he removes Arnold." 

"Hardly. He is a sincere friend to him. He wishes to see 

"Has he been summoned?" 

"No! Captain Meagher intimated to me that a letter had 
been sent to His Excellency from the former Chaplain of Con- 
gress, the Rev. Mr. Duche, complaining that the most respectable 
characters had withdrawn and were being succeeded by a great 
majority of illiberal and violent men. He cited the fact that 
Maryland had sent the Catholic, Charles Carroll of Carrollton, in- 
stead of the Protestant, Tilghman." 

"Who is this Duche?" 

"I do not know. But he has since fled to the British. He 
warmly counseled the abandonment of independence." 

"If that's his style, he's no good. Will we see the General?" 

"Perhaps. Then, again, he may come and go secretly." 

"God help the man," breathed Nancy. 


"Simply a written statement. A public utterance from you 
denouncing the Catholics would prove of incalculable value to us." 

John Anderson had been for an hour or more in the com- 
pany of the Military Governor. Seemingly great progress had 
been made in the recruiting of the regiment, much of which had, 
of necessity, been effected in a secret manner, for now the city 
was under the domination of the Continental forces. Yet Ander- 
son had made the most of his time and was in a fair way to report 
progress for the past month. 

"Don't be a fool, Anderson. You know that it would be the 
height of folly for me to make any such statement. I can do 
no more than I am doing. How many have you?" 

"Nearly a hundred." 

"There are several miserable Papists in Congress. If they 
could be prevailed upon to resign, it would create a considerable 
impression upon the minds of the people." 

"I did see Carroll." 

"How did he receive you?" 


"He replied to me that he had entered zealously into the 
Revolution to obtain religious as well as civil liberty, and he 
hoped that God would grant that this religious liberty would be 
preserved in these States to the end of time." 

"Confound him! We cannot reach him, I suppose." 
'"So it appears. He is intensely patriotic." 

"You have a hundred, you say? All common folk, I ven- 
ture. We should have several influential men." 

"But they cannot be reached. I know well the need of a 
person of influence, which thought urged me to ask such a state- 
ment from you." 

He looked at him savagely. 

"Do you think I'm a fool?" 

" 'The fool knows more in his own house that a wise man 
does in another's.' I merely suggest, that is all." 

"My answer is absolutely, No!" 

There was silence. 

"I know that Roman Catholic influence is beginning to re- 
veal itself in the army. Washington is well disposed toward 
them and they are good soldiers. Time was when they were less 
conspicuous; but nowadays every fool legislature is throwing pub- 
lic offices open to them, and soon France will exercise the same 
control over these States as she now wields across the seas." 

"Would you be in league with France?" asked Anderson with 
a wavering tremor in his voice. 

"God knows how I detest it ! But I have sworn to defend the 
cause of my country, and I call this shattered limb to witness how 
well I have spent myself in her behalf. I once entertained the 
hope that our efforts would be crowned with success, nevertheless 
I must confess that the more protracted the struggle grows, the 
more the conviction is forced upon me that our cause is mistaken, 
if not entirely wrong, and destined to perish miserably. Still, I 
shall not contenance open rebellion. I could not." 

"You will continue to advise me. I am little acquainted with 
the city, you know, and it would be difficult for me to avoid dan- 
gerous risks." 

Arnold thought for a minute, his features overcast by a 
scowl which closed his eyes to the merest chinks. 

"I shall do no more than I have already done. I cannot per- 
mit myself to be entangled. There is too much at stake." 

He was playing a dangerous game, inspired by no genuine 
love for country, but by feelings of wounded pride. He was urged 
on, not because of any genuine desire to aid or abet the cause of 
the enemy, but to cast suspicion upon a certain unit within his 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 239 

own ranks. To be deprived of active duty in the field was to his 
warm and impulsive nature an ignominious calamity. To learn 
subsequently of the appointment of Gates to the second in com- 
mand, the one general whom he despised and hated, was more 
than his irritable temperament could stand. The American cause 
now appeared hopeless to him, nevertheless he entertained no 
thought of deserting it. He had performed his duty in its behalf, 
as his wounded limb often reminded him, and it was only fitting 
that he, who alone had destroyed a whole army of the enemy, 
should be rewarded with due consideration. Congress had ever 
been unfriendly to him and he had resented their action, or their 
failure to take proper action, most bitterly. Throughout it all his 
personal feelings had guided to a large extent his judgment, and, 
for that reason, he viewed with mistrust and suspicion every in- 
tent and purpose, however noble or exalted. 

He had been violently opposed to the Alliance with France 
from the start. It was notorious that he abhored Catholics and 
all things Catholic. To take sides with a Catholic and despotic 
power which had been a deadly foe to the Colonists ten or twenty 
years before, during the days of the French and Indian Wars, was 
to his mind a measure at once unpatriotic and indiscreet. In this 
also, he had been actuated by his personal feelings more than by 
the study of the times. For he loathed Popery and the thousand 
and one machinations and atrocities which he was accustomed to 
associate with the name. 

The idea of forming a regiment of Catholic soldiers interested 
him, not for the numerical strength which might be afforded the 
enemy, but in the defection which would be caused to the Amer- 
ican side. He hoped the Catholic members of Congress would be 
tempted to resign. In that event he would obtain satisfaction 
through the weakness to which the governing body would be ex- 
posed, and the ill repute which would befall American Catholics 
and their protestations of loyalty. 

Arnold deep down in his own heart knew that his motives- 
were not unmixed. He could not accuse himself of being out- 
rageously mercenary, yet he was ashamed to acknowledge, even to 
himself, that the desire of gain was present to his mind. His 
debts were enormous. He entertained in a manner and after a 
style far in excess of his modest allowance. His dinners were the 
most sumptuous in the town; his stable the finest; his dress the 
richest. And no wonder that his play, his table, his balls, his con- 
certs, his banquets had soon exhausted his fortune. Congress 
owed him money, his speculations proved unfortunate, his priva- 
teering ventures met with disaster. With debts accumulating and 


creditors giving him no peace, he turned to the gap which he saw 
opening before him. This was an opportunity not to be despised. 

"About that little matter how soon might I be favored?" 
the Governor asked, rising from his chair and limping with his 
cane across the room. 

"You refer to the matter of reimbursements?" Anderson 
asked nonchalantly. 

"I do." He gazed from the window with his back turned to 
his visitor. 

"I shall draw an order for you at once." 

"You shall do nothing of the kind." He looked fiercely at 
him. "You are playing a clever game, are you not? But you 
have to cope now with a clever adversary." 

He walked deliberately up to him, and continued: 

"Anderson," he said, "I want to tell you I know who you are 
and for what purpose you have been sent here. I know, too, by 
whom you have been sent. I knew it before you were here 
twenty-four hours and I want to tell you now before we continue 
that we may as well understand one another in a thorough man- 
ner. If you desire my assistance you must pay me well for it. 
And it must be in legal tender." 

"Of course but but the truth is that I am in no way 
prepared to make any offer now. I can communicate with you in 
a few days, or a week." 

"Don't come here. You must not be seen here again. Send 
it to me, or better still, meet me." 

"Can you trust the Shippens?" 


"Why not there?" 

"You mean to confer with me there?" 

"If it is safe, as you say, where would be more suitable?" 

"True. But I must have some money as soon as possible. 
The nation is bankrupt and my pay is long overdue. I cannot, 
however, persuade the creditors any longer. I must have money." 

"You shall have it. At the Shippens then." He rose and 
walked directly to the door. "Next week." 

He shut the door after him and hurried along the corridor. 
As he turned he came face to face with a countenance entirely 
familiar to him, but momentarily lost to his consciousness by its 
sudden and unexpected appearance. In a second, however, 
he had recovered himself. 

"Captain! I am pleased, indeed." He put out his hand. 

Stephen thought for a moment. Then he grasped it. 

"Mr. Anderson. What good fortune is this?" 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 241 

"Complimentary. Simply paying my respects for kindness 

"Have a care lest your zeal overwhelm you." 

Anderson colored at the allusion. 

"Thank you. I shall exercise all moderation." 

Stephen watched him as he moved away. He deliberated 
hurriedly on the advisability of starting after him. Whatever his 
mission or his purpose, he would not learn in this house cer- 
tainly, nor from him nor from Arnold for that matter. If he was 
intent on securing information concerning this man he must do 
it in a surreptitious manner. There was no other method of 
dealing with him, and such being the circumstances, he deemed 
it perfectly legitimate to follow him at a safe distance. 

The more he thought over it the more did his resolve take 
action. Whatever mischief was afoot, and he had no more than a 
mere suspicion that such existed, must reveal itself sooner or 
later. His object in all probability had already been accom- 
plished, nevertheless his errand, if he had an errand, might still 
be discovered. He would follow him if for no other purpose 
than to learn his destination. 

Second Street was now astir with an animated procession. 
There, every day when business was over, when the bank was 
closed, when the exchange was deserted, crowds of pleasure- 
seekers came to enjoy the air and to display their fine clothes. 
There might be seen the gentlemen of fashion and of means, with 
their great three-cornered, cocked hats, resting upon their pro- 
fusely powdered hair done up in cues, their light colored coats, 
with their diminutive capes and 'long backs, their striped stock- 
ings, pointed shoes, and lead laden cuffs. They were paying 
homage to the fair ladies of the town, gorgeous in their brocades 
and taffetas, luxuriantly displayed over cumbrous hoops, tower 
built hats, adorned with tall feathers, high wooden heels and 
fine satin petticoats. It was an imposing picture to behold these 
gayly dressed damsels gravely returning the salutations of their 
gallant admirers with a deep courtesy. 

Stephen searched deliberately for his man throughout the 
length of the crowded thoroughfare, standing the while on the 
topmost step of the Governor's mansion that great, old-fashioned 
structure resembling, in many details, a fortification, with its 
two wings like bastions extending to the rear, its spacious yard 
enclosed with a high wall and ornamented with two great rows 
of lofty pine trees. It was the most stately house within the 
confines of the city and, with Christ Church, made Second Street 
one of the aristocratic thoroughfares of the town. 

VOL. CXI. 16 


With difficulty, Stephen discerned Anderson walking briskly 
in the direction of Market Street. He set off immediately, taking 
care to keep at a safe distance behind him. He met several 
acquaintances, to whom he doffed his hat, while he pursued his 
quest with lively interest and attention. When he reached 
Market Street he was obliged to pause near a shop window lest 
he might overtake Anderson, who had halted to exchange the 
pleasantries of the day with a young and attractive couple. On 
they went again, deliberately and persistently, until, at length, 
it began to dawn upon Stephen that they were headed for the 
Germantown road, and for the Allison's house. 

What strange relation was arising between Marjorie and 
that man? Anderson is paying marked attention to her, he began 
to muse to himself, too much attention, perhaps, for one whose 
whole existence is clouded with a veil of mystery. Undoubtedly 
he is meeting with some encouragement, if not reciprocation 
(perish the thought!), for he is persistent in his attention, and 
this Stephen resented and deplored. Yet this man was not with- 
out charm. There was something fascinating about him which 
even he was obliged to confess was compelling. What if she 
had been captivated by him, by his engaging personal qualities, 
by his prepossessing appearance, by his habit of gentle speech, 
by his dignity and his ease of manner! Justifiable irritation pos- 
sessed him. 

There was little doubt now as to Anderson's destination. 
Plainly, he was bent on one purpose. The further he walked, 
the more evident this became. Stephen wanted to be sure, 
however, and pursued his way until he had seen his man turn 
into the Allisons' house. Then, turning deliberately, he began to 
retrace his steps. 

"This looks like the kind of book. Has it the 'Largo?' " 

Anderson sat on the music-stool before the clavichord, turn- 
ing over the pages of a volume that rested on the rack. 

"Perhaps. I scarce think I know what it is. I have never 
heard it." 

Marjorie was near by. She had been musing over the keys, 
letting her fingers wander where they would when he had called. 
He would not disturb her for all the world, nevertheless he 
yielded to her entreaties to take her place on the stool. 

"You have never heard Handel? The 'Largo,' or the greatest 
of all oratorios, his Messiah?" 


He did not reply. Instead he broke into the open chords, 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 243 

the sweetly solemn, majestic harmony of the "Largo." He played 
it entirely from memory, very slowly, very softly at first, until 
the measured notes, swelling into volume, filled the room in a 
loud arpeggio. 

"That is beautiful," she exclaimed with enthusiasm, "I 
should have said exquisite. May I learn it?" 

"Surely there must be a copy in the city. I shall consider 
it a favor to procure one for you." 

"I should be delighted, I am sure." 

He played it again, she watching him. It was astonishing to 
note the perfect ease and grace with which he performed. The 
erect carriage, the fine mold of the head, the delicately carved 
features attracted her attention, while talents with which he was 
so signally endowed, furnished matter for reflection. He was ex- 
ceedingly fascinating, a danger to the heart of any woman. Still 
Marjorie was shrewd enough to peer beneath his superficial 
qualities, and to become absorbed in a penetrating study of the 
man, his character, his peculiarities so absorbed, in fact, that the 
door behind her opened and closed without attracting her attention. 

"I must obtain that copy," she announced as she turned 
towards her chair. 

"Why, father!" she exclaimed. When did you come? 
Mr. Anderson, father you already know him." 

"Well, met, my boy. You are somewhat of a musician. I 
was listening." 

"Just enough for my own amusement," laughed the younger 
man. "I know a few notes." 

"Be not quick to believe him, father. He plays beautifully." 

Mr. Allison sat down. 

"Accomplishments are useful ornaments. Nowadays a man 
succeeds best who can best impress. People want to see one's 

"The greatest of talents often lie buried. Prosperity thrives 
on pretence." 

"True. I'm beginning to think that way myself, the way 
things are going." 

"With the war?" he asked. 

"With everything. I think Congress will fail to realize its 
boasts, and Arnold is a huge pretender, and 

"He has lost favor with the people." 

"Lost it? He never had it from the day he arrived. People 
do not like that sort of thing." 

Anderson watched him intently and Marjorie watched An- 


"He may resign for a command in the army. I have heard 
it said that he dislikes his office." 

"Would to God he did! Or else go over to the other side." 

Anderson's head turned the least little fraction so that 
Marjorie could see the flash light up his eyes. 

"He could not desert the cause now without becoming a 

A pause followed. 

"Men of lofty patriotism often disagree in the manner of 
political action. We have many loyalists among us." 

"Yet they are not patriots." 

"No! They are not, viewed from our standpoint. But every 
colony has a different motive in the war. Now that some have 
obtained their rights, they are satisfied with the situation. I 
don't know but that we would be as well off if the present state 
of affairs were allowed to stand." 

"What do the Catholics of the Colonies think?" 

This was a bold question yet he ventured to ask it. 

"We would fare as well with England as with some of our 
own," answered Marjorie decisively. 

Anderson looked at her for a minute. 

"Never!" replied Mr. Allison with emphasis. 

"See how Canada fared," insisted Marjorie. 


Anderson listened attentively. Here was a division of 
opinion within the same family; the father intensely loyal, the 
daughter somewhat inclined to analysis. A new light was thrown 
upon her, which afforded him evident satisfaction and conscious 
enjoyment. To have discovered this mind of apparent candor 
and unaffected breadth was of supreme import to him at this 
critical moment. He felt sure that he had met with a character 
of more than ordinary self-determination which might, if tuned 
properly, display a capacity for prodigious possibilities, for, in 
human nature, he believed the chord of self-interest to be ever 
responsive to adequate and opportune appeal. 

Marjorie might unconsciously prove advantageous to him. 
It was essential for the maturing of his plans to obtain Catholic 
cooperation. She was a devout Catholic and had been, in so far 
as he had been enabled to discover, an ardent Whig. True, he 
had but few occasions to study her, nevertheless today had fur- 
nished him with an inkling which gave her greater breadth in 
his eyes than he was before conscious of. The remark just made 
might indicate that she favored foreign rule in the interest of 
religious toleration, yet such a declaration was by no means de- 

1920. j THE LOYALIST 245 

cisive. Still he would labor to this end in the hope that she might 
ultimately see her way clear to cooperate with him in his 

"We are losing vast numbers through the Alliance," volun- 
teered Anderson. 

"I suppose so," admitted Mr. Allison. "Many of the Colonists 
cannot endure the thought of begging assistance from a great 
Roman Catholic power. They fear, perhaps, that France will use 
the opportunity to inflict on us the worst form of colonialism and 
destroy the Protestant religion." 

"But it isn't the Protestants who are deserting," persisted 
Anderson. "The Catholics are not unmindful of the hostile spirit 
displayed by the Colonists in the early days. They, too, are cast- 
ing different lots." 

"Not us. Every one of us is a Whig. Some have faltered, 
but we do not want them." 

"And yet the reports from New York seem to indicate that 
the recruiting there is meeting with success." 

"The Catholic regiment? I'll wager that it never will exist 
except on paper. There are no Tories, no falterers, no final 
deserters among the American Catholics." 

"What efforts are being made in Philadelphia?" asked Mar- 

"None that I know of," was the grave reply. "I did hear, 
however, that an opportunity would be given those who are de- 
sirous of enlisting in New York." 

Marjorie sat and watched him. 

"I heard Father Farmer was invited to become its chaplain," 
observed Mr. Allison. 

"Did he?" 

"He did not. He told me himself that he wrote a kind letter 
with a stern refusal." 

And so they talked; talked for the best part of an hour, now 
of the city's activities, now of the Governor, now of the success 
of the campaign. Until Anderson felt that he had long overstayed 
his leave. 

"I am sorry to leave your company." Then to Marjorie, 
"At Shippen's tomorrow?" 

"Yes. Will you come for me? If you won't I daresay I shall 
meet you there." 

"Of course I'll come. Please await me." 

There was a certain exhilaration for Marjorie in the pres- 
ence of this man; and while she felt that she did not care 


for him, she was conscious, nevertheless, of a certain subtle in- 
fluence about him which she was powerless to define. It has been 
said that not all who know their mind, know their heart; for the 
heart often perceives and reasons in a manner wholly peculiar 
to itself. Marjorie was aware of this and it required her utmost 
effort to respond solely to the less alluring promptings of her 
firm will. She was decided to frequent the company of her new 
acquaintance, on the pretence of being impelled by her feelings, 
in order to exchange confidences with him and emerge the victor 
in the combat. 

She would allow him to see her again that she might learn 
more about him and his strange origin. Stephen had suggested 
to her the merest suspicion concerning him. There was the pos- 
sibility that the germ of this suspicion might develop and in her 
presence. The contingency was certainly equal to the adventure. 
It was not necessary that she pay Peggy a formal call. Im- 
mediately after the announcement of the engagement, she had 
gone to offer her congratulations to the prospective bride upon 
her enviable and happy fortune. The note, which again had come 
into her possession upon Stephen's return of it, whose contents 
were still unknown to her, she had restored to Peggy together 
with a full explanation of its loss and its subsequent discovery. 
One phase of its history, however, she had purposely overlooked. 
It might have proved embarrassing for her to relate how it 
chanced to fall into the hands of Stephen. And as he had made 
no comment upon its return, she was satisfied that the incident 
was unworthy of mention. 

Anderson called promptly on the hour and found her wait- 
ing. By mutual agreement they walked into town. This was pref- 
erable, for there was no apparent haste and, for the present, no 
greater desire throbbed within them than the company of their 
own selves. For, as they talked continually of themselves, they 
could never weary of one another's company. 

The country about them was superb. The fields stood 
straight in green and gold on every side of the silvery road. 
Beside them, as they passed, great trees reared themselves aloft 
from the greensward, which divided the road from the footpath, 
and rustled in the breeze, allowing the afternoon sunshine to 
reveal itself in patches and glimpses. The air was a sea of 
subdued light, resonant with the liquid notes of the robin and the 
whistle of the quail, intruders upon the tranquility of the hot 
Sunday afternoon. 

"Does it not strike you that there are but few persons with 
whom it is possible to converse seriously?" 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 247 

"Seriously?" asked Marjorie. "What do you call seriously?" 

"In an intelligent manner, with perfect ease and attention." 

"I suppose that this is due to the great want of sincerity 
among men." 

"That, as well as the impatient desire we possess of intruding 
our own thoughts upon our hearer, with little or no desire of 
listening to those he may want to express." 

"We are sincere with no one but ourselves, don't you think? 
The mere fact of the entrance of a second person means that we 
must try to impress him. You have said that prosperity thrives 
on pretence." 

"And I repeat it. But with friends all guile and dissimulation 
ceases. We often praise the merits of our neighbor in the hope 
that he, in turn, will praise us. Only a few have the humility 
and the whole-hearted simplicity to listen well and to answer 
well. Sincerity to my mind is often a snare to gain the confidence 
of others." 

There was depth to his reasoning, Marjorie thought, which 
was riddle-like as well. It was amazing to her how well he could 
talk on any given topic, naturally, easily, seriously, as the case 
might be. He never seemed to assume the mastery of any con- 
versation, nor to talk with an air of authority on any subject, 
but was alive to all topics and entered into all with the same 
apparent cleverness and animated interest. 

He stopped suddenly and exerted a gentle though firm pres- 
sure on her arm, obliging her to halt her steps. Surprised, she 
turned and looked at him. 

"What is it?" she asked. 

There was no response. Instead, she looked in the direction 
of his gaze. Then she saw. 

A large black snake lay in graceful curves across their path 
several rods ahead. Its head was somewhat elevated and rigid. 
Before it fluttered a small chickadee in a sort of strange, though 
powerless fascination, its wings partly open in a trembling man- 
ner, its chirp noisy and incessant, its movement rapid and nerv- 
ous, as it partly advanced, partly retreated before its enchanter. 
Nearer and nearer it came, with a great scurrying of feet and 
wings, towards the motionless head of the serpent. Until Ander- 
son, picking a stone from the roadside, threw a well-aimed shot, 
which bounded over the head of the snake, causing it to turn 
immediately and crawl into the recesses of the deep underbrush 
of the adjoining field. The bird, freed from the source of its 
sinister charm, flew out of sight into safety. 

"Thank God!" Marjorie breathed. "I was greatly frightened." 


"Nothing would have saved that bird," was the reply. "He 
already was powerless." 

Marjorie did not answer to this, but became very quiet and 
pensive. They walked on in silence. 

Nearing the home of Peggy, they beheld General Arnold 
seated on the spacious veranda in the company of his betrothed. 
Here was intrusion with a vengeance, Marjorie thought, but the 
beaming face and the welcoming expression soon dispelled her 

"Miss Shippen," Anderson said, as he advanced immediately 
toward her to seize her hand, "allow me to offer my tender though 
tardy congratulations. It was with the greatest joy that I heard 
the happy announcement." 

"You are most kind, Mr. Anderson, and I thank you for it," 
was the soft response. 

"And you, General," said Marjorie. "Let me congratulate 
you upon your excellent choice." 

"Rather upon my good fortune," the Governor replied with 
a generous smile. 

Peggy blushed at the compliment. 

"How long before we may offer similar greetings to you?" 
he asked of Mr. Anderson, who was assisting Marjorie into a 
chair by the side of Peggy. 

"Oh! Love rules his own kingdom and I am an alien." 
He drew himself near to the Governor and the conversation 
turned naturally and generally to the delicious evening. The 
very atmosphere thrilled with romance. 


IRew Boohs. 

THE LETTERS OF ST. TERESA. A complete edition translated 

from the Spanish and annotated by the Benedictines of 

Stanbrook. With an Introduction by Cardinal Gasquet. 

Volume I. New York: Benziger Brothers. 

This precious addition to the Teresian translations of the 
Nuns of Stanbrook Abbey, probably will be the last. They have 
given us the Saint's Interior Castle, Way of Perfection, Poems and 
Minor Prose Writings, all versions made directly from her native 
tongue, learnedly and sympathetically edited. Their service to 
the English-speaking clients of the greatest of modern mystics 
is incalculable. 

The letters cover St. Teresa's entire public life, the twenty 
years from her first foundation at Avila till close upon her happy 
departure to Paradise in 1582. They are addressed to her closest 
intimates, religious and secular, including her principal spiritual 
advisers; many of them were written also to persons of great 
prominence, including King Philip II., and several canonized 
saints. She was at home with everybody. Her native candor, 
her entire absence of human respect, her perfect mastery of a 
lucid style, and the immense sacredness of the topics she usually 
discussed, give to her letters the highest spiritual value. They 
are her literary relics. Compelled by obedience, St. Teresa wrote 
her Life, likewise the history of her Foundations, both truly great 

But better, in some respects, even than these two great works, 
better because bringing us into her most sacred confidences, are 
these Letters. They form a self-written chronicle of St. Teresa's 
later and most important era. They impart a new sense of real- 
ism to our knowledge of her, eliciting deeper veneration for one 
of the most fascinating characters formed by the Holy Spirit dur- 
ing many ages. 

The Stanbrook Nuns, besides procuring Cardinal Gasquet's 
invaluable introduction, have distributed editorial comments 
throughout the text, making St. Teresa live again in the local and 
personal environment of their origin. 

One may well envy the translators their privilege of spending 
so many years within the cloister of the Saint's holiness, trans- 
lating her writings, listening to her noble Spanish idiom as she 
discoursed, with contagious enthusiasm, of divine things, uncon- 
sciously heartening all future generations to greater and greater 
zeal for God's honor and men's salvation. 

250 NEW BOOKS [May, 

son. Two volumes. New York: George H. Doran & Co. $10.00. 
Colonel Henry Watterson of the Louisville Courier-Journal 
has written his reminiscences as only a Southern gentleman, a 
Jacksonian Democrat, and a journalist of the post-bellum school 
could pen them. Narrated in a colloquial tone, there is little of 
the egotism or garrulity of the publicist, who rightly regards 
himself as a political force, a national observer, and an appraiser 
of men's motives and characters. For sixty odd years, "Marse 
Henry" has been an observer who allowed few events to escape 
his searching analysis, and few Americans of note have crossed 
the stage without making his acquaintance and meeting his ap- 
praisement. Watterson is never neutral, never without a sturdy 
opinion. Furthermore, neither an office-holder nor a seeker of 
patronage, he has guarded so well his heritage of free speech, 
that he can castigate the leaders of his party when they fall into 
the snares of Populism or speak in terms of the world rather than 
of America. In general, if a man's interpretation of democracy 
does not differ from that of Jefferson, Jackson, Tilden, and Wat- 
terson a sort of political quadrilateral fortress Watterson's 
estimate is tolerant and justly fair, even in its picturesque candor. 
Always there is sincerity and an intuitive perspicacity which 
challenges the reader, and will attract the student despite the in- 
convenience of a wretched arrangement and no index. 

Washington, of his early years, Watterson pictures as quite 
as unattractive as the poet Tom Moore found it. His own father, 
a representative from Tennessee, led so convivial a life with 
Senator Franklin Pierce, that both had been whisked away by 
irate families to preserve them from publicans and politicians. 
Yet, they renewed associations, one as editor of the Washington 
Union, the other as President of the United States. It was in this 
newspaper office and around Kimball's livery stable, headquarters 
for frontier statesmen, that the boy was schooled rather than by 
his private tutors or during his impatient attendance at a Phila- 
delphia academy. His style as a writer is ascribed to his con- 
nection as a reporter with Jack Savage, "a brilliant Irishman, 
who with Devin Relley, John Mitchell, Thomas Francis Meagher, 
his intimates, made a pretty good Irishman of me. They were 
'48 men with literary gifts, who certainly helped me along 
with my writing." Through his family position he was on intimate 
terms with Washington's leaders, revelling in their society, when 
the war ended all, the War of the Sections, as Watterson per- 
sistently and justly labels the internecine conflicts. 

Slightly new is the commentary on the war. Watterson had 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 251 

never believed in slavery, had freed his valet, had opposed the 
lepeal of the Missouri Compromise, had no sympathy with the 
fire-eating radicals, had supported, along with his father, Doug- 
las, and had ascribed to the latter's view of his opponent: 
"Lincoln is a good man, in fact a great man, and by far the 
ablest debater I have ever met." With secession, he was at odds, 
and hence hoped to retire to literary seclusion in Tennessee. Yet, 
when the crisis came, like many another how many we shall 
never know he followed his State. Looking back, he is inclined 
to believe that the secessionists had a debatable if not a logical 
position, and that if the erring Sister-States had been suffered to 
depart in peace, they would have soon clamored for re-admission 
into the Union. Slavery proved the obstacle even to Southern 
success, for as Slidel suggested to Watterson, if slavery could 
have been gradually abolished without disrupting the Confederate 
armies, France and England would have intervened. Reconstruc- 
tion is only seen as a vicious attempt to ruin the South by a 
radical Republican Congress, desirous of turning Dixie-land into 
"a carpet-bag Poland and a terrorized Ireland." "To this ghastly 
end," he writes, "had come slavery and secession; and all the 
pomp, pride, and circumstance of the Confederacy. To this bitter 
end had come the soldiership of Lee, and Jackson, and Johnston 
and the myriads of brave men who had followed them." At this 
moment, "Marse Henry" accepted the editorship of the Courier- 
Journal, which waged the long campaign for honest reconstruc- 
tion, bridging the chasm between the sections, and the burial of 
the "bloody shirt." 

Scattered sections of the volumes dealing with the Liberal 
Republican movement and the disputed election of 1876, offer 
original material which no future historian can afford to ignore. 
Elsewhere there is not available so complete a survey of those 
vitally important political episodes and their promoters, so ideal- 
istic and impractical. Greeley, Watterson regards as the last of 
the old editors, and Samuel Tilden as the last of the orthodox 
Democrats. With Cleveland, he parted company because of his 
tariff heresies, and with Bryan's cheap money fallacies he could 
no more agree than he can accept Wilson with his personal am- 
bition, federalizing tendencies, and League of Nations. Taken to 
task for bolting the organization, the Colonel questions its loyalty 
to the past, urging that, like the Republican Party, it has repu- 
diated its founders. Party alignments have become artificial, for 
politicians, like actors, dissimulate to please the multitude. No 
longer is it North against South or even East against West. The 
agitator downs the statesman; fads displace principles; for 

252 NEW BOOKS [May, 

it is an age which "teaches men to read, not to think." 
Prohibition and woman suffrage, the least objectionable phase of 
feminism, by federal amendment, have destroyed what was left 
of old line Democracy. The coup de grace has been struck by 
Wilson, "the disciple who thinks himself a doctrinaire," Wilson 
of the coat of many colors, of the run-away pen, who "proposes 
to bind the hands of a giant and take lottery chances on the 
future," in order to enter the new jingoist role of moral custodian 
of the world. This true, Walter son rejoices that he is eighty 
years of age! 

Journalists will find an especial appeal in Watterson's favor- 
able view of schools of journalism, his associations with, as well 
as estimates of, many whose names will be heralded in the annals 
of the press. 

A bon homme himself, Watterson loved raconteurs, game- 
sters, reporters, actors, and knight-errants, for he has always 
been one of them, gifted as he is with a boundless, if somewhat 
erratic, versatility. A master of epigram, a rare story teller, the 
wielder of an ironic, snarling pen, an honest man, a candid 
speaker, an idealist, tolerant in religious matters, something of 
an optimist, a connoisseur of mint juleps, but above all things 
else, a Kentucky Colonel and an old-style Democrat, such is 
"Marse Henry" Watterson in the flesh and in his book. 

THE NEW BLACK MAGIC. By J. Godfrey Raupert, K.S.G. New 

York : The Devin-Adair Co. $2.00. 

This latest volume from the authoritative pen of Mr. Raupert 
serves as an antidote to the poisonous influence of Sir Oliver 
Lodge's visit to America. He, together with Sir Conan Doyle, are 
singled out as the special adversaries, and their fantastic theories 
and maudlin sentimentality receive scant mercy. In the opening 
chapters, Mr. Raupert presents the claims of the Spiritists ac- 
curately and specifically, quoting passages from their most repre- 
sentative works. In the succeeding chapters, he thoroughly dis- 
proves their contentions from all viewpoints, from the evidence of 
history, of fact, of true science and from reason. In the last 
chapter, "The Inevitable Inference," he draws his conclusion that 
these spirits "who come to us in the forms and with the voices 
of our dead, are not really spirits of the dead at all, but are some 
of those fallen angels of which the true revelation speaks." 
Accordingly, throughout the book, there is continually sounded 
the note of warning against any meddling with these phenomena 
and spirit manifestations. Not only do their contradictory state- 
ments give clear proof of their origin, but the moral, intellectual, 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 253 

and physical degeneration which they invariably produce sub- 
stantiate the author's contention that "never probably in all the 
history of the world has a greater danger threatened our moral 
and social life." 

To the scientific investigator, the conclusions of Mr. Raupert, 
based as they are on an intimate knowledge of the subject, 
should furnish a danger signal, while to the over-curious, they 
should prove a strong deterrent. While the book is a scientific 
repudiation of the claims of the Spiritists, it is also a magnificent 
eulogium of that true belief of the other world, as taught by the 


Windle. London : Burns & Gates, Ltd. 7 s. 

This, Sir Bertram Windle's latest volume, is worth while and 
very much worth while. It is worth while as a readable and 
popularly rendered contribution to apologetical literature: it is 
very much worth while because it is a contribution from a recog- 
nized scientist on a subject of wide scientific consequence. 

The first chapter of the book is a sharp critical commentary 
on certain scientists, turned moralists. The moral of the chapter 
is the advice given to the cobbler in the old proverb. The second, 
gives his historical accounting for what he calls modern Theo- 
phobia a Calvinistic by-product in the dominant literary cur- 
rents of the past century and a half. It contains some pregnant 
observations on Spiritism. "Within and Without the System" is 
a protest against the fallacy of "separatism," as a too common 
phenomenon among biologists. It is the most technical chapter 
of the volume. "The Tyranny of the Church" in keeping 
"Science in Bondage," an old subject in apologetical literature, is 
refreshingly re-treated in the fourth chapter. This, with certain 
chapters of Von Ruville's Back to Holy Church, "should be in 
every scientist's library." Of the five other chapters one may say 
in all truth that each is a contribution in itself to biological apolo- 
getics. Each is worth reading, worth keeping, worth advertising 
among one's friends. 

The book's general thesis is expressed in the concluding sen- 
tences of the fifth chapter: "We are anxious," says Dr. Windle, 
"that science and scientific teaching be assisted in every possible 
way. But let us be quite clear that, while science has much to 
teach us and we much to learn from her, there are things to 
which she has no message to the world. The Minor Prophets of 
science are never tired of advising theologians to keep their hands 
off science. The Major Prophets are too busy to occupy them- 

254 NEW BOOKS [May, 

selves with such polemics. But the theologian is abundantly in 
his right in saying to the scientific writer, 'Hands off morals!' for 
with morality science has nothing to do. Let us at any rate avoid 
that form of kultur which consists in bending Natural History to 
the teaching of conduct, unconnected by any Christian injunctions 
to soften its barbarities." 

THE MAID OF ORLEANS. By M. S. C. Smith. New York: 

Thomas Y. Crowell Co. $1.25. 

This history of Joan of Arc, for girls, is a commendable piece 
of work. All that is essential for knowledge of the historical cir- 
cumstances is given concisely, though interestingly, while all that 
relates to the character of the girl-martyr is dwelt upon in loving 
detail. Most appropriately, the latter portion of the book deals 
not only with her canonization, but also with the wonderful in- 
crease of devotion to her developed during the War, the awaken- 
ing in minds non-Catholic, even non-religious, of reverent interest 
in her personality, the "Pardon, Jeanne!" of the English soldiers 
as they passed her statue, the tribute of the popular song, "Joan 
of Arc, they are calling you." The work is an excellent means 
for the inculcation and intensifying of understanding love for the 
newly-canonized saint. 

LIBERALISM IN AMERICA. By Harold Stearns. New York: 

Boni & Liveright. $1.75. 

This book merits its title by the law of contraries. Instead 
of being a narrative of the "Origin, Temporary Collapse and 
Future" of Liberalism, as the sub-title declares, it is a condemna- 
tion of our unliberalism in the past, an expose of the Govern- 
ment's despotism during the late War, and a grave fear that lib- 
eral principles may not control in the impending social revolu- 
tion. The evils of our present system and its problems are por- 
trayed with great lucidity; the remedies offered by Liberalism are 
rather vague and shadowy. Herein lies the fundamental weakness 
of the discussion. One gathers no clearly defined impression of 
what Liberalism is or expects to do, and who are the Liberals. 
The author says, "I have attempted to make Liberalism mean not 
a body of specific beliefs or a particular creed, but an attitude and 
a temper and an approach to all beliefs and creeds equally." And 
earlier, "That the core of liberal philosophy is respect for the indi- 
vidual and his freedom of conscience and opinion." But the 
author's interpretation of such a tolerance seems to be irrestraint 
of any kind. The utter freedom which he pleads, in its develop- 
ment must lead to anarchy and confusion. Social life necessarily 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 255 

requires law, and law, of its nature, must curtail some of the 
individual's freedom, must impose certain restrictions, and must 
employ compulsion, when necessary, for the good of the com- 

In his preface, the author disarms the critic by giving what 
he calls a reasonably fair review. We agree with him when he 
says that "the volume is slightly uneven in tone" and "that no defi- 
nite remedies are advanced for the curing of the evils exposed." 
We would distinguish his meaning when he calls the book "un- 
conventional" and "provocative." In these times, it is quite con- 
ventional to strive for the unconventional, and so the book falls 
into a well-defined category. It is "provocative" in the sense of 
being "an irritant," for it casts a shadow over almost every phase 
of public endeavor. Mr. Stearns writes impassionately and with a 
refreshing verve that carries the reader headlong with him. 

PREACHING. By Rev. W. B. O'Dowd. New York: Longmans, 

Green & Co. $2.25 net. 

Father O'Dowd's book on Preaching contains in brief compass 
the essentials of a very vast and difficult subject. He sticks rigid- 
ly to his theme of guiding the average young priest to address ac- 
ceptably the average parochial congregation. A priori it would 
seem the easiest task in the world; for is not the priest a well- 
educated man, and has he not been specially trained in view of his 
profession? But sad experience proves that really good preachers 
are extremely rare, and even acceptable preachers, who can hold 
the interest of a congregation are by no means common. Father 
O'Dowd advises the young priest to write out his first sermons in 
their entirety, and to learn them word for word. Then gradually 
as he acquires facility in speaking and self-confidence, to emanci- 
pate himself more and more from the manuscript, until at last he 
is able to speak extempore as long as he possesses the heads of 
his discourse. But Father O'Dowd wisely recognizes that the 
personal equation enters more largely than elsewhere into the 
preparation of a sermon, and hence he gives ((pp. 106-108) Mgr. 
Benson's method of preparing a sermon which is almost diametri- 
cally opposite. Chapter III., which describes and illustrates "real 
and unreal preaching," is also very good. The heart must be 
moved before the mouth can utter with conviction, and a preacher 
will succeed in making others feel only what he himself has felt 
first. Nor is the author such a slave to convention as to recom- 
mend famous preachers (e. g., St. Augustine), whose genius pre- 
cludes their being either safe or suitable models for ordinary 

256 NEW BOOKS [May, 

Appendix IV. furnishes subjects for a three years' course of 
sermons, and gives the references to aid in their composition. 
The book is full of valuable counsel and hints to young preachers. 

A HISTORY OF FRANCE. By William S. Davis. Boston: 

Houghton Mifllin Co. $3.50. 

Since the history of France is the history of all Europe, to 
present it in an abridged form, suitable for the class-room and 
the average reader, is a test of real historical power. Professor 
Davis has done fairly well, and in a measure given us a clear and 
dramatic portrayal of the very intricate national life of this inter- 
esting people. He has wisely omitted much of the irrelevant 
military and diplomatic details and has insisted more on the de- 
velopment of the national consciousness. As a result there is a 
proper foreshortening of the earlier history and a greater em- 
phasis on the periods nearer our own. Though one can clearly 
discern the author's purpose of presenting his facts fairly and 
with due justice to all, he has not perfectly understood the spirit 
and ideals that have made France. All writing of history must, 
of its very nature, be partisan; the author's early training and 
mode of thought, his sub-conscious self will imperceptibly ob- 
trude to color his work. Early and mediaeval France cannot be 
judged by the ideals of modern American Protestantism; mod- 
ern France must not be viewed from the angle of the dominant 
anti-clerical party. Despite his evident attempt to be fair, and 
his sympathy with our late Allies, Prof. Davis has failed to give 
that Catholic tone which is demanded in the history of a Catholic 


Louis: B. Herder Book Co. $1.50. 

The present work is a concise summary of Canon Law, 
alphabetically arranged. There are many who would like to get 
some knowledge of the laws o/ the Church, whether general or 
particular, but are deterred by the difficulties of the language in 
which the laws are written, or the extensive reading which the 
perusal of the whole text would require. This work does away 
with such difficulties by presenting in brief form and in the ver- 
nacular the ecclesiastical laws. The book has less than two 
hundred and fifty pages, yet it is more than an index to the New 
Code; it is, as the title declares, a dictionary, containing under 
each term or heading, complete explanations of the law. If the 
student wishes to examine these various laws in the text of the 
Code, he may easily do so, for the author has appended the 
Canon number to each point of ecclesiastical legislation. 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 257 

A SHORT HISTORY OF ROME. Volume II. By Guglielmo Fer- 

rero and Corrado Barbagallo. New York: G. P. Putnam's 

Sons. $1.90 net. 

The leading ideas of this Short History of Rome have already 
been developed by Ferrero in the five volumes of his Greatness 
and Decline of Rome. His method of setting forth his facts is the 
same, although the sketches are necessarily shorter and the 
narrative more concise. The second volume deals with the Em- 
pire from the death of Julius Caesar to the Fall of the Western 
Empire 44 B. C. to 476 A. D. 

As an out-and-out rationalist, following German models, 
Ferrero is always inaccurate and unfair in discussing Christian- 
ity, either in itself or in its relation to the Empire. He styles it 
first of all a Jewish sect, whose only message was "the approach- 
ing end of the world and the near advent of the Kingdom of 
God." This original Gospel was changed by the convert, Paul of 
Tarsus, who substituted the doctrine of the redemption of man- 
kind from original sin and from evil by Christ's death upon the 
Cross. Nero, he tells us, did not persecute the Christians for their 
faith; Trajan, "in fact, did Christianity a service by bringing it 
to a legal trial;" Diocletian even "hesitated to shed the blood of 
the martyrs, despite the provocation of rebellion." The aims of 
Julian the Apostate were "lofty and noble even to sublimity" 
especially as he fought Christianity through the schools, as do his 
modern pagan imitators. We never knew before that Christian- 
ity openly combated (or tacitly despised) the sacred duty of 
marrying and having children or that the Catholic Church began 
at the Council of Sardica in 342. And yet such writers descant 
upon the narrowness and obscurantism of the Christian scholar. 

THE DRIFT OF PINIONS. By Robert Keable. New York: E. P. 

Dutton & Co. $2.00. 

When, in 1902, Hugh Benson, then a member of the Anglican 
Community of the Resurrection at Mirfield, published The Light 
Invisible, a definite step was taken in what we may call the 
Anglican school of mystical fiction. A year later Benson became 
a Catholic, and there was no one to take the place in High Church 
literature, which he had just begun to carve out for himself, until 
a woman, writing under the pseudonym, "Michael Wood," began 
the series of charming tales which includes The House of Quiet 
and The White Island. There have been few to venture into this 
unpopular and esoteric field, a field so new to Anglicans that 
there are few to follow the spiritually-minded authors, among 
whom the Rev. Robert Keable easily ranks as first. The first 

VOL. CXI. 17 

258 NEW BOOKS [May, 

two and the last of the sixteen chapters of The Drift of Pinions 
easily rank with Benson at his best, while both the spiritual and 
the literary tone throughout the volume are of the highest order. 
The chapters just mentioned are frankly about Roman Catholics. 
One reads the other chapters carefully to discover that the 
clergymen and others who recount their supernatural experiences 
are Anglicans. The scene of the South African Mission (known 
by experience to the author before he was transferred to a chap- 
laincy in the B. E. F.) lends charm and glamour to the subject 

It is a book which cannot fail to interest Catholic readers, and 
which, if studied carefully, will give a better insight to the 
peculiar psychology of the "extremely High Church" Anglican 
than anything that has hitherto appeared in this country. 
The chapters, "In No Strange Land," "Our Lady's Pain," 
and "The Acts of the Holy Apostles" are not only the best 
stories in the book, but they are the only ones which carry with 
them a sense of actuality all the others, devotional, vivid, inter- 
penetrated and suffused with the spirit of Catholicism as they are, 
are rather what the author wishes and dreams might be in his 
own denomination. 


Cooke. Boston: The Stratford Co. $3.50. 

This book aims to show that religion is "a product of social 
experience, a form of social organization, an expression of social 
need." The author's viewpoint is frankly naturalistic: "It is 
to be borne in mind that man is an animal, that he is of animal 
origin, that he continues to inherit congenitally much that belongs 
to the animal nature; but in many respects he has left far behind 
his animal instincts and desires. He has somehow, in the course 
of the ages, acquired that marvelous instrument for the develop- 
ment of social heredity, language." Religion, then, is a purely 
human phenomenon; for Mr. Cooke there is no such thing as the 

The author has drawn heavily upon writers of his own way 
of thinking. In fact, the volume is a compilation of naturalistic 
theories of religion, taken over bodily, without the slightest exer- 
cise of the discriminating spirit for which there is so much room, 
as there is so much need, in such lucubrations. Nowhere is there 
evidence of any scientific discernment. For instance, Mr. Cooke 
quotes sympathetically the views of Hartland and of Cheyne, who 
opine that the Virgin Birth of Our Lord is a heathen myth bor- 
rowed from Greek or from Babylonian mythology, and invested 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 259 

with a Jewish character. Now for this theory there has not 
been a particle of solid proof adduced from any source since the 
days when Justin the Martyr refuted a similar objection. 
Parallels, indeed, may be found, but the deep-lying differences be- 
tween them and the Christian belief, as well as the difficulty 
recognized by all historians of transplanting a heathen myth 
to Jewish, Christian soil, have always appealed to serious scholars 
as decisive. Harnack's testimony that the myth explanation of 
the Virgin Birth contradicts the entire earliest development of 
Christian tradition, is not even noticed in this volume. 

We looked for the usual sciolist's cavil at the philosophic 
school of religious thought, and were not disappointed. "Too 
long have we listened to the metaphysicians and theologians. 
They have not led us to the green meadows of life, but into a 
tangled wilderness of subtleties and abstractions. All their be- 
liefs and dogmas may well be swept away." This from a man 
who extends the easy hospitality of his pages to such "theologians" 
as Stanley Hall, H. G. Wells, and Roy Wood Sellars. 

All creeds, including, of course, the Christian creed, are 
doomed to go into the "dust heaps of the past," but they will be 
succeeded by a more satisfying religion. "What man has made 
man can make again. He has created many a spiritual world in 
the past, and he can build more stately mansions for the souls in 
years to come." What these "stately mansions" will be, the 
author refrains from telling us, but we cannot help recalling 
Talleyrand's recipe for founding a new religion. 

The foreword gravely informs us that "Mr. Cook is prophet 
quite as much as scholar." 

Russell. Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Co. $1.50 net. 
The author of this volume aims not at the destruction, but 
at a radical and sweeping alteration of the present "house of 
civilization." The proximate purpose of his book, he informs us, 
is that it "may serve to warn my countrymen." He darkens 
nearly the entire treatise with graphic descriptions of the horrors 
produced by Russian Bolshevism, makes the rain of American 
industrial injustice beat into the reader's face, and finally the 
conclusion flashes forth that since "labor creates all the wealth 
of the world," the "doom of the wage system is foreshadowed," 
and the cooperative system "is already in sight." 

From purely empirical standards the work is what a book- 
seller might call intensely absorbing. The author was commis- 
sioned to visit the scene of the terrible tragedy that he recounts, 

260 NEW BOOKS [May, 

and the perusal of nearly ninety per cent of the book is like the un- 
coiling of a reel of sensational pictures, Lenine, obsessed with the 
Great Idea, the Dictatorship of the Proletariat, in the title 

Skillful as the writer is in sketching descriptions, the same 
compliment cannot be paid to him when he starts drawing con- 
clusions. Should the book be studied in view of knowing just 
what Bolshevism is, the reward comes through such attenuated 
remarks as: "In the last analysis, Bolshevism is not really a 
creed or a doctrine or a system. Bolshevism is an order of mind." 
Reference to the United States is brief. In our own land, 
Bolshevists, actual and potential, are classified under seven 
headings, one of the groups consisting of "certain intellectuals, 
clergymen, university professors, educators, writers and artists." 
One reflects bewilderingly in an effort to attach favorable con- 
notations to the terms of such statements as this: "We may as 
well recognize the fact that the thesis with which Lenine started 
is substantially sound." 

It is praiseworthy to concede the existence of acute social 
evils, to propose remedies, and to warn one's country against im- 
pending danger. Economic prudence is disclosed in emphasizing 
production, distribution and the inter-dependence of both indi- 
viduals and nations. But it would be far healthier for the read- 
ing public, if producers of popular, though ephemeral, books 
would express more pointedly the moral aspects of life, rather 
than aggravate existing social unrest by promising a new paradise 
through mere economic reforms. 

HEY RUB-A-DUB-DUB. By Theodore Dreiser. New York : Boni 

& Liveright. $2.00 net. 

Mr. Dreiser's volume of essays, far from being "exciting," 
as the publisher's cover promised, is dull and drab in the ex- 
treme. He states so many things that are not so, and he states 
them so arrogantly and cocksuredly, that the intelligent reader 
asks himself in amazement: "How can such an inane book 
poorly written, full of repetitions, blatant in its irreligion, shame- 
less in its immorality find enough readers to warrant publica- 

The writer denies the existence of God the Creator, because, 
sponge-like, he has absorbed the teaching of the discredited Ger- 
man monist, Haeckel, and finds himself at a loss to solve the 
problem of evil. He questions the Ten Commandments and the 
moral law, because he cannot settle the simplest questions in 
casuistry. He calls all Christians hypocrites, because he has met 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 261 

a few dishonest ones in his newspaper hack work, and dubs all 
lovers of decency, Pharisees, when they will not praise the 
indecencies of a Swinburne or they dare to suggest a 
censorship of the modern movie. He ridicules the narrowness 
of the Christian teaching on marriage, and by "broadness" means 
a harking back to the morals of pagan Rome. He declares our 
American democracy an utter failure, because the money power 
dominates our courts and legislatures, and our statesmen hobnob 
with autocrat nations like Japan, England and the old imperial 
Russia before its fall. 

He tells us that he "is constantly astonished by the thousands 
of men exceedingly capable in some mechanical or narrow 
technical sense, whose world of philosophic vision is that of a 
child." That he is one of the thousands he so vigorously de- 
nounces, never enters his mind for an instant. Mr. Dreiser has 
no saving sense of humor hence this awful book. 

A CRY OUT OF THE DARK. By Henry Bailey Stevens. Boston: 

The Four Seas Co. $1.25 net. 

This volume contains three one-act plays. They are not 
practicable for acting, and were not written for that purpose. 
They embody the author's views upon war, which he regards 
only as a hideous disease. His manner of expressing himself 
shows imagination and excellent literary quality; but from his 
limited outlook he contributes nothing which has not been long 
and deeply pondered by all thoughtful people. Other worth 
while considerations, such as the inspiration of courage, service 
and sacrifice, seem to have escaped his attention. 

jamin R. C. Low. New York: John Lane Co. $1.50 net. 
Benjamin Low's new volume is a pursuit of beauty rather 
than of happiness if, indeed, the two be definitely separable 
and the sonnet sequence, or series, which gives it title, is a group 
of fifty-five lyrics related only in what Fiona Macleod would have 
called their "nostalgia for sweet, impossible things." Wistful, 
yet restrained, is the chord upon which their music ends its 
abiding, persistent consciousness that 

There is a beauty, after all is said 

And after all is sung unreached forever. 

Mr. Low shows wide metrical proficiency and an almost con- 
fusing wealth of metaphor, but in the last analysis his appeal is 
chiefly, perhaps, intellectual. He is not merely a "poet's poet"- 

262 NEW BOOKS [May, 

he is also a scholar's poet. At once romantic and classic, of the 
past and of modernity in his affiliations, his place in contem- 
porary American letters is distinctly interesting and challenging. 

MINCE PIE. By Christopher Morley. New York: George H. 

Doran Co. $1.75. 

In his foreword, "Instructions," the author tells us this book 
is intended to be read in bed. "Please do not attempt to read it 
anywhere else ... If one asks what excuse there can be for 
prolonging the existence of these trifles (originally published in 
various newspapers and magazines) my answer is that there is 
no excuse. But a copy on the bedside shelf may possibly pave the 
way to easy slumber. Only a mind debauched by learning (in 
Dr. Johnson's phrase) will scrutinize them too anxiously." This 
is all very good. No volume can be more delightful for the 
luxurious relaxation which one feels propped up in bed, at peace 
with the world and on the threshold of slumber than Mince Pie, 
which, as a mixture duly flavored and sweetened, proves alluring 
to all healthy appetites. 

"Two Days We Celebrate" throws sidelights upon Samuel 
Johnson with such delicate sympathy that the Great Cham lives 
again in his stalwart Christian faith. "163 Innocent Old Men" 
is delectable and there is a deal of the lighter psychology in 
"Sitting in the Barber's Chair." It is indeed the lighter and 
brighter side of life which attracts Mr. Morley, at whose com- 
mand are deft touches, a naive and whimsical humor, and an un- 
failing literary skill. There are allusions aplenty to prove Mr. 
Morley's wide acquaintance with literature, and at the same time 
to tickle the palate of the Epicurean without offending the un- 
initiate. The interest of the reading public in Mince Pie is a good 
sign; it means that the witty, the humorous, and the clever need 
not be divorced from the clean. 

Palmer. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. $1.25 net. 
This little volume, containing the Ely Lectures for 1917-18 at 
the Union Theological Seminary, is, in much, interesting and read- 
able. In much else, it may be accused fairly of obfuscating old 
and accepted definitions by giving canonized terminology a new 

The book is an appeal for selflessness: but there is a lack of 
insistence on the only source of the only enduring selflessness. 
The chapter of introduction, especially, shows the author to be one 
of those who believe that the "conjunct or social self" is the only 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 263 

"real person." This is pure idealism, sprung of the subjectivist 
logic that has come down from Kant. To insist on partial truth- 
man's social relations to the extent of denying the other half of 
the truth involved man's personality and individuality is an 
excess that carries its own condemnation. 

MYSTICS ALL. By Enid D. Dinnis. St. Louis: B. Herder Book 

Co. $1.60 net. 

Wide circulation is the rightful due of this welcome collec- 
tion of eleven stories which treat of Catholic mysticism, laid, for 
the most part, among scenes and people of everyday life. They 
combine much diversity of theme with uniformity of interest and 
merit. None falls below the standard of the group, but there is 
one that surpasses it, "The Lady," a lovely little tale with a quality 
for which not even the general excellence had entirely prepared us. 

THE PRIESTHOOD OF CHRIST, by the Bishop of Sale (The 
Australian Catholic Truth Society), contains a series of ser- 
mons preached by the Most Rev. Patrick Phelan, D.D., 
Bishop of Sale in the Cathedral of St. Mary on the occasion of 
the consecration of Australasia to the Sacred Heart. The central 
idea developed in these sermons is the Priesthood of Christ as 
exercised by Himself and shared in by the people of His own and 
succeeding generations. These sermons make good reading and 
will be found both interesting and instructive. 

THE Catechism of Religious Profession, published by the 
Brothers of the Sacred Heart at Metuchen, N. J. ($1.50 net), 
is a standard work for all religious communities with simple 
vows. In question and answer form it discusses various queries 
in reference to the religious life, following the outlines of the 
Normx and the legislation of the New Code of Canon Law. 

Part First treats of the vow in general, of religious profession, 
of perfection and the observance of rules and constitutions. 
Part Second is concerned with the vows of poverty, chastity, and 
obedience, while Part Third deals with perseverance in the insti- 

The volume offers much useful and necessary information 
for religious and those considering the question of vocation. 

THE canonization this month of Blessed Margaret Mary Alaco- 
que has inspired a very beautiful commemorative ode To 
Margaret Mary in Heaven, by Rev. Edward F. Garesche, S.J. This 
worthy tribute of a gifted poet and devoted client of the Sacred 

264 NEW BOOKS [May, 

Heart to the "predestined girl, woman of fated and celestial 
might," will be welcomed by all who, led by her, have entered "a 
strife that holiest Heart to come more near." The poem is pre- 
sented by the Queen's Work Press of St. Louis, in a booklet of 
attractive size and make-up. Price, 50 cents a copy; $40.00 a 

GOOD CHEER, by Humphrey J. Desmond ( Chicago :'~A."C. Me-' 
Clurg & Co. 60 cents), sets forth a cheerful outlook upon 
life. The author arranges his material into eight chapters, each 
being subdivided into paragraphs that are, practically, in them- 
selves miniature essays. The matter presented contains much 
that is sensible and timely. On the whole, the little book repays 
reading, especially as its form admits of taking it up, from time 
to time, to occupy a leisure minute. 

. ', < 

THOSE interested in noting the prominence, in many fields of 
activity, of Americans who are of Irish birth or ancestry, 
will find an excellent and careful summary in Some Contributions 
to American Life and History, an address delivered at the Train- 
ing School of Teachers, Brooklyn, New York, on March 17, 1920, 
by Dennis R. O'Brien. 

IN the March issue of THE CATHOLIC WORLD, in giving notice to 
a publication of Allyn and Bacon, entitled Everyday Science, we 
stated that it was our regret that the book did not contain an 
alphabetical Index. As a result of a protest from the publishers, 
we find that the particular volume sent to us for review was a 
faulty one, and that the properly bound book carries a full Index 
of thirty-three pages. We wish, therefore, to withdraw this ex- 
ception to the worth of the book which our criticism made and 
of repeating our otherwise full approval. 

STORIES OF GREAT HEROES, by the Rev. James Higgins 
(New York: The Macmillan Co. 60 cents), recounts in 
simple fashion the tale of seventeen of the discoverers, explorers 
and Apostles of the New World. It aims to interest youth- 
ful readers in the men, who, since 1492, have opened up to colon- 
ization and civilization the broad plains of America from Canada 
to Patagonia. The book will be useful as a supplementary reader 
in the third or fourth grades both for history and language 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 265 


De sacris particulis abaimo 1730 in senensi basilica S. Francisci 
incorruptc servatis, by Agostino Ruelli, O. E. S. A. Siena : tipografla S. 
Bernardino, 1917. On the fourteenth of August, 1730, the ciborium pre- 
served in the tabernacle of the high altar of the church of St. Francis 
of Assisi in Siena was stolen by sacrilegious hands. It contained a 
great number of consecrated hosts for the Communion of the faithful 
on the feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin. The authorities 
of the town instituted a rigorous investigation. On the seventeenth 
of August, in the Church of Saint Mary of Provenzano, a seminarian, 
Paolo Schiavi, praying before the high altar, saw some hosts in a 
broken place in the marble of the altar, on the Gospel side. They 
were taken by prelates appointed by the Bishop of the town, and 
recognized as those stolen from the Church of St. Francis. Their 
number was of 348, besides six fragments. Monsignor Alessandro 
Zondadari, Bishop of Siena, ordered them to be transferred with due 
solemnity to the Church of St. Francis. On the eighteenth of August 
of the same year the sacred particles were placed into a ciborium, and 
after fifty years were still found in a perfect state of preservation. 
On the tenth of June, 1914, Bishop Monsignor Prospero Scaccia again 
certified to their continued miraculous preservation. Studying this 
marvelous preservation, F. Agostino Ruelli, a learned Augustinian, 
has taken occasion to present an admirable historical and theological 
study on Eucharistic miracles. His treatise embraces a most accurate 
and critical examination of the sources of the supernatural event of 
Siena. The writer possesses an extensive knowledge of the Fathers 
of the Church and of St. Thomas. He quotes them frequently and 
harmonizes their doctrine with his conclusions. The work of F. 
Ruelli deserves cordial welcome from the students of Catholic theology. 
It is written in most elegant Latin, and betokens in all its pages the 
greatest devotion of the writer towards the Blessed Sacrament. 

A publication containing many helpful hints for the education 
and up-bringing of children and young people is the review published 
by The League for the Popularization of Practical Knowledge, Peda- 
gogical and Sociological in the Family. It is called L'Education 
Familiale and comes out in Brussels ten times a year. (Rue Victor 
Lefevre, 14). The subscription is 9 francs. 

Exposition de la Morale Calholique. Morale Speciale. IX. "La 
Justice envers Dieu," by Rev. M. A. Janvier, O.P. (Paris: P. Lethiel- 
leux. 5/r.), presents the seventeenth course of Lenten conferences 
delivered at Notre Dame in Paris by the Abbe Janvier. It treats of 
the Worship of God, Exterior and Interior Worship, Public Worship, 
the Efficacy of Prayer, the Excellence or Importance of Prayer, and 
Sacrifice. At the very beginning of his conferences Father Janvier 
declares that he has no confidence in the Paris Peace Conference, 
because it made no mention of God in its sittings. He quotes the New 

266 NEW BOOKS [May, 

Testament most aptly: "Viam pads non cognoverent: non est timor 
Dei ante oculos eorum, and the way of peace they have not known. 
There is no fear of God before their eyes" (Rom. iii. 17, 18). 

Pierre Tequi publishes Le Droit Canon des Laiques, by Rev. J. 
Louis Demeuran, a brief synopsis of the New Code of Canon Law for 
the use of the laity. Abbe Demeuran follows the order of the Code 
throughout, laying special stress upon those laws that in any way 
affect the laity. Such a book in English would be welcomed by our 

And Marriage, Celibat, Vie Religieuse (3 fr. 50), by the Abbe Mil- 
lot, the Vicar General of Versailles, a series of conferences on 
marriage, celibacy and religious life. These simple talks to young 
girls are illustrated by stories in real life and happenings in the lives 
of the saints. 

Also Prieres de la Vie Interieure (1 fr. 50). This collection of af- 
fective prayers, highly endorsed by the Bishop of Versailles, is well 
calculated to promote a growth of spiritual life, grounded in humility 
and energized by courageous confidence. Ibo Te du.ce, a spirit that 
dares the heights, is the keynote of this little volume, whose author 
modestly withholds her name. 

From the Librarie Gabriel Beauchesne we have Une Doctrine de 
Vie, by Dr. Henri Carriere (7 fr. net), which gathers together in a 
volume of some four hundred pages some of the finest passages in the 
writings of Henry Bordeaux, the well-known French critic and novel- 
ist. Dr. Carriere dedicates his book to the youth of France, asking 
them to make a careful study of this writer, who has always waged a 
vigorous fight against the enemies of the faith and morals of Catholic 

And La Cornpagnie de Jesus, by Rev. Joseph Brucker, S.J. (12 fr.), 
a most thorough account of the Jesuits from their foundation to 
their suppression (1521-1773). In some eight hundred pages the author 
gives us the history of the Society in all the countries of the world, 
their missions, schools, literary and scientific labors, etc. He answers 
in brief form the many calumnies of their enemies, and sets forth 
simply and eloquently the many services the Jesuits have rendered the 

Scintilla; Ignatiante, by Gabriel Hevenesi, S.J. (New York: Fred- 
erick Pustet & Co. $1.25; cloth, 75 cents), contains spiritual readings 
for every day of the year, selected from the works of St. Ignatius. They 
treat of poverty, chastity, obedience, humility, prayer, the love of God, 
mortification, spiritual blindness, rash judgment, envy, calumny, scru- 
pulosity, etc. 

IRecent Events* 

The revolutionary government which was 

Germany. set up in Berlin under Dr. Wolfgang von 

Kapp as Chancellor and General Baron von 

Luettwitz as Commander-in-Chief collapsed after a brief existence 
of five days. The collapse was brought about by the general apathy 
of the people, and the open hostility of all political parties and 
particularly by the operation of the general strike which had been 
called by President Ebert throughout Germany. Both Kapp and 
von Luettwitz and the other leaders of the Revolutionists fled from 
Berlin, and the revolutionary troops returned to their barracks at 
Doeberitz. A few days later the Ebert Government was again in 
control in Berlin. 

Almost immediately the restored Government found itself face 
to face with serious disorders throughout the country, especially 
in Westphalia and the valley of the Ruhr, where the workers en- 
deavored to set up a Soviet regime. Armed workmen seized 
Essen, and violent fighting took place in Kiel, Leipsic, Hamburg, 
Stuttgart, and particularly in the Ruhr district, which was re- 
ported aflame with Bolshevism, and where Communist forces were 
said to number as many as 70,000 well-armed men. In order to 
quell these disorders the Berlin Government sent an armed force 
into the region and requested permission of the Allies to increase 
the number of her troops in the disturbed district, which, accord- 
ing to the Treaty of Versailles, has been neutralized. To this re- 
quest England, Italy and the United States seemed disposed to ac- 
cede, but France offered opposition. 

This division of Allied opinion was intensified at the begin- 
ning of April, when France took individual action and sent into 
the Rhineland an army of 18,000 men under General Degoutte, 
which occupied Frankfort, Darmstadt and Hanau. Her ground 
for this action was that the Germans had violated the Treaty pro- 
vision which forbade the invasion of the neutralized Rhine valley 
by German Government troops. France was supported in this 
stand by Belgium, but Great Britain and Italy emphatically dis- 
avowed approval of the French occupation. The contention of 
the French was, that the Versailles Treaty had been violated, and 
that the presence of German troops in the Rhineland was a grave 
military danger to France. England, while admitting a technical 
violation of the Treaty, felt the military danger to be slight, and 
that the Allies' first duty was to permit Germany a free hand in 


stamping out Bolshevism within her borders. Sharp notes were 
exchanged between France and England, and for a time it looked 
as if there would be a dissolution of their alliance, but this was 
finally averted in a new settlement. 

By this settlement the British Government commits itself 
anew to the enforcement of the Versailles Treaty, especially the 
clauses prescribing the disarmament of Germany, and which par- 
ticularly affect France. The French Government agrees to a slight 
extension of the permission to the German Government to main- 
tain a limited number of troops in the neutral zone. As soon as 
the supplementary troops have been withdrawn by the Berlin 
Government, the French troops will quit Frankfort, Darmstadt, 
Hanau, Hamburg and Dieburg. The French Government regards 
the outcome as a victory. Although it retreats somewhat from 
its original stand by agreeing to evacuate Frankfort before all the 
German troops are withdrawn from the neutral zone, yet it points 
out it has gained the assurance of the enforcement of the disarma- 
ment clauses of the Treaty, for the strict carrying out of which 
the Rhine move was only a detailed measure. In the new settle- 
ment France retains for unforeseen eventualities the right of indi- 
vidual action. 

The Interallied Commission of Control has recommended that 
the August protocol permitting the Germans to have 17,000 troops 
in the Ruhr, which expired April 10th, be extended one month. 
The Germans asked for a three months' extension. The recom- 
mendation of the Interallied Commission will probably be adopted 
by the three main Allied Governments. The withdrawal of all 
German troops no longer needed in the Ruhr district has already 
begun, and the Communist revolt, with the exception of sporadic 
outbreaks, seems to have been effectually broken. 

Shortly after the return of the Ebert Government to Berlin 
an entirely new Cabinet was formed, composed of Majority Social- 
ists with six places, Democrats with three, and Centrists with 
three. The new Premier, who is also Foreign Secretary, is Her- 
man Muller. Gustave Noske, the former Minister of Defence, who 
was looked upon as the strongest man in the old Cabinet, has been 
replaced by Herr Gessler, the Chief Burgomaster of Nuremberg. 
The Labor Federation, whose opposition proved fatal to the Kapp 
regime, has expressed its approval of the new Cabinet. Reports 
from South Germany, however, indicate that a secession move- 
ment, centring in Munich and affecting Bavaria and neighboring 
States, is gathering strength. The south Germans are reported 
dissatisfied with the coalition Government in Berlin, particularly 
because of its recent concessions to the labor unions. 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 269 

Similar dissatisfaction with the Berlin administration has 
been expressed in the West. The Catholic newspapers in particu- 
lar are restive because of what they call the Government's dilatori- 
ness in handling the Ruhr insurrection, and have even hinted at a 
dissolution of the Republic. Moreover, a commission, represent- 
ing the Reichwehr troops operating in the region of Essen and 
also the Socialist and Catholic labor organizations there, which is 
in Berlin to make representations regarding the pacification of 
the region, demands that the Government punish the Communist 
leaders immediately. The commission also protests against the 
interference of the labor unions in the Government. On the other 
hand, recent dispatches show that the rule of the workmen has 
ceased throughout the Ruhr district, the executive committees at 
Dusseldorf, Elberfeld, Barmen and Hagen having relinquished 
authority to the municipal officials in accordance with the peace 
terms between the Government and the workers. 

Recently the German battleships, Nassau and Ostfriesland, 
arrived at the Firth of Forth, this constituting the first steps in 
the surrender of the remainder of the German warships under 
the terms of the Treaty of Versailles. Ultimately the Ostfries- 
land, which was reckoned by the Germans one of their first-class 
battleships, and which displaces 22,800 tons, will be turned over to 
the American Government. The Nassau, which is also of the dread- 
naught class, but displaces only 18,000 tons, has been allocated to 
Japan. The arrival of these two battleships marks the first de- 
livery of German naval vessels since the Scapa Flow incident. 
There remain six battleships, several light cruisers and some forty 
or fifty torpedo-boat destroyers and a number of submarines to be 
delivered. In addition, it has been agreed that fifty-four German 
submarines shall be sold for the benefit of the Allies. The alloca- 
tion of the remaining vessels has not been determined upon, but 
it is understood that Brazil will receive six torpedo-boat destroy- 
ers, some submarines and a cruiser. The delivery of these vessels 
is expected to take place within a month. 

In execution of the armistice terms Germany also has re- 
cently delivered to France 2,683 locomotives, of which 697 have 
been ceded by France to the Allied Powers. 

Financial conditions in Germany have improved during the 
past month. Recent quotations on the Berlin Exchange show that 
the mark, which before the Kapp revolution stood steadily at 
rather more than 300 to the pound sterling, stands now at 216. 
Also there has been a drop in price of some important raw mate- 
rials, such as copper. But the fall in the mark has been accom- 
panied by an all-around rise in prices and by the exhaustion of 


some necessaries. There is little or no coal, and the price of 
leather has increased enormously. The food situation is decided- 
ly worse than a year ago. Imported foodstuffs are three times 
dearer than six months ago. 

The physical condition of the people, especially the children, 
is very poor. At least twenty-five per cent of Berlin's children 
between one and fourteen years are badly underfed. Of 485,000 
Berlin children, 29,000 are suffering from tuberculosis, according 
to the latest statistics, and 77,000 are suffering from various other 
illnesses brought on by long underfeeding. In January the fig- 
ures for forty-three big towns of Germany showed that over 
200,000 children were afflicted with tuberculosis, and 850,000 were 
ill from lack of proper food. All great towns report a big increase 
in the death rate. 

The most important military event of the 
Russia. month has been the launching of the long 

heralded spring campaign of the Bolshevik 

armies against Poland. This campaign began about the middle 
of March and has continued to the present, but has met with uni- 
form failure, the Poles repulsing, with sanguinary losses to the 
enemy, repeated and shifting attacks along a four hundred mile 
front, despite the fact that they were greatly outnumbered and 
that the Soviet troops used heavy artillery, tanks, armored cars, 
and other apparatus captured from General Denikin on the South 
Russian front. The most severe fighting has occurred on the 
Polesian-Podolian line, near the Galician frontier, the Bolsheviki 
concentrating their attacks on this sector in an endeavor to cap- 
ture Kovno, an important railroad centre, and Kamenetz-Podolsk, 
a city highly prized because of its strategic importance. The 
Russian offensive has broken down at all points, due partly to the 
superior morale of the Polish troops and partly to the collapse of 
the Russian railroad system, which is in no condition to support 
an offensive. A recent report of Russian technical experts to the 
Allied representatives at Warsaw, shows that there are approxi- 
mately only 300 serviceable locomotives throughout the country 
as compared with 16,000 before the War. 

Meanwhile, peace negotiations have been in progress between 
the Bolsheviki and the Poles, but to date without definite result. 
The Polish peace terms are severe, the foremost condition being 
that Russia must renounce sovereignty to all territory obtained by 
Russia through the partition of Poland by the Governments of 
Prussia, Austria, and Russia more than a century ago. In addi- 
tion, the Poles ask considerable guarantees in the form of a row 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 271 

of barrier States, a new cordon sanitaire, under Polish protectorate 
and. lying between the neighborhood of Brest-Litovsk and the old 
Polish frontier of 1772. The Poles also demand the temporary 
occupation of the Government of Smolensk as an additional meas- 
ure of security, but this may be a mere talking point to be traded 
off for something else. 

The Soviet Government in its counter proposal asked for an 
armistice along the entire battlefront during the proposed peace 
negotiations, and also suggested the holding of the peace confer- 
ence in Esthonia instead of Borisov, on the Beresina River, north- 
east of Minsk, but the Poles rejected both these proposals, on the 
ground, first, that a general armistice would be taken advantage 
of by the Bolsheviki to bring up reinforcements, and, second, that 
Esthonia, by its negotiation of a treaty with the Russian Soviets, 
violated the terms of its existing treaty with Poland. The latest 
development of the situation has been the announcement by the 
Soviet Government that it considers the last note of the Poles in 
the nature of an ultimatum, and declares that the selection of a 
city in the military zone for the negotiations and the conclusion 
of a merely local armistice are unprecedented. The message con- 
cludes by saying that Russia's only alternative is to address a 
communication to the United States, Great Britain, France and 
Italy, pointing out that the reestablishment of commercial rela- 
tions with the Powers will be greatly hindered if Russia is unable 
to obtain peace, and that "it is impossible for the Entente to de- 
cline responsibility on this occasion when their influence would 
induce Poland to adopt a less irreconcilable attitude." 

Other military operations of the Bolsheviki have been of a 
minor nature. At the beginning of April they launched attacks 
on both sides of the River Dvina, apparently opening a drive on 
the northern front designed to carry them in the direction of 
Vilna. Fighting of an inconclusive character at various points on 
this front, has been reported in Lettish dispatches. The Bolshe- 
viki also started an offensive against Finland, but this has since 
been discontinued. 

Novorossisk, the last base in Southern Russia under control 
of General Denikin, was captured late in March by the Bolsheviki 
and the volunteer force thoroughly defeated. Over 100,000 men 
and great quantities of supplies fell into the enemy's hands. With 
the remnant of his army Denikin then retreated to the Crimea, 
making his base at Theodosia on the Black Sea. Shortly after his 
arrival there, however, in the face of a new Bolshevik offensive 
in the Crimea, Denikin placed his resignation in the hands of his 
councilors and entreated them to select another chief, whereupon 


they appointed General Wrangel as commander of the southern 
volunteer forces. 

General Wrangel is of Norwegian blood, and is such a forceful 
character that his adherents believe he can reorganize the 
shattered volunteer and Cossack forces better than the Generals 
who participated in the campaign around Odessa and Novorossisk, 
where the volunteers showed no desire to fight. Volunteer troops 
are to occupy Simferopol and Sebastopol. General Alexieff's divi- 
sion is to occupy Kertch. Don and Kuban Cossacks are at Eupa- 
toria, on the western coast of the Crimea. 

According to latest dispatches, the Bolsheviki have not yet 
made any headway in the Crimea. Foreign military officers who 
watched the evacuation of Novorossisk and other places in the 
South, are not optimistic about the defence of the Crimea, how- 
ever, because, they assert, the morale of the volunteer troops is 
low and there is no general disposition to make a vigorous defen- 
sive campaign. On the other hand, the natural defences in this 
region are extremely effective, and the Bolshevik army has been 
so weakened by the typhus that the volunteers may hold their 
ground in spite of the demoralization that exists. It is estimated 
that 100,000 refugees are gathered in the Crimea. After his resig- 
nation General Denikin went to Constantinople and later, in conse- 
quence of the assassination of his chief of staff while visiting the 
Russian embassy there, took refuge on a British warship, which 
has since been reported to have sailed for Malta. 

In the Caucausus the Bolsheviki are advancing rapidly toward 
Azerbayan and Georgia. The Georgian Government is so weak 
and so hard pressed by its own radical elements that there seems 
little hope of successful resistance to the Soviet forces. The 
Georgian situation is further complicated by the flood of Cossack 
soldiers and civilians fleeing across the mountains ahead of the 
Bolshevik advance. Armed Cossacks to the number of 30,000, 
moving southward from Novorossisk and to Tuapie are concen- 
trated at Sochi, with the Bolsheviki pursuing the Georgians in 
their front, the mountains on the one side and the sea on the 
other. The Georgians refuse to admit the Cossacks into Georgia 
unless they disarm, which the Cossacks decline to do, although 
virtually starving. The British have provided a temporary flour 
supply to quiet the situation, in the hope of effecting a settlement. 

With the sailing of Brigadier General Wm. A. Graves, Com- 
mander-in-chief of the American Expeditionary Forces in Siberia, 
and about 2,000 men from Vladivostok on April 1st, the evacuation 
of American troops from Siberia was completed. A few hours 
subsequent to their departure from Vladivostok, a Japanese 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 273 

proclamation was posted throughout the city stating that Japanese 
troops would not evacuate Siberia at the present time and warn- 
ing all inhabitants against any unfriendly attitude on the part of 
the Russian population. On April 5th, Japanese troops suddenly 
seized Vladivostok in a night attack, ousted the provisional gov- 
ernment, which is alleged to have been in communication with the 
Bolsheviki, and disarmed all Russians. 

The purpose of the Japanese occupation of Vladivostok is 
stated to be, to protect Japanese interests, to safeguard the prin- 
cipal Japanese base of supplies in Siberia at Vladivostok, to ward 
off the threat of Bolshevism which has been advancing steadily 
toward the Pacific with the Bolshevik forces through Siberia, and 
also to remove the menace to Manchuria and Korea, which lie to 
the east and west of Vladivostok. No representations have been 
made by the American Government against Japan's action, and it 
is not understood that there will be any, as Japan's vital interest 
from the point of view of national defence in the maintenance of 
troops in Siberia is recognized by this Government. Later dis- 
patches state that the Japanese have captured the entire Ussuri 
railroad between Vladivostok and Khabarovsk. This line, which 
is about four hundred miles long, runs directly north and south 
and passes through the important towns of Nikolsk and Ussuri. 

The Soviet Government continues to make overtures for trade 
to the various countries, neutral and Allied, and recently a Rus- 
sian Trade Commission, accompanied by twenty-four experts in 
trade and engineering, arrived at Copenhagen from Moscow. It 
is the intention of this Commission after a short stay in Denmark 
to proceed to London, and perhaps later to the United States. 
The Commission will endeavor to get in touch with merchants and 
manufacturers in Allied and neutral countries, and start trade be- 
tween them and Russia as soon as possible. 

In this connection later dispatches announce that the British 
delegation has concluded its negotiations with the Russian Soviet 
representatives, and that there is good prospect for the early estab- 
lishment of trade between Great Britain and Russia. Agreement 
for the resumption of commercial relations has been reached also 
between Sweden and Russia, providing Great Britain and France 
annul the Baltic blockade. Recent dispatches announce the arri- 
val of an Italian commercial mission in Athens on its way to Rus- 
sia to negotiate with the Soviet Government for the purchase of 
raw materials for manufacture. The mission is reported to be 
furnished with several million rubles in cash. 

The ban on trade relations between this country and Russia 
may soon be lifted, according to a report from Washington, al- 

VOL. CXI. 18 


though the recent American proposal to the Supreme Council for 
concerted action to this end by Great Britain, France, Italy and 
the United States has temporarily deferred action here. The 
Allies are believed to be awaiting a conference with members of the 
Russian cooperative mission before replying to the American sug- 
gestion. Whatever the Allies decide, however, American officials 
say, it is probable that formal notice would soon be given by the 
United States that restrictions now in force have been withdrawn. 
There will be no objection to the visit to this country of the Rus- 
sian cooperative mission, it was added, if the members are able to 
prove absence of any official connection between the cooperatives 
whom they represent and the Russian Soviet Government. 

The principal question before the Supreme 

France. Council and the Allied Governments during 

the last month (outside the controversy 

over the French occupation of towns in the Rhineland already 
treated), has been the Turkish problem. Various solutions have 
been proposed during the month, and the Supreme Council re- 
quested the advice of President Wilson on the subject. The two 
chief points of the President's note in reply, were a demand for 
the expulsion of the Turk from Europe, and the proposed creation 
of an Armenian state with as wide boundaries as possible. 

The objection of the Allied Governments to this proposal are 
threefold; they contend, first, that the three countries most closely 
concerned and upon which the military consequences of any de- 
cision would rest, namely, Great Britain, France and Italy, are 
united in the belief that the Sultan should not be sent to Asia 
Minor; second, that even expulsionists among the Allies place seri- 
ous credence in the dangerous effervescence of Mussulman feeling 
which the expulsion of the Sultan from Constantinople would 
cause; and third, that the retention by the Turkish Government 
of Constantinople under Allied control promises better results, 
particularly in safeguarding the lives of the Armenians, than the 
expulsion policy, which might lead to the establishment of an un- 
controlled hostile Turkish Government beyond the Taurus 

No reply to the President's note will be sent until after the 
conference of the Allied Governments at San Remo, Italy, between 
the 19th and 22d of April. It is conjectured that the Allies will 
express their sympathy with the giving to Armenia of a state with 
boundaries in proportion to her population, but it will be pointed 
out that the Armenians from a strict equity point of view have less 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 275 

right to the disputed territory than the indigenous Turkish peas- 
ants, and that the Armenians are not so numerous as to warrant 
giving them such extended boundaries as the President desires. 

Of course, the failure of America to ratify the Peace Treaty 
and its refusal to accept an Armenian mandate, has thrown Allied 
councils into confusion, particularly with regard to the Turkish 
question, and in a further endeavor to find a solution for that 
question, the Supreme Council early in April addressed a com- 
munication to the League of Nations requesting that the League 
accept a mandate for Armenia. After several meetings, however, 
the League declared that it was unable to accept the mandate be- 
cause it lacks the machinery for administering such a charge. 
To take over such a mandate would require both military and 
financial resources, neither of which the League possesses. The 
Council of the League believes it can find a mandatory for Ar- 
menia in some neutral State if some one else will pay the ex- 
penses, and recommends that the members of the League make 
collective arrangements to meet Armenia's needs. As for the 
assumption of guardianship of the racial minorities in Turkey, the 
Council of the League believes it is within its province to accept 
this duty, but cannot definitely commit itself as to ways and 
means until the Turkish Treaty has been fully drafted. It is ex- 
pected by Allied observers that some kind of Turkish Treaty will 
be sufficiently ready by the end of April or the beginning of May, 
to invite the Turkish delegation to Paris. The details of the 
Treaty it is expected will be finally disposed of at the San Remo 
conference. The San Remo conference may also have occasion to 
make the final decision on some questions regarding the Hun- 
garian Peace Treaty. 

Turning to purely French affairs and internal conditions, the 
depreciation of French currency, which was checked for a time 
after the fall in January, has begun again with doubled velocity. 
In the last three sessions of the Exchanges the value of the franc 
has dropped fourteen per cent as compared with sterling, and 
about twelve per cent as compared with the dollar and Dutch, 
Spanish, Swiss and Scandinavian money. At present even Ger- 
many gains seven per cent on France. Reducing the French 
economic situation to its simplest terms, the principal cause for 
the depreciation of the franc is that the country is obliged to buy 
abroad nearly six times as much in money value as it sells. That 
France has far too much floating paper is merely an additional 
handicap, not a basic source of the trouble. There is much talk 
about work and augmented production, but production cannot be 
augmented unless imports are augmented simultaneously, and 



when that occurs, the franc, of course, falls faster than ever. Im- 
ports have already been reduced to the lowest possible figure, so 
that there is no remedy in that direction. Yet, unless a remedy is 
found, disaster would seem to be inevitable. 

In a recent debate in the Chamber of Deputies on new taxes, 
Deputy Auriol, Socialist, asserted that the only remedy for 
France's financial situation was the taxation of capital and war 
profits. Budget Reporter Dumont's statement on the budget was 
well received by the House. It is expected that the Government's 
revenues under the new taxes will be increased 8,500,000,000 
francs. Among the fresh taxes is one of ten per cent upon the 
gross receipts of theatres, music halls, circuses, hippodromes, race 
tracks and bicycle races. 

Subscriptions to the latest French loan totaled 15,730,000,000 
francs, of which 6,800,000,000 francs was in new money. The 
new loan subscription included 8,000,000,000 francs in national de- 
fence bonds, more than 550,000,000 francs in national defence 
obligations, and about 375,000,000 francs in French rentes. Sub- 
scriptions totaling 275,000,000 came from abroad, and 84,000,000 
francs from the colonies. 

The financial situation is the determining factor in French 
opposition to President Wilson's proposal that the Allied and 
Associated Powers declare forthwith the lifting of all trade re- 
strictions against Russia. The French Government is determined 
not to participate in any such step, until the Moscow Government 
recognizes the debt of 26,000,000,000 francs which Russia owes to 
the French Government and other French interests. At the nego- 
tiations which will soon be opened in London between representa- 
tives of the Allies and of Russia, the representative of France may 
be expected to present the French claims with vigor. The Russian 
delegation is headed by Krassin, who has been widely quoted as 
saying that Russia had wiped all foreign debts off the slate and 
would consent to no consideration of them. 

Particulars of the distribution of enemy warships among the 
Allies have recently been published in Paris. France's share, 
which is ten per cent of the total tonnage of all the captured enemy 
ships, with the exception of submarines, represents 92,000 tons, 
half of which is in German ships and half in Austrian. Five 
cruisers and ten destroyers are allotted to France, and the same 
number of cruisers and destroyers to Italy. Each of these two 
Powers will also receive a light cruiser and three destroyers, 
which may be used for a year for experimental purposes, but must 
be destroyed when that time has elapsed. France will receive the 
cruiser Emden. Forty submarines now in French ports are also 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 277 

allotted to France, and of these ten may be put in service. France 
is the only Power to which the privilege of using captured sub- 
marines has been granted. 

According to latest dispatches, conditions 

Italy. in Fiume are becoming more critical daily, 

owing to factional quarrels among the 

d'Annunzio troops, labor unrest and the lack of food and work. 
D'Annunzio has sent to Rome a committee headed by Signor di 
Ambris, Chief Secretary to Mayor Gigante, to discuss with Premier 
Nitti plans for a relaxation of the blockade of the city, which is 
paralyzing the activities of the port. 

A general strike was recently declared in Fiume, but it lasted 
only one day. The workmen demanded restoration of the food 
situation to a normal basis, a reversion to the prices prevailing 
prior to the local troubles, and the adjustment of the value of 
money in exchange, so as to restore the former purchasing power 
of wages. It is complained that prices are now quoted in lire, 
whereas wages are paid in Jugo-Slav crowns, worth only one- 
twelfth of the lire. The National Council promised an improve- 
ment in conditions. 

The strike leaders asserted they were insistent on having 
d'Annunzio leave Fiume. They said if they were unsuccessful 
locally, the strike would spread to Trieste, then to Milan and 
threaten Italy. The workers say their demand for normal food 
rations is impossible of fulfillment while the partial blockade con- 
tinues, and that the blockade would continue as long as d'Annunzio 
remained. D'Annunzio is also faced with a disagreement among 
the troops over Monarchist and Republican feuds. This, coupled 
with the attitude of the working groups, places him in the most 
serious situation since his occupation of Fiume. 

A recent telegram from Trieste asserts that the Italo-Jugo-Slav 
Commission, which has been in consultation regarding an Adriatic 
settlement, has reached an agreement concerning the Adriatic 
ports under which Italy obtains sovereignty over Fiume, while the 
Jugo-Slavs receive Susak, the Canale della Fiumara, the Porto- 
Baross, the port of Volosca and Scutari. D'Annunzio is declared 
to be strongly against the arrangement, of which Premier Lloyd 
George is credited to be the author. Italian representatives ex- 
press the conviction that the matter will finally be settled by direct 
negotiations after the disappearance of the obstacles created by 
d'Annunzio's occupation of Fiume. The d'Annunzio movement, 
it is added, is now considered in a state of dissolution. 


The new Nitti Cabinet has faced several crises during the 
last month, but in each case has been given a vote of confidence by 
the Chamber of Deputies. The new Government is in favor of a 
lenient policy toward Russia and Germany, favors a friendly 
understanding with the Jugo-Slavs on the Adriatic question, does 
not desire any territorial occupation of Turkey or Asia Minor, and 
as regards home policy desires the maintenance of order by all 
classes, increased work and production, and diminution in con- 
sumption in order to avoid disaster to the nation. In order to 
bring these home policies into effect the food-card system has been 
revived with an even stricter system than during the War. Coal 
cannot be had at any price, and gas for only three hours per day. 
Many trains have been suppressed. 

Labor demonstrations have been made in various cities 
throughout Italy during the month, and at Milan an attempt was 
made to set up a Soviet system of control of large industrial con- 
cerns. Strikes have occurred also in Bologna, Pisa, Leghorn and 
Florence, and there were casualities both to the police and the 
strikers. In the Novra, Alexandria, Brescia and Treviso Provinces 
a gigantic agricultural strike was called, involving 300,000 work- 
ers. Several peasant demonstrations were put down by machine- 
gun fire. 

April 17, 1920. 

With Our Readers 

AN important, though short, contribution to the history of 
Catholic service in the late War is an article, contributed to 
the March Month, entitled "The French Priest in the War," by 
the Rev. John Dawson, S.M. The extent of the services of the 
Catholic priests and of how that service in turn reflects the Catho- 
lic soul of France is by no means sufficiently known or considered. 
"What they (the French chaplains) told me and what I saw with 
my own eyes, convinced me of one thing: that there is far more 
Catholic life in France than we, who judge her by her public acts, 
are apt to believe. How it is that so many generous, even fervent, 
Catholics exercise so little influence on the public life of their 
country remains a puzzle that no French Catholic, priest or lay- 
man, has ever been able to solve for me." 

The answer might be made that the French Catholic body 
has lacked the means of common action in matters of public 

Whether this be true or not, it is true that an active minority 
may rule a country; shape its legislation; control its public 
institutions; deprive private institutions of their life, while the 
majority are, so to speak, asleep, uninterested and unorganized 
for common public action. 

IN our own country we have seen that prohibition was made a 
federal constitutional amendment by an active minority. The 
activities of "foundations," of institutes, of societies and organ- 
izations eager to jjush their special object or their particular 
measure of reform or supervision are today centred upon federal 
legislation. The objective of their activities is the Congress of 
the United States. Success there means a short cut to success 
in the particular State they seek to affect or in all the States. 
Thus do minorities work: framing their proposed legislation in 
learned and influential council; far-visioned in the importance 
of its phrasing; securing prominent men and women, who know 
little of the real bearing of the legislation in question, as their 
supporters; impressing the Senator or Congressman with their 
repeated appeal, magnifying the volume of public opinion back 
of it meanwhile pushing a vigorous propaganda in the press 
under various forms and disguises. When the matter is actually 


presented in the halls of Congress they who are back of it have 
the big advantage of position, of initiative, of planned campaign. 
The public sometimes learn of the bill when it is introduced: 
oftentimes much later, sometimes they know nothing of it until 
it is passed. 

* * * * 

IN the light of all this, it is increasingly important that organiza- 
tions interested in legislative measures should be really in- 
terested, and have the means of securing information, even from 
the beginning. We speak not in a political way. The political 
ends of legislation, that is in so far as they affect candidates or 
parties, have nothing to do with the question, at least nothing to 
do with it directly, as we treat it here. Legislation is not only 
becoming more and more federal, legislation is becoming more 
paternal. Time was when the Christian citizen or the Christian 
organization might avert its eyes from Washington and go its 
undisturbed way, confident that the Federal Government would 
not only not interfere with, but would certainly support Christian 
principles and Christian morals. Neither the individual nor the 
organization can have any such security today. Like Horace, 
though in quite a different sense, the Federal Congress considers 
nothing human a stranger to itself. As he treasures the sanc- 
tities of life, so, therefore, must every citizen be alive to every 
matter of proposed legislative action, either national or state. 
With equal truth may it be said that every organization really 
interested in the true welfare of the country, in the preservation 
not only of the fundamental principles of Christian society, but 
in the right to educate our children therein with equal truth it 
may be said that every such organization should be intensely, 
vitally interested and informed on every matter of religious or 
moral concern that is proposed as a subject of legislation. Most 
truly does it behoove those who watch from the towers of Israel 
to regard even the far-off enemies that have their face set towards 
the holy city. 

* * * * 

ONCE legislation affects the sacred and moral rights of 
the individual or of the Church, the name political may be 
eliminated and religious substituted. Today there is no question 
affecting religion at least indirectly that is not being made the 
subject of federal legislation. We all know the federal attempts 
to control and define the education of the young. The same move- 
ment is showing itself in state legislatures. In Michigan far more 
than the number necessary have signed a petition which brings 

1920.] WITH OUR READERS 281 

before the voters next November, a constitutional amendment 
which would forbid the very existence of parochial schools in 
that State. 

Marriage laws are for the present left to the State. Lax 
as they are, the tendency is to greater laxity. 

Americanization bills are being considered; to the American- 
ization portion of them no one would have any objection: but to 
the powers which some of them would confer of killing the right 
of private schools many would object. Health legislation is on its 
federal way; it includes a sex hygiene programme to which no 
one can be indifferent who is not indifferent to Christian morals. 
This naturally touches the most fundamental questions of ethics, 
and not only the physical but the spiritual welfare of the genera- 
tion to come. Hospitals; homes for the feeble-minded; segrega- 
tion; child welfare; industrial problems concerning women, all 
are within the range of national legislation. 

Today it is forbidden to send the reading matter of birth- 
control societies through the mails. A vigorous campaign will 
soon open whereby these societies will seek, and they confidently 
expect, the permission of the federal authorities to send through 
the mails their obscene and immoral propaganda. The words 
are none too strong, for they teach not only contraceptive methods, 
but that sexual immorality is not sinful. 

OUR aim in these paragraphs is not to point out legislation that 
may be harmful and anti-Christian. Legislation may be 
good or bad: worthy or unworthy. Our point is that we do not 
know its character: we are unable to meet or encourage or 
modify or oppose, unless we keep ourselves informed through 
channels that capably operate. 

Organization, capable and ready representation are needed 
if such is to be the case: if we as Catholics are to preserve our 
own fundamental religious rights and contribute our preeminent 
share to the legislation that will shape and control the destiny 
of our country. Organization is not a matter simply of numbers 
nor of a national committee nor group. Organization is not a 
centralized authority. That would work more harm than good. 
Organization demands the constant watchfulness of those who 
serve under authority: it demands also the declaration of a pro- 
gramme, a line of action, at least on general lines that will be- 
speak the aim and purpose of the body Catholic. Unless legis- 
lation is radically and thoroughly bad and framers are seldom 
so foolish as to permit it to be classified entirely in that category 


successful opposition to it means a definite constructive pro- 
gramme on the part of those -who oppose. Organization in oppo- 
sition, therefore, means constant study of the forces in operation; 
of the social conditions to be affected; of how best the reform 
looked for may be secured; of full and correct data on the ques- 
tion or questions under discussion. Organization demands the 
ability to use the means of publicity: the service of those who 
can present it capably to the press. It demands further the means 
to inform every part of the organization all lay Catholic so- 
cieties for example to keep them in touch with national affairs, 
readily to secure their aid, their advice, their support. 

WE have attempted here to show but one reason why the 
formation of the National Catholic Welfare Council, com- 
posed of the hierarchy of the United States, was not only ad- 
visable, but, given the circumstances, absolutely necessary. 

Decided upon at the meeting of the hierarchy in September, 
1919, the first steps in the actual formation were taken by the 
Administrative Committee in the first part of December, 1919. 
The Administrative Committee were directed to establish 
five departments, the Department of Education, the Department 
of Social Action, the Department of Legislation, the Department 
of Lay Organizations and the Department of Press and Publicity. 
The Chairman of the Administrative Committee is the Most 
Rev. Edward J. Hanna, Archbishop of San Francisco. The 
Chairmen of the various departments in the order named are: 
the Most Rev. Austin Dowling, Archbishop of St. Paul; the 
Most Rev. D. J. Dougherty, Archbishop of Philadelphia; the 
Right Rev. Peter J. Muldoon, Bishop of Rockford; the Right 
Rev. Joseph Schrembs, Bishop of Toledo, and the Right Rev. 
William T. Russell, Bishop of Charleston. 

* * * * 

TO secure unity of action among the five departments, the 
Administrative Committee directed a joint national com- 
mittee to be formed, consisting of a representative of each of 
the departments; that the headquarters of such committee be 
established at Washington, and that the conduct of the committee 
as a whole should be under the care of a General Secretary 
acting as representative of the Chairman of the Administrative 
Committee. To this position of General Secretary the Rev. 
John J. Burke, C.S.P., Editor of THE CATHOLIC WORLD, was 

1920.] WITH OUR READERS 283 

CONSIDERING the difficulties that must inevitably be met 
V_/ with in securing capable men, the plans and programmes 
that must be drawn up and carried out in the formation of these 
departments, the progress already made is very encouraging. 
The headquarters of the joint committee have been established 
at 1312 Massachusetts Avenue, Washington, D. C. The Executive 
Staff there is practically complete. The representative of the 
Department of Education is the well-known authority, Dr. Ed- 
ward A. Pace; that of the Department of Social Action, Dr. John 
A. Ryan, author of the now classical work, A Living Wage; 
with Dr. Ryan is associated Dr. John A. Lapp, whose work on 
The Fundamentals of Citizenship is now widely used throughout 
the country. This Department has already done remarkable 
work in outlining programmes; in providing lecture courses in 
our seminaries and colleges; in the definite preparation of two 
important volumes; and in the publication of timely pamphlets, 
two of which are now in press. This Department shall fix the 
standards and programmes for all the social service work of the 
Council. The final steps in organizing the Department of Legis- 
lation are about to be taken. 

* * * * 

THE Press and Publicity Department has not only completed 
its home organization, with three special Bureaus, but has 
begun the issuing of a weekly news sheet to the Catholic press 
of the country. The mission of the National Catholic Welfare 
Council demanded that existing Catholic organizations should, 
through its efforts, be helped and strengthened in their appointed 
fields. For years, through much labor and sacrifice, the Catholic 
Press Association had done creditable work for Catholic journal- 
ism. Only those who were with it in its pioneer days and who 
were then encouraged and fortified by the leadership of its 
President, the Right Rev. James J. Hartley, Bishop of Co- 
lumbus, know from experience the almost insurmountable dif- 
ficulties that had to be met. 

Almost all the Catholic journals of the country are members 
of the Catholic Press Association. Its news service was credit- 
ably handled. It asked for the extension of that news service. 
This could not be done by the funds at the disposal of the As- 
sociation. The Press and Publicity Department of the National 
Catholic Welfare Council has undertaken to supply this. 

* * * * 

BEFORE the work of organization was undertaken, the Na- 
tional Catholic Welfare Council through the Episcopal Chair- 
man of the Press Department attended the National Convention 


of the Catholic Press Association. Eight members of the latter 
are members also of the Executive Committee of the Press De- 
partment of the National Catholic Welfare Council, and the 
agreement made with the Press Department of the Council means 
that the Catholic Press Association will be stronger and more 
efficient than ever before. To those vital questions of uniform 
size; of national advertising; of common purchase of paper, it 
will now be able to give its full attention. The Press and Pub- 
licity Department has, as we have said, organized an Information 
and Clipping Bureau and also a Book and Pamphlet Bureau, 
which will not only keep in touch with all Catholic publications, 
but will file copies of the same in its library at national head- 
quarters. The Executive Committee of the Department will be 
announced at a later date. 

* * * * 

IN the formation of the Department of Lay Organizations it was 
necessary, first, to form a National Council of Catholic Women, 
which would help in a national way every existing Catholic or- 
ganization of women, use existing societies for the national work 
that is to be done, and also sustain and direct its own service 
department for national social service work. The success 
achieved by the women's organizations during the War and in 
after-the-war work under the direction of the Committee on Spe- 
cial War Activities of the National Catholic War Council, made 
imperative the existence of such an organization. The women's 
work thus conducted must be sustained and directed after the 
active labors of the National Catholic War Council have ceased. 
A National Catholic Women's Council that will continue to direct 
and supervise it is of supreme importance. That the Catholic 
women of the country realize this was evidenced most widely 
and most enthusiastically at the national conference held under 
the direction of the Episcopal Chairman of the Department, 
Bishop Schrembs of Toledo. 

* * * * 

THE Conference met in Washington, March 5th, 6th, and 7th. 
Two hundred attended: of these one hundred and seven were 
voting delegates. To its deliberations were invited representa- 
tives of all the dioceses of the country, representatives of all 
national Catholic women's organizations, and some "unattached" 
women who have made their name in Catholic social service. 

The mind of the Convention expressed one purpose the for- 
mation of a National Council of Catholic Women; a constitution 
and programme were adopted; national officers elected; and every 

1920.] WITH OUR READERS 285 

Catholic organization gladly pledged its fidelity to, and its affilia- 
tion with, the National Council of Catholic Women. The work 
before it is vast and its difficulties numerous; but evidences are 
not lacking, even at this early date, that it will do great work for 

Church and for Country. 

* * * * 

THIS is but a brief summary, necessarily incomplete, of the 
formation up to date of the National Catholic Welfare Coun- 
cil. The mere recital extends the vision and enlarges the heart. 
Face to face with a crisis in our country and our civilization, the 
like of which this generation has not seen, looking upon a world 
that gives of itself no comfort, but distress and bewilderment, is 
it not comforting and inspiring to know that our divinely ap- 
pointed leaders have with such foresight prepared us to meet the 
nation's problems and enemies with well-buttressed organization? 
The National Catholic Welfare Council exists for the service of all, 
individual and organization. To the smallest of our Catholic 
societies and the largest, in any department where information 
or guidance is helpful, it must give all the help at its command. 
It has no centralized authority; it seeks not to direct, but to help 
and to serve. It narrows no one's field of activity. It enlarges 
the broad area of Catholic work, and gives what it can in the way 
of opportunity for all to serve more efficiently. Behind every 
Catholic organization it places permanently the background of 
national organization. Today the local Catholic organization 
is refused a share in community chests because it is simply local 
and has no national standing. Community work cannot be ex- 
tended unless an organization has its trained workers with na- 
tional experience, its national service school, its national organ- 
ization. A national council provides these. Time and again does 
the necessity present itself of common Catholic action; and that 
is possible only through a National Catholic Council. 

* * * * 

SOCIAL service is the common work of all : it is but the channel 
whence we bring to men a knowledge and love of the 
Faith which inspires us, which is dearer to us than life itself. 
Without that Faith it lacks meaning; it conveys no comfort; it in- 
creases rather than lightens the problem to which it may apply 
itself. The common effort of unified Catholic strength is the 
concert of the faith of American Catholics, seeking to express it- 
self most effectively for the welfare of Church and of Country. 
Trumpet-tongued, its message shall be heard through all the land, 
illustrating the saving truth of Jesus Christ and of His Church. 
"To become absorbed in worldly pursuits and to neglect those 


which belong to our eternal welfare, is the root evil 
whence spring the immediate causes of our present con- 
dition. God, from Whom all things are and on Whom all 
things depend, the Creator and Ruler of men, the source and sanc- 
tion of righteousness, the only Judge Who with perfect justice can 
weigh the deeds and read the hearts of men, has, practically at 
least, disappeared from the whole conception of life so far as this 
is dominated by a certain type of modern thought. Wherever this 
sort of thinking is taken as truth, there is set up a scheme of life, 
individual, social and political, which seeks, not in the eternal 
but in the human and transitory, its ultimate foundation." So 
spoke the Bishops of our country in their recent joint Pastoral. 

* * * * 

HRIST must again come to men. He comes through us, for 
each and every one of us has life only in Him; each in his 
own measure, great or small, is Christ to others. In Him we live, 
and as one with Him must we show that He died to give His life 
for all. What we work for in the world of externals is but a re- 
flection of our spiritual life within. So will the unified, 
harmonious action of the great Catholic body of the United States 
have its effective share in illustrating to men the Communion of 
Saints and our Oneness in the Mystical Body of Christ. 

THE injustice of the proposed Home Rule Bill for Ireland, and 
the dishonesty of those who claim it gives freedom of gov- 
ernment to that country, are glaringly apparent from the fact that 
the Bill provides that by English power, "the Free and Accepted 
Masons of the Grand Lodge of Ireland and any lodge or society 
recognized by that body shall not be included in the enactments 
relative to unlawful oaths or unlawful assemblies." In other 
words neither of the proposed parliaments in Ireland shall have 
the authority to forbid Freemasons from taking "unlawful oaths" 
or calling or attending "unlawful assemblies." Such a provision 
simply hamstrings the government proposed. It makes the Bill 
a farce, and proves again that the English Government is not pre- 
pared and does not intend to do justice to Ireland. 

DURING the course of their publication, we called editorial at- 
tention to the exceptional worth of the papers, entitled "St. 
Matthew and the Parousia," by the Rev. Edmund T. Shanahan, 
S. T. D., contributed to THE CATHOLIC WORLD. 

In the current Dublin Review, Father Hugh Pope writes 

1920.] BOOKS RECEIVED 287 

"On the Coming of Christ." In the course of his article he states : 
"We venture to suggest that this eschatological problem may 
have been solved in THE CATHOLIC WORLD'S series of twelve 
papers by Dr. Shanahan, entitled 'St. Matthew and the Parousia.' 
We say without hesitation that these papers are the work of a 
leal exegete." 

Father Pope then follows Dr. Shanahan step by step. In the 
reconciliation or explanation of the words of the prophets and 
the teaching of our Blessed Lord, he finds that Dr. Shanahan has 
made a "discovery of immense importance," for it affords us a 
test which we can apply at once, and which is found to fit the lock 
and open up the secrets in a fashion which might almost be 
termed "uncanny." Father Pope "cannot speak too highly of 
Dr. Shanahan's work. His methods are highly critical and yet 
he has not let himself be misled by the tools he has employed." 

Our readers will all share the hope he voices that Dr. 
Shanahan's papers will soon appear in book form. 


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JUNE, 1920 

No. 663 



T is interesting to observe that Catholics fre- 
quently complain, with a certain irritation, that 
the Protestant mind seems incapable of under- 
standing the essential value of the Church or the 
psychology of individual Catholics themselves. 
Protestants, it is often said, have an opaque side in their 
mentality, "like the moon," and it is frequently turned toward 
their Catholic brethren. This is a quotation, and I do not 
feel entirely responsible for the metaphor. This is very easily 
explained, since the Catholic religion among persons who 
have let us say "inherited" it, becomes as easily worn as 
an old glove. It answers to every movement of the soul and 
the mind. There is very little stiffness about it, and if wrinkles 
do occur in its surface there is generally an effective rule for 
smoothing them out. 

It is not that Catholics are a singular people, set apart, 
but that they have a point of view not always easily explained 
to other people, and a point of view which they do not, as a 
rule, attempt to explain because to them it seems obvious. 

On the other hand, it is safe to say that Catholics do not 
take very much trouble to study the cast of mind of non-Catho- 

1 The Letters of Henry James. Selected and Edited by Percy Lubbock. 
I., II. New York: Charles Scrlbner's Sons. 


Copyright. 1920. 

VOL. CXI. 19 



lies. "There's the Catholic Church," they say, "you can take 
it or leave it." Of course, some non-Catholics do at times 
utter rather banal things which one cannot always take seri- 
ously. Some of the things, however, that we say at times must 
sound equally astounding to our separated friends. I happen 
to know, for instance, a devout Baptist who was shocked be- 
yond words when he heard the request a zealous sodalist 
made to a pious nun that she might pray for the happy death 
of three neighbors. This request, from the Baptist point of 
view, confirmed his worst suspicions. It seemed such an 
unchristian way of getting rid of obnoxious persons. To speak 
in a more moderate manner, however, it is rather inconsistent 
that we should constantly complain of being misunderstood, 
that our compatriots do not take the trouble to analyze the 
reasons for our conviction or the motives for our actions, when 
we are so remiss in our study of the mental and spiritual 
habits and motives of our companions and friends in every- 
day life. 

In reading The Letters of Henry James with some Catho- 
lic friends, I am very much struck with the truth of this. 
I must confess that I found them rather intolerant, rather un- 
sympathetic, and rather inclined to demolish all the exquisite 
artistry of the author of these letters because he seems to have 
left the great question which is the central motive of all Catho- 
lics out of his sphere. And it is plain that in these letters, 
when he shows himself to be neither a philosopher nor a 
mystic, he evinces very little interest in that great matter which 
is the chief concern of all of our Faith the union of the 
human soul with God. 

It is an appalling void, but then it may be that neither in 
his books nor in his letters does Henry James reveal his inmost 

It is curious that a man so removed from an insight into 
the very things that made Italy very beautiful to him, who is 
always conscious of the lack of these things in American life, 
should have made his one important play, Guy Domville, turn 
on the subject of Catholic life in England at the time when 
the Church was proscribed. This play was a failure, not be- 
cause of its literary faults, but because of its very perfection 
and an undramatic end. There are touches of both pathos 
and humor when this very precious, exquisite, and meticulous 


artist tried to write down to the taste of the British public in 
the theatre. 

In his letter written on January 9, 1895, to his brother, 
William James, the distinguished apostle of Pragmatism, he 

Obviously the little play, which I strove to make as 
broad, as simple, as clear, as British, in a word, as possible, 
is over the heads of the usual vulgar theatre-going London 
public and the chance of its going for a while (which it is 
too early to measure) will depend wholly on its holding on 
long enough to attract the unusual. I was there the sec- 
ond night (Monday, 7th) when, before a full house a re- 
markably good "money" house Alexander told me it went 
singularly well. But it's soon to see or to say, and I'm pre- 
pared for the worst. The thing fills me with horror for the 
abysmal vulgarity and brutality of the theatre and its reg- 
ular public, which God knows I have had intensely, even 
when working (from motives as "pure" as pecuniary mo- 
tives can be) against it; and I feel as if the simple freedom 
of mind thus begotten to return to one's legitimate form 
would be simply by itself a divine solace for everything. 
Don't worry about me: I'm a Rock. If the play has no 
life on the stage, I shall publish it; it's altogether the best 
thing I've done. You would understand better the ele- 
ments of the case if you had seen the thing it followed (The 
Masqueraders) and the thing that is now succeeding at the 
Haymarket the thing of Oscar Wilde's. On the basis of 
their being plays, or successes, my thing is necessarily 
neither. Doubtless, moreover, the want of a roaring actu- 
ality, simplified to a few big familiar effects, in my sub- 
ject an episode in the history of an old English Catholic 
family in the last century militates against it, with all 
usual theatrical people, who don't want plays (from variety 
and nimbleness of fancy) of different kinds, like books and 
stories, but only of one kind, which their stiff, rudimentary, 
clumsily-working vision recognizes as the kind they've had 
before. And yet I had tried so to meet them! But you 
can't make a sow's ear out of a silk purse. I can't write 
more and don't ask for more details. 

At several times in his life Henry James desired earnestly 
to write plays. He believed that he had the dramatic gift; 
but nobody who reads The Wings of the Dove or The Golden 


Bowl or The Awkward Age will believe this. It is true, how- 
ever, that some of his long, early stories and some of his 
shorter ones fall naturally into theatrical form; but that he 
could ever have been induced in later life to create characters 
who acted directly, or who were permitted to act without 
finesse, is doubtful. There came a tune when he looked on 
Daisy Miller a very direct tale and until recently the most 
widely read of all his stories as an indiscretion of youth, 
and regarded Washington Square and The Portrait of a Lady 
and even The Ambassadors as not quite worthy of the per- 
fected artistry of his later years. 

It was the fashion some years ago for the more cultured 
of the ignorant to dismiss Browning with a sneer, and later to 
yawn over Francis Thompson; and it is the fashion of the 
same class of people, who exist in great numbers today, to 
treat Henry James as the representation of a school of affec- 
tation as outworn as that which produced the preciosity of 
Madame de Rambouillet. 

It is not probable that this kind of person will read these 
letters, or try to pluck out the heart of the mystery of the 
great talent of this very unusual American. James has been 
declared to be the first of literary poseurs, when in fact he 
seldom poses. Those who dislike his works have been known 
to say that he was the most egoistical of authors; but a careful 
reading of these very interesting letters though there are too 
many of them will show that he is neither a poseur nor even 
an egoist. 

In fact, the letters are disappointing because they reveal so 
little of the inner soul of Henry James, from the fact that while 
he may become unconscious of himself, he is always borne 
down by the consciousness of other people. It is evident that 
his main defect is the fear of life; he constantly speaks of 
himself as "crouching" in his little garden-house at Rye. He 
could not live without society, but this society must be a 
society of conventional refinement, of conventional culture; 
he always seems to be afraid to go beyond the surfaces of life. 
He was constantly engaged in polishing these surfaces. But 
a book is not a useless book if it gives us new light on the 
types of mental growth cultivated by circumstances which 
surround us in our own country, and in other countries. And 
whether a serious reader may like or dislike the productions 


of Henry James, it would be careless of him to neglect the op- 
portunity of discovering the effect of educating environments 
on such a sensitive man as this most distinguished of all 
American prose writers. 

It would be difficult for the serious reader, if he is not a 
student of literature, to disregard all the productions of Henry 
James, for his "first" manner is so reasonably realistic, that 
one can always see the wood for the leaves, whereas, in the 
later, or "second" manner, the leaves curl and twist and ara- 
besque and lose themselves and their shapes into such 
wreathes of mist as to make the twigs, as well as the branches 
and trunks of the trees, seem impalpable. But, as an artist 
of his "second" manner, he always drew real trunks of trees 
in his academic groves; they are there, though clouded; he 
was not that kind of artist whose slovenliness in drawing 
obliges him to slur the anatomy of his subject. And this fact 
leaves us with a certain admiration of those nebulous crea- 
tions of his "second" manner, What Marie Knew, The Awk- 
ward Age, The Golden Bowl. Few persons have discovered 
what Marie really knew, and The Golden Bowl one may, not 
irreverently, compare with "Sordello" which even Browning 
never really understood. Henry James' attitude towards the 
public in the later books was probably like that of Lord Dun- 
sany when two enterprising young geniuses, energetic students 
of literature, said to him in one rapturous voice: "We love 
your works, but we don't understand them." "Understand 
them!" repeated the author of "Why the Milkman Shivers at 
the Sight of the Dawn," in a sepulchral voice. That was 
enough ! 

In his later novels, Henry James aimed not at the under- 
standing but at the temperament and the emotions, and it is 
only justice to look at them from this point of view. One may 
dislike the music of Debussy even "The Afternoon of a 
Faun" but that is no reason why the beauty of its art should 
not be acknowledged. And the same dictum ought to apply 
to The Wings of the Dove, The Sacred Fount, and The Awk- 
ward Age. 

When Henry James devoted himself both to the telling of 
a story and the creating of an atmosphere, he was an exquisite 
artist in letters. There is no better short story in any language 
than "The Turn of the Screw" and there are other short 


stories of his that approach it in merit. There is nothing in 
Poe more gruesomely pathetic or pathetically terrible, than in 
this story. When you have finished it, you shudder, and thank 
God that the story of the "possessed" children is not true. 
Of this story, James writes to Mr. Arthur Christopher Benson, 
in 1898: 

But apropos, precisely, of the ghostly and ghastly, I have 
a little confession to make to you that has been on my con- 
science these three months, and that I hope will excite in 
your generous breast nothing but tender memories and 
friendly sympathies. 

On one of those two memorable never to be obliterated 
winter nights that I spent at the sweet Addington, your 
father, in the drawing-room by the fire, where we were 
talking a little, in the spirit of recreation, of such things, 
repeated to me the few meagre elements of a small and 
gruesome spectral story that had been told him years be- 
fore, and that he could only give the dimmest account of 
partly because he had forgotten details, and partly and 
much more because there had been no details and no 
coherency in the tale as he received it, from a person who 
also but half knew it. The vaguest essence only was there 
some dead servants and some children. This essence 
struck me, and I made a note of it (of a most scrappy kind) 
on going home. There the note remained till this autumn, 
when, struck with it afresh, I wrought it into a fantastic 
fiction which, first intended to be of the briefest, finally be- 
came a thing of some length, and is now being "serialized" 
in an American periodical. It will appear late in the spring 
(chez Heinemann) in a volume with one other story, and 
then I will send it to you. 

In all these letters, which concern his books, one finds a 
disdain of the public mingled with a desire for its approba- 
tion. Except in his plays, he will not go one step forward or 
backward as he might have said to gain this approbation. 
He tells us that the faculty of attention has vanished from the 
Anglo-Saxon mind. He pictures the newspaper, the maga- 
zine, "who keeps screaming, 'Look at me, I am the thing, and 
I only the thing!' " He insists that, for the people, the fineness 
of art does not exist. To love an imitation of art for they 
can love only imitations it must be thrown bodily at them. 


Mr. James had not, before his death, realized the despotism 
of the "movie" that most degenerate form of public art. 

Mr. Henry James never actually visualized anything, ex- 
cept his friends and his attitude to his friends. We read that 
his flower garden at Rye, which was probably, after conversa- 
tion, the principal joy of his life, was ablaze with color. He 
loved "Lamb House," Rye. He liked the society of London, 
but he was really never happy in London; yet he was much 
happier in the fogs of London and in the close quarters of De 
Vere Gardens than he ever was in his own country. His dis- 
like for the United States and its crudities of atmosphere he 
cannot conceal, even if he would. He found some compensa- 
tion for being in his native air in the splendors of California; 
but New York, with its horse shoe tiers, in the Metropolitan 
Opera House, blazing with diamond tiaras, because there was 
"no court in which to display them," almost made him 

He deliberately expatriated himself, and he frankly gives 
his reason for this. Any one who knows both London and 
New York, both Surrey in one place and Ulster County in 
another, can understand very well why his temperament suited 
Surrey better than Ulster. His point of view was distinctly 
artificial, every action and word seemed to have been carefully 
analyzed and reduced to a uniformity of social color; but in 
his letters to his friends he lets himself loose and yet with a 
certain restraint. Strictly speaking, he ought to be less ex- 
aggerated than he is in his epistolary expressions; and yet he 
restrains himself from being restrained. It seems scarcely 
possible that the meticulous ironing out and attenuating of 
phrases so characteristic of his later work, could exist in the 
same atmosphere with the exaggerated generosities, over- 
statements and superfluous phrases in his letters. Verbally, 
he throws himself at the heads of his friends. A small present 
fills him with ecstasy. An amiable line or two is "splendid;" 
a slight defect in something, "positively hideous." There is 
no happy medium between a moderate feeling expressed in a 
friendly way and the high notes of exaggerated affection. 

Of the women in Catriona, by Robert Louis Stevenson, he 
says: "They are quite too lovely and everyone is running 
after them. In David not an error, not a false note ever; 
he is all of an exasperating truth and Tightness." James has 


a passion for distinctions, very subtle and not very convincing 
distinctions. Of Catriona he subtilizes : 

The one thing I miss in the book is the note of visibility 
it subjects my visual sense, my seeing imagination, to an 
almost painful underfeeding. The hearing imagination, as 
it were, is nourished like an alderman, and the loud audi- 
bility seems a slight the more on the baffled lust of the 
eyes so that I seem to myself (I am speaking of course 
only from the point of view of the way, as I read, my im- 
pression longs to complete itself), in the presence of voices 
in the darkness voices the more distinct and vivid, the 
more brave and sonorous, as voices always are but also 
the more tormenting and confounding by reason of these 
bandaged eyes. I utter a pleading moan when you, e. g., 
transport your characters, toward the end, in a line or two 
from Leyden to Dunkirk, without the glint of a hint of all 
the ambient picture of the eighteenth century road. How- 
ever, stick to your own system of evocation so long as what 
you positively achieve is so big. Life and letters and art 
all take joy in you. 

Every friend he writes to is a swan, and he tells him so; 
and it is quite evident that he is not consciously insincere in 
this attitude. He seems to be grateful for the shortest line 
that anybody addresses to him in a letter. He is benignant, 
kind, simple; but there are times when you read between the 
lines and discover that he may be at times a little sulky, some- 
what easily offended by difference of opinion in regard to his 
art, and always contemptuous of that rude public which 
might easily become dear to him were it to throng in large 
numbers to the plays which he has written for it. But his 
judgments on the contemporary drama in England, though 
over colored by his own artistic tint, are generally just. He 
sees an "Ideal Husband:" it was a raging success; the fine 
flower of fashion bloomed in its presence, and yet in spite of 
the popular acclaim he found it clumsy, feeble and vulgar, 
and he was right. 

He delays writing a letter to Edmund Gosse, and he hopes 
that Gosse will not think him "a finished brute or a heartless 
fiend or a soulless one" because he has not answered it; he 
has pressed the letter to his bosom again and again; and 
then he makes some very exaggerated excuses. Mrs. Humphry 


Ward consults him as to some detail in the American back- 
ground of her novel, Eleanor. He writes: 

For it's well generally to keep in mind how very dif- 
ferent a thing tnat is (socially, aesthetically, etc.) from the 
American free (and easy) multitudinous churches, that, 
practically, in any community, are like so many (almost) 
clubs or Philharmonics or amateur theatrical companies. 
I don't quite think the however obscure American girl I 
gather you to conceive would have any shockability about 
Rome, the Pope, St. Peter's, kneeling, or anything of that 
sort least of all, any girl whose concatenations could, by 
any possibility of social handing-on, land her in the milieu 
you present at Albano. She would probably be either a 
Unitarian or "Orthodox" (which is, I believe, "Congrega- 
tional," though in New England always called "Orthodox"), 
and in either case as Emersonized, Hawthornized, J. A. 
Symondsized, and as "frantic" to feel the Papacy, etc., as 
one could well represent her. And this, I mean, even were 
she of any provincial New England circle whatever, that one 
could conceive as ramifying, however indirectly, into Villa 
Barb. This particularly were her father, a college profes- 
sor. In that case, I should say "The bad clothes, etc., oh, 
yes; as much as you like. The beauty, etc., scarcely. The 
offishness to Rome as a spectator, etc. almost not at all." 
All this, roughly and hastily speaking. But there is no 
false note of surface, beyond this, I think, that you need be 
uneasy about at all. Had I looked over your shoulder I 
should have said: "Specify, localize, a little more give 
her a definite Massachusetts, or Maine, or whatever, habita- 
tion imagine a country-college-town invent, if need be, 
a name, and stick to that." This for smallish, but appre- 
ciable reasons that I haven't space to develop but after all 
not imperative. For the rest the chapters you send me are, 
as a beginning, to my vision, very charming and interesting 
and pleasing full of promise of strong elements as your 
beginnings always are. 

He meets Zola and finds him sane, and common, and in- 
experienced; nothing has ever happened to him in this world 
except the writing of his succession of "scientific novels." In a 
letter to his friend, Howells, he tells him that he is not as 
"big" as Zola, but that he has certain compensating qualities. 

One can understand why Henry James admired the re- 


straint, the sincerity, and the subdued vitality of Howell's pic- 
tures of life, but we cannot comprehend why a man of his fas- 
tidious temperament could have endured the crudeness and 
lack of reality in Zola's experiments in realism but it was the 
fashion of the '80's to speak of Zola as one of the seculse of 

He closed Meredith's Lord Ormont and His Aminta with a 
furious "bang." He finds this much-vaunted novel of Mere- 
dith is full of extravagant verbiage, of airs and graces, of 
phrases and attitudes, of obscurities and alembications. He 
thinks that no author ever told the reader less of what the 
reader needs to know. This last bit of censure might easily 
be turned against James himself in his later works. But 
underneath all his statements of admiration for certain Eng- 
lish authors, it is impossible to avoid the conclusion that there 
is really no great literature for him except the French. 

Of his own works he gives a list to a gentleman who wants 
to read them in philosophical rotation; he is a young Texan, 
and that a request for this information should come from 
Texas causes Henry James to comply with it very pleasantly. 
"Come to me about that dear young man from Texas, you shall 
have your little tarts when you have eaten your beef and 
potatoes." But his list, when we consider that he tried to 
revise all the direct characteristics of simplicity from his 
earlier books, is of no special value. He puts The Golden Bowl 
at the end. 

There are allusions to politics in his letters. He may 
allow himself some criticisms of England and the Eng- 
lish, but he evidently looks on all political manifestations in 
the United States, which are not sympathetically English, as 
nefarious. In August, 1913, he writes : 

I take you all to have been much moved by Woodrow 
Wilson's fine, and clearly so sincere, even if so partial and 
provisional, address yesterday. It isn't he, but it is the so 
long and so deeply provincialized and diseducated and, I 
fear in respect to individual activity and operative, that is 
administrative value very below-the-mark "personalities" 
of the Democratic party, that one is pretty dismally anxious 
about. An administration that has to "take on" Bryan 
looks, from the overhere point of view, like the queerest 
and crudest of all things! 


He is a friend and admirer of H. G. Wells. He tells Wells 
that his generosity in sending him a book has reduced him to 
"mere gelatinous grovel," and he is amiable when Miss Hen- 
rietta Rubell tells him that she is bewildered over The Awk- 
ward Age. He says that the book has excited nothing but be- 
wilderness, except in England, "thick-witted denunciation." 
He declares that a work of art fails in its mission if it has to 
be explained. He tells her, in the kind of French he occa- 
sionally drops into, that he had in view a highly modern and 
actual social London group which seemed to him to se preter 
a merveille to an "ironic" lightly and simply ironic treatment 
and that clever people at least would know "who, in general, 
and what, one meant." But here, at least, it appears "here 
are very few clever people." 

At times, one sees that Mr. James was disappointed even 
in the English mind. The average clever person takes the 
attitude of the serious Scot in the presence of a joke when he 
approaches The Awkward Age. James is disappointed when 
he discovers that his novels do not pay, and yet he would 
have been even more disappointed if they were not "caviare to 
the general." 

His letters to his brother, the philosopher, Mr. William 
James, are really the most sincerely human in the book; and 
his discovery that he has been all his life a Pragmatist without 
knowing it, is very delightful. Of the real problems of exist- 
ence the problems which at some time or other must have 
concerned nearly every one of his correspondents especially 
men like Bourget and Barres, whom he admires so much, he 
seems in his letters to have no conception. He breaks out into 
a burst of admiration of a figure of the Crucified in the Boston 
Library; but this admiration is founded on the artistic con- 
ception of it rather than the awfulness of its symbolism. 

To us, desiring to understand the attitude of a very dis- 
tinguished artist in letters, who had a purity of outlook which 
may be called Emersonian, a hatred of vulgarity which pre- 
vented him from presenting a sensual scene, and an exquisite- 
ness of perception which made him very susceptible to the 
glow and glory of Venice and of Rome and to the loveliness of 
Italy, it seems strange that there is no hint that he believed in 
the actuality of the life to come; sometimes he almost seems 
to say with Autolycus, in a Winter's Tale "for the life to 


come, I sleep out the thought of it:" for his fineness of analy- 
sis, his immersion in a world of characters who were sublim- 
ated dreams, seems in a sense to have been a refuge from the 
grave thoughts that occasionally must have oppressed him. 
He loved life, but only the well-ordered beauties of life; but 
he dwelt in a valley arranged like the landscapes in the poems 
of Alexander Pope; the light of the sublime or of the highest 
exaltation seems never to have touched him. 

In very few ancient or modern artists of the brush or of 
the pen do we find, judging from their confessions, so little of 
those touches of light which is never seen on land or sea than 
in the revelations of Henry James. He was not English in 
temperament, though he loved England. He was not Latin in 
character, though he adored the literature of France. He was 
always an American. And he never could if he wanted to 
rid himself of his Americanism. His peculiar state of mind, 
the especial values of his characteristics, could never have 
been produced outside of New England; therefore his letters 
offer a most interesting study to us to whom the things of the 
soul are the greatest of all, and the promise of a future life 
the one thing that makes us not afraid to live in this. 

One leaves these letters with a certain regret and a certain 
doubt. With regret, because they contain such an embarrass- 
ment of riches that no review can do justice to them; with a 
certain doubt because it almost seems that a more careful ex- 
amination would reveal the real man who must exist some- 
where among their exaggerations, their half truths, their 
charming touches of humanity, and their insincerities which 
are only the shadows of the sincerity that evidently lay deep 
in the heart of this very precious and fine artist. 



JHE strange signals which have been picked up by 
wireless stations recently have been repeatedly 
declared to come from the planet Mars. This be- 
lief has been strengthened by the regularity and 
insistence with which these signals manifest them- 
selves. That these signals may come from the sun, which 
displays prodigious activity, has been denied by such men as 
Marconi and Flammarion. The belief that they come from 
Mars presupposes not only that Mars is inhabited, but also that 
the inhabitants, if any, have at least reached a state of civil- 
ization similar to our own. 

During the last fifty years it has been repeatedly claimed 
by astronomers of great fame that Mars is inhabited by beings 
not only equal, but far in advance of us in the journey of life. 
This claim is based primarily on the supposed existence of 
canals on Mars. A canal is an artificial waterway, designed 
for navigation or for irrigating land. The word canal implies 
in the first place, artificial construction by conscious, rational 
beings, working knowingly toward a definite, useful end. In 
the second place, a canal supposes the presence of water. A 
canal is, as a rule, long, narrow and of approximately equal 
width. However, the question of size and shape is entirely 
subordinate to that of artificiality. A natural waterway is 
never called a canal, but a channel, strait, river, or canyon. 
In other words, before a canal can exist at all there must be 
conscious effort directed towards its construction, and there 
must be water to flow through it. 

On the surface of Mars there have been observed faint, 
narrow, seasonal markings. If these markings were canals in 
the true sense of the word, then there would be no doubt 
whatever of the existence on Mars of conscious beings, en- 
dowed with intelligence and practical ability to construct such 
artificial waterways. But the most critical studies of these 
Martian markings point to the conclusion that they are not 
true canals. 

The markings on the surface of Mars were first discovered 


by the Italian astronomer, Schiaparelli, in 1877. He called them 
"canali" and likened them to the English Channel, or to the 
Channel of Mozambique. Although he regarded them as per- 
manent features of the planet, he did not declare them, at 
first, to be of artificial origin. In his later days, however, he 
changed his view and considered the markings to be artificial 
waterways. His view has also been endorsed by Flammarion 
in France, and Lowell in the United States. All three became 
convinced that Mars was peopled by a race of superior beings. 

The markings of Mars, as studied and drawn by Lowell, 
with the aid of a most powerful telescope, appear as geometric 
lines and look as if they had been laid down by rule and com- 
pass. Each line is of uniform width all along its course, and 
stretches across the planet's surface in an undeviated, un- 
broken direction. The lines vary in actual width from two to 
forty miles. Their length is also enormous; the longest ex- 
ceeds 3,500 miles, and many stretch 2,000 and even 3,000 miles 
across the surface of the planet. These lines always take the 
shortest route between the two points they join. On the earth 
some of these lines would stretch from London to Calcutta, 
crossing mountains, plains and seas, in an unbroken straight 
course forty miles wide. 

These lines form a network over the surface of Mars. 
They never cross each other, but intersect at their ends. Near 
the poles of Mars the mesh of lines becomes smaller and 
smaller and the lines more and more numerous. They seem 
to proceed to or from the poles. No part of the surface of 
Mars is free of these lines. 

At the principal intersections of the lines have been ob- 
served dark round dots, which have been called "oases." In 
all, one hundred and twenty-one oases have been noticed. 

What is more peculiar about the Martian lines is the fact 
that at times they appear double, as two close parallel twin 
lines. Thus where before only one line was present, there 
appear two, one the exact replica of the other. The twin lines 
are but a short distance apart, are of the same size, of the. 
same length, and parallel throughout their entire course. 
When once seen as double, a line remains so for a period of 
four or five months. But not all lines appear double; in fact, 
many never do. Only certain lines display this peculiar prop- 
erty of doubleness, and no others. 

1920.] 75 MARS INHABITED? 303 

The peculiar appearance of double lines occurs only dur- 
ing certain Martian seasons. In one season one line of the 
pair may appear relatively stronger than the other, and may 
give the impression of a single line. In other seasons the two 
lines are equally strong, giving the impression of being twin 
lines. It is during late Martian summer and fall of the north- 
ern hemisphere that the double lines appear clearest. 

Lowell claims that the lines on the surface of Mars are 
real canals because of their straightness, their individually 
uniform size, their position in regard to the planet's funda- 
mental features, their relation to the oases, the dual char- 
acter of some of them, and above all, because of the syste- 
matic networking by both lines and oases of the whole surface 
of the planet. The last point is especially emphasized. Lowell 
describes the lines and oases as a system whose end and aim 
is the collection of the water let loose by the semi-annual 
melting of the snow at the north and south poles of Mars, and 
its distribution to the different parts of the planet's surface. 

One of the greatest stumbling-blocks in considering the 
Martian lines as true canals, is the fact that many astronomers 
have failed to confirm the existence of most of the lines. 
Young, of Princeton University, found that the lines could be 
observed only with the aid of low powers. With high powers 
the lines became mere shadings, undefined and irregular. 
Keeler and Barnard could see only soft, irregular shadings and 
some broad, hazy, ill-defined streaks. Maunder denies the 
existence of any lines, and explains their appearance to be due 
to optical illusions. Thus, when viewing very faint shadings 
and scattered dots, there is often a tendency to "see" imag- 
inary lines connecting them. 

Another strong objection against the reality of the canal- 
like lines is the fact that strikingly similar lines have been ob- 
served on the planets Mercury and Venus. That one planet 
should display such curious markings is very strange, indeed, 
but for three planets to have similar markings is incredible. 

The regularity and straight course of the lines is by no 
means a proof of their artificial character, but rather a proof 
that they are due either to some optical effect or to some 
natural cause or causes. In the first place, Mars is not a per- 
fectly smooth globe. Its surface has hills, valleys and moun- 
tains, some of which are as high as 4,000 or 5,000 feet. Arti- 


ficial waterways constructed by intelligent beings, would fol- 
low and be conditioned by the natural contour of the surface. 
This is the case with all artificial constructions on our own 
planet, the earth. Where the surface is dotted with hills, 
valleys, and mountains of several thousand feet altitude, it is 
plain that the shortest distance between two points is often 
the most difficult, and the longest way around is frequently the 
quickest way home. The lines on Mars always take the short- 
est course between two points, regardless of valleys, hills, or 
mountains. This certainly does not indicate the presence of 
conscious, intelligent beings. 

The geometrical character of the lines also is no proof 
of their artificiality. Geometrical shapes and forms, such as 
snowflakes and rock crystals, are found everywhere in nature 
and they can be explained by the operation of natural forces. 

Moreover, Mars is a dry planet. If any water is present 
at all, it would be due to the melting of the snow at the north 
and south poles of Mars. During northern summer the water 
would have to flow from the north through the canals in the 
temperate zone, past the equator and fertilize the plains to 
some thirty-five degrees south latitude. During southern sum- 
mer, on the other hand, the water would have to flow north- 
ward, reaching thirty-five degrees north latitude. In other 
words, if the lines on Mars were true canals, the water flowing 
through the canals lying in the region between thirty-five 
degrees south and thirty-five degrees north, would have to 
flow up-hill as readily as down-hill. Such a supposition would 
do away with the force of gravitation entirely. To overcome 
this difficulty Lowell asserts that the flow of water on Mars 
is not conditioned by natural forces, but propelled artificially. 
But such an assertion presupposes feats of engineering that 
stagger the imagination. 

To push speculation and imagination to such extremes, in 
order to make facts suit a theory, is farcical, when the most 
fundamental conditions of the planet are still unknown. 
There is no undisputed direct evidence that water even exists 
upon the surface of Mars. Its presence is inferred from the 
behavior of the polar caps. This inference itself is still a 
mooted question. The polar caps are more or less circular 
brilliant white spots observed near, but not at, the poles of 
Mars. These spots vary in size according to the Martian sea- 

1920.] 75 MARS INHABITED? 305 

sons. During the long northern winter the polar caps increase 
in size and diminish during the alternate period when con- 
tinuously exposed to the rays of the sun. Similar phenomena 
occur on the earth. Each winter immense fields of ice are 
formed and vast quantities of snow are deposited over great 
regions in the northern hemisphere, thus forming a brilliant 
white cap around the north pole. During summer much of 
this ice and snow melts and the cap diminishes in size. By 
analogy it has been inferred that the brilliant polar caps, vis- 
ible on Mars, are also due to the formation of real snow and 
ice during Martian winter. But such an explanation of the 
polar caps on Mars necessarily implies the existence of an 
atmosphere around Mars similar to that surrounding the earth. 
That is to say, an atmosphere in which the vapor of water is 
carried from the hot regions of the equator and deposited as 
snow at the poles. There is no doubt that Mars is enveloped 
by an atmosphere, but it is equally certain that the latter is 
not similar to the terrestrial atmosphere. The Martian atmos- 
phere is exceedingly rare and transparent. If any clouds 
exist in the Martian atmosphere they are exceedingly rare, 
thin and semi-transparent. Storm clouds have never been ob- 
served in the atmosphere of Mars. 

The presence of water vapor in the Martian atmosphere is 
also a matter of dispute. The light which we receive from 
Mars is the reflected sunlight which necessarily has to pass 
twice through the atmosphere of Mars. Any vapors in that 
atmosphere will absorb their own characteristic rays from the 
sunlight and make their presence known by modifying the 
solar spectrum. But vapors in the atmosphere of the earth 
also produce such changes in the solar spectrum, so that it is 
exceedingly difficult to decide as to whether an observed 
modification is due to vapor in the atmosphere of Mars, or of 
the earth. 

Further, the gravitation on the surface of Mars is only 
about four-tenths that of the earth. In other words, a man of 
average weight of one hundred and fifty pounds transported 
to Mars, would weigh only sixty pounds. As a result the atmos- 
phere of Mars is as thin and rarified as at the tops of the 
highest mountains on earth. The temperature on Mars would, 
therefore, be far below the freezing point of water, especially 
so since Mars is a little more than one and a half times as far 

VOL. CXI. 20 


from the sun as the earth, and receives only about forty-three 
per cent as much heat as the earth. Since the sun is the only 
source of heat on Mars, the temperature on the surface of 
Mars would have to be some fifty-four degrees below the 
freezing point of water. Under such conditions how can it be 
maintained that there are true canals on Mars? What would 
be their purpose? Lowell explains the artificiality of the 
Martian canals by the scarcity of water upon the planet, by 
the necessity of saving every drop of the precious fluid; to 
account for the temperature necessary for the existence of 
free water he assumes an atmosphere laden with water vapor. 
In other words, he conjures up a dry, parched desert, covered 
with a moist, saturated atmosphere! 

But no such atmospheric envelope exists on Mars and 
hence the daily variations between day and night must be 
enormous, as is the case with the moon. During the day the 
surface would be heated to a high degree by the direct rays 
of the sun, but at night this heat would be radiated forth into 
the surrounding atmosphere and the temperature fall to one 
hundred or two hundred degrees below zero. 

From these considerations one conclusion can safely be 
drawn, namely, that very little is actually known concerning 
the conditions on Mars. There is a great mass of observations 
and many beautiful drawings, but a satisfactory explanation 
of them has not yet been brought forth. Such being the case 
it is very unscientific to assume that Mars is inhabited. 

That life may exist on other planets than our own is not 
in the least impossible, or even improbable. Like the earth, 
there must be many bodies of similar general characteristics 
in the universe. Life, even human beings, exist under the most 
diverse conditions on the earth, and it is hardly conceivable 
that among the countless millions of heavenly bodies, forming 
the solar system, the earth is the only one capable of support- 
ing life. But the possibility that life may exist on other planets 
than our own, does not prove that life actually exists on a 
particular planet, like Mars. Whether life exists on Mars is a 
question of evidence, pure and simple, and the evidence rests 
upon the alleged canals. Since they are not true canals, there 
is no foundation for the belief that Mars is inhabited by con- 
scious, rational beings, like ourselves, much less by superior 



HEN, a few months ago, Lord Dunsany was trav- 
eling from city to city in America, it is probable 
that few who did honor to him as a distinguished 
author knew the titles to fame that cluster round 
the family to which he belongs. It would take 
us far too long to trace to its source in dim antiquity the race 
of Plunket. They were known in Rome six centuries before 
the sojourn there of Blessed Oliver. Donogh, son of Brian 
Boroimhe, the one hundred and seventy-fifth monarch of Ire- 
land, says O'Hart, became king of Munster in 1022, married the 
sister of Harold, the last Saxon king of England, and after a 
reign of forty-nine years laid down his sceptre, took the mon- 
astic habit, and died in the Roman monastery of St. Stephen. 
From his son, Pluingceid, have descended not only the barons 
of Dunsany, not only the bearers of the name who, in recent 
years, have been so loyal to the ancient Faith, down to the 
pure-souled young poet who stood with MacDonagh and 
Pearse, but the venerable prelate whose name last month, in 
the same Eternal City, was written forever in a still more illus- 
trious roll of fame among the Blessed Ones of God. 

Born in 1629, at Loughcrew, County Meath, he was edu- 
cated by his uncle, Patrick, titular abbot of St. Mary's in Dub- 
lin, afterwards Bishop of Ardagh and of Meath. In the com- 
pany of Father Scarampi, the Oratorian sent to Ireland as 
Internuntius by Innocent X., he went to finish his studies in 
Rome. Here he spent some time in the Irish College founded 
by Cardinal Ludovisi twenty years before, and in the Gre- 
gorian University under the Jesuits. Ordained priest in 1654, 
for twelve years he taught dogmatics and apologetics in the 
College of the Propaganda, while his talents were recognized 
by an appointment as consultor to the Congregation of the 

He was, however, no mere bookworm. The zeal for souls 
which was to lead his feet so many a weary mile, shone 
brightly in these younger days. Ever since his coming to 


Rome in the company of one of their number, he had been 
closely allied with the Fathers of the Oratory. In fact, so close 
was his attachment to them, he had asked and gained special 
permission to tarry longer in Rome in order to make further 
studies in their house of San Girolamo della Carita, where 
St. Philip himself had taken up his abode in 1551. 

An ancient and unquestioned tradition affirmed that on 
this very site had stood the house of St. Paula, the Roman 
matron who, in the fifth century, became a saint under the 
direction of St. Jerome. It is hard for us Americans to realize 
the stratum upon stratum of history in Rome, age piled on age 
from the dim past. The hospital of Santo Spirito, to which 
the young Irish priest made many a visit for the consolation of 
the sick, though as a hospital it dates only from 1198, stands 
where still earlier was the hostel for the reception of Anglo- 
Saxon pilgrims, and there lay buried two Saxon kings who had 
died in Rome before the king of Munster came there. Even in 
England, the home of a younger civilization, the same is true. 
I could take you to a corner in London where, in the seven- 
teenth century, stood the town house of a great nobleman; 
where, in the eighteenth, the tide of fashion having flowed 
westward, the same mansion was one of the most famous 
gambling houses of the day; and where in the early nine- 
teenth, on the very same piece of ground, was erected, under 
the invocation of St. Patrick, the first Catholic church built in 
London since the so-called Reformation. 

At the end of 1668, the Church's work in the land of St. 
Patrick was so crippled by the intolerance of those who ruled 
the island that of twenty-six bishops who should have been 
there, only two were able to be in residence one of them the 
very Patrick Plunket who laid the foundations of the career we 
have set out to trace. The next spring there died in exile at 
Louvain Edmund O'Reilly, Archbishop of Armagh a see with 
an inheritance of ancient and glorious traditions, and marked 
with recent stigmata of suffering for the Faith. Founded by 
the Apostle of Ireland himself about 44-5, it had numbered 
among its rulers the great St. Malachy O'Morgair, who died at 
Clairvaux in the arms of his friend, St. Bernard, in 1148. In 
the troublous times, Richard Creagh, steadfastly refusing to 
acknowledge Queen Elizabeth as head of the Church, was car- 
ried to London and thrown into the Tower, where he sue- 


cumbed to ill-treatment in 1585. His successor, Edmund 
Megauran, a Franciscan, consecrated at Rome in 1588, could 
not reach his diocese for six years, and was foully murdered 
soon after his arrival. Archbishop O'Reilly, consecrated at 
Brussels in 1654, had been three times a fugitive. Clement IX. 
chose Oliver Plunket to be his successor in the high and 
perilous seat, apparently of his own motion and solely because 
of the virtues and learning he had discovered in him. 

When the archbishop-designate went to make his fare- 
wells at the hospital of Santo Spirito, the chaplain, a saintly 
Pole, Father Jerome Miskovio, said to him with sudden vision : 
"You are going, Father, to a place where you shall shed your 
blood for the Faith." But this was not the first time that the 
thought of martyrdom had been close to him. It is recorded in 
the articles of his process that during all the twenty-five years 
in Rome he had specially loved to visit the Catacombs and 
there give free rein to his imagination mentis habenis re- 
laxatis as he tried to evoke the shadowy figures of the far- 
away heroes of the Faith who lay buried there. 

He desired to be consecrated in Rome, but this, it was 
thought, might only increase the antagonism of the English 
Protestants, so he was raised to the episcopal dignity in the 
Low Countries probably at Ghent, on the feast of St. Andrew 
another Irish prelate, Dr. French of Ferns, acting as one of 
the consecrators. Tarrying a while in London in the house of 
the confessor of Charles H.'s Catholic queen, in the endeavor 
to mitigate the hostility he had only too much reason to antic- 
ipate, he reached his see in the following March. 

Here he found his work cut out for him. The flock had 
been long without a shepherd. The discipline of the clergy 
had been relaxed to an alarming degree. Four years later he 
wrote to Cardinal Barberini, Cardinal-Protector of Ireland, 
that he had already confirmed nearly fifty thousand people, 
many of them gray-haired men and women, often under the 
open sky; and that, in the province, almost as many were still 
awaiting an opportunity to receive the sacrament. 

Persecution at first was intermittent, depending somewhat 
on the temper of the Viceroy of the moment. The second dur- 
ing his episcopate, the Earl of Essex "a sober, wise, judicious 
and pondering person," Evelyn calls him wrote in 1673 from 
Dublin Castle to his brother, Sir H. Capel : 


Here is one Oliver Plunkett, y e Romish Titular Primate 
of this Kingdome, who seems to be one of the best men of 
his Persuasion I have mett w tt ; & tho' I doubt not but he 
is industrious enough in promoting his owne Religion, yet 
I could never finde but he was of a more peaceable temper 
& more conformable to y e Government than any of their 
Titular Bishops in this Country. ... I should be glad for 
y e reasons above-mentioned you would your selfe, and 
some of our Friends, secure this Gentleman from any such 
severitie, w ch should be singly and personally inflicted on 

There were times, however, especially after Lord Essex 
had been recalled, when, like those who governed the Church 
under the pagan emperors, he was obliged to fly for his life. 
Indeed, like the Son of Man Who had not where to lay His 
head, he never had a house of his own. At times he wandered 
(in company with Dr. Brennan, then Bishop of Waterford, 
later Archbishop of Cashel), from one thatched cabin to 
another, often glad of a frugal meal of oatcake and milk, but 
always safe in trusting to the loyalty of his poor. 

Like the very different man who came from London to 
Dublin a generation after Oliver had left it under guard- 
Jonathan Swift he was known to the poor and the outcast as 
their friend. He made more than one journey on foot among 
the lonely northern hills to visit the "Tories." This name was 
soon to gain a much more widely-known application in Eng- 
lish, and even in American, history, from its use by Titus 
Oates for those who disbelieved in the "Popish Plot," and then 
for the Irish Catholic friends of the Duke of York. Originally 
it was a corruption of the Irish toiridhe, a pursuer (hence a 
plunderer). It had been used in Ireland, at least since the 
Elizabethan days, to designate the dispossessed natives who 
had been driven as outlaws to the hills, there to live after the 
manner of Robin Hood. 

The Archbishop sought them out in their retreats in order 
to persuade them, for their own sakes, to make the best, 
not the worst, of their situation. For some of them he got 
pardons, for others he made arrangements to transfer them to 
new homes beyond the sea. These journeys to the hills, so 
worthy of a good shepherd, although undertaken with the ex- 
press sanction of the Viceroy, were brought up against him on 


his trial, in an attempt to prove that he had plotted to raise 
armed rebellion with French aid. 

It was a work of mercy that delivered the Archbishop into 
his enemies' hands towards the end of his ten years' episcopate. 
He was summoned to Dublin to console the last hours of his 
uncle, the Bishop of Meath. He was warned that he took his 
life in his hands, yet he went as unhesitatingly as he had 
always done at the call of duty. The clouds, however, were 
lowering enough to have terrified a heart less stout. Arch- 
bishop Lynch of Tuam had been driven out of the country; 
immediately before Archbishop Talbot of Dublin had been 
thrown into prison, where he died. And now Blessed Oliver 
was arrested on a charge of high treason and confined in 
Dublin Castle. 

One may readily see how great would be our loss did we 
know no more of this valiant confessor of the Faith than the 
name of a new accession to the ranks of the Blessed. We 
should like to know much more of him than we do; it is tan- 
talizing to be told that there are some hundreds of his letters 
extant in the archives of the Vatican and the Propaganda, 
waiting till some one has time and energy to transcribe and 
publish them. Cardinal Moran, Archbishop of Sydney, has, 
to be sure, written his life, and not a little has been published 
about him since, on December 9, 1886, Leo XIII. conferred 
upon him the title of Venerable Servant of God. But perhaps 
the most vivid realization of the conditions under which he 
fought his last fight, may be gained from Monsignor Benson's 

The fury of the English populace against Catholics and 
their insane belief in the "Popish Plot" was still raging fiercely, 
though it had but two years more to burn. It is difficult for us 
to imagine how people could have credited the cock-and-bull 
stories that were told; could have seriously believed that the 
great fire of London was deliberately caused by the Catholics, 
and recorded their belief on the base of the monument which, 
said Pope half a century later, 

Like some tall bully, lifts its head and lies. 

It is incredible how they could have swallowed the monstrous 
inventions they did on the testimony of men like Gates and 


Bedloe, who "stand highest," says the agnostic Goldwin Smith, 
"of all vile informers in the pillory of history." But mob 
psychology is a strange and irrational thing. 

Politics, of course, was at the bottom of the whole thing. 
Strong men were playing a reckless game for high stakes. On 
the one side, Charles II. was fighting desperately to save the 
royal power, and his brother's succession which he thought to 
be bound up with it. On the other, the iniquitous Shaf tesbury, 

In friendship false, implacable in hate, 
Resolved to ruin or to rule the state, 

(as Dryden painted him in that merciless and scathing indict- 
ment four months after Oliver Plunket had gone to his re- 
ward) had seized with avidity on the story of a plot as his 
surest means of carrying the country with him. When the 
corpse of Godfrey, the magistrate before whom Gates had 
laid his evidence, was found in a ditch with a sword through 
his heart, panic broke loose. Let me quote Mr. Trevelyan's 
vivid picture of it: 

"Terror of death took hold of the inhabitants of London. 
It was thought that the execution of the plot which Gates had 
detailed had already begun, and that Godfrey had been the 
first victim. Night after night, each householder lay down half 
expecting to be awakened by the alarm of fire or massacre. 
The cheerful tramp of the train-bands echoing down the frosty 
streets as he lay awake seemed to him the only reason why 
that mad Christmas passed in safety. When his prentices 
came in from patrol duty at dawn, he rose and prayed that all 
the household might be preserved that day from sudden death." 

The unlucky discovery of a batch of letters written by an 
indiscreet namesake of my own, who was secretary to the 
King's brother, gave a handle to Shaftesbury and his friends, 
and formed the first link in the long chain of disasters to the 
Catholic cause. "If Coleman had been acquitted," thinks Mr. 
Pollock, a careful student of this whole period, "there could 
have been no more to come. Had they not secured his convic- 
tion, the Jesuits, Mr. Langhorn, Lord Stafford, and Archbishop 
Plunket would have gone unconvicted also." But, although 
he had taken the alarm in time to destroy a great part of his 
papers, enough remained to inflame the passions of the people. 
It was known that in 1675 he had written to Father La Chaise, 


the confessor of Louis XIV., to ask him to obtain from the 
French king a sum of money large enough to enable Charles to 
govern without having recourse to Parliament and allow the 
Duke of York the chief influence in the kingdom. Passages 
like the following were read: 

"We have a mighty work upon our hands, no less than the 
conversion of three kingdoms, and by that the subduing of a 
pestilent heresy, which has domineered over a great part of 
this northern world a long time. There was never such hopes 
of success since the death of Queen Mary as now in our days, 
when God has given us a prince who is become (may I say a 
miracle) zealous of being the author and instrument of so 
glorious a work." 

These may seem harmless enough designs to us, who be- 
lieve that the reclaiming of England to the Faith would have 
been the greatest of blessings; but to the ignorant prejudices 
of the mob, and even of better educated leaders, such phrases 
seemed damning evidence. One of the cleverest of them, Hali- 
fax, who voted "Not guilty" at Stafford's trial, because he could 
not swallow the accusations of a plot for murder and mas- 
sacre, yet told Sir William Temple that "the plot must be 
handled as if it were true, whether it were so or no." 

Coleman, in any case, paid dearly for his zeal, dying, 
says Mr. Airy, "the first victim to the Terror." This is not 
strictly accurate, however. A week earlier (November 26, 
1678) he had been preceded on the scaffold by a man named 
Staley "a great Roman Catholic banker," Macaulay calls him, 
in his usual sketchy way; really the son of a goldsmith, who 
was supposed to have vowed in an eating-house in Covent 
Garden, in the hearing of all the guests, to kill the heretical 

But now all England was launched on a mad career; and 
even Charles, whose cool, keen common sense picked flaw after 
flaw in Gates' testimony, and who told his friends that he did 
not believe a word of all these stories, was helpless before 
the power of the mob. A few weeks later the blood of the 
innocent began to flow more freely. If there were space, it 
would be full of interest to recite the heroism of the Jesuits, 
always in the front of a forlorn hope, who were done to death 
in December, 1678, and June, 1679. But the man who is our 
special subject must not be left to lie too long in a prison cell. 


His first trial was in July, 1680, at Dundalk, in his own 
diocese. Here he and his accusers were equally well-known. 
As a natural consequence no one appeared to testify against 
him except the unfrocked wretches viri perditissimi, the 
articles justly call them MacMoyer, Murphy, and Callaghan, 
who were seeking their revenge upon him for the discipline he 
had inflicted; and nothing could be done. The whole monstrous 
romance, however, was dependent upon the maintenance of a 
belief in the possibility of a great Irish rising and the letting in 
of a foreign army. 1 And who more likely to be at the head of 
such a plot than the Primate of All Ireland? 

He was accused of having obtained his see for the purpose, 
and on the express condition, of raising seventy thousand men 
in Ireland by the contributions of the Catholic clergy, "whose 
whole revenues," says an eighteenth-century Protestant his- 
torian, "could not equip a single regiment." This formidable 
body of insurgents were to join twenty thousand men to be 
furnished by France, who were to make their descent at Car- 
lingford in Armagh, "a place the most inconvenient, and even 
impossible for the purpose." His accusers were so eager to 
have him in London, where they could do as they pleased with 
him, that, since he had spent during his imprisonment all his 
scanty savings, they were only too glad to transport him to 
London at the State's expense. 

The result of the first attempt, coupled with the fact that 
more than one Catholic prisoner had been acquitted in the 
last twelvemonth, might have afforded ground for hope. But 
little more than a month after his arrival in London came 
another trial which may well have shown the Archbishop's 
friends that the storm was not yet over. 

While Blessed Oliver in his prison was probably thinking 
and praying over his work for God, on the eleventh anniver- 
sary of his consecration, and while in another part of London 
a few calm philosophic gentlemen were attending the annual 
meeting of the Royal Society and electing as president "that 
excellent person and great philosopher, Mr. Robert Boyle," the 
stage was set in Westminster Hall for the first act of one more 
tragedy. On the same trumped-up charge of conspiring to 

1 It reflected particular discredit on the "Popish Plot" in England that a year 
had passed before any evidence could be found of any such conspiracy in Ireland, 
where Catholics were so numerous that their brethren of England would naturally 
have resorted to them for assistance. 


murder the King, the aged Lord Stafford, bearer of one of the 
noblest names in England, was put on trial for his life. There 
were some of the strangest and most dramatic coincidences 
about this trial. It was held in the same place, and, notes 
Evelyn, just in the same manner as the trial of Charles I.'s 
mighty minister, Lord Strafford, forty years before. The sim- 
ilarity of the names of the prisoners is a little thing. More 
remarkable is it that Stafford's father, the Earl of Arundel, had 
presided over the earlier trial as Lord High Steward, and, 
what is even more stirring to the imagination, the prosecuting 
attorney was the same in both cases Sir John Maynard, now 
nearly eighty years of age. As a poem of that year has it, 

The robe was summoned, Maynard at the head, 
In legal murder none so deeply read. 

Arundel, of course, had been long in his grave; but the gray- 
haired lawyer, as "his accumulative active tongue" rehearsed 
the iniquitous evidence against Stafford, must have had a vivid 
memory of that earlier scene. 

What is more in the line of our special study is the fact 
that Stafford's grandfather, the first Earl of Arundel of the 
Howard line, had been committed to the Tower nearly a cen- 
tury before, on an equally flimsy charge of treason against 
Queen Elizabeth, and had died there, a venerable confessor 
of the Faith and a martyr in will, if not in deed. Discredited 
and rebuked as Gates had been by this time, he had not quite 
lost his diabolical power over inflamed minds. His evidence 
prevailed, although the sober Evelyn, who sat through it all, 
concludes gravely in his diary : "And verily I am of his Lord- 
ship's opinion: such a man's testimonie should not be taken 
against the life of a dog." On December 29th, the feast of 
the martyred archbishop, St. Thomas of Canterbury, Lord 
Stafford was beheaded on Tower Hill. Macaulay accepts the 
old and picturesque tradition that when he solemnly protested 
his innocence for the last time, the multitude cried out, "God 
bless you, my lord! We believe you, my lord!" It is an ami- 
able touch amidst all the horrors, and we should like to be- 
lieve it. Unfortunately the best modern research denies it, 
and shows the thirst for blood still unslaked. 

On May 3d, and again on June 8th, Blessed Oliver was 
brought up for examination before the court of King's Bench. 


The judges were Sir Francis Pemberton, newly appointed 
Chief Justice, Dolben, and Jones. Maynard once more as- 
sisted the attorney-general with his legal knowledge; and so 
(though he played no prominent part) did Jeffreys, then thirty- 
three years old and King's Serjeant, on whose name such a 
lurid light was to be cast by his severities in the Tory reaction. 
Even the credulity of panic might have seemed to be stag- 
gered at last, for at the same time and before the same court 
was tried and condemned a perjured informer, named Fitz- 
harris. He had improved on the usual tale of assassination, 
burning, and massacre, by solemnly deposing that he knew of a 
plot by which several members of parliament were to be 
boiled down to make a sort of holy oil to be used at future 

Yet the evidence against the Primate was hardly less far- 
cical than this. Since various "untoward accidents" had pre- 
vented the arrival of the witnesses he had wished to have from 
Ireland, he could do little but assert his innocence throughout 
(as did every single one of those who suffered in the Terror), 
and point with well-merited scorn to the inconsistencies of his 
accusers. He freely confessed that he had done everything that 
an archbishop of his Church was bound to do, but denied the 
slightest treasonable intention, strong in his good conscience 
like that other martyr referred to above. When the 
four knights with drawn swords ran through the shadowy 
aisles of Canterbury cathedral, crying fiercely: "Where is 
Thomas? Where is the traitor?" their victim's voice came to 
them calm and clear out of the gathering dusk: "Here am I, 
the Archbishop but no traitor!" So Oliver Plunket, strong 
in the same strength, received his cruel sentence of hanging, 
drawing, and quartering with a serene "Deo gratias!" 

Lord Essex besought Charles to pardon him, declaring 
from his own knowledge that the charges were false. "Then, 
my lord," replied the King gloomily, "be his blood on your own 
head. You might have saved him if you would. I cannot 
pardon him, because I dare not." 

But the martyr was past all thought of earthly favors, his 
mind wholly turned to his journey home. The day of his exe- 
cution arrived, July 1st (old style July llth by the new calen- 
dar) ; and Captain Richardson, governor of Newgate prison, 
tells us how it found him: "When I came to him this morn- 

1920.] THE WORLD 317 

ing, he was newly awoke, having slept all night without dis- 
turbance; and when I told him he was to prepare for execu- 
tion, he received the message with all quietness of mind, and 
went to the sledge as if he had been going to a wedding." 

We have not space to tell at length of his memorable 
speeches, both at his sentence and on the scaffold, breathing 
the untroubled dignity of a conscience void of offence; nor of 
how a just nemesis overtook the man most deeply guilty of 
his blood, the wicked Shaftesbury, who slept (if he could sleep 
at all) a prisoner in the Tower on the martyr's second night in 
Paradise. But we have said enough to show that, asking his 
good prayers for us who are still in our pilgrimage, we may 
well take the last martyr for the Faith in England as a model 
of zeal for the salvation of souls and of inflexible courage in 
the defence of the Truth against whatever odds. 



THE world's a garden, green and gold, 
Where God the Gardener daily strays; 

His gesture makes the dawn unfold 
A bloom of rose and chrysoprase. 

He takes the sunlight's roving beams, 
And sprinkles all the world with fire 

The seeds that breed men's noble dreams, 
By which they labor and aspire. 

For robe, He dons the sunset's pall, 
To wear across the fields of night; 

The clouds are but His mansions tall, 
For His contentment and delight. 

Sometimes a rainbow glimmers sweet 
To carpet soft His path awhile; 

The stars are candles for His feet, 
The moon's a mirror for His smile. 



DEALS however much we try to hide our faith 
in them from the world rule our lives. The 
man with no vision to guide him is scarcely a 
man at all. However much we scoff outwardly at 
dreamers, the most unyielding keeps, apart in his 
soul, some dear dream of perfection to lend enchantment at 
unexpected moments to the day's actions and touch them with 

Acts of faith come to fruition in the secret places of men's 

But the true test of an ideal's worth is its workaday value 
in our lives. Dreaming is not enough. We must live true to 
the faith that holds us. Vague hopes, too sterile to produce 
even a sickly blossom, give life neither perfume nor beauty. 
We come upon this tragedy of inactivity and listlessness, of 
mental anaemia, in Tchekov's Three Sisters. No single person- 
age in the play has the real courage of his convictions. Not 
one with any flickering consciousness of purpose is able to 
carry his purpose through. The catch-phrase of, "I'm tired," 
echoes throughout like a monotonous refrain. Tired ! Who is 
not tired who dwells upon his tiredness? 

What the three sisters want, what their friends and com- 
panions want, too, are real things in their way, but their own 
shifting glances fail even to focus what is material. Work 
Moscow love are tangible, but the sisters, with vague in- 
stincts which never crystallize in resolution, do not achieve 
even a train journey. Life, fluid, drips through their open 
fingers just as water from a mountain stream filters through 
the hands of those who will not hold them cup-wise. 

One critic called the play a tragedy of "stuffy and stag- 
nant inaction." "Spiritual dry-rot," follows inevitably in the 
wake of "sickly lack of motive and direction." Leaving the 

1 The Higher Court, by Miss M. E. M. Young, a noteworthy play, of special 
interest to Catholics, was produced by the Pioneer Players at the Strand Theatre, 
London, April 11, 1920. 


theatre, some such sense of impotent despair comes on us as 
we feel when leaving the Lock Hospital. "How long, O Lord, 
how long?" The Lock Hospital suffers unjustly in comparison. 
A gallant fight is being put up there. The gloom in one's 
heart comes through the initial ill which makes such places 
necessary. All the same, we crave for the tang of clean wind 
sweeping over mountain heights, for space where we may 
stretch the soul, as after the last tremulous whispers at the 
close of the Three Sisters. "We remain alone . . ." "It's all 
the same! It's all the same!" ... "If only we could know! 
If only we could know !" 

Tchekov's three sisters are left clinging to each other be- 
cause they have nothing else to which to cling. There is 
something cankerous and stifling about a play like this. 

And yet, withal, Tchekov has the supreme art of making 
his nerveless creatures live, does undoubtedly possess that 
power "of magical selection of minute and significant touches," 
which Miss Young has in common with him touches which 
haunt us, which are even beautiful, which move us even in 
our worst impatience at what, if it were merely pose, would 
be intolerable. He throws a dozen stage conventions to the 
winds. His characters talk naturally, follow their own cur- 
rents of thought as we do in real life, so that, while our con- 
fidante is deploring the ills which have befallen her, we answer 
in terms indicative of our own remembrance of past wrongs. 
Olga, Masha, Irina, Chebutikin, and the others in Tchekov's 
play are real in the trend of their ramblings, even though it 
be the reality of egotism. This quality gives distinction to the 
play. We are thankful for small mercies in modern drama 
when comparing it with classic art. What tragedy of the past 
fifty years has any claim upon the interest of an unborn 
generation? How many plays have phrases that go home, 
that deserve to live? We have almost lost the art of writing 
"for all time" in these negligent days. The written word in 
nine out of ten cases has no more permanency than the paper 
upon which it is typed. 

The modern dramatist's sense of vocation is lost in his 
alarming consciousness of what the public pays to see. 

Miss Young's play, simple, poignant, depends for its suc- 
cess on that rarest of all qualities, its startling and uncom- 
promising definition of Truth. Now Truth, as we know, fright- 


ens most of us. It is so seldom met with face to face that it 
makes us shrink. The merest handful "serve the Truth be- 
cause it's true," and for no other motive. 

I foresee a wave of discussion about Miss Young's play 
which, to an enterprising manager, should spell worldly suc- 

The Higher Court is a drama of sincerity set in conven- 
tional middle-class surroundings. It possesses the essential 
of real drama in its conflict between great issues. In the prob- 
lem play, as we usually know it, in ordinary drama, the super- 
natural element either does not enter at all or is so camou- 
flaged with the trappings of what is currently known as 
mysticism an artificial thing more far apart from real mysti- 
cism than clay from flesh that it merely appeals to our love 
of sensation. Or if "religion" is brought in as a weapon with 
which to combat some existing wrong, it is, in nine cases out 
of ten, dressed up in pantomimic garments intended to rouse 
laughter. Take the reasonable views of the husband in the 
crisis of that delightfully amusing play of Mr. Pirn Passes By, 
for instance. The audience rocked with laughter when he 
diffidently suggested that he couldn't go on living with a 
woman whom he had believed to be a widow when once he 
had learned that her husband was not dead, and that they 
were not married at all. Respect of the ordinary decent usages 
of society to take the question from the lowest standpoint- 
seemed to the audience mad and indefensible. 

Miss Young, in The Higher Court, presents, starkly, the 
Catholic view of divorce. The play opens in humdrum sur- 
roundings Mr. Pryce-Green's shabby West Kensington flat. 
The family lives on next to nothing with a certain air, mainly 
through the cleverness of Idalia, the "commonplace" daughter 
with the romantic name which everyone agrees doesn't at all 
suit her. Polly, her sister, is romantic. Polly, occupier of 
the best room and owner of the only "new" suit the sisters 
can buy, is just starting off to Paris to study art, having bor- 
rowed the money from the one soluble member of the family, 
a ship-steward brother. Mr. Pryce-Green's small salary in a 
business firm scarcely pays the way. His remaining son's, 
frankly doesn't pay his. If it were not for Idalia's scraping 
and saving, her happy knack of making galantine from odd- 
ments, to give an example "If you only knew what she makes 


it out of," say the family, pressing it on an unwilling guest- 
there would be nothing at all left in the rent envelope at the 
end of the quarter. 

An aunt, who became a nun in a convent, was the means 
of Idalia's getting her education free and becoming a Catholic 
in childhood. The family suffer this quite patiently. But 
Polly openly rebels when, on this wet morning, it having been 
lapidly decided she is to leave for France by the morning 
boat, she finds Idalia has gone to Mass as usual. 

But "it was some good after all, Idalia going to Mass," 
for on her way she meets the young doctor Polly loves, and 
tells him of the hastened departure, and he blurts out the 
truth when she asks him aloofly the reason of his coming. 

Dr. Foster (explosively). You, Polly you! 

Polly (facing him, kettle and teapot in either hand). 
Oh, Fred! 

Dr. Foster (making such advances as he can to a lady\ 
thus occupied). I I haven't a penny in the world. Don't 
say anything! I don't want anything! Only to tell you 
once, right out, before you're off to Paris till nobody knows 
when. Only to say that if ever I could keep a wife, Polly 
if ever I could ! 

Fred Foster, with his knack of telling rich hypochondriacs 
there is nothing wrong with them, who will sit up all night to 
nurse a patient without a penny, is no matrimonial catch. 
Unworldly as he is, Mr. Pryce-Jones has, regretfully, to forbid 
him the house. Idalia, coming in fresh and rosy into the tense 
atmosphere, gives the keynote of her character in a phrase : 

Idalia. How I used to howl when I had to start for 
school! All the same, once I got there! . . . Paris will be ' 
just like that. You'll see! 

Polly Like the Convent ! Paris! 

Idalia (comfortably). Like anything you're frightened 
of but you're all right when you get there ! 

Explanations follow. And Idalia, exuberant, breaks out: 

Idalia. What does anything matter? Oh! Oh! Give me 
some of that ham ! 

Ethelbert (darkly). The girl who can eat that dry old 
ham ! 

VOL. CXI. 21 


Strange noises are heard outside tramping of feet. All 
listen. The heavy steps go first upstairs to Dr. Foster's flat, 
and then down again, to pause at the Pryce-Green's door. 
Idalia opens it upon a stretcher borne by policemen, bearing 
a man who looks at the point of death, if not already dead. 

A stranger has been knocked down in the street an ob- 
viously shabby stranger who was run over by a motor-car 
hard by. Picked up, he gave quite clearly the unusual name 
of these flats. The policeman had tried every door before 
coming to the Pryce-Green's, and nobody will take him in. 

He is a "stranger." . . . The eyes of father and daughter 
meet. Fussy, overworked little Mr. Pryce-Green has his ideals, 

Idalia. Papa! The best room! Polly's! 
Mr. Pryce-Green Bring him in, constable. 

Dr. Foster comes hurrying up with a nursing sister, a nun, 
whom he has collected en route. Idalia wrenches herself free 
from thought and equips Polly with a luncheon-basket that 
will mean "going without" for the rest of the family for days. 
The man in the next room is dead by now, perhaps. She prays. 

Foster pokes in his head: 

"He's coming round!" 

The curtain falls upon the practical Idalia making her 
list of what "the patient" will need. 

Macmanus, the multi-millionajire, financier, and news- 
paper proprietor of the Meteor, has been working himself to 
a shred. And, surrounded on the one hand by sycophants 
and on the other by men to whose advantage it would be were 
he quietly "got out of the way," he at last distrusts even the 
decision of the expert he has consulted about his health, who 
orders him a trip in his yacht "on the coast of Spain." A 
man such as he is can wear anything he pleases; he has to 
account to no one for his actions, and has nothing resembling 
a home, though he lives in a mansion in Park Lane. One 
morning early, near the Fulham Road, he leaves his car and 
goes to call at the house of a hard-worked general practitioner, 
called Weston, who, judging him by his "half -starved condi- 
tion" and seedy garments, gives him a "complete overhauling," 
orders "an hour's run daily before breakfast," and, feeling 


diffident about accepting a half-crown fee, offers him the loan 
of his own old sweater and shorts. 

Macmanus, with an eye to character, sees Weston's hon- 
esty. Against the grain, next morning he gets up and slips 
out of the house. No one misses him at first. With interests 
in every quarter of the globe, he takes mysterious journeys 
frequently. Rounding the corner of the North End Road, he 
is aware of a sudden flash of pain, and then knows no more 
till he awakes to see Sister Gertrude's hood dark against the 
light of the little window, and presently the glow of Idalia's 
"morning" face. He is quite unaware that, in a moment's 
consciousness, the odd name of some flats, mentioned in the 
Meteor of the previous night, leaps to his lips, and accounts 
for his presence there. 

Here at last is amazing, unforeseen "charity." Bringing 
nothing into this world but borrowed clothes, he is wholly, 
blissfully dependent upon a family of complete strangers for 
board, lodging, nursing, and all. No self-seeking here. These 
amazing Pryce-Greens give what they have without stint, and 
everything centres round Idalia. Sister Gertrude nurses him 
back physically, Dr. Foster superintends the work scrupu- 
lously, but Idalia's youth and gayety, her transparent soul 
and its strange workings, are the revelation. 

He tells them to call him "The Stowaway," saying that, 
though he remembers his name and where he lives perfectly, 
he is deliberately withholding it. They don't believe him. 
A man at the point of death, with nobody near and dear to 
inquire for him! and wanting nobody! Why, it's incredible. 
The Stowaway is, of course, ashamed to admit his mind isn't 
clear yet. 

Meantime, Foster, coming in and out daily, anxiously 
sees the growing strain on the household resources. There is 
no money left in the rent envelope, and March quarter-day, 
"the worst quarter for coals and light," at hand. Ethelbert, 
the brother, has to walk into business daily because Idalia 
can't raise the price of his fare. Something must be done. 
The stranger's smashed leg can't be moved with safety yet. 
But he is an educated man; there is work he could do, there 
in the flat, to pay for some of the long list of delicacies he has 
had, Dr. Foster thinks. 

Idalia, talking to the stranger, solemnly enters up any- 


thing which can give a clue to his identity in her little book. 
Reasonable things, not absurdities, as when he tells her, with 
a twinkle, that he is a "millionaire in hiding who has run away 
from his job, and come to a haven where he can lie at anchor, 
and nobody send him yachting to the coast of Spain." 

Spain, for Idalia, means "all the wonderful people St. 
Dominic, St. Teresa, St. Ignatius." 

Macmanus. Ignatius Loyola? You think Jesuits sound 
nice and sensational? No? What's your idea, then? 

Idalia (puzzled). I haven't an idea. I know Jesuits. 

Heaps of them. I generally go to confession to Jesuits . . . 

Macmanus. Good Lord! Do you mean to say you're a 

Roman Catholic? You! The one out-and-out transparent 

person I have ever come across? 

If much in the household bewilders Macmanus, one thing 
is clear: Dr. Foster and Idalia are in love with each other. 
Polly whom he has never seen is a remote abstraction. 
The one thing in the world he wants, Idalia, his money can't 
buy. She so obviously is another person's property! But he 
lacks the courage to leave her, all the same and the lame leg 
is a lucky excuse. 

Foster comes in upon them in high glee. He sends Idalia 
off and makes Macmanus aware, at last, in the plainest terms 
that the family he is living on is crudely poor, that it is up to 
him "to turn to as soon as possible and pay a little of his 
debt." Here is the chance. (He can explain this part with 
Idalia in the room.) The papers are full of the Macmanus 
mystery. He gives the details to Macmanus. And Foster has 
a clue which could be worked up into a good newspaper story. 

When the seedy clerk went to call upon Dr. Foster's 
friend, Weston, in the Fulham Road, he left on the table a 
gold cigarette case. The cigarette case is engraved with the 
Macmanus crest. It has never been reclaimed, nor the lent 
clothes returned. Foster's theory is, "Find that man, and 
you'll hear something of Macmanus." Here is the very ciga- 
rette case. He begins to read the description of the million- 
aire as seen through the eyes of the Meteor employees. A 
tattoo mark 

(Macmanus hastily draws down his sleeve. Idalia takes 
the paper away.) 
Idalia. We don't want all that, really! 


The chief story-writer of the Meteor, known to Foster, is 
ill. But he'd willingly give a guinea to a man who would 
draft out the case. Will "The Stowaway" take on the job? 
There's writing paper and pen anu ink handy, and the ciga- 
rette case Where is the cigarette case, by the by? 

Idalia (half -impatient, half -pitying, to Macmanus). Oh, 
dear! You've put it in your pocket, of course. 

It is the beginning of the end. Next morning a detective 
appears with the constable who brought the injured man to 
the Pryce-Green's flat, and an unwilling Dr. Weston to identify 
him. They believe he has murdered Macmanus. There is 
nothing for it but for him to disclose his identity and make 
preparations to go "home" that afternoon. 

He and Idalia are left alone. 

Macmanus. So you found me out last night? . . Didn't 
you think I was a pretty mean case? . . . Obtaining charity 
on false pretences? 

Idalia. I didn't think it was false pretences. 

Macmanus. What did you think? 

Idalia. That you were hard up, somehow. It took so 
little to please you. 

Macmanus. Is this to go on all the time? Giving on 
your part, and your father's part, and your brother's; and 
taking and taking and taking on mine? 

Idalia. Oh! Must I? I must. (With difficulty.) I 
want you to give me the money for a bill, please. I'll make 
it out. . . . For some things you had. 

It has never occurred to her that he could mistake her 
friendship for Foster, and wounded, but acquiescent, she takes 
his decision that from today they must never meet. Later, 
by chance, she mentions Polly and Foster's "understanding." 

Macmanus. My God! It's true! You're free! And 
you'll marry me! 

Idalia (breathless). Marry! . . . You! (Drops her face 
in her hands.) 

Macmanus. Give me a minute, dear, and I'll talk sense. 
Oh, my God! You do see, don't you, that two minutes ago 
I was never going to set eyes on you again in this world? 


Idalia (the past anguish in her tone). You said that. 

Macmanus. Will anybody tell me what I've done to 
have such a to have a woman like to have you care 
for me? 

They are like children in their happiness. Macmanus 
rushes on, planning, scheming. Why can't they be married 
that morning? It could be done. He's so lonely. They'll 
wait months then, if she prefers. Since he met her he has 
begun to believe in (she looks up hopefully) men and 
women. Her face falls. 

Words don't mean the same to him as to her. Take 
"money," for instance. 

Macmanus. There come into your mind all sorts of 
comfortable, gentle things. Little reliefs of mind, and kind- 
nesses, and attentions. Or valiant things like asking 
for that bill! A person says "money" to you. And the 
thing you hear is "Love." Well (his voice hardens) 
they said "Love" to me. And they meant money. . . . 
My wife did that. 

Idalia (startled to understand him a widower). Your 

Macmanus. Yes. That's all over, thank God! 

Idalia (wincing) . Oh don't ! 

She must have time to think to consider. There is that 
question of the "mixed marriage" to talk out with the priest. 
But before that, in this supreme joy, as in each other action 
of her life or any purpose, she wants, quite naturally, to tell 
Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament about it first. 

She leaves him, vaguely apprehensive. She is going to 
church. What for? If that Church of hers attempts to sepa- 
rate them ! 

He comes next morning at the appointed hour. Mean- 
time, Polly, with the account of the Macmanus mystery in the 
Paris Meteor at hand, has read between the lines, and caught 
the early train back to use her influence with Idalia. A new 
Idalia meets her. One look at her face is enough for a fellow- 
lover. It is all settled. The family has just been told. Ethel- 
bert guessed it, because there was such a "gorgeous spread at 
breakfast" that Idalia had actually dared run into debt to get. 


Macmanus hardly dares to face her. He is scared, like a 
schoolboy. If these priests of hers have put any obstacles in 
the way! He can hardly believe that the vision he sees is real. 
He had never dreamed of love like this, of mating such as this 
will be. And every unconscious word she says breaks down 
the habit of a lifetime. 

Idalia. If it's a laugh you want, just you wait till you see 
Father Burke's face when you go up and tell him about 
your enormous richness. 

Macmanus. Our enormous richness. 

Idalia. My enormous richness, I meant! You see, he 
had only just got to asking me whether you could keep a 
roof over my head when 

Macmanus. What! You have seen your priest, then? 

He detests the thought of his affairs being talked out with 
a stranger. But Father Burke has climbed down, it seems, 
though Idalia will put things so oddly. 

Macmanus. You think that Father Burke didn't know 
my name? 
Idalia. I know he didn't. 

Relieved and happy, he gives her an amazing check for 
twelve hundred pounds to wipe off the debt on the church 
schools. The years drop from them both in their happiness. 
And Idalia, looking on into the future, sees visions and dreams 

Idalia (hushed with wonder). I bought this for you in 
the church porch before breakfast. . . . The Penny Cate- 
chism. (She laughs.) Price twelve hundred pounds to 

He turns to the "marriage" part and reads it. "No human 
power can dissolve the bond of marriage, because Christ has 
said, 'What God hath joined together, let no man put 
asunder.' " 

Macmanus. Human power is dissolving marriage every 
day! (His words fall like separate blows.) 
Idalia (with quiet certainty). No. It can't do that. 


Macmanus (roughly). It does. What's divorce? 

Idalia. Nothing. That's what the answer tells. There 
is no divorce. 

Macmanus (roughly). No divorce! I'm divorced. . . . 

Idalia. Your wife is living? 

Macmanus. She's not my wife! Do you mean you 
didn't know? . . . (Silence. Then) Good Lord! (He tries 
to see it. Then) But it was all in the Meteor! In plain 
words! (Silence.) Foster read it to you. (Silence. He 
remembers.) No. He didn't. But he told you! . . . 
(Silence. Then he remembers:) He didn't. I stopped 

Follows inevitably, when once and finally she understands, 
the Catholic's decision. No appeal against it. A delicate girl 
grown adamant. No more to be said. Nothing to be done. 
All the tears, all the reproaches, useless. All the foreshadowed 
human charitable acts less than nothing in the scale. God's 
Will God's Words who, with a due sense of proportion, 
can even contemplate balancing against their finality, the little 
sum, of even the fiercest or most glowing human love? 

Yet, being human, how the knife turns in our heart when 
we choose! 

Polly and Fred come in radiant, when Macmanus has 
gone. Fancy Idalia being sensible, in spite of all. They see 
her face and understand what has happened. The check has 
been burned. All is over. 

Polly (roughly buttoning her into her coat). Here. You 
go to church. 

Idalia. I'd like to ... 

(The front door closes.) 

Polly (turns, sobbing, to her lover). She cared so! I'm 
frightened! I'm frightened! 

Foster. She isn't. 

Miss Young's play is the more gallant in that she has given 
us an extremely hard case from the human view. Macmanus 
has always had a "rotten time," as Idalia said; his wife was 
in the wrong. He is generous and grateful. " Idalia had already 
broken down many of his prejudices against her faith; she 

1920.] WERE YOU TO BE OUT 329 

would in time have probably helped to make him see things 
still obscure in a clearer light could they have been together. 
But to the Catholic the marriage of divorced persons is no 
marriage at all. 

A fanatical creed? A heaven of brass against which poor 
bruised humanity hurtles its prayers in vain? Who that has 
made the choice, and abided by it, thinks so? 

He may not pick nor choose his steps who takes the Way 
of the Cross. We cannot accept the nailing of our hands and 
feet and avoid the scourging and the mockery and the thirst 
and desolation. God's words are final and unalterable for all 
the ruling and the compromise of all the churches that seek to 
modernize them and bring them like the music-hall revue 
whose book is no longer topical up-to-date. 

Out of humiliation may dawn glory, and a light never yet 
on land or sea. "He that believeth God taketh heed to the 
commandments; and he that trusteth in Him shall fare never 
the worse." 



WERE you to be out when a dirge in the trees, 
A bum-beetle's hum and a crake's double cry 

Are mingled as one troubled tune in the breeze, 
'Tis yourself that would sigh. 

But were you to be in at the Mass for to hear, 
"You're a thousand times welcome" from 
peasants who greet 

The coming of Christ in the Gaelic, each tear 
Of your tears would be sweet. 


HE relations of the Church to modern science 
forms a theme upon which much has been writ- 
ten that is both fabulous and inexact. It is a 
theme hackneyed and, indeed, frayed at the 
edges by constant repetition and restatement. 
Especially is this true when the statement and repetition have 
been made by anti-Catholic warriors of the materialistic 
stamp. Catholics who think at all about these matters, as a 
rule, have had the antidote the more correct and infinitely 
saner view put before them; and could be expected to know 
that the Church never has, and never has had, any quarrel 
with science : that there is, and can be, from the nature of the 
case, no antagonism between revealed truth and truth to 
which man is led by the right use of his reason. 

Nevertheless, it can hardly be denied that outside the 
Church there is the very prevalent notion that the Church, in 
philosophy and in science, is out of date and quite negligible; 
that, where not positively inimical to the progress of discovery 
and advance of knowledge, she divorces her own teaching 
from the march of scientific progress, taking refuge from as- 
sault in a fortress that is only impregnable because so abso- 
lutely out of touch with all reality. This notion is such a com- 
monplace of anti-Catholic controversy and is so insistently 
kept before the public, that it tends to deceive even the elect. 
It is like the advertisements of So-and-So's Soap, or Pills, or 
Memory System. And, as does the reiterated advertisement, 
so does it, in virtue of a well-known law of psychology, im- 
press itself upon, and in time influence, the mind. Even know- 
ing quite well that there is an answer to every objection 
perhaps with the answer quite clearly before the mind there 
is an atmosphere created which subtly minimizes the worth of 
the answer and enhances the weight of the objection. This is 
so well known a fact to controversialists that, whether con- 
sciously or not, both objection and answer are so framed as to 
square with it, and thus carry the greatest conviction. 


For a number of decades past the supposed antagonism 
of the Church to science has, in the main, been advanced by 
materialists. The vulgarizations of materialistic theory have 
been insistently reiterated. Supreme pontiffs have defined the 
dogma of evolution, and their sycophants and acolytes have 
preached it in and out of season. Mind has been degraded to 
a "function of the brain;" free will to a delusion due to the 
mechanically conceived laws of association; and so on. Con- 
ceptions such as these latter have done little to advance the 
science in which they made their appearance; and material- 
ism, at any rate in psychology, is now practically a thing of the 
past. But, in the sciences of nature, there was a reason other 
than the mere dogmatizing of metaphysical scientists and the 
insistence of their assertions that helped to make materialism 
a plausible explanation of the universe. It worked. 

The advance of the experimental sciences during the time 
that materialism held the field as a philosophical explanation 
was prodigious. The applications of science to the affairs of 
life to invention, to manufacture, to art was unparalleled. 
One has only to compare the standard of living and of com- 
fort today with that of former times to appreciate what the 
progress of science has meant to the world. All this, in virtue 
of another well-known principle, has militated for the accept- 
ance of the theories which were put forward as a philosophical 
explanation of the phenomena with which the sciences dealt. 
And it was, as it very generally is, quite forgotten that phil- 
osophical explanation is not science at all, and has nothing 
really to do with its progress. Indeed, many people who knew 
quite well the phenomena of the sciences, came to conclusions 
radically opposed to those of the materialistic school, and with 
quite as good a right. Undoubtedly, materialism worked; but 
other systems of philosophy would work quite as well, for, as 
far as science is concerned, it is indifferent to philosophy; 
and materialism, idealism, and so on, must stand or fall on 
their own merits. The phase, however, in which an abrupt 
opposition existed between religion and materialistic "science" 
has closed. Echoes of the old assertions will doubtless make 
themselves heard for a long time, but there will be no 
serious menace in them when the thinkers of the world have 
passed on to a new and more scientific point of view. 

Nowhere, perhaps, is this transition to a new standpoint 


so marked as in the science of psychology. It might be ex- 
pected that materialism would find support from the phe- 
nomena of the material. Perhaps it was not a matter for as- 
tonishment that, at a time when everything was being treated 
"materially" and mechanically, the psychology of the day 
should have been conceived on lines of atomism and mechan- 
ism. When Hume and Hartley reenunciated the laws of as- 
sociation, the temper and bias of the moment suffice to explain 
why the associationist school of philosophy became so easily 
the vogue. It was easy to picture ideas associating together; 
easy to imagine them to be the resulting compound of simple 
sensations; and not difficult to account for the emotions in a 
scheme in which all was to be accounted for by combination of 
simple elements. Besides, the hypothesis fitted in well with the 
imaginative correspondence between the mind and the brain. 
Here, too, are simple elements; and they are connected. What 
more specious than that they are exactly parallel to the con- 
tents of "mind?" And what less preposterous than that a 
thoroughgoing consistence in principle should warrant the as- 
sertion that the brain is an organ which secretes thought as 
other organs produce their appropriate secretions? 

It is true that the associationists left out of their view 
considerations which told against their hypothesis. But they 
had not in their possession the observed facts in virtue of 
which the science of psychology has now far outstripped the 
school of associationism. Of late years the advance that has 
been made in this science has been enormous. Not only has 
painstaking and exact experimentation in the laboratories of 
Europe and America brought to light a vast amount of new 
data; clinical work performed by the psychiatrists has opened 
quite new vistas before our eyes. And, if the conquest of 
new territory has been great in the past few years, there are 
still uncharted regions awaiting the explorer. But the work 
already done has shown the inadequacy of the materialistic 
explanations; and psychologists in general appear to have 
orientated themselves accordingly. 

I may be permitted to quote a few lines from a paper in 
the Proceedings of the Royal Society of Medicine, 1918, 1 con- 
tributed by one of our leading British psychologists, Dr. Wil- 
liam McDougall, F.R.S. In the course of his paper, "The 

Vol. xli. (Section of Psychiatry), pp. 1-13. 


Present Position of Clinical Psychology," he says: 'The other 
great problem is that of the constitution of man, the age-long 
controversy between materialism and what, in the widest 
sense, may be called spiritism. For so long as it is held, with 
the mechanistic psychology, that congenitally the mind is a 
tabula rasa and the brain little more than a mass of indifferent 
nerve-tissue waiting to be molded by impressions from the 
outer world, it may seem plausible to hold that all mental po- 
tentialities are somehow comprised in the material structure of 
the germ-plasm. But, with every addition to the demonstrable 
wealth of innate mental powers and tendencies, this hypothesis 
becomes more impossible and incredible. And it may safely 
be affirmed that, if anything like the wealth of innate endow- 
ment claimed now by some e. g., by Jung in his latest work 
should become well established, then all the world would see 
that the materialistic hypothesis is outworn and outrun, and 
that each man is bound to his race and ancestry by links which, 
conceive them how we may, are certainly of such a nature that 
they can never be apprehended by the senses, no matter how 
refined and indefinitely augmented by the ultramicroscope or 
by the utmost refinements of physical chemistry. I venture to 
insist upon this contribution of clinical psychologists towards 
the solution of those great problems, because few of them 
seem to have adequately realized the bearing of their work 
on those issues, which so far transcend in interest even the 
fascinating and important questions with which they are more 
directly concerned." 

The tabula rasa, to which McDougall here refers, he tells 
us is that as conceived by Locke "a blank sheet on which 
experience writes as chance determines;" and what he is 
opposing to it is the discovery that mind does not begin 
as an entirely passive thing, to be wrought upon by 
chance impressions, but as an activity, as the Scholastics might 
put it, awaiting release. Little by little, as McDougall shows, 
the successive discoveries of Janet, Freud, Adler, Trotter, Sidis, 
Jung and others in clinical work, have led away from the old 
position to one remarkably like that of the Scholastics. And 
while clinicians have been led to the conception of activity 
in consciousness by their observations, the main stream of 
normal psychology has been flowing in the same direction. 
Not only have the theoricians drawn nearer to the traditional 


teaching of the School; the results of laboratory work have 
forced them towards that same goal. 

That to which I wish to direct attention in the present 
article, however, is not so much the rapprochement of recent 
psychological discovery and theory with a system which, 
whatever it was, was not in any way opposed to the teaching 
of religion. That in itself is interesting enough as a sign of 
the changing temper of "Science." What appears to me as 
likely to be of interest and of use is a descriptive account, 
necessarily very brief, of the science of psychology as it is 
shaping today. Here, indeed, if contradiction between science 
and religion were likely to be found, would be the very place 
to look for it; for doctrines concerning the soul and its destiny, 
its nature and survival which must be envisaged by rational 
psychology, at least, if anywhere within the domain of science 
and philosophy, are most closely bound up with religion; 
and the whole concept of the spiritual must be profoundly 
modified, if, indeed, it has not its origin, in notions derived 
from our own activities, by indications which psychology is 
able to afford us as data. 

In the first place, it may be said that the main business of 
the psychologist is to observe and compare mental phenomena. 
Like any other man of science, he has to observe them in their 
concomitances and successions, quite indifferent as to what 
conclusions, if any, they will lead him. And, as a psychologist, 
he is not directly interested in any philosophical doctrines 
which later on may be based upon his facts and data. Of 
course, as a matter of fact, he is and must be interested in the 
larger questions which are of the greatest interest to all think- 
ing human beings; and his work in psychology may, and prob- 
ably will, lead him, as it has sooner or later led others, to 
philosophical super-construction upon the groundwork of his 
science. But, in the meantime, he limits himself to the phe- 
nomena. These he strives not only to observe when they hap- 
pen in a casual manner. He attempts to produce them by plac- 
ing his "subjects" in circumstances, which will result in the 
occurrence of the phenomena he wishes to observe. Thus he 
is enabled to study the same fact, if necessary, over and over 
again, and with different "subjects." In this way a great 
variety of problems connected with sensation and the special 
senses, with memory and the higher processes of thought, with 


attention and will, have been successfully studied. It is not so 
easy to "produce" emotions for the purpose of investigation; 
but something has been done even here to complete the results 
of occasional observation and analysis. 

In this way, researches planned and carried out in many 
laboratories and by many competent students during a num- 
ber of years, have yielded now considerable results in the 
way of data; and it has been possible to enunciate and prove a 
series of laws of great interest and utility, theoretic and prac- 
tical. As example of the former, Weber's Law might be cited, 
by which a relation is established between the proportional 
series of stimuli, or excitants, and the proportional series of 
just perceptible differences in sensations: while the laws of 
association and preferential revival of experience, in their 
application to memorizing, are good samples of the latter. 

Indeed, while there must always be a theoretic interest 
attaching to every science, psychology, like the sciences of 
nature, is becoming more and more practical in its outlook. 
There have grown up of recent years sciences, or arts, of 
pedagogics and psychiatry, and attempts have been made to 
found a science of criminology, upon the basis of psychology. 
The two former, at least, have been conspicuously suc- 
cessful. But for these applications, no less than for the pure 
science itself, it is not necessary to go beyond the immediate 
phenomena concerned. It is certainly not necessary to pre- 
suppose any particular system of philosophy. 

When it is ascertained, for example, that in learning by 
heart material of a logical character, saving in time and effort 
is gained by "learning as a whole" rather than in parts, and 
that "spacing out" spreading the number of repetitions over 
a number of days is more economical than making all the 
repetitions at once, we have surely reached a very practical 
and useful result; but it in no way follows that we must adopt 
any conclusion as to the relation of conscious memory and the 
brain cells or connecting axis-cylinders, which in some way, 
we agree, are correlated with it. 

Similarly, when we find large and increasing schools as- 
serting, as the result of observation, experiment and analysis, 
the synthetic creativeness of mind, the occurrence of "image- 
less thought," and activity as the fundamental characteristic 
of consciousness, we are warranted in turning away from the 


mechanistic enticements of associationist philosophy; but we 
are not justified in jumping to the conclusion of spiritualism 1 
while we remain within the prescribed boundaries of psychol- 
ogy, the science. We may go beyond those boundaries, carry- 
ing our new facts and our new knowledge with us. We have 
every right to speculate as to the nature of the real thing or 
principle which makes the occurrence, and the observation, 
of such data possible. But then we are making an excursion 
into the realm of philosophy, where the data of science must 
be treated by philosophical method and with philosophical 
exactness. It may be said in parenthesis that psychological 
data of the kind to which reference has been made, lend them- 
selves singularly well to the philosophical construction of 
spiritualism, and not to any form of materialistic interpreta- 

Interesting in this connection is the application that has 
been, and is still being made, of psychological method and data 
to the problems of industrialism. In order to understand the 
method by which psychology proceeds here as, indeed, also 
with regard to the problems set by pedagogics and psychiatry 
and criminology it should be borne in mind that mental phe- 
nomena are, as a rule, given in the gross, so to speak. Con- 
sciousness is rather like a kaleidoscope of patterns than a 
series of discrete sensations or feelings. Indeed, though we 
know what we mean by "sensation" and can define it, we prob- 
ably never experienced a mere sensation, and we certainly 
have no memory of it if we ever did experience such a thing. 
It is the aim of the psychologist to isolate, as far as possible 
the precise point, phenomenon or mental content with which 
he wishes to experiment. Take a case in point. Fatigue is a 
state which we have all experienced. And fatigue enters 
largely into the problems of industrial production. What is 
fatigue: physical i. e., muscular cerebral or mental? And 
how increase work done, and consequent output, without a 
corresponding increase of fatigue? 

Very simple experiments were devised to isolate the fac- 
tors of fatigue and to enable its study in the simplest forms. 
The ergograph was devised by Mosso to this end. It consists 
in a simple apparatus in which a weight is supported, attached 

1 "Spiritualism" and "spiritualistic" are here used to designate the truth that 
the soul is a spiritual, not a material, entity. 


to a string running over a pulley. At the end of the string is a 
ring into which the subject inserts his finger, the arm being 
supported in a suitable rest. The instruction given to the sub- 
ject is that he is to flex his finger, and consequently lift the 
weight. This he does until fatigue supervenes, and he is 
unable to flex his finger further. 

Recent research has shown that the "work curve" falls 
fairly sharply towards the beginning, and then remains, with 
fluctuations, almost stationary for a very considerable period, 
when it declines again sharply. This plotting of the curve has 
reference to what is called "objective" fatigue: and, indeed, 
the second fall of the curve marks a very real loss of efficiency 
a danger point for the organism. Meanwhile "subjective" 
fatigue manifests itself much earlier, with all its symptoms of 
tedium, disinclination to continue the task in hand, wandering, 
headache, and so on. In spite of this latter, the work can be 
continued. That true objective fatigue has not set in may be 
shown by muscle preparations stimulated electrically; and 
that this is probably due to a toxin (lactic acid) is to be in- 
ferred from the fact that, by washing the preparation out, 
further contractions can be obtained on stimulation. The 
point is that the muscles involved in work have certain limits 
to their endurance. They constitute a machine which might 
be likened to a clock that can run down. A similar remark 
may be made with regard to the brain. But the fatigue first 
becoming "unbearable" is neither muscular nor, presumably, 
cerebral. It can be overcome by revived interest, stimulation, 
etc. It is physical, not physiological, in character: and in 
appropriate circumstances could be overcome so as to allow 
of the working of the machine to its breaking point. 

Further experiments with the ergograph have been done 
to show the effect of such stimulants as alcohol, or of lack 
of proper oxygenation of the atmosphere upon the quality 
and output of work. Similar experiments have been made 
also with the typewriter, which, of course, is a far more 
complicated kind of "work" from the psychological point of 
view. A comparison of the two goes far to provide the lines 
of principles for industrial psychology. 

Other experiments, bearing more on mental fatigue than 
on physical, have been made with simple "tests." A sheet of 
foolscap printed with lines of letters in irregular order is given 

VOL. cxi. 22 


to the subject, with instruction to cross out, say, all the "e" 
and "x" characters. His fatigue can be measured, in varying 
circumstances, by the rapidity and accuracy with which he 
performs his task. Or columns of figures are given to him 
which he is required to add up, two at a time, noting the answer 
of each addition. Here, again, accuracy and speed are the 
tests of his fatigue, in this case mental. Other and more 
complicated "tests" are also employed; but these suffice. 

In actual conditions of industrial labor, there is nothing 
so simple and easy as these tests. Complicated and skilled 
movements, into which both coordination of muscular actions 
and judgment enter, are involved. The speed and accuracy 
of typewriting falls closer to the actual condition here. But 
the principles are discovered in the isolation of the most ele- 
mentary operations in standard conditions. These principles 
are exemplified, however, in all work in which mind is re- 
quired as well as body. And this is true of most, if not of all, 
work. It is only in the comparatively rare cases of auto- 
matization of muscular movements that consciousness seems 
to be absent; and, even then, if the chain actions which are 
being performed, as in knitting or bicycling, are for any 
reason interfered with or interrupted, consciousness at once 
appears and again takes charge of the action. In most occu- 
pations a coordination of muscles and eye is necessary. Such 
coordination is not merely mechanical: it has to be learned; 
and it is not always learned so as to secure the best results 
with the minimum of effort. Especially is this true in the 
cases of complicated actions involving several muscle systems. 

We invent machines and make them to save labor, and 
their several parts are interrelated and coordinated, so that 
each subserves not only its own purpose, but also the need of 
the next. In performing the actions which are necessary in 
tending the machine, the worker theoretically should reduce all 
his movements to the fewest possible consistent with the 
greatest accuracy and efficiency. And this is precisely the 
great problem to be studied in industrial psychology a prob- 
lem that varies with the character of the work to be performed. 

What is of importance in this connection is that the purely 
scientific part of the work consists in the isolation of the com- 
ponent factors of complicated movements, on the one hand, 
and the recognition of consciousness, on the other, by which 


the movements are coordinated to the best possible advantage. 
Man may be regarded as a machine, the parts of which func- 
tion one after another, and with regard to which the object is 
to eliminate friction and waste of power. But all this can be 
done without reference to philosophy, in the sphere of science, 
pure and simple. And if any philosophical system seems to be 
indicated, the reference to consciousness and the activity of 
consciousness in coordinating and short circuiting for the 
purpose of labor saving, would seem not to be in contradiction 
with anything that has been claimed or taught by religion. 

Again, the important advances of psychiatry, as has al- 
ready been seen, have led practitioners to the assertion of the 
"Activity" principle. From the phenomena of split-off, or dis- 
sociated personality, to the establishment of psychic "forces" 
beneath the threshold of manifest consciousness; from the pos- 
tulate of one such driving energy, with the wealth of theat- 
rical circumstance with which it obtrudes itself, disguised 
and distorted, into our dreams, to the assertion of several, 
and even many, of such active tendencies : the whole tendency 
of modern "abnormal" psychology has been towards the new 
orientation. There is something which cannot be explained 
on the grounds of mere chance association, something which 
is not accounted for on the grounds of brain physiology. 

But here again, for a complete conclusion to be reached, 
the confines of psychology, the science, must be overstepped. 
The further investigation is a philosophical one. In the terms 
of the division of philosophy familiar to our ears, it is to 
rational, and not to experimental, psychology that we must 
look for our final explanations. 

However that may be, it is clear that there is no contra- 
diction between the teaching of the Church and science, as 
long as science limits itself to its proper sphere. All its theo- 
retical advances, all its practical applications, all the service it 
has rendered, and will render, to mankind, are independent 
of trans-phenomenal theory. And this is true of science in all 
its branches, the sciences of nature as well as those of mind. 
Their data form the foundations upon which the philosophical 
disciplines are raised: and, if there is contradiction, or ap- 
parent contradiction, between religion and any so-called 
human knowledge it is here, where the superstructure of 
speculation is raised upon the basis of fact. 


In treating of the known universe as a whole, as any ade- 
quate system of philosophy any stream of ultimate explana- 
tions is bound to do, no fact or phenomenon should be left 
out of account on penalty of stultification. Men of science 
have not always in the past paid sufficient attention to this 
truism. Whole systems and partial systems of what must be 
called philosophy, since it is not science, have been built upon 
the slender foundations of a few facts belonging to a particular 
group; and it is in these, mainly, that apparent opposition to 
revealed religion has been found. 

To leave out facts such as those to which reference has 
been made in the present article, is to doom oneself before- 
hand to a false system. And yet, from the nature of the facts 
employed in building up these "anti-religious" systems, there 
seems to be no compelling reason for the anti-religious stand- 
point, other than a limitation of outlook or an intellectual or 
moral prejudice. There are physicists today of no less but 
far greater ability, and with a far greater range of expe- 
rience and data, than their materialistic predecessors, who see 
in the teachings of their science nothing whatever to militate 
against a philosophy, both theistic and spiritualistic. The 
amazing spread of "Spiritism" in these recent times is proof 
of it. No one, least of all men of science eminent in a sphere 
which they have made their own, could accept the "evidences" 
put forward in behalf of the soul's survival of bodily death by 
Spiritists if there were any shred of real evidence against 
immortality afforded by the data of science. 

After all, what does religion teach to limit our question 
here to psychology with regard to the human soul? That 
it is an immortal spirit which makes man what he is, an 
intelligent, moral being, responsible to his Creator for his 
actions in this world, to be rewarded or punished in accord- 
ance with the way in which he fulfills his moral obligations. 
That the soul will once more reanimate its "body," so that 
man himself, and not the soul alone, will be immortal. It 
is not necessary to make allusion to any of the doctrines of 
grace concerning the soul in this connection, since objections 
are rarely, if ever, made against them; and science, as far as 
I am aware, has never been made the excuse to attack them. 

What have the "scientific" philosophies to urge against 
any of the positions asserted by religion? 


1. That the soul is mortal because it is a function of mat- 
ter? The observed activity, creative synthesis, imageless 
thought, negative such inferences. 

2. That man is not intelligent? The objection would 
hurtle back upon its framer. 

3. That he is not a moral being, perhaps because his free 
will is the delusion of the idea of an action preceding its accom- 
plishment in consciousness? An active, creative, phenomenon 
points to an active, creative something behind it; and the 
psychiatrists are on the right path when they reject the ma- 
terialistic hypothesis for one more in accord with the facts. 

4. That he is to be the subject of rewards and punishments 
according to the way in which he has fulfilled, or neglected 
to fulfill, his obligations in this life? The objection can only 
have a meaning if science or "scientific" philosophy have dem- 
onstrated that there is no one to reward or punish in short, 
if it is avowedly atheistic. But science has moved far from 
that position now; and, even if mechanistic theory could 
afford to dispense with the idea of a God, it was only because 
mechanistic theory was founded upon a partial and even 
then, misunderstood group of the total facts of the universe. 
The philosophy the metaphysics which leaves out of its 
consideration the facts and phenomena of psychology, pursues 
a tortuous road, and handicaps itself though the goal is pos- 
sible by the very inertia of the matter in which it struggles. 

5. Finally, that the soul, even if it did persist in being after 
death, could not reanimate its body? The hydra-headed 
forms of this objection are hardly to the point as evincing any 
opposition between science and religion, because, whatever 
"body" may mean to the scientist other than the collection 
of its properties, it is quite clear that religion does not teach 
this. And, while the Church goes no further than to teach 
that the body of the resurrection is a "spiritual" as opposed 
to a "natural" one, the scientist must confess to a total ignor- 
ance of the nature of either. That Catholic philosophers 
have speculated deeply upon the meaning of "body" in this 
connection is not to be denied; and that they have elaborated 
a very convincing natural argument to show that it is man 
as a complete person, with soul and body, who is immortal 
is true; but the Church has never so defined the doctrine that 
any science or philosophy has the right to cavil at it. 


The upshot of the matter is, with regard to the experi- 
mental sciences, and psychology in particular, that there is 
no contradiction no ground of contradiction between the 
exact results of observation and research, on the one hand, 
and religion on the other. Any difficulty arises only in the 
further explanation of the scientific data treated by philo- 
sophical method. And all the most striking findings of psy- 
chology, at any rate, make for an interpretation that is in no 
sense against, but rather in entire accord with the doctrines 
of the Church Catholic. 

The experimental researches will without doubt continue 
to be made in the laboratories of psychology; and we have 
every reason to hope for the greatest advances and the further 
enriching of our knowledge. Psychological theory will be 
developed and completed. Information acquired will be ap- 
plied to the practical problems of education, of healing and of 
labor saving and economical production. The discoveries of 
the past few years give us to hope that the dawn of a brilliant 
day of discovery and invention in matters of the mind has be- 
gun, and that the progress of the science in the near future 
will not disappoint those who have witnessed its achievements 
in the immediate past. 

But whatever information study and painstaking research 
may have in store for us, of this we may be certain, that the 
positive acquisitions already made have given the lie to the 
negative and unfounded statements of a previous generation. 
The progress of human knowledge may be painful and slow, 
but it is always towards the light. The Catholic has nothing to 
fear for his faith from the march forward of science as a 
whole, or of philosophy founded upon its discoveries and 
justified by them. 



T the foot of the great rock of Quebec, where, in 
1608, Champlain founded his colony, five men 
are on their knees with their lips to the soil of 
New France. Round them are grouped several 
friars in coarse gray robes, with the knotted 
cord of the Recollets about their waists, peaked hood hanging 
from their shoulders and rough wooden sandals on their feet. 
And the traders sturdy, picturesque old Huguenot pioneers- 
stand by scowling, as they survey the strangers with their 
wide black hats caught up at the sides with strings, the long, 
closely-fitting, black frocks, the corded girdles and the swing- 
ing rosaries. Far better could they tolerate the humble, men- 
dicant Recollets than these new-come Jesuits aggressive, 
powerful, and uncompromising opponents of Calvinism. 

Long before this, Jesuits had disputed in theology with 
the bonzes of Japan and studied astronomy with the man- 
darins of China, labored patiently and long among the fol- 
lowers of Rrahma, preached the Papal supremacy to Abys- 
sinian schismatics, carried the cross among the savages of 
Caffraria, wrought reputed miracles in Rrazil and gathered 
the tribes of Paraguay beneath their paternal sway. And 
now, by the aid of the Virgin, they would found another em- 
pire among the tribes of New France. 

Before the little trading village that nestled beneath the 
base of the great cliff at Quebec a tiny, blunt-prowed, high- 
pooped vessel lay at anchor, and these black-robed priests 
who had just landed were the first followers of Loyola to 
enter the St. Lawrence Fathers Charles Lalemant, Enneniond 
Masse, Jean de Brebeuf, and two lay brothers of the Society 
of Jesus. They were the vanguard of an army of true soldiers 
who, bearing the Cross instead of the sword, and laboring at 
their arduous tasks in humility and obedience but with daunt- 
less courage and unflagging zeal, were to make their influence 
felt from Hudson Bay to the mouth of the Mississippi, and 
from the sea-girt shores of Cape Breton to the wind-swept 


prairies of the Great West. The Jesuit missionaries in North 
America had no thought of worldly profit or renown, but, 
with their minds fixed on eternity, they performed their tasks 
ad majorem Dei gloriam for the greater glory of God. 

For the first seven years Champlain's colony lived with- 
out priests. Perhaps the lack was not so seriously felt, for 
most of the two-score inhabitants of the settlement were 
Huguenot traders. But out in the great land, in every direc- 
tion from the rude dwellings which housed the pioneers of 
Canada, roamed savage tribes who, as Champlain said, "lived 
like brute beasts." Ardently desirous of reclaiming these chil- 
dren of the wild, he invited the Recollet community near 
his native village of Brouage to send missionaries to Canada. 
Three friars and a lay brother responded to his message, and 
landed at Tadoussac in May, 1615. To these four men is due 
the honor of founding the first permanent mission among the 
Indians of New France an earlier one in Acadia under 
Father Biard having met with entire failure. The Canadian 
mission is usually associated with the Jesuits, and rightly so, 
for to them belongs the most glorious history; but it was the 
Recollets who paved the way. 

During the next year a chapel was built, in what is now 
the lower town of Quebec, and here the brothers labored to 
minister to the needs of the Indians camped in the vicinity of 
the trading post. In this their reward was chiefly suffering 
every possible obstacle being set in their path, both by the 
traders and by the medicine men of the various Indian tribes. 
The friars' endeavor was to persuade the Indians to settle near 
the villages in order that they might more easily be reached 
with the Gospel message. The traders had but one thought 
the profits of the fur trade and, consequently, anything 
that changed the Indian from a nomadic hunter, met with 
their bitterest opposition. 

The acquisition of the language was of tremendous dif- 
ficulty. From the simple pens of the brothers we have the 
picture of the priest seated, pencil in hand, before some 
Indian squatting on the floor, who had been cajoled into the 
hut with biscuits, there to be plied with questions which fre- 
quently he neither could nor would answer. What was the 
Indian word for Sacrament, Eucharist, Trinity, Incarnation, 
Faith? The perplexed savage, instructed by the medicine 


men, who regarded the gray-robed friars as rivals, gave him 
scurrilous and filthy phrases as the equivalent of things holy. 
These, studiously incorporated into the Fathers' catechism, 
produced we are naively told very small good effects, and 
but few converts were brought in. Nevertheless, they labored 
incessantly among the Montagnais, the Micmacs, the Abnaki, 
the Algonquins and the Nipissings the work growing more 
and more discouraging. At last they saw that the field was 
too large and the difficulties too great. And, after invoking 
the light of the Holy Spirit, they decided says Sagard "to 
send one of their members to France to lay the proposition 
before the Jesuit Fathers, whom they deemed the most suit- 
able for the work of establishing and extending the faith in 
Canada." On June 15, 1625, their plea for assistance was 
answered, as we have seen, by the representatives of the great- 
est of all the missionary Orders an Order which "had filled 
the whole world with memorials of great things done and suf- 
fered for the Faith" the militant and powerful Society of 

Quebec, as these aggressive pioneers of the Church first 
viewed it, must have given them a severe disappointment. 
It was now seventeen years since it had been founded, yet 
it had fewer than one hundred inhabitants. In the whole of 
Canada there were but seven French families, and only six 
white children. Agriculture had hardly been attempted, and 
the colony was almost wholly dependent on France for its 
maintenance. The traders, when not actively engaged in the 
fur industry, lounged in indolence around the trading posts 
and created an atmosphere of laziness and discontent. Sorely 
were the self-sacrificing Jesuits needed. To them, indeed, 
Canada owes its life, for when the King of France grew weary 
of spending treasure on this unprofitable colony, the vivid ap- 
peals of the Jesuit reports moved both King and people to 
support it until the time arrived when New France was valued 
as a barrier against New England. 

Scarcely had Lalemant and his associates made them- 
selves at home in the convent of the Recollets, than they began 
planning for their mission further afield. Less than a month 
after landing Brebeuf set out for Three Rivers, where he 
joined a party of Montagnais hunters and spent the winter of 
1625-26 with them. He suffered much from cold and hunger, 


and from the unsanitary conditions under which he was forced 
to live, in the smoky, filthy, vermin-infested abodes of the 
savages. But an indomitable will and a deep devotion stood 
him in good stead, and he returned home none the worse for 
the experience, and with a fair knowledge of the Montagnais 

In July, 1626, the little band was gladdened by the 
addition to their numbers of two more of the Order, and 
some twenty carpenters and lay brothers, who had come with 
Champlain to erect suitable buildings for the Jesuits' own use. 
And so, on a bend of the St. Charles River, about a mile from 
the fort, Notre-Dame-des-Anges was built of rough-hewn 
planks the seams plastered with mud, and the roofs thatched 
after the manner of Old France with grass from the meadows. 
In this humble abode men were to be trained to carry the 
Cross into the Canadian wilderness, and from it they were to 
go forth for many years in an unbroken line, blazing the way 
for explorers and traders and settlers. 

Father Brebeuf and his original associates did not re- 
main idle while their building was slowly rising. In the end 
of July, accompanied by some of the Huron tribe, they set out 
on the almost impossble journey to the shores of Georgian 
Bay. Brebeuf was overjoyed. It was to the Hurons that he 
felt himself particularly called, and for twenty-three years 
this magnificent son of the Church devoted his life to the task. 

Huronia lay in what is now the county of Simcoe, Ontario. 
On the east and north lay Lakes Couchiching and Simcoe, the 
Severn River, and Matchedash Bay; on the west, Nottawasaga 
Bay. And in the little village of Toanche, about a mile and a 
half from Nottawasaga Bay, Brebeuf made his headquarters. 

He found the Huron Indians of the most primitive type, 
living in utter filth and with an entire disregard for the ele- 
ments of sanitation, morality or health. Their religion con- 
sisted in the main of superstitions, fostered by the medicine 
men. They had but a vague conception of God, a conception 
which had no influence on their conduct for even in their 
worship they were often astoundingly vicious. But they were 
entirely self-satisfied, and strongly resented the presence of 
the three black-robed friars, who had come to them with their 
message of good will and virtue. 

In 1627, Brebeuf was left alone among the savages; 


Father Daillon going on a mission alone to the Niagara Penin- 
sula, and Father Noue returning to Quebec on account of ill- 
health and age. In this awful solitude Brebeuf labored with 
indomitable will, ministering to his flock, studying the lan- 
guage, compiling a Huron dictionary and grammar, and win- 
ning his way into the hearts of his people. In time the Indians 
recognized in him a friend; and when he passed through the 
village ringing his bell, young and old followed him to his 
cabin to hear him tell of God, of heaven, the reward of the 
good, of hell, the eternal reward of the unrighteous. And, 
though he made few converts, he endeared himself to his 
people, living as one apart from their savagery, yet always as 
a sympathetic friend. In 1629, he received word from Quebec 
that he was sorely needed there. Full of misgivings and appre- 
hension, he bade farewell to his people and took the trail 

He found that evil days had fallen upon the Jesuits in 
Canada. In France, the Huguenots were in open rebellion, 
and Cardinal Richelieu was sufficiently harassed by them to 
give a ready ear to the suggestion that they should be sup- 
pressed in New France. The Company of One Hundred Asso- 
ciates was formed, having a grant from the King of a domain 
from Florida to the Arctic Circle, and from Newfoundland to 
the sources of the St. Lawrence. Only a far-off circumstance 
prevented the birth of a new Catholic empire. The revolt of 
the Huguenots of La Rochelle had drawn England into war 
with France, which gave Alexander, Earl of Stirling, the op- 
portunity he desired. In 1621 he had received a grant from 
James I. of Nova Scotia or Acadia, and now he saw the pos- 
sibility of driving the French, not only from Acadia, but from 
the whole of North America. To this end a company was 
formed under the name of the Adventurers of Canada, and 
when Brebeuf came within sight of Tadoussac, their fleet was 
keeping grim and deadly blockade outside Quebec. The gar- 
rison was starving, the gunpowder was exhausted, and the di- 
lapidated fort could not be held by its sixteen defenders. On 
July 22, 1629, the fleur de Us was hauled down from 
Fort St. Louis to give place to the Cross of St. George, and, 
for the time, the hopes of Champlain perished, who for twenty 
years had wrought and fought and prayed that Quebec might 
become the bulwark of French power in America. The terms 


of surrender imposed the removal of all the missionaries, and 
by November of that year both Recollets and Jesuits were in 
their various colleges in France, patiently waiting the time 
when they should be permitted to return to Canada. 

Three years later, after the Treaty of St. Germain en Laye, 
the French King took steps to repossess Quebec, and found it 
in a sad condition. During the English occupation the ground 
had been uncultivated, the buildings were in ruins, and, worst 
of all, the Indians had been badly treated, and many years 
of patient work had been undone. The Hurons and the Iro- 
quois were at war, and a pestilence was playing havoc in the 
Huron villages. Despite all the unfavorable circumstances, 
however, the devoted Fathers returned to their labors and scat- 
tered through the smitten country. 

For the next seventeen years the work was carried on 
indomitably the difficulties growing more and more perilous 
each year. The feud between the Hurons and the Iroquois 
was becoming more bitter, and kept constantly at fever heat 
by acts of savagery and treachery. So far, however, hostility 
towards the missionary Fathers had been of a covert order, 
restricted mainly to the medicine men, who alleged that the 
bells on the little chapels frightened away the good spirits 
and brought pestilence and drought. The Fathers lived in con- 
stant fear of death, and the ringing Iroquois war-cries sounded 
perpetually through the forests. On the upper Ottawa a 
party of Iroquois, twelve hundred strong, were encamped, 
and, as the snows began to melt in the spring of 1649, the in- 
satiable warriors directed their steps towards Huronia. On 
March 16th the inhabitants of St. Ignace had no thought 
of impending disaster. Brebeuf and Lalement slept in their 
mission house. They were wakened at early sunrise by the 
war-whoops of the Iroquois. The Hurons resisted stubbornly, 
but the defenders were outnumbered ten to one, and the vil- 
lage was soon a shambles. The few remaining Hurons were 
captured, and with them Brebeuf and Lalement. 

The Indians bound the two priests and led them about 
three miles back, beating them as they went. Then they 
stripped them and tied them to stakes. Brebeuf knew that 
his hour was come. The savages made him the especial ob- 
ject of their diabolical cruelty. Standing at the stake amid his 
yelling tormentors, he bequeathed to the world an example of 


fortitude sublime, unsurpassed and unsurpassable. Neither 
by look nor cry nor any movement did he give sign of the 
agony he was suffering. To the reviling and abuse of the 
fiends he replied with words warning them of the judgment 
to come. They poured boiling water on his head in derision 
of baptism. They hung red hot axes about his naked should- 
ers; they made a belt of pitch and resin and placed it round 
his body and set it on fire. By every conceivable means they 
strove to force him to cry for mercy, but not a sound of pain 
could they wring from him. At last, after four hours of tor- 
ture, a chief cut out his heart, and the noble servant of God 
quitted the scene of his earthly labors. 

Lalemant, a man of gentle and sensitive character, as 
delicate as Brebeuf was robust, also endured the torture. But 
the savages administered it to him with a refined and pro- 
longed cruelty, and kept him alive for fourteen hours. Then 
he, too, entered into his rest. 

Three years before, Brebeuf had made a vow to Christ: 
"Never to shrink from martyrdom if, in Your mercy, You deem 
me worthy of so great a privilege. Henceforth, I will never 
avoid any opportunity that presents itself of dying for You, 
but will accept martyrdom with delight, provided that, by so 
doing, I can add to Your glory. From this day, my Lord 
Jesus Christ, I cheerfully yield unto You my life, with the 
hope that You will grant me the grace to die for You. Since 
You have deigned to die for me. Grant me, Lord, so to 
live, that You may deem me worthy to die a martyr's death. 
Thus, my Lord, I take Your chalice, and call upon Your name. 
Jesu! Jesu! Jesu!" Nobly was the vow kept. 

With the death of Brebeuf the chronicles of the earlier 
missions in Canada come to an end. In looking back over 
the lives of the missionaries in New France it would seem that 
their harvest was a scant one, since the Indian races for 
which they toiled have disappeared from history and are ap- 
parently doomed to extinction. But their priceless contribu- 
tion lies in the example they gave to the world. During the 
greater part of two centuries they bore themselves manfully, 
and fought a good fight, and in all that time not one of all 
the men in that long procession of missionaries is known to 
have disgraced himself or to have played the coward in the 
face of danger or disaster. 


Their memories are living lights illuminating the paths of 
all workers among those who sit in spiritual darkness. Bre- 
beuf still lives and labors in the wilderness regions of Canada; 
Lalemant still toils on into the unknown. 


The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents Reuben G. Thwaites. 

(In 73 volumes.) 

Les Jesuites el la Nouvelle France Camille de Rochemonteix. 
Pioneers of France; The Old Regime; The Jesuits in North America; 

La Salle and the Discovery of the Great West; Frontenac and New 

France Francis Parkman. 

Pioneers of the Cross in Canada William Richard Harris. 
Old Huronia Arthur E. Jones. 

Christian Missions in Canada Thomas William M. Marshall. 
Pioneer Priests in North America Thomas Joseph Campbell, S.J. 
Histoire du Canada Gabriel Sagard. 
The Programme of the Jesuits W. B. Neatby. 
The Jesuit Missions Thomas Guthrie Marquis. 

The Catholic Dictionary William E. Addis and Thomas Arnold, M.A. 
Encyclopedia Britannica Eleventh Edition. 



HE latest link in the ever progressing chain of 
events that draw the new State of Jugo-Slavia 
closer to Rome, is the appointment of Monsignor 
Francesco Cherubini as Papal Representative in 
Belgrade. For several years Serbia has had her 
representative in Rome; and now Dr. Bakotic, her present 
Minister to the Vatican, has been raised to the rank of pleni- 
potentiary of Jugo-Slavia. The Concordat signed by Serbia 
before the outbreak of war, to be extended soon to the South- 
ern Slav lands with which she has amalgamated, is so liberal 
in tone that the Holy See has expressed a wish to have it 
serve as model for other Balkan States not yet in official rela- 
tions with the Vatican. The text of this Concordat is actually 
being studied by Rumanian authorities, and it will be difficult 
indeed for any of the Orthodox Balkan States to hang back 
where Serbia has set a generous example. 

The collapse of Russian Imperialism removed a strong bar 
to the conciliatory policy of Serbia towards her Catholic kin 
subject to Austria; and the disruption of Austria, the prime 
factor in religious problems of the Near East, leaves the Slav 
Catholics free to join with their non-Catholic brethren. One 
must not forget that Serbia proper was almost wholly Ortho- 
dox until her successes in the Balkan War of 1912 brought 
her a goodly Catholic population in Macedonia. Now her 
fusion with the Catholic Croats and Slovenes makes her the 
first Catholic Power in the Near East. Her Catholic popula- 
tion is numerically equal, if not superior, to her Orthodox 
population. Correct and cordial relations between the new 
State of Jugo-Slavia and the Holy See are therefore of the 
first importance. 

The Concordat drawn up in 1914 was, in the opinion of 
some, a deathblow to Austria, inasmuch as it removed the in- 
sidiously-fostered fear of Catholic Slavs that union with schis- 
matic Serbia would restrict their religious liberty. Once Serbia 
had made clear that the Catholic faith would be recognized 


henceforth and protected by the State equally with the Ortho- 
dox, the people of Croatia and Slovenia, harassed by German 
and Magyar attempts to crush their nationality, turned with 
confidence to Serbia which had ever been the beacon of their 
racial aspirations. But would Serbia, once her national as- 
pirations were attained, persevere in the path of large-minded 
tolerance voluntarily inaugurated while she was still a small 
and struggling state? 

The best answer to this question is contained in the two 
supplementary paragraphs drafted with a view to the adop- 
tion of the Serbian Concordat for the State of Jugo-Slavia. 
One assures perfect freedom to Jugo-Slav citizens who desire 
to pass from one Christian creed to the other. As the apostolic 
spirit of the Catholic clergy, contrasted with that of the Ortho- 
dox clergy, leaves no doubt as to which side will benefit most 
by this clause, the attitude of the Belgrade Government 
towards Catholics must be acknowledged as liberal. More- 
over, the presence of Catholic members in the Cabinet is a 
guarantee that public offices will not be reserved exclusively 
for the Orthodox, as hitherto. Great interest attaches likewise 
to the second supplementary paragraph of the Concordat. 
This permits the introduction into Serbia of communities of 
monks or nuns judged needful for the spiritual welfare of their 
flocks by the Bishops of Belgrade and Skoplye (Turkish: 

Were Russia still paramount in the world's councils, 
Serbia could hardly afford to treat with the Vatican on such 
broad, statesman-like lines. Under Russian influence the pro- 
ject of Southern Slav union was concerned chiefly with the 
Serbs, i. e., those of the Orthodox persuasion. Thus, Greater 
Serbia, as the new State would have been called, was meant 
to comprise the inhabitants of Serbia proper, Macedonia, 
Montenegro, Bosnia, Herzegovina, Siriem, and Banat, exclud- 
ing even Dalmatia, although Dalmatians are proud to call 
themselves Serbs while, nevertheless, professing the Catholic 
faith. Russian autocracy would have been satisfied, had 
Austria survived, with the emancipation of Austria's Orthodox 
subjects and their incorporation with Serbia. It was the dream 
of the Holy Synod to create by means of Serbia a bulwark of 
Orthodoxy in the South, similar to, and dependent on, the bul- 
wark of Orthodoxy in the North. The Catholic Slavs would 


have received some form of autonomy within the Hapsburg 
Monarchy, for this had only been withheld from them in the 
past through Magyar opposition. Had the Central Powers 
triumphed in the late War, the Catholic cause might, indeed, 
have obtained some political advantages due to Austria's post- 
poned demise; but its present ascendancy is of a more assured 
and lasting nature, being the outcome of the national will of 
a united people. 

There is now no danger of the Catholics sprinkled in 
the Serb lands of Bosnia, Herzegovina, etc., being absorbed 
by the Orthodox element. Closer acquaintance is bound to 
dispel bigotry and prejudice. The Balkan Christians, left to 
themselves, will inevitably gravitate towards tolerance and 
Rome. Already we hear the words, "Serbian Catholics," freely 
employed in a State where they had been deemed not only 
incongruous but unrealizable. Catholics who styled them- 
selves "Latins" in Macedonia or "Croats" in Dalmatia to vin- 
dicate their faith, can at last avow their nationality without 
fear of misinterpretation. They are Catholics, but they are 
also true Serbs, and the Church to which they adhere is a 
State Church, enjoying all the privileges hitherto reserved to 
the Orthodox- State Church of Serbia. 

It is true that some political factors, few in number and 
gradually decreasing, still maintain that there can be no true 
solidarity between the Serbs and their kindred so long subject 
to Austria-Hungary, and imbued with an older civilization. 
The mass of the people, however, recognize that common in- 
terests, traditional customs, and racial aspirations are bound 
to weld together the various elements of a single nation. They 
have an identity of speech, not possessed by the Flemings and 
Walloons, who form nevertheless the compact kingdom of Bel- 
gium; nor by the Italians, Germans, and French who form the 
Swiss Republic. Political unity between the Southern Slavs 
has de facto been reached, and, with regard to Catholics, the 
next problem to be solved is that of Church unity. 

Dr. Vladimir Nikolic, a distinguished authority on Church 
matters, discusses in a recent publication the advisability of 
one paramount Catholic authority for the three political divi- 
sions, whether a federal or a centralistic form of government 
be chosen by the forthcoming Constituent Assembly. He re- 
calls that in the past the Serbian Catholic Church was unified, 

VOL. cxi. 23 


and that Pope Alexander IV., in the year 1034, raised the 
Bishop of Bar in Montenegro to the rank of Primate of all the 
Serbs. Although this title gave no effective jurisdiction over 
the Serbs subsequently conquered by Turkey or absorbed by 
Austria, it was maintained and is extant today. Catholicism 
declined after the Turkish invasion, all harassed Balkan Chris- 
tians looking to Russia as their only effective protector, so 
that the Serbian Primate in 1914 had charge of no more than 
ten thousand souls. Nevertheless, his title was assured, Pope 
Leo XIII. having directed at the Council of 1870 that the Arch- 
bishop of Bar take his seat among the Primates. At present, 
since the Serbs of Montenegro, by the unanimous vote of their 
National Assembly, have declared for union with the sister 
State of Serbia, the question arises whether the Primacy of 
Bar should be transferred to the capital, Belgrade, in order 
that the Primate of all the Serbs be enabled to fullfil more 
effectively his role of national leader. But apart from this, a 
matter to be decided between the Serbs themselves, there is 
a movement for the restoration of the Croat Primacy, fallen 
into disuse under Hapsburg dominion. ("Spalatanus enim 
non Dalmatise solum sed etiam Chrobatise Primus vocatur." 
Farlatti: Illyr. sacr. Tom. III.) 

Dr. Nikolic does not foresee any hindrance to the State's 
political unity in the establishment of two Primates, one for 
the Serbs and one for the Croats, although ecclesiastical in- 
terests might be served by a sole Primate for Jugo-Slavia, 
resident in Belgrade. The Church in Croatia and Slovenia 
will benefit greatly by the application of the Serbian Concor- 
dat. For these lands were hitherto regulated by the Austrian 
Concordat of 1855, whose liberal text was often nullified by 
specially contrived State laws that frustrated the intentions of 
the Holy See. The Catholics in Serbia suffered likewise under 
this Austrian Concordat, for they were withdrawn from the 
jurisdiction of the Serb Primate in Bar and subjected to that 
of an Austrian bishop. As one of the many consequent abuses, 
Austria claimed Catholics born in Serbia as her subjects. 
Since she hindered the erection of any Catholic places of 
worship other than her own, the baptismal registers appar- 
ently recorded Austrian citizens domiciled in Serbia, hence the 
males were called upon to serve in the Austrian army. 

Not only did this militate against the extension of the 


Catholic faith in Serbia, but it led to numerous apostasies. 
Even when Catholic settlers from the adjoining territories re- 
mained faithful to creed, parents allowed their children to be 
baptized in the Serb Orthodox churches to escape Austrian 
conscription. Thus, in the light of Austria's designs on Serbia, 
especially after her seizure of the Serb provinces of Bosnia 
and Herzegovina, the name of Catholic became synonymous 
with that of enemy to the Serbian State. Repeated attempts 
of far-sighted Serbian statesmen to get into direct touch with 
Rome, were baffled by strong Austrian pressure at the Vatican 
until, by the feat of arms which delivered Macedonia from the 
Turks, Serbia saw herself in a position to accentuate her 
claim and obtain the removal of the Austrian religious Pro- 
tectorate. Negotiations for a Serbian Concordat were eagerly 
entered upon by the Government at Belgrade, but, although 
concluded, it was not yet ratified at the outbreak of the Great 
War. Despite Austria's strenuous efforts to prevent the rati- 
fication, His Holiness Benedict XV. gave his approval and 
signature on March 20, 1915. From the days of Dushan the 
Mighty in the twelfth century to this memorable date, there 
had been no direct relations between the Serbians of Serbia 
proper and the Chair of St. Peter. 

By Article IV. of the Serbian Concordat the Holy See 
grants the use of the Glagolite, or Old Slav, Liturgy in those 
regions where the need is felt. This beautiful Liturgy was 
used in the time of Pope Innocent III. (1198-1216) as it is 
today in Dalmatia, notably in the dioceses of Zara, Spalato, 
and Sibenico. A like privilege is desired by Slovenes, Croats, 
and Czechs. The two former, some decades ago, presented a 
memorial on the subject which the Austrian Government did 
its utmost to counteract. The Emperor Francis-Joseph, ever 
on the alert for signs of the impending union of the Slavs, 
wrote a private letter to Pope Leo XIII., requesting that the 
Old Slav Liturgy be categorically forbidden except in Monte- 
negro. This request was not acceded to, but a compromise 
was effected by a Statute of the Congregation of Rites con- 
firming the Glagolite where it had already been introduced in 
Croatia, and forbidding its adoption by any other Slav people. 
In 1900 a Catholic Congress in Agram (Slav: Zagreb), capital 
of Croatia, again brought up the question of the Glagolite 
Liturgy, and eight hundred priests, Croats and Slovenes, signed 


a document praying for its recognition, which document was 
forwarded to Rome. A little later the episcopate approved 
the movement and officially represented to the Holy See the 
religious advantages likely to accrue, were the petition granted. 
In order to escape Magyar opposition it was resolved to hold 
the Episcopal Council in Rome instead of in Leybach (Liu- 
bliana) capital of Slovenia, or in Spalato (Splitt) as had been 
originally planned. Pope Pius X. appointed Cardinal Van- 
nutelli to preside, and the three Slav provinces, as divided by 
the Austrian Government, Croatia, Slovenia, and Dalmatia, 
were represented. Bosnia and Herzegovina were prevented 
from participation, by the policy of isolation that tended to 
estrange them from their Slav kin. (The Bosnians were said 
to be a people apart, speaking the "Bosnian" tongue and bound 
for ever to the Empire.) 

Fourteen Southern Slav bishops and archbishops, never- 
theless, assembled at the Vatican on May 21, 1905, to debate 
on the importance of the Old Slav Liturgy. Among them were 
some Germans and Italians who opposed the concession of a 
special Liturgy to the Southern Slavs, while no other existing 
ethnical group of the Roman Rite pretended to such a favor. 
The Council separated without definite result, and its failure 
has been attributed by some to the Holy Father's Venetian 
sympathies. Pius X. certainly was less disposed to accede to 
Slav aspirations than his predecessor, Leo XIII. The Serbian 
Concordat even of June, 1914, gives no definite promise of 
free use of Glagolite in the Serbian dioceses of Belgrade and 
Skoplye (Turkish: Uskub), although it is allowed in "certain 
parishes to be afterwards named." 

In the new arrangements for the extension of the Serbian 
Concordat to all Jugo-Slavia, Serbian, as well as Croat and 
Slovene, patriots look for a general application of the above 
indefinite ruling. Every national argument will be used in the 
forthcoming negotiations with the Vatican to obtain frank per- 
mission for, instead of mere toleration of, the Glagolite. It will 
be pointed out that insistence on uniformity is not always the 
best step to unity; that the use of the Glagolite is no innovation, 
since it is hallowed by time, and is as old as Slav Christian- 
ity itself. It is not a question of celebrating the Sacred Rites 
in a modern tongue, as has been irreverently proposed else- 
where, but of maintaining a Liturgy endeared to the people 


by many sacrifices made for its preservation through cen- 
turies of oppression. No other nation can or does put for- 
ward a similar claim. The Glagolite has been religiously 
guarded since the days of SS. Cyril and Methodius and is a 
link between Catholics and Orthodox. It would facilitate 
reunion of the Churches, as it already conduces to closer 
fraternity of the clergy. The great pioneer of Slav reunion, 
Bishop Strossmayer, was an ardent advocate of the Glagolite. 
He considered it a valuable asset for strengthening the re- 
ligious faith of the people. 

Should the Holy See, nevertheless, not see its way to 
encourage a wider use of this ancient Slav heritage, the faith- 
ful, loyal clergy of Catholic Jugo-Slavia will unhesitatingly 
and whole-heartedly abide by its decision. 


BY S. M. M. 

DEAR, I would spread the wide earth for your table, 
And light the stars for tapers, every one, 
And kindle, at their dying, were I able, 
The lordly sun. 

And I would set a banquet for your pleasure, 
Brave with brave things my soul is dreaming of, 
Glad as my heart is glad, above all measure 
Sweet with my love. 

But through the dawn I see two candles burning 
At a white board where you with Christ are fed; 
Lo, how your heart is filled and all its yearning 
Is comforted! 



WILL not attempt to translate my title because 
there are no proper jonchees here in America, 
although their origin conies from the Gospel 
itself; where, speaking of Our Lord's triumphant 
entry into Jerusalem, the Apostles tell us that the 
enthusiastic multitude cut down branches from the trees and 
strewed them upon the road to welcome the coming of the 
Redeemer. France is the only country I know of which has 
kept up the custom of thus preparing for nearly all the more 
important events of life, and the very word jonchee brings 
back to my mind a thousand touching recollections of my own 
dear country, poor stricken France! 

My first sweet memory is that of a glorious summer even- 
ing in June, when, as a little child of six or seven, I was sent 
out with my nurse to gather basketsful of blue corn flowers 
out of the wheat fields surrounding a peaceful village in Nor- 
mandy. The glory of that summer evening is present with 
me to this very day a whole lifetime afterwards ! the fertile, 
far-reaching plain with its fields of luxuriant wheat waving 
softly in the breeze, splashed here and there with the brilliant 
red of the poppies, the deep blue of the corn flowers, and the 
white and gold of the tall marguerites. Beyond these verdant 
fields, which seemed as endless as the sea, the dense foliage 
of the distant woods was dark and mysterious on the far 
horizon, while the setting sun and gorgeous crimson and gold 
sky above us bathed the foreground in a flood of light. 

The twilight is a long, long one over there; it gave us 
plenty of time to fill our large market baskets with the deep 
blue blossoms, which were gathered with loving thoughts of 
the dear Lord at Whose feet they were to be strewn. 

"You know, Aglae, they are for the sweet Jesus," I prattled 
away, eagerly, "and we must pick lots and lots of them, for 
we want to make a bright blue path right in the middle of the 
road for Him to pass upon, a path as blue as the beautiful 
heaven! Isn't it lovely to think of His passing just before our 
house like that?" 

1920.] "LES JONCHEES" 359 

"Yes, Mademoiselle," answered Aglae, "but you must be 
careful not to push too far forward and trample down the 
wheat. The good God would not like you to cause the poor 
farmer a loss; and see, we can gather plenty of flowers by 
just going along the edge of the fields." 

So we labored on until our baskets were brimful and our 
arms were very tired; then on our way home in the gloaming 
we stopped at the little road-side chapel to say our evening 
prayer before the statue of Our Lady, and leave a pretty bunch 
of wild flowers at her feet. The light was fast fading out in 
a pale golden glow, the swallows flew twittering to their nests 
beneath the eaves, and on all the country round there fell a 
great and solemn stillness, an indescribable sense of blessed, 
restful peace. 

But when we neared the village we found an unusual 
bustle; the sound of hammering, and people hurrying busily 
back and forth, some laden with huge bundles of foliage, 
others working at the temporary altars erected here and there 
for the resting place of the Blessed Sacrament, for tomorrow 
would be Its feast, the Sunday after Corpus Christi. 

I could hardly sleep for excitement. Next morning very, 
very early everyone was up and about, placing the flowers and 
garlands and putting finishing touches to the altars, sweeping 
the streets through which the procession was to pass, and 
covering the front of the houses with snow white sheets, to 
which were pinned great sprays of roses, tall white lilies or 
other choice blossoms. The church bells pealed merrily and 
those who could hurried to the early Masses. Soon little girls 
in white began to flit about the streets, their long tulle veils 
falling almost to their feet, their childish faces aglow with 
happiness, and just at the last minute when the bells rang out 
for High Mass, the jonchee was thrown down, plentiful and 
thick, a dense carpet of foliage and sweet-scented fennel on 
the top of which were scattered thousands of brilliant-colored 
flowers to make a fitting pathway for the God of love. A 
happy memory, this, cloudless as was the brilliant blue sky 
above us on that perfect day in June. 

Perhaps no one in the whole procession had been more 
earnest, more rapt in prayer and adoration than Ldonie, a 
beautiful girl of sixteen, who enjoyed the privilege of carrying 
Our Lady's banner and heading the long line of girls in white. 

360 "LES JONCHEES" [June, 

Leonie was acknowledged to be the belle of the village, not 
only because of her beautiful face, but because she was so tall 
and strong, such a splendid type of a country-bred girl. Her 
tall, lithe, alert figure, her blooming complexion and spark- 
ling eyes seemed to radiate health and happiness, and Leonie 
was as good as she was pretty, which was saying a great deal. 
How I envied her, though I knew the banner must be heavy 
and tiring to carry during the long procession! How I 
dreamed of a time when I should be a big girl myself and the 
proud bearer of our Blessed Mother's banner! 

The following year deep pathos shadowed the village on 
the great day of the Blessed Sacrament, for Leonie lay dying, 
a shade of her former bright self. Her one desire had been to 
live to see once more the Feast of the Blessed Sacrament, and 
to preside at the erection of an altar of repose at her very door. 
She wished to give that last loving homage to her Eucharistic 
Lord before she passed away from earth. 

Some weeks before, she seemed so ill her friends despaired 
of her wish being granted, but her own confidence never 
failed. A day or two before the great event she had one of 
those wonderful rallies which so often precede the death of 
consumptives, and was able to superintend and direct the 
making and trimming of the altar one mass of pure white 
lilies. She planned everything, even to the jonchee before 
the house, which she ordered to be of lilies and deep red roses 
the lilies for purity, the roses for love, she explained. Then 
she lay and watched for the procession. When the Blessed 
Sacrament approached, she was able, with the help of her 
dear ones, to kneel while It was exposed on her altar. She 
listened to the singing of her favorite Tantum Ergo, and re- 
ceived with tears of joy the blessing given with the Sacred 
Host. Now she could die happy, her last wish was fulfilled! 

My thoughts carry me next to a day when, as a grown 
woman, I followed with a heavy heart a sad procession pass- 
ing over a carpet made of the foliage of a special kind of 
laurel, with light green leaves splashed with white, the jonchee 
of the dead. 

In a village in the southwest of France, the whole popula- 
tion was following to his last resting place, the saintly old 
cure, who had been their pastor for over thirty years. Humble, 
mortified, charity itself, he was a gentleman to his finger tips, 

1920.] "LES JONCHEES" 361 

refined and highly educated, and had never been able to 
understand his rough, uncultured flock, nor had they ever 
appreciated him until now. Now everyone was ready with 
some touching story of his devoted charity, his patience with 
wrongdoers, and his generosity to the poor. 

His life had been a pathetically sad and lonely one, for 
he mourned bitterly over his inability to draw more souls to 
God, and he had few friends. His own family was far away, 
in quite a different part of France, and thought little of the 
humble country cure who had left them so long ago. He had 
outlived most of the priests of his generation, and the young 
rectors of the neighboring parishes, mostly peasant-bred like 
their flocks, were almost afraid of his asceticism and deep 
spirituality, and thought him exaggerated, old-fashioned and 
peculiar. So he seldom saw them, and he would have died 
alone and without the Sacraments had not the master of the 
Chateau happened to call on him that afternoon. Finding 
him very sick, he sent in hot haste for the doctor and the 
nearest priest, who arrived in time to give him absolution just 
as he was passing away with an act of love upon his lips. 

The very elements mourned, for it was a bleak November 
day, with a cold wind howling dismally among the trees, and 
bringing down the last brown leaves of autumn. Lowering 
clouds threatened every minute to burst forth in a deluge of 
rain, and the whole country wore a dark and gloomy mien and 
struck a chill to one's very heart. 

"Why! They are carrying the coffin the wrong way," 
whispered one of our party. 

"No," answered another, "not for a priest. They are 
always carried head first, turning their face towards their 
flock to the very last. Didn't you know that?" 

My eyes filled with tears, it was so like him! 

In this same village, some months later, it was my painful 
duty to visit occasionally a poor little martyr girl, dying slowly, 
oh, so slowly, of an agonizing disease. She was very resigned, 
but it was misery to see her suffer thus, a mere child of 
twelve. One day, I had dragged my unwilling feet almost to 
her door, when I stopped with a beating heart, for on the steps 
and surrounding the sidewalk was yet another jonchee; a 
beautiful one this time, of rose petals, pink, white and crim- 
son. I turned away, making the sign of the Cross, while tears 

362 "LES JONCHEES" [June, 

rushed to my eyes. I knew the message of those rose petals! 
She had no need of my visit now, the great Lord of heaven 
itself had come to the bedside of the little peasant girl, and 
giving Himself to her in Viaticum, was helping her on that 
last great journey to eternity. Less than an hour later she 
was dead, on her face a smile of ineffable happiness and peace. 

Once more a jonchee, and this time a joyful, triumphant 
one, scattered plentifully for more than two miles, from a 
prosperous farmhouse to the village church. It is a jonchee 
of plain green foliage for the passage of the bridal pair and 
their crowd of guests. Ah ! here comes the bride, a beautiful, 
young country maiden, in as elegant a white satin gown as any 
rich lady could wish to have, her long tulle veil pinned up with 
a wreath of real orange blossoms. She leans on the arm of her 
father, his bronzed, weatherbeaten face glowing with pride, 
though he feels and looks rather ill at ease in his new cloth 
suit. Next comes the bridegroom with the bride's mother, 
and then all the merry, gayly-dressed wedding guests, fifty 
or sixty of them, from all the country round. They chatter 
merrily as they walk over the jonchee. All is joy! The 
birds sing merrily, the country wears that soft, rich green of 
spring and early summer, and the crops have never looked 
more promising greatest of all delights to the farmer's eye. 

Farmer's daughter though she is, this bride will have as 
fine a nuptial Mass as if she were the daughter of the Chateau 
folk, for this is the good Rector's gift to all his "Children of 
Mary" who have never once broken the rules and regulations 
of the Sodality, and this is the bride's record. Never has 
she been to a public ball; never, without serious cause, has she 
missed the monthly Communion or even the meetings, trudg- 
ing bravely through beating rain or blinding snow to the vil- 
lage church. Now she is to have her reward, for her com- 
panions have decorated the altar beautifully with white 
flowers, and there will be the organ and full choir, and the 
church filled as on a Sunday. 

Later, what a feast is served to the guests! A great barn 
cleared of its contents is the only place big enough to contain 
the long tables fairly groaning under the weight of the sump- 
tuous repast, which lasts for hours. The cows look out of their 
stalls at the side of the barn, heads and horns decorated with 
flowers and ribbons, and moo softly as if quite enjoying the 

1920.] "LES JONCHEES" 363 

unusual sight. Then follows a walk in the fields, dancing all 
night, and, the next morning, the walk to the church over the 
now fading jonchee, to hear a Mass of thanksgiving. Scarcely 
a week later, I see the bride tossing a great bale of hay from 
the tip of her pitch-fork onto a high wagon which her husband 
is loading. She is working hard again, but she looks as beam- 
ingly happy as on her wedding day. 

Yet another jonchee comes to my mind, a happy one 
again, more deeply, serenely happy than even the wedding 
scene, worthy to be the crowning climax of my memories. 

It is a jonchee of foliage and pure white flowers strewn 
from the rectory of a charming seaside resort on the Bay of 
Biscay to its beautiful church, whose pointed steeple stands 
out sharply against the blue sky and can be seen for miles out 
on the bay, reminding the mariners of the loving protection 
of Our Lady Star of the Sea. Behind the town rise the densely 
wooden dunes, redolent with the spicy scent of the pine trees 
and undergrowth of white hawthorne and yellow broom, and 
further down, in front of the church, stretch the yellow sands 
and beyond them the brightly sparkling bay, blue as the sky 
itself, with fishing boats and pleasure yachts dancing on its 
foamy-capped waves, for the sea is fresh today. 

Around the church stands an eager, expectant crowd, 
watching the rectory door. It opens at last and out comes the 
procession, headed by the Cross, and a whole troop of altar 
boys, followed by a long double line of priests, and last of all, 
with clasped hands and downcast eyes, a young priest so 
rapt in prayer that he treads almost unconsciously over the 
flower-strewn ground as he goes to say his first Mass in the 
church where he was baptized and made his first Communion, 
and where his mother now kneels with tears of joy stream- 
ing down her face. A poor widow and a seamstress, the labors 
and sacrifices that have earned the honor of having her only 
son a priest are now forgotten. One thought alone possesses 
her: that she is about to receive from the consecrated hands 
of her son that same Divine Master, to Whom she has given 
her all. 



OME one has written recently about the "puzzled 
American." There is a deal of truth behind the 
critic's quasi-humorous observations. The aver- 
age man, depending on the daily press reports 
of current history, is indeed puzzled by the end- 
less array of impossible contradictions facts denying facts, 
explanations denying explanations. He grows dizzy in the 
whirl of it all. There are international conferences, new 
leagues, new boundaries, new standards of life and thought, 
new relations between the classes. There are enough new 
economic, social and political difficulties to vex a century, and 
they have sprung into being within a few short months. 

Perhaps Bolshevism is the chief of these difficulties. Cer- 
tainly it is the most dangerous. It is no longer the vague 
illusory thing it was thought to be a few months since. It is a 
vital world- wide movement; not a mere peasant uprising 
amid the snows of Russia, but a mania that has disturbed even 
stolid, orderly Germany. It is the giant child of oppression 
and ignorance, a torch-waving, bomb-throwing demon of de- 
struction. It overran Russia in an orgy of fire and blood. 
It is the force behind risings all over Europe. Its propaganda 
has prompted outbreaks even here in America. It flourishes 
among our working classes. It is a menace not only in the 
factory city of New England, but in the farming country of 
the West as well. Those who, having eyes, also see, are 
studying its nature and its tendencies, and evolving measures 
to meet it. It is too dangerous to be allowed to grow un- 

Its leaders, Lenine and Trotzky, and the rest, boast that 
it will vitally affect the life of every nation. We pray and trust 
that they are wrong. Americans are fundamentally too con- 
tent with their government to entertain any such doctrines as 
the radical Socialists preach. But though we may discount 
the possibility of any ultimate success, we cannot discount 
the possibility of a struggle and a conflict. There are too 


many members of our society who are ignorant of, if not 
mistakenly opposed to, our ideals and our institutions. "The 
Bolsheviki," ex-President Taft tells us, "are crusaders, pushing 
their propaganda in every country, seeking to rouse the law- 
less, the discontented, the poor, the lazy, the shiftless, to a 
milk-iiium of plunder and class hatred." The world, after 
four years of war, cannot afford to let such a movement 
succeed. This is no time for anarchistic social revolution. 

The Bolsheviki are our latest menace. Yet in a sense, 
Bolshevism is not new. It is as old as history. As we turn 
back the records of the past, we find the Bolsheviki burning 
and plundering even as now. They bore other names, and 
they lived in other climes. Still, their signs and earmarks 
are the same. And their history teaches lessons that he who 
runs may read lessons not without value even today. 

They called themselves Cathari or Albigenses in the early 
thirteenth century. Their home was not in Russia, for the 
north country of Europe was scarcely part of the civilized 
world. They infested instead the southern part of France, 
and northern Italy. Historians are divided as to their origin. 
Whether they were lineal descendants of the Manichaeans of 
the East, by way of the Borgomili and Paulicians, or whether 
they sprang from the sectaries of northern France, is an open 
question. They were long a secret society, and only became 
prominent when already strong in numbers and influence. 

The times were favorable to Bolshevism. On the surface 
it was an age of brilliance and greatness. It was the time when 
the Church and the Pope dominated Europe. The Popes 
were the victors in the long fight against imperial aggression. 
They were masters of extensive Papal states, and overlords 
of Sicily. In 1213, England and Ireland declared themselves 
fiefs of the Holy See, not only in matters spiritual, but in a 
political and a feudal sense as well. In 1204, Philip of Aragon 
acknowledged the Pope's temporal supremacy by laying his 
crown on the Tomb of St. Peter and promising an annual 
tribute. Leo of Bulgaria declared his kingdom a fief of 
Rome in the same year. At this time, too, the Latin League of 
Constantinople was formed, which acknowledged the nominal 
supremacy of the Holy See. The Emperor of Germany, John 
Lackland of England, and Philip Augustus of France might 
and did oppose the Pope, but the Pope was always so strong 


as to hold them in abeyance. And so it was that at the 
Council of the Lateran in 1215, the Pope's was the greatest 
temporal power in Europe. 

Of this union of spiritual and temporal powers were born 
the Crusaders; and these worked out to the greater unity of 
Christendom. Our present day separation of the social, po- 
litical, economic and religious spheres was unknown. Life at 
that time was dominated by religion : and this not so much in a 
speculative system of thought as in actual belief and practice. 

It is hard for us to conceive society in these terms. Re- 
ligion today is considered a minor part of life. Men think of 
it as calling for certain observances on the consecrated first 
day of the week and on a few major feast days. Occasionally, 
some principle of belief or practice must be controlled by a 
religious code. But aside from this, life is business and pleas- 
ure, politics, and economics, and what else you will. The 
Pope, the bishops and priests are secondary figures, dim in 
the background of life. They are held in reverence and re- 
spect. But our leaders in most spheres of life are not clerical. 
Spiritual leaders are expected to concern themselves only 
indirectly with the ordinary affairs of life. It was not so 
seven centuries since. Churchmen were leading figures in the 
State: the teachers and rulers of the people, the councilors 
and support of the princes. They were responsible not only 
in matters spiritual, but in many matters temporal. This is 
the keynote to the understanding of the thirteenth century. 

The social order of the times was not as perfect as we 
should expect. Even under the leadership of the Church, 
strong tides of discontent were, in certain places, sweeping 
along beneath the surface. Some there were of high dignity 
and office who thought of little else than enriching themselves 
and extending their worldly possessions. There were hireling 
pastors who thought not of their flock, but of themselves: 
who forgot that riches were but a stewardship to be exercised 
for the relief of the poor. Beyond this, too, men saw monas- 
teries and churches possessed of vast riches of land and treas- 
ure, and too readily forgot to what good and charitable uses 
these riches were devoted. 

For let us not misunderstand. The Church was by no 
means corrupt. These were but individual failures. Her min- 
isters then, as now, were human: and some of them, in carry- 


ing the common purse, were tempted and traveled not the 
narrow way of justice. The Church herself was holy; and if 
there were sinners, there were also saints. Witness St. 
Bernard, with his admirable spirit of reform. Witness St. 
Dominic and the other founders of Mendicant Orders. Wit- 
ness the admirable councils of the Lateran, of Westminster, 
of Rheims. Still abuses existed, and the age-old story of 
Dives and Lazarus had its too common repetition among the 
worldly churchmen of the day. 

The mediaeval Bolsheviki seized upon these outstanding 
abuses as a basis for their propaganda. They took up the 
spirit of discontent and drew it to themselves by captivating 
and revolutionary doctrines. "Jura, perjura, secretum prodere 
noli!" they said. They sowed in secret, and none knew of 
them till the field was white for the harvest. And they reaped 
the whirlwind. 

The Cathari, like all Bolsheviki, were of a mind to undo 
the old adage that one should not cut off one's nose to spite 
one's face. Because there were abuses, they set about to, 
destroy society altogether. It was the old fallacy of arguing 
from particular premises to a universal conclusion. They 
harped and harped on the theme of hoarded riches and un- 
worthy rulers. They bade all men share all their riches with 
all the world, as they professed to do. They would have no 
one to reign in the seats of the mighty save only the just and 
pure of heart. And needless to say, they in their "apostolic 
simplicity" were the only just and pure of heart. Society as 
constituted would not hear of their project. Therefore society 
must be overthrown. Here was a simple and appealing doc- 
trine. Here was a solution of social ills to please "the lawless, 
the discontented, the poor, the lazy, the shiftless." 

Nor was this all. They had a religion and a ritual, too, 
based on the dualistic principle of a co-eternal Evil Spirit, 
who was the creator of the visible world, who entrapped our 
souls into bodies, who organized family and state, and brought 
on mankind all the evils of life. Dualism is always an easily 
understood, attractive philosophy in answer to the problems 
of life; and in this case it had behind it a concerted organiza- 
tion, based on secrecy, which had all the fascination of de- 
structive, revolutionary conspiracy. It was a religion of anti- 
social, anti-Christian anarchy. And though Catharism clam- 


ored for a new distribution of worldly goods a communism 
not very different from the Soviet regime today, the religious 
element was made to obscure the social. The attack centred 
on the Church and on Christianity, because society was built 
on the Church and on Christian teaching and authority. 

Church and State were therefore equally concerned in 
this propaganda. Both Church and State banned and pro- 
scribed its sectaries. The social order being what it was, the 
denial of Catholic faith was a serious social offence. But 
beyond this was the greater social danger, in that the Cathari 
sought to undo all authority and order. Strong measures were 
the natural result. The Inquisition was the direct product of 
Catharism, the means adopted to discover and punish the 
offenders. Seen thus in the light of true history, it was not 
the cruel instrument of bigotry and tyranny that it is generally 
conceived to have been. There were mistakes and excesses it 
is true; but mob violence and abuse by civil powers are the 
all-sufficient answer. The fact of the matter is that the In- 
quisition was merely the court of judgment wherein society 
defended its very existence against Bolshevism. 

But repressive measures were ineffective. The Cathari 
were determined even unto death. Persecution only gave 
them a new title to build on false though it was the title of 
martyrdom. For fanatics do die for false beliefs, and die 
cheerfully, if, perforce, they must. Endurance of torture and 
death is not the only criterion of true martyrdom. Nor was 
preaching of any great avail. St. Bernard, with all the 
prestige of his established reputation and eloquence, could 
achieve only a nominal success, and that in virtue of a series 
of miraculous cures. Conferences and debates were resorted 
to, again with little of achievement. Finally came a crusade 
of Catholic rulers "armed intervention" and this degener- 
ated into an internecine warfare in which one party had no 
higher claims in justice and truth than the other. 

The true solution was a constructive and positive method 
of social reform. It was a movement that cut the cancerous 
abuses from the bosom of the Church. It was the foundation 
of the Mendicant Orders. They revived apostolic poverty, but 
united it to the best ideals of obedience and service. They op- 
posed vice by Christian virtue. They met extortion and op- 
pression with meekness and generosity. They assisted the 


lowly and the needy. They made their houses not only centres 
of religion and piety, but of active charity as well. They 
preached against the excesses of the times, and by lives of 
Christ-like self-renunciation renewed in the hearts of the peo- 
ple confidence in their fellows and trust in God. Verba 
movent, exempla trahunt. 

In a word, they ultimately destroyed Catharism by prov- 
ing that its claims as to the corruption of the Church and 
society were false and unfounded. Their work was revolu- 
tionary in a way in a positive way. They did not blindly 
uproot the good with the bad. Like the man in the Gospel, 
they were bent on destroying the cockle which an enemy had 
oversown; but the good, golden wheat they tended carefully. 
They separated the cockle of abuses from the wheat of good. 
The point is that they did not destroy both. That would have 
been prodigal waste. That is Bolshevism. 

There is a vital, pragmatic lesson in the rise and fall of 
the Cathari a modern and a timely lesson. With the prospect 
of a Bolshevist alliance including Russia, Austria, and Ger- 
many, with social unrest among the Allies and even among 
ourselves, we must find and employ strong and ef- 
ficient weapons. The Bolsheviki are modern Cathari, or the 
Cathari were medieval Bolshevists, as you will. Both molded 
social abuses and their resulting spirit of discontent into an 
organization that would overthrow society, and destroy all law 
and authority and order. The weapons that met the one 
emergency will meet the other. It needs only that we modern- 
ize them to fit the changed conditions. 

Some of these weapons are already at work. There are 
repressive measures at hand, at least where the Bolshevists 
are not beyond control investigations and trials and punish- 
ments. There is talk of a modern crusade of armed interven- 
tion. These repressive measures are well and good. They 
are necessary in view of the damage already done. But as a 
fundamental and a final remedy, they were insufficient in the 
past, nor can we be satisfied with them now. They only fan 
the flame of opposition into a greater fire. The real solution 
must be positive and constructive. 

In our day it will not take the form of new religious so- 
cieties. Religion is no longer the conscious basis of society, 
the common denominator of social movements and public 

VOL. CXI. 24 


thought. But it must be based on religion, consciously or un- 
consciously. It may be a lay movement of social reform, but 
it must build on the eternal truths of the divine dispensation. 
As long as the problems of unfairly distributed profits, of 
capitalism, of high prices, of wage standards and the rest re- 
main to vex us, so long will discontent and Bolshevism be a 
menace. And religious truths, consciously such or no, are the 
only solution of these problems. 

Shall Catholics, as Catholics, remain inactive because this 
work is not directly and primarily religious? It would be 
unfortunate and worse if we did not do our part. Bolshe- 
vism is a rapid poison, and the need is pressing. Others must 
go far afield in search of remedies we have the solution of 
social ills in our very hands. We have the eternal principles 
of justice and charity, true in the days of the Cathari, and as 
true now. We need only to modernize their application. 
Mere speculation and theory are not enough. It is only by 
concrete realities that Bolshevism can be effectively answered. 
Our clergy must translate the "approved authors" to meet the 
terms and the needs of the day. Our laity must carry their 
teaching into practice in the world of business and the marts 
of trade. Some few are attempting the work, but the work 
is too great for them to succeed unaided. There is need for 
organization, for concerted effort. It is our duty, as citizens, 
if we would save the State. It is, also, our duty as Catholics, 
if we would serve the best interests of our Church. 

Popes Leo XIII. and Pius X. consecrated the movement 
of social reform by their leadership and approval. Benedict 
now gloriously reigning has not left the problems of recon- 
struction to the high and other signatories of Paris. Our 
bishops are studying and evolving a concrete constructive 
platform of reform. It needs only that Catholics all Catho- 
lics in a nation-wide effort, unite to study with them and 
work with them, and uphold their arms. A Catholic reforma- 
tion of society will be a true reformation, and the deathblow 
to Bolshevism. And perhaps in making this reformation, we 
shall bring the Church again back into her own as the primary 
conscious foundation of social life. 




TEPHEN was sitting in his room, his feet crossed 
on a foot-rest before him, his eyes gazing into the 
side street that opened full before his window. 
He had been reading a number of dispatches and 
letters which lay piled in a small heap in his lap; 
but little by little he had laid them down again to 
let his mind run into reflection and study. And so he sat and 

It seemed incredible that events of prime importance were 
transpiring in the city and that the crisis was so near at 
hand. For nearly three months he had been accumulating, meth- 
odically and deliberately, a chain of incriminating evidence 
around the Military Governor and John Anderson, still he was 
utterly unaware of its amazing scope and magnitude. Perfidy 
was at work all about him and he was powerless to interfere; 
for the intrigue had yet to reach a point where conviction was 
certain. Nevertheless, he continued to advance, step by step, 
with the events, sensing keenly the while, a tension, sensible, 
although still intangible. 

He had kept himself fully informed of the progress of affairs 
in New York where the recruiting was being accomplished in 
an ostensible manner. The real facts, however, were being 
adroitly concealed from the bulk of the populace. Information 
of a surprising nature had been forwarded to him from time to 
time in the form of the dispatches and letters, which lay before 
him. A certain Sergeant Griffin had been detailed by him to 
carry out the more hazardous work of espionage in the city of 
the enemy, and had now returned to Philadelphia to report on 
the progress of the work. 

Irish Catholics had been found in the British Army at New 
York, but they had been impressed into the service. Sergeant 
Griffin had spoken to many deserters who avowed that they had 
been brought to the Colonies against their will, declaring that 
they had been "compelled to go on board the transports where 
they were chained down to the ring-bolts and fed with bread and 
water; several of whom suffered this torture before they could 

372 THE LOYALIST [June, 

be made to yield and sign the papers of enlistment." In con- 
firmation of this declaration, he had in his lap a letter written 
to General Washington by Arthur Lee, June 15, 1777, which read: 
"Every man of a regiment raised in Ireland last year had to be 
shipped off tied and bound, and most certainly they will desert 
more than any troops whatsoever." To corroborate this claim 
he had obtained several clippings, advertisements that appeared 
in the New York newspapers, offering rewards for the apprehen- 
sion of Irish soldiers who had deserted to the rebels. 

The same methods, he learned, were now being employed in 
the recruiting of the Catholic regiment. Blackmail had been re- 
sorted to with splendid results. In several instances enormous 
debts had been liquidated in favor of the recruits. Commissions 
in the army of His Majesty had been offered as a bounty. Suc- 
cess there had been, if a few hundred faces in the ranks could 
be reckoned a fair catch. 

Just how this idea had taken root, he was at a loss to dis- 
cover. Certainly not from disloyalty manifested by the Catholic 
population during the war. The exploits of the famous "Con- 
gress" Own" regiments might, he thought, have contributed much 
to the enemy's scheme. It was commonly known that two regi- 
ments of Catholics from Canada, raised there during the winter 
of 1775-76, had performed valiant service against the British. A 
great number of the Canadian population had welcomed the pa- 
triots under Generals Schuyler, Montgomery, and Arnold upon 
their attempted invasion of the country, and had yielded much 
assistance towards the success of their operations. As many had 
sought enlistment in the ranks as volunteers, an opportunity was 
furnished them by an act of Congress on January 20, 1776, au- 
thorizing the formation of two Canadian regiments to be knowia 
as "Congress" Own." The first was organized by Colonel James 
Livingston; the second, by Colonel Moses Hazen. Both of these 
regiments continued in active service for the duration of the war, 
and both obtained a vote of thanks from the American Congress 
upon its termination. 

Herein must lie the germ of the project of the British Regi- 
ment of Roman Catholic Volunteers. 

He sat and considered. 

"You tell me, then," he said quietly, "that this is the state 
of affairs in New York." 

"Yes sir," replied the soldier. 

There was a further silence. 

The progress of the work in Philadelphia had been less 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 373 

evident. Certain it was that Anderson was directing his un- 
divided attention to the furtherance of the plan, for which he 
was admirably endowed. That Arnold, too, was greatly interested 
in the success of the plot, he suspected, but he had failed to dis- 
cover the least incriminating objective evidence against him. 
There were several whose names had been associated with the 
work; yet these, too, had revealed nothing, when confronted 
with a direct question. Whatever inference he might have had, 
whatever lurking suspicions he might have accumulated from 
the contributory details, when simmered down amounted to little 
or nothing. The plan had not progressed to the extent required. 
There was nothing to do but to await further developments. 

This man Anderson was baffling. The most striking char- 
acteristic about him, that towards which and in support of which 
every energy and every talent had been schooled and bent, was 
an intrepid courage. Ambition possessed his soul, yet his dis- 
position and address generally appeared soft and humane. 

During the four or five months spent in the city, he had 
made a host of friends among all classes of people. His agree- 
able manner and fluency of speech at once gained for him the 
confidence of the most phlegmatic. No man was endowed with 
more engaging qualities for the work, if it may be assumed that 
he was engaged solely in recruiting a Tory Regiment from among 
the supporters of the Whigs. 

The names of several who yielded allegiance to the opposite 
side were in the hands of Stephen. The Major of the new regi- 
ment was a Catholic, John Lynch. So were Lieutenant Eck, 
Lieutenant Kane, and Quartermaster Nowland. These were at 
present in New York, whither they had journeyed soon after the 
British occupation of the city. Of the hundred odd volunteers, 
who were supposed to constitute the company, little could be 
learned, for a veil of secrecy enshrouded the whole movement. 

Pressure had been brought to bear on several, it was dis- 
covered, so that no alternative was left them but to sign the 
papers of enlistment. In this Anderson had been materially 
aided by the Military Governor's intimate knowledge of the for- 
tunes and prospects of the citizens. To imply this, however, was 
one thing; to prove it quite another. However strong the sus- 
picion, it was still a suspicion, which must be endorsed by investi- 
gation before the people could be convinced. Stephen was unpre- 
pared to offer the results of his investigation to a people too 
indolent and hasty to investigate them as facts and to discrim- 
inate nicely between the shades of guilt. Anderson was loved and 
admired by his countrymen and more especially by his country- 

374 THE LOYALIST [June, 

women. Everything would be forgiven his youth, rank and 

Even Marjorie had been captivated by him, it seemed. The 
relationship between them he disliked, and some day he would 
tell her so. His attentions were evident, but to what degree she 
reciprocated was another matter. What she thought of this 
stranger and to what extent her heart strings had been fettered, 
he longed to know, for it was weeks since he had laid eyes on her. 
His last two attempts to see her had found her in the company 
of Anderson, once at the Shippens', and again on a ride through 
the country. True, he himself had been absent from town for a 
brief spell, immediately after his court-martial, when he returned 
to headquarters to file a report with his Commander-in-Chief. 
The few moments spent with her upon his return was his last 
visit. Undoubtedly, he was a stranger to her now; she was ab- 
sorbed in the other man. 

An insatiable longing to see her filled his soul. There 
are certain situations when a man or woman must confide 
in some person. No one more invited Stephen's confidence than 
this girl. She understood him and could alleviate by her mere 
presence: by a something that radiated from her alone, the great 
burden which threatened to overwhelm him. Simply to converse 
with her might constitute the prophecy of a godlier existence. 

He determined to see her that very evening. 

"Marjorie," said Stephen, "of course, you've a perfect right 
to do exactly as you like. But, you know, you did ask my opinion ; 
didn't you?" 

"I did," said Marjorie, frowning, "but I disagree with you. 
And I think you do him a grave injustice." 

She was seated in a large comfortable chair in the middle 
of the side yard when he entered. A ball of black yarn which, 
with the aid of two great needles, she was industriously engaged 
in converting into an article of wearing apparel, lay by her side. 
Indeed, so engrossed was she, that he had opened and closed the 
gate before her attention was aroused. She rose immediately, 
laying her knitting upon the chair, and advanced to meet him. 

"I haven't seen you in ages. Where have you been?" 

He looked at her. 

"Rather let me ask that question," was his query by way of 
reply. "Already twice have I failed to find you." 

They walked together to the chairs; she to her own, he to a 
smaller one near by. 

"That you called once, I know. Mother informed me." 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 375 

"You were similarly engaged on both occasions." 

He brought his chair near to her. 

"With Mr. Anderson?" 

She smiled straight in his face. 

"Of course." 

He, too, smiled. 

"Well!" Then after a pause, "Do you object?" 

He did not answer. His fingers drummed nervously on the 
arm of his chair and he looked far up the road. 

"You do not like him?" she asked quickly. 

"It would be impossible for me to tell you now. As a matter 
of fact, I have been unable to form a definite opinion. I may 
let you know later. Not now." 

A deep sigh escaped her. 

"I should imagine you could read a man at first sight," she 

"I never allowed myself that presumption. Men are best 
discovered at intervals. They are most natural when off their 
guard. Habit may restrain vice, and passion obscures virtue. 
I prefer to let them alone." 

She bit her lip, as her manner was, and continued to observe 
him. How serious he was! The buoyant, tender, blithesome 
disposition so characteristic of him, had yielded to a temper 
of saturnine complexion, a mien of grave and thoughtful com- 
posure. He was analytic, and she began to feel herself a simple 
compound in the hands of an expert chemist. 

"I am sorry to have caused you a disappointment." 

"Please, let me assure you there is no need of an apology." 

"And you were not disappointed?" A smile began to play 
about the corners of her small mouth. She tried to be humorous. 

"Perhaps. But not to the extent of requiring an apology." 

"You might have joined us." 

"You know better than that." 

"I mean it. Peggy would have been pleased to have you." 

"Did she say so?" 

"No. But I know that she would." 

"Alas!" He raised his arm in a slight gesture. 

She was knitting now, talking as she did. She paused to 
raise her eyes. 

"I think you dislike Peggy," she said with evident emphasis. 


"I scarce know. My instinct, I suppose." 

"I distrust her, if that is what you mean?" 

"Have you had reason?" 

376 THE LOYALIST [June, 

"I cannot answer you now, for which I am very sorry. You 
will find my reasoning correct at some future time, I hope." 

"Do you approve of my friendship with her?" She did not 
raise her eyes this time, but allowed them to remain fixed upon 
the needles. 

"It is not mine to decide. You are mistress of your own 

Her face grew a shade paler, and the look in her eyes deep- 

"I simply asked your advice, that was all." 

The words hit so hard that he drew his breath. He realized 
that he had been brusque and through his soul there poured a 
kind of anger first, then wounded pride, then a sense of crushing 

"I regret having said that," he tried to explain to her. "But 
I cannot tell you what is in my mind. Since you do ask me, I 
fear Peggy greatly, but I would not say that your friendship 
with her should cease. Not at present, anyhow." 

"Well, did you approve of my going there with Mr. Ander- 

"With him? No." 

"Can you tell me the reason?" 

He then spoke briefly of his reasons for disliking this man 
and of the veil of suspicion and of mystery with which he was 
surrounded. He did not think him a suitable companion for 
her, and wished for her own good that she would see no more 
of him. 

There was no reply to his observations. On the contrary, 
Marjorie lapsed into a meditative silence which seemed to grow 
deeper and deeper as the moments passed. Stephen watched her 
until the suspense became almost beyond endurance, wondering 
what thoughts were coursing through her mind. 

At length he broke the silence with the words already re- 
corded, and Marjorie answered him quietly, deliberately, and 
continued her knitting. 

A great melancholy fell upon him. He felt powerless to 
contend against it. A seeming predilection on the part of Mar- 
jorie for this man Anderson flashed upon him. The longer they 
conversed, the deeper the conviction grew. This made him care- 
less and petulant. Then he was consumed with regret because he 
had been unsympathetic. Her grief and disappointment roused 
his pity. 

"I deeply regret the pain I have caused you," he said to her 
quietly and kindly. "It was altogether rude of me." 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 377 

She bit her lip violently, tremulously, in an effort to restrain 
a flood of emotion which threatened to overcome her if she 
uttered the merest syllable. 

She did not reply, but fumbled with the knitted portion of 
her garment running its edges through her fingers. 

"I had no intention of speaking of him as I did," he went on. 
"I would not, had you not asked me." 

"I am not offended." 

"You have been hurt." 

"I did not mean that you should know it." 

"Very likely. But you could not disguise the fact. I shall 
give you the assurance, however, that the subject shall not be 
a topic for discussion by us again. He must not be men- 

"Please! I I" 

"It was solely for yourself that I was concerned. Believe 
me, when I say this. For my own part, I am wholly disinterested. 
I thought you desired to know and I told you as much as it was 
possible for me to tell. You must ask me no more." 

"He has not revealed this side of his character to me and I 
have been in his company on several occasions. Always has he 
been kind, gentlemanly, sincere, upright." 

Her eyes were centred full upon him; those large, brown 
eyes that seemed to voice her whole being. Whether she was gay 
or sad, jocose or sober, enthusiastic or despondent, the nature 
of her feelings could be communicated by her eyes. She need 
not speak: they spoke for her. 

"You are right in believing every man virtuous until he has 
proved himself otherwise," he replied. "There should be one 
weight and one measure. But I regulate my intercourse with 
men by the opposite standard. I distrust every man until he has 
proved himself worthy, and it was that principle which guided 
me, undoubtedly, in my judgment of him to you." 

"Do you consider that upright?" 

"Do not misunderstand me. I do not form a rash judgment 
of every person I meet. As a matter of fact I arrive at no judg- 
ment at all. I defer judgment until after the investigation, and 
I beware of men until this investigation has been completed." 

"You are then obliged to live in a world of suspicion." 

"No. Rather in a world of security. How often has the 
knave paraded under the banner of innocence! The greatest 
thieves wear golden chains." 

"I could not live so." She became impatient. 

"Were you thrown into daily relation with the world, you 

378 THE LOYALIST [June, 

would soon learn the art of discrimination. The trusty sentinel 
lives a life of suspicion." 

At length a truce was silently proclaimed. Composure 
reigned. The unpleasant episode had to all appearance been ob- 
literated from their minds. There was even a touch of the old 
humor dancing in her eyes. 

"Some one has said," she observed, "that 'suspicion is the 
poison of friendship.' >: 

"And a Latin proverb runs: 'Be on such terms with your 
friend as if you knew he may one day become your enemy." 
Friendship, I realize, is precious and gained only after long days 
of probation. The tough fibres of the heart constitute its es- 
sence, not the soft texture of favors and dreams. We do not 
possess the friends we imagine, for the world is self-centred." 

"Have you no friends?" A humorous smile played about the 
corners of her mouth. 

"Only those before whom I may be sincere." He was serious, 
inclined to analysis. 

"Can you expect to find sincerity in others without yourself 
being sincere?" 

"No. But my friend possesses my other soul. I think aloud 
before him. It does not matter. I reveal my heart to him, share 
my joys, unburden my grief. There is a simplicity and a whole- 
someness about it all. We are mutually sincere." 

"Your test is severe." 

"But its fruits imperishable." 

"I cannot adopt your method," was the deliberate reply as 
she began to gather together her ball and needles. 

"Let's leave it at that." 

And they left it. 

Long after he had gone she sat there until it was well into 
the evening, until the stars began to blink and nod and wrap 
themselves in the great cloak of the night. 

The longer she sat and considered, the more melancholy 
did she become. Stephen was displeased with her conduct and 
made no effort to conceal it, inflicting only a deeper wound by 
his ambiguous and incisive remarks. His apparent unconcern 
and indifference of manner frightened her, and she saw, or she 
thought she saw, a sudden loss of that esteem he had seemed to 
entertain for her. And yet he was mistaken, greatly mistaken. 
Furthermore, he was unfair to himself and unjust to her in the 
misinterpretation of her behavior. His displeasure pained her 
beyond endurance. 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 379 

In her relation with John Anderson, she had been genuinely 
sincere, both with herself and with Stephen. The latter had 
asked her to help him; and this she was trying to do in her own 
way. That there was something suspicious about Anderson, she 
knew; but whether the cause lay in his manner of action or in 
the possession of documentary evidence, she could not conjec- 
ture. What more apt method could be employed than to asso- 
ciate with him in the hope that, at some time or other, important 
information might be imparted to her? She did not intend to 
play the part of the spy; still if that was the role in which she 
should find Anderson, she was ready to assume a similar one 
to outwit him and defeat him on his own ground. If Stephen 
would only trust her! Oh, dear! And she wrung her hands in 
abject despair. 

Little by little her experiences of the summer just past came 
before her with a vividness which her experience with Stephen 
served only to intensify. First, there was the night of the 
Governor's Ball. He had come into her life there, filling a 
vacancy not realized before. Hitherto, she had been quite content 
in the company of almost anyone, and especially with those of 
the sterner sex. But with the advent of this dashing young 
officer she began to experience a set of new sensations. The in- 
completeness of her life was brought before her. 

He seemed to perfect her being, sharing her pleasures, les- 
sening her woes, consoling her heart. Still, there was one office 
he had failed to perform; he was not obsequious. Not that he 
was wanting in attention and deferential courtesy, or that he 
failed to betray a warmth of feeling or a generous devotion, but 
his manner was prosaic, thoroughly practical both in action and 
in expression. He spoke his thoughts directly and forcibly. He 
was never enthusiastic, never demonstrative, never warm or im- 
pulsive, but definite, well-ordered, positive. It was quite true that 
he was capable of bestowing service to the point of heroism 
when the occasion required, but this quality lacked spontaneity. 
His heart, while intensely sympathetic, appeared cold and abso- 
lutely opposed to any sort of outburst. He was too prudent, too 
wise, too thoughtful, it seemed, acting only when secure of his 
ground, turning aside from all obstacles liable to irritate or 
confuse him. 

Then John Anderson came and initiated her into a newer 
world. He appeared to worship her, and tried to make her feel 
his devotion in his every act. He was gallant, dignified, charm- 
ing, lavishing attention upon her to the point of prodigality. He 
said things which were pleasant to hear, and equally pleasant to 

380 THE LOYALIST [June, 

remember. What girl would not be attracted by such engaging 
personal qualities; but Marjorie decided that he was too much of 
the Prince Charming whose gentle arts were his sole weapons 
for the major encounters of life. 

Hence, she was not fascinated by his soft accomplishments. 
He interested her, but she readily perceived that there was not 
in him that real depth she had found in Stephen. True, he made 
her feel more like a superior being than a mere equal; he 
yielded ever to her slightest whim, and did not discomfort her 
with weighty arguments. But her acumen was such that she was 
able to penetrate the gloss and appraise the man at his true value. 
The years spent at her mother's knee, the numberless hours in 
her father's shop where she came in contact with many men, 
her own temperament, prudent by nature, enabled her to per- 
ceive at a glance the contrast between a man of great and noble 
heart clothed in severe garments, and the charlatan garbed in the 
bright finery of festal dress. 

And now, the boomerang against which she was defending 
herself, struck her from a most unexpected angle. That Stephen 
should misunderstand her motives was preposterous; yet there 
was no other inference to be drawn from the tone of his con- 
versation during the few distressful minutes of his visit. 
In all probability, he had gone away laboring under the hateful 
impression that she was untrue, that she had permitted her heart 
to be taken captive by the first knight errant who had entered 
the lists. And what was more, the subject would never again be 
alluded to. He had promised that; and she knew that he was 
absolute in his determinations. His groundless displeasure dis- 
concerted her greatly. 

Whether it became her to take the initiative in the healing 
of the breach which she felt between them, or simply to await 
the development of the course of action she had chosen to pursue, 
now became a problem to her perplexed mind. So much depended 
upon the view he would take of the whole situation that it would 
be necessary for him to understand it from the beginning. She 
would write him. But, no! That might be premature. She 
would wait and tell him, so great was her assurance that all 
would be well. She would tell him of her great and passionate 
desire to be of assistance to him; she would put into words her 
analysis of this man's character, this man about whom he him- 
self had first cast the veil of suspicion; she would relate her 
experience with him. She smiled to herself as she contemplated 
how pleased he would be, once the frown of bewilderment had 
disappeared from his countenance. 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 381 

"Marjorie! Dost know the hour is late?" 
"Yes, mother! I am coming directly." 

It was late, though she scarce knew it. Gathering her things, 
she brought the chairs into the house. 


Week after week sped by, summer ripened into fall, and fall 
faded into winter. Monotony reigned: the bleak winter season, 
the shorter days, the longer evenings, the city settled down into 
a period of seclusion and social inaction. There would be little 
of gayety this year. No foreign visitors would be entertained 
by the townsfolk. There would be no Mischienza to look forward 
to. It would be a lonely winter for the fashionable element, 
with no solemn functions, no weekly dancing assemblies, no 
amateur theatricals. Indeed, were it not for the approaching 
marriage of Peggy Shippen to the Military Governor, Philadelphia 
would languish for want of zest and excitement. 

The wedding took place at the home of the bride on Fourth 
Street. The elite of the city, for the most part Tories, were in 
attendance. Mrs. Anne Willing Morris, Mrs. Bingham all the 
leaders were there. So were Marjorie, John Anderson, Stephen, 
the Chews, and Miss Franks from New York. The reception was 
brilliant, eclipsing anything of its kind in the history of the social 
life of the city, for Mrs. Shippen had vowed that the affair would 
establish her definitely, and for all time, as leader of the fashion- 
able set of the town. 

The centre of attraction was Peggy, of course. She carried 
herself well, with grace and composure. And were one to judge 
by the number and the quality of the gifts which loaded down 
one whole room, or by the throng which filled the house to over- 
flowing, or by the motley crowd which surged without, impatient 
for one last look at the bride as she stepped into the splendid 
coach, a more popular couple was never united in matrimony. 
It was a great day for all concerned, and there was none more 
happy or more radiant than Peggy as she sat back in the coach 
and looked into the face of her husband, and sighed with that con- 
tentment and complacency which one experiences in the posses- 
sion of a priceless gem. 

Their homecoming, after the brief honeymoon, was delight- 
ful. No longer would they live in the great slate-roof house on 
Second Street at the corner of Norris Alley, but in the more 
elegant old country seat in Fairmount, on the Schuylkill Mount 

382 THE LOYALIST [June, 

Pleasant. Since Arnold had purchased this great estate and 
settled it immediately upon his bride, subject, of course, to the 
mortgage, its furnishings and its appointments were of her own 
choice and taste. 

It rose majestically on a bluff overlooking the river, a courtly 
pile of colonial Georgian architecture whose balustrated and 
hipped roof seemed to rear itself above the neighboring wood- 
land, so as to command a magnificent broad view of the Schuyl- 
kill River and valley for miles around. 

"There! See, General. Isn't it heavenly?" 

She could not conceal her joy. Arnold looked and smiled 
graciously with evident satisfaction at the quiet, home-like aspect 
of the place. 

Peggy was on the stone landing almost as soon as she emerged 
from the coach eager to peep inside, anxious to be at last in her 
own home. Although she had already seen all that there was to 
see, and had spent many days previous to the marriage in ar- 
ranging and planning the interior, today she seemed to 
manifest a newer, livelier joy, so pleasant and so perfect did all 

"Oh! General. Isn't this just delicious?" And she threw 
her arms around his neck. 

"Are you happy now?" he questioned. 

"Perfectly. Come let us sit and enjoy it." 

She went to the big chair and began to rock energetically; 
but only for a minute, for she spied in the corner of the room the 
great sofa, and with a sudden movement threw herself on that. 
She was like a small child with a host of toys about her, anxious 
to play with all at the same time and trying to give to each the 
same undivided attention. The massive candelabra on the table 
attracted her, and she turned her attention to that, fixing one of 
its candles as she neared it. Finally, a small water color of her 
father, which hung on the wall a little to one side, appealed to 
her as needing adjustment. She paused to regard the profile as 
she straightened it. 

The General observed her from the large chair into which 
he had flung himself to rest after the journey, following her 
with his eyes as she flitted about the great drawing-room. For the 
moment there was no object in that space to determine the 
angle of his vision, save Peggy, no other objective reality to 
convey any trace of an image to his imagination but that of his 
wife. She was the centre, the sum-total of all his thoughts, the 
vivid and appreciable good that regulated his emotions, that con- 
trolled his impulses. And the confident assurance that she was 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 383 

happy, reflected from her very countenance, emphasized by her 
every gesture as she hurried here and there about the room in 
joyous contemplation of the divers objects that delighted her 
fancy, reanimated him with a rapture he had thought impossible 
to corporeal beings. The mere pleasure of beholding her su- 
premely happy was bliss. 

"Would you care to dine now?" she asked of him as she ap- 
proached his chair and leaned for support on its arms. "I'll 
ask Cynthia to make ready." 

"Yes, if you will. The last stage of the trip was exhausting." 

And so these two with all the world in their possession, in 
one another's company, partook of their first meal together in 
their own dining-room, their own home. 

" 'Thou hast it now king, Cawdor, Glamis, all ' " remarked 
Arnold to his wife as they made their way from the dining-room 
into the spacious hallway that ran through the house. 

"Yet it was not foully played," replied Peggy. "The tourney 
was fair." 

"I had thought of losing you." 

"Did you but read my heart aright at our first meeting, you 
might have consoled yourself otherwise." 

"It was the fear of my letter; the apprehension of its pro- 
ducing a contrary effect that furnished my misgiving. I trembled 
over the consent of your parents." 

"Dost know, too, that my mother favored the match from the 
start? In truth, she gave me every encouragement, perhaps, 
awakened my soul to the flame." 

"No matter. We are in the morning of our bliss; its sun is 
about to remain fixed. Wish for a cloudless sky." 

They were now in the great drawing-room, which ran the full 
depth of the building, with windows looking both east and west. 
In the middle of the great side wall lodged a full-throated fire- 
place, above which rose imposingly an elaborately wrought over- 
mantel, whose central panel was devoid of any ornamentation. 
The door frames, with their heavily molded pediments, the 
cornices, pilasters, door-trims and woodwork rich in elaboration 
of detail were all distinctively Georgian, tempered with dignified 
restraint and consummate good taste. 

"We can thank the privateer for this. Still it was a fair 
profit and wisely expended, wiser to my mind than the methods 
of Robert Morris. At any rate, it is the more satisfactory." 

"He has made excellent profits." 

"Nevertheless, he has lost as many as an hundred and fifty 
vessels. These have affected his earnings greatly. Were he not 

384 THE LOYALIST [June, 

so generous to an ungrateful people, a great part of his loss 
might have been retrieved." 

"I have heard it said, too, that he alone has provided the 
sinews of the revolt," said Peggy. 

"Unquestionably. On one occasion, at a time of great want, 
I remember one of his vessels arrived with a cargo of stores and 
clothing, whose whole contents were given to Washington with- 
out any remuneration whatsoever. And you, yourself, remember 
that during the winter at Valley Forge, just about the time Howe 
was evacuating the city, when there were no cartridges in the 
army but those in the men's boxes, it was he who rose to the 
emergency by giving all the lead ballast of his favorite privateer. 
He has made money, but he has lost a vast amount. I made 
money, too, just before I bought this house. And I have lost 

"And have been cheated of more." 

"Yes. Cheated. More generosity from my people! I paid 
the sailors their share of the prize money of the British sloop 
that they, as members of the crew, had captured, that is, with 
the help of two other privateers which came to their assistance. 
The court allowed the claims of the rival vessels, but denied mine. 
I had counted upon that money, but found myself suddenly de- 
prived of it. Now they are charging me with having illegally 
bought up the lawsuit." 

He was seated now and lay back in his chair with his dis- 
abled limb propped upon a stool before him. 

"They continue to say horrid things about you. I wish you 
were done with them," Peggy remarked. 

He removed his finely powdered periwig and ran his heavy 
fingers through his dark hair. 

"I treat such aspersions with the contempt their pettiness 
deserves. I am still Military Governor of Philadelphia, and as 
such am beholden to no one save Washington. The people have 
given me nothing, and I have nothing to return save bitter 

"I wish we were away from here!" she sighed. 

"Margaret!" He never called her Peggy. He disliked it. 
"Are you not happy in this home which I have provided for you?" 

His eyes opened full. 

"It isn't that. I am afraid of Reed." 

"Reed? He is powerless. He is president of the City Coun- 
cil which, under English law, is, in time of peace, the superior 
governing body of the people. But this is war, and he must take 
second place. I despise him." 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 385 

Peggy looked up inquiringly. 

"Suppose that the worst should happen?" she said. 

"But how what can happen?" he repeated. 

"Some great calamity." 

"How? What do you mean?" he asked. 

"If you should be removed, say, or transferred to some less 
important post?" 

A thought flashed into his mind. 

"Further humiliated?" 

"Yes. What then?" 

"Why I don't know. I had thought of no possible con- 
tingency. I wished for a command in the Navy and wrote to 
Washington to that effect; but nothing came of it. I suppose my 
increasing interest in domestic affairs in the city, as well as my 
attentions to you, caused me to discontinue the application. 
Then again, I thought I was fitted for the kind of life led by 
my friend, Schuyler, in New York, and had hoped to obtain a 
grant of land in the West where I might lead a retired life as a 
good citizen." 

"I would die in such a place. The Indians would massacre 
us. Imagine me hunting buffalo in Ohio!" 

Her face wore a sardonic smile. It was plain to be seen 
that she was in a flippant mood. 

"Have you given the matter a thought? Tell me," he ques- 

"No! I could not begin to think." 

"Are you not happy?" 

"Happiness springs not from a large fortune, and is often 
obtained when most unexpected. It is neither within us nor 
without us, and only evident to us by the deliverance from evil." 

He glanced sharply. There was fire in his eye. 

"I know of what you are thinking. You are disturbed by 
these persistent rumors about me." 

She gave a little laugh, a chuckle, in a hopeless manner. 

"Yes, I am. Go on." She answered mechanically, and fell 
back in her chair. 

"You need not be disturbed. They are groundless, I tell you. 
Simply engendered by spite. And I blame partly the Papist 
Whigs, d 'em." 

"It isn't that alone." 

"That is some of it. The origin of the hostility to me was 
the closing of the shops for a week under an order direct from 
Washington himself, and a resolution of the Congress. Yet, I 
was blamed. The next incident pounced upon by them was my 

VOL. CM. 25 

386 THE LOYALIST [June, 

use of the government wagons in moving stores. As you know 
I had this done to revictual and supply the army. But I permitted 
the empty wagons to bring back stores from the direction of 
New York and was charged with being in communication with 
the enemy." 

"Which would be more praiseworthy?" 

He paid no attention to her remark, but continued: 

"I was honest in supposing the goods to be bona fide house- 
hold goods belonging to non-combatants. As a matter of fact, 
some of the decorations at our wedding were obtained in this 
manner. What followed? A public complaint." 

"I know." 

"Then that scheming interloper, Matlack! You know of 

"I think so." 

"You've heard of his father, of course!" 


"The Secretary to Reed, the President of the Council? 
Timothy Matlack? His social aspirations were somewhat cur- 
tailed by my interest in public affairs. He has borne me in mind 
and evidently intends my ruin." 

"In that he differs not from many other so-called friends." 

"I did all in my power to soothe his ruffled feelings in a 
long, considerate letter in answer to his note of grievance. Only 
later I learned that it was his son whose haughty nature had 
been offended." 

"You were no party to the offence. In fact, you knew naught 
of it until the episode had been concluded." 

"True, but Franks had taken part in it, and Franks was my 
head aid-de-camp. It was trivial. He wanted a barber and sent 
young Matlack, who was doing sentry duty at the door, to fetch 
one. Naturally, I defended his action in my letter of reply." 

"I tell you, they do not want you here. Can't you sense that? 
Else these charges would never have been uttered. They are 
mere pretexts. They are weary of you and desire your resigna- 

She talked rapidly, violently. Her face assumed a stern 

He did not reply, but peered into the distance. 

"The 'American Fabius," I suppose, is still watching General 
Clinton," Peggy continued. 

"He has thrown a cordon about him at New York. With a 
sufficient force he might take him." 

"Never! The Americans never were a match for His 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 387 

Majesty's well-trained troops. The longer the struggle endures, 
the sooner this will be learned." 

"Time is with us, dear. The mother country knows this." 

She looked at him. It was astonishing to her that he could 
be so transparent and so unaware of it. Really, he was not clever. 

"Why do you say that?" she asked. "Every day our lot grows 
worse. The troops perish from misery; they are badly armed; 
scarcely clothed; they need bread and many of them are without 
arms. Our lands lie fallow. The education of a generation has 
been neglected, a loss that can never be repaired. Our youths 
have been dragged by the thousands from their occupations and 
harvested by the war; and those who return have lost their vigor 
or have been mutilated for life." 

"You are partly right," he mused. "America lost the oppor- 
tunity for reconciliation immediately after my victory at Saratoga. 
Since then, as you say, the land has become a waste of widows, 
beggars and orphans. Then came the French Alliance, a sacrifice 
of the great interests, as well as the religion of this country to the 
biased views of a proud, ancient, crafty and priest-ridden nation. 
I always thought this a defensive war until the French joined in 
the combination. Now I look with disfavor upon this peril to 
our dominion, this enemy of our faith." 

Peggy became interested immediately. She sat straight up 
in her chair. 

"You never spoke these thoughts to me before!" she ex- 

"I feared it. You are a Tory, at least at heart. And I knew 
that you would only encourage me in my manner of thought. 
God knows, I am unable to decide between my perplexities." 

"You know how General Monk decided?" 

"My God! He was a traitor!" 

"He restored Charles," insisted Peggy. 

"And sold his soul." 

"For the Duchy of Albemarle." 

"Good God! girl, don't talk thoughts like that, I I. He 
has endured universal execration. It was an act of perfidy." He 
scowled fiercely. He was in a rage. 

Peggy smiled. She did not press the subject, but allowed it 
to drop. 

"My! How dark it has become!" she exclaimed. 

She struck a light and touched the wicks of the candles. 

Dizzy was the eminence to which General Arnold and his 
girl bride ascended! On a sudden they found themselves on the 
highest pinnacle, the one of military fame with Gates, Lee, Wayne, 

388 THE LOYALIST [June, 

Greene, and many other distinguished generals at his feet; the 
other, of social prestige, the observed of all observers! For a 
time his caprices had been looked upon as only the flash and 
outbreak of that fiery mind which had directed his military 
genius. He attacked religion; yet in religious circles his name 
was mentioned with fondness. He lampooned Congress; yet he 
was condoned by the Whigs. 

Then came the reaction. Society flew into a rage with its 
idol. He had been worshipped with an irrational idolatry. He 
was censured with an irrational fury. In the first place, his posi- 
tion as Military Governor required the exercise of the utmost 
patience and tact. Neither of these qualities did he possess. The 
order to close the shops caused discontent. People became in- 
censed at the sight of a dictator interfering with their private 
life. In his person was thrust upon them the very type they were 
striving to expel. His actions suddenly became obnoxious. 

What was merely criticism in respect to his public life, be- 
came a violent passion respecting his private life. There were 
many rumors of his intercourse with the Tory element. Brilliant 
functions were arranged, it was said, with the sole view of gain- 
ing their friendship and good will. He spent the major portion 
of his free time in their company, nay more, he had taken to wife 
the most notorious of their number. Small wonder was it that 
his sentiments on the question of the war were undergoing a 
marked alteration. The thirst of the political Whigs for ven- 
geance was insatiable. 

Then he had repaired to a mansion, the most elegant seat 
in Pennsylvania, where he entertained in a style and after a 
manner far in excess of his means. He maintained a coach and 
four with the greatest ostentation. His livery and appointments 
were extravagant and wholly unbecoming an officer of a country 
so poor and struggling. He drove to town in the company of his 
wife and paid every attention to the aristocratic leaders of the 
city. He disdained the lot of the common citizen. Even his head 
aid-de-camp had submitted a free man to the indignity of fetch- 
ing a barber to shave him, an act countenanced by the General 
himself in a letter of reply to the boy's father. 

His entertainments were frequent, altogether too frequent 
for the conservative instincts of the community. Upon the ar- 
rival of the French Ambassador, M. Gerard, a grand banquet was 
tendered him, after which he was entertained with his entire 
suite for several days at Mount Pleasant. Foreigners were seldom 
absent from the mansion, and members of Congress, the relatives 
of his wife, the titled gentry of Europe, were treated with marked 

1920.] THE LOYALIST 389 

and lavish attention. The visit of General Washington was an 
event memorable for its display and magnificence, the ball alone 
at the City Tavern entailing a vast expenditure. With Madeira 
selling at eight hundred pounds a pipe and other things in pro- 
portion to the depreciation of the paper currency, the wonder 
was often expressed as to the source of so much munificence. 

It was known that General Arnold was not a man of wealth. 
Whatever fortune he had amassed had been obtained mainly 
through the profits accrued from his privateering ventures. The 
great estate which he now possessed, had been bought only a 
few months previous to his marriage out of the profits of one of 
his vessels, just then returning to port. He was continually in 
debt, and ruin was imminent. Yet he was living at the rate of 
five thousand pounds a year. Whence came the funds? 

He had married a Tory wife, and presently it was discovered 
that among his bosom friends, his table companions, were to be 
found the enemies of America. Rumor began to whisper, with 
nods and shrugs and shakings of the head, that his wife was 
imparting profitable information to the enemy, and betimes the 
question was raised as to who was profiting most. What was 
more natural than that she, who had been the toast and lauded 
favorite of the British Officers when they were in possession of 
the city, should now be in communication with them in far- 
away New York! The seeds of suspicion and ill-will were sedu- 
lously sown and the yield was bound to be luxuriant. 

So the days rolled into weeks, and the weeks clustered into 
months, and the months fell into the procession of the seasons, 
and in the meantime, Arnold and his wife passed their time in 
conjugal felicity and regal splendor. Their affection was con- 
stant, tender, and uninterrupted; and this alone afforded him 
consolation and happiness; for his countrymen were in a bad 
mood with him. His wife, his home, his estate now defined the 
extent of his ambition. The world had turned against him. 


IRew Books. 

CARDINAL MERCIER'S OWN STORY. Introduction by Fernand 
Mayence. Prefatory letter by His Eminence James Cardinal 
Gibbons. New York: George H. Doran Co. $4.00. 
History tells how in ancient times in the midst of inept 
rulers and an effete civilization Christian pastors, who were great 
saints as well as admirable organizers, proved themselves over 
and over again defensores civitatis. Leo the Great saved Rome 
from Attila; St. Ambrose confronted Theodosius, defied Justina, 
and was the incarnation of moral force and rectitude; St. Basil 
overcame Valens and was the providence of his people. But these 
events occurred in such a distant past that they had lost the 
sharpness of their outline, and assumed a more or less legendary 
and hagiographic character. A few years ago no one dreamt of 
these shining deeds being repeated in our days, or that the 
Catholic Church of the twentieth century should beget sons as 
heroic as those of the fourth and fifth. 

Of such magnificent champions Cardinal Mercier is today 
the leader and the chief, and the whole world, even those enemies 
whose tyranny he exposed and whose machinations he foiled, 
bow in admiration before his unquestioned moral supremacy. 
The splendid qualities which heartened his people in the darkest 
days of trial, and which since have electrified the world, were 
buried for years in a quiet college, and practically unknown out- 
side a small university town. But anyone privileged to live under 
the same roof with Monsignor Mercier, as was the present re- 
viewer, could not but feel that in him resided the latent power 
and personal worth capable of the highest achievement. One 
glance at his glorious inspiring eyes was sufficient to show he 
was an extraordinary man; while the kindliness of his nature, 
and the charm of his intercourse are best expressed by the famous 
words of Lacordaire, fort comme le diamant, tendre comme une 
mre. The personal testimony of such a witness must necessarily 
possess the highest value and the deepest interest. Cardinal Mer- 
cier's Own Story, therefore, will be eagerly read by thousands in 
every part of the globe. The book is composed of the letters 
the Cardinal wrote to the German authorities during the years 
of occupation, and their replies to him. It betrays in every line 
the zealous pastor ever watchful to safeguard and protect the 
interests of the Church and of his flock. The first characteristic 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 391 

of these letters is their high and chivalrous courtesy. The Car- 
dinal has his emotions so thoroughly under control, that he is 
never carried away into any intemperance or even severity of 
language. But at the same time he leaves no possible doubt on 
the mind of his correspondant as to the attitude he intends to 
maintain. Thus in his very first letter to Von Bissing, after ex- 
pressing esteem for the Governor's person, he adds: "I regard it 
as my strict duty in the interests of truth to add, that no matter 
what the personal dispositions of Baron von Bissing may be, the 
Governor-General represents among us here a usurping and hos- 
tile nation, in whose presence we assert our right to independence 
and respect for our neutrality." 

Another precious quality of the writer, evidenced by these 
letters, is his perfect fearlessness. He has weighed and measured 
the consequences of his acts beforehand, and neither cajolery nor 
force can persuade him to recoil an inch. To the demands that 
he withdraw or tone down the ringing pastoral, "Patriotism and 
Endurance," his reply is, "it is written, and it shall remain." 
The publication of the Pastoral, "On My Return from Rome," 
caused the arrest of the Burgomaster of Malines and of four 
printers. The Cardinal wrote immediately to Von Bissing claim- 
ing that he alone was guilty, and on him alone as a citizen the 
punishment should fall. Von Bissing's reply is extremely severe, 
and he allows his ill-temper to be clearly seen. The prelate's 
answer is serenely triumphant. 

Those who have a taste for the things of the intellect will 
find wherewith to whet their appetite in Chapter XXVII. It is 
composed of the letters exchanged between the Cardinal and Von 
Lancken, the chief of the German political department, and it 
contains a veritable philosophical disquisition by His Eminence 
on the rights of the Occupying Power. His principal letter runs 
to eleven large pages of print. In it, with the serried logic of a 
philosopher demonstrating a subtle thesis of metaphysics, he 
maintains the right of the conquered to possess their consciences 
intact, nor do they lose their claims to justice and fair treatment 
from the brutal fact of occupation and conquest. What astound- 
ing vitality and superb self-control that man must have, who, 
confronted daily by a thousand cares and vexations and the shock- 
ing sights and sounds of war, yet could argue with as much vim 
and detachment as though he lived in an oasis of peace. 

Admirable but terrible also in its simple directness is the 
protest drawn up by the Cardinal in the name of the Belgian 
Episcopate against the deportation of the unemployed. And a 
fitting sequel to this document is the letter addressed by him to 

392 NEW BOOKS [June, 

the German bishops begging that at least Belgian priests be per- 
mitted to accompany and remain with the unhappy exiles, so that 
their morals might be protected and their precious faith pre- 
served. These appeals remained without result. A subsequent 
appeal (February 14, 1917) addressed personally to the Kaiser, 
brought about a tardy reparation of such atrocious tyranny. 

The German authorities feared the Cardinal's resounding let- 
ters and towering personality. They did all they possibly could to 
nullify his action, and fasten on him the stigma of a political 
agitator untrue to the dignity and traditions of his high office. 
But when the duel of four years was over, and peace with victory 
dawned on Belgium and the world, they had the grace to acknowl- 
edge the qualities of their antagonist and to pay homage to the 
loftiness of his aims. On October 17, 1918, Von Lancken called 
at the Cardinal's Residence and handed him a note couched in 
these terms: "You are, in our estimation, the incarnation of oc- 
cupied Belgium, of which you are the venerated and trusted 
pastor. For this reason, it is to you that the Governor-General 
and my Government also have commissioned me to come to an- 
nounce that when we evacuate your soil we wish to hand over 
to you unasked and of our own free will, the political prisoners 
serving their time either in Belgium or in Germany." 

The amende is full and comprehensive; a tribute of admira- 
tion extorted from a determined and vigilant enemy, and for that 
reason it must be taken at full face value. Patriots may look to 
the Cardinal as an example, and pastors will find in him one, who 
"was made a pattern of the flock from the heart." 

The present anonymous English version is uniformly good. 
Here and there, however, trivial expressions occur: e. 'g., "they 
might have kicked against my orders;" "priests who are at 
loggerheads with their bishops." We noticed also that "only," 
and "shall" and "will" are not invariably employed with metic- 
ulous grammatical nicety. 

ington: The University Press. $2.00. 

Dr. John A. Ryan has compressed a large amount of reading 
and thought into these eleven essays. He is widely acquainted 
with the literature of his subject, and quotes French and German 
authorities, as well as English and American. In two papers, 
"The Church and Socialism," and "The Church and the Working- 
man," he puts in the clearest form Catholic ideal and Catholic 
achievement, and he emphasizes the fact that the Guilds of the 
Middle Ages did all and more than all that Labor Unions do today. 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 393 

Elsewhere he punctures many a deceitful tendencious theory 
for instance, that economic factors determine all life and mor- 
ality and many a hoary calumny, for example, that the Church 
is responsible for the devouring capitalism and degraded pauper- 
ism of modern times. But on the other hand, he urges Catholics 
to take a more prominent part in social service, and to seek with 
ever-increasing zeal solutions and remedies for the economic prob- 
lems and abuses of our time. 

The essay "False and True Conceptions of Welfare," is to 
our mind the most practical of the entire series. The author 
shows that extreme wealth is a very great misfortune. It opens 
the floodgate of self-indulgence; it dries up the springs of gener- 
osity; it nullifies all probability of worthy achievements; it spoils 
health, and not unfrequently shortens life. This essay needs only 
a change of key to furnish a series of very excellent sermons. 

RELIGION AND CULTURE. By Frederick Schleiter, Ph.D. New 
York : Columbia University Press. $2.00 net. 
This book, written by a Professor of Columbia University, will 
be welcomed by all who are interested in the Comparative History 
of Religion. The author shows a splendid control of the vast 
literature of his subject and the curious learning with which it is 
freighted, and presents clearly and succinctly the theories that 
have been winning general acceptance among students of Com- 
parative Religion. This, however, is the least of fhe merits of his 
book, the purpose of which is to appraise the methods in vogue 
among the scholars who have been building up this newest of the 
sciences. On page after page the false assumptions, the blunder- 
ing reasoning, and the erroneous conclusions that have hitherto 
characterized Comparative Religion are laid bare with a detach- 
ment of judgment and a wealth of erudition that make the book 
a model of criticism. The whole procedure of the scholars criti- 
cized is seen to be infected with fallacy. A drastic critique of 
the Comparative Method shows it to involve "loose implications 
and presuppositions," while a dissecting of evolutionary theories 
of religion proves them to be founded on "a hypothetical primor- 
dium" that vitiates the whole train of reasoning based upon it. 
The author does not mince his words. A typical writer of the 
evolutionary school "fares best and swims most easily in a sea 
of generalities, when, and in so far, as he can get rid of his 
facts." The great reputation of men whose names have been 
household words in the domain of the history of religions, does 
not save their theories from a damaging indictment. Trenchant 
and impartial criticism marks the chapters on ethnographical 

394 NEW BOOKS [June, 

analoga, magic and religion, spirit as the primordium, magical 
power as the primordium, and on convergence in the interpreta- 
tion of causality. The development of the concept of "converg- 
ence" adds value to the book, especially in view of the scanty 
literature on the subject. 

Comparative Religion has justly been regarded as a menace 
to Christianity. The threat of Sir J. G. Frazer shows the spirit 
of the school: "Sooner or later it is inevitable that the battery 
of the Comparative Method should breach those venerable walls 
mantled over with the ivy and mosses and wild flowers of a 
thousand tender and sacred associations. At present we are only 
dragging the guns into position, they have hardly begun to 
speak." Dr. Schleiter has put out of action a good many of the 
heavy guns that were to batter the walls of the citadel of Religion. 

GREAT FRENCH SERMONS. Second Series. Edited by Rev. D. 

O'Mahony, B.D. St. Louis: B. Herder Book Co. $3.00. 

The preface to this volume contains curious and interesting 
gleanings from a secluded bypath of literary history; for it tells 
of the English translations of Bossuet, Bourdaloue and Massillon. 
Of the nine sermons of Bossuet here set forth, it seems no Eng- 
lish translation has hitherto been attempted. We submit that 
perhaps one reason for this may have been the unsatisfactory 
state of the text of the sermons, of which a thoroughly critical 
text has been published only within recent years. There can be no 
question whatever as to the superiority of Bossuet; he is as far 
above Massillon as Shakespeare is above Ben Jonson, and we may 
remark, in passing, that Father Longhaye, in his able volume, 
entitled La Predication, does not mention Massillon at all. The 
latter employed the leisure of his episcopate in ceaselessly revis- 
ing and polishing those discourses he had preached during his 
missionary career. Various selections of Massillon have been put 
into English by no less than six different translators, of whom 
four were Protestants; while some three or four tried their hand 
at Bourdaloue. 

The present volume contains twenty-one sermons, nine from 
Bossuet, six from Massillon, and five from Bourdaloue. The dis- 
courses of the last two preachers, excessively long according to 
our notions, have been considerably abridged. The translation is 
excellent, and illustrative footnotes from a wide range of authors, 
Protestant as well as Catholic, add to its usefulness and interest. 
The book will be useful to awaken those ignorant of French to a 
knowledge of a glorious religious literature. Faguet says in one 
of his studies that the world has produced three supreme masters 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 395 

of prose Plato, Cicero and Bossuet. But to appreciate fully the 
sublimity of the Eagle of Meaux, the zeal of Bourdaloue, the 
tender charm of Massillon, one must be perfectly conversant with 
the language in which they spoke and wrote. 

TETE-D'OR. By Paul Claudel. Translated from the French by 

John Strong Newberry. New Haven: Yale University Press. 

THREE POEMS OF THE WAR. By Paul Claudel. Translated 

into English Verse by Edward J. O'Brien. With the French 

Text. Introduction by Pierre Chavannes. New Haven : Yale 

University Press. $1.50. 

If the Yale University Press had done nothing more than to 
introduce the work of Paul Claudel to American readers, it would, 
from the standpoint of pure literary values, have justified its 
existence to a superlative degree. In fact, it would have taken the 
English-speaking public and very particularly the Catholic read- 
ing public conspiculously into its debt. For M. Claudel is one 
of the outstanding figures in our contemporary literature, alike as 
poet, dramatist, and mystic. He is more than outstanding 
although far from popular even in his well-loved France: he is 
gigantic. Perhaps, more truly than any other living writer, he 
realizes Victor Hugo's definition of genius as "a promontory 
jutting out into the infinite." 

And although we understand still other translations of his 
work are in immediate prospect, the English versions of Paul 
Claudel have, up to the present, been available solely through the 
various publications of the Yale Press. The two volumes at 
present sent for review have little in common save their author- 
ship. They represent the poet-dramatist in his earliest and his 
latest periods: at his most remote in the sombre tragedy of 
Tete-D'Or, at his most popular in the three thrilling poems in- 
spired by the Great War. 

Tete-D'Or, the first of Claudel's dramas, is an epic of the 
golden-haired, self-sufficient superman the protagonist of 
strength, who reaches the highest point of human power and 
glory only to be smitten down by his master, the Death of the 
Body . . . And it is only in the presence of Death that he learns, 
as a revelation from the heroic princess, "the courage of the 
wounded, the strength that sustains the weak." ... It is inter- 
esting to note the tendency of various recent reviews to refer to 
this play as a representative creation of a religious and Catholic 
genius. For in point of fact it is, of course, one of the very few 
works of Paul Claudel which are not overwhelmingly religious 

396 NEW BOOKS [June, 

in nature. Written before its author had entered upon his 
mystical apostolate in modern France, it is manifestly a study of 
the egoist. And the only note of faith in it is, naturally enough, 
the note which rings by implication through the protests against 
Tete-D'Or's philosophy of human pride. On the whole, it is a 
young work magnificently young; a work of colossal sweep 
and somewhat chaotic imagining. It is also a work offering un- 
usual difficulties to the translator, since one may doubt whether 
its audacious torrent of metaphor is at all times susceptible of 
satisfactory Englishing. But Dr. Newberry's work is well and 
skillfully done particularly in the less lyrical passages and it 
was bravely worth the doing. 

The three lyrics which make up the volume Trois Poemes de 
Guerre, have been called the greatest yet produced by the recent 
war. They are far simpler, far more direct and human than 
Tete-D'Or a cry from the France of 1915, stricken but unvan- 
quished, and "terrible as the Holy Ghost," in Claudel's tremendous 
word. Here again the difficult work of translating the poet's im- 
passioned and very "free" verse has been, on the whole, vividly 
accomplished by Mr. Edmund J. O'Brien. Especially successful 
is his rendering of the final poem, "To the Dead of the Armies of 
the Republic." It was perhaps a daring thing to append the 
French originals of these verses, but one for which the publishers 
deserve unlimited thanks. 

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 Cleveland Era, by Henry Jones Ford. Professor Ford of 
Princeton University has done a splendid work in furthering the 
recognition of Cleveland's rightful place in American history. 
Students of government will be interested in the description of 
Congress: "Somehow the American Congress fails to produce 
capable statesmen. It attracts politicians who display affability, 
shrewdness, dexterity, and eloquence, but who are lacking in dis- 
cernment of public needs, and in ability to provide for them, so 
that power and opportunity are often associated with political 
incompetency." In connection with Grant's third term move- 
ment, the writer questions if the opposition does not owe its 
strength to politicians rather than to the conviction of the people. 
After a period of political groping under Garfield and his 
successor, Arthur, who proved himself a better executive than 
men dared hope, Cleveland appeared. As yet popular dissatis- 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 397 

faction did not agitate for radical rearrangement of political in- 
stitutions: practical defects were imputed to the governmental 
system, not to the Constitution. One is challenged by the state- 
ment that, "The rapid and fortuitous rise of Grover Cleveland to 
political eminence is without a parallel in the records of American 
statesmanship." But America was ready for a reform administra- 
tion and the reform Mayor of Buffalo and the Governor of New 
York who did not fear to accuse the State Senate of "barefaced 
jobbery" was the man for the presidency. Elected over Elaine 
by a turn of a few votes in New York, possibly caused by the Bur- 
chard, "Rum, Romanism and Rebellion," indiscretion, Cleveland 
met a Congress and especially a Senate which, if allowed to pro- 
ceed, would have usurped all power, turning the executive into 
a mere ceremonial office. However, we are warned: "But Cleve- 
land was no genius; he was not even a man of marked talent. 
He was stanch, plodding, laborious, and dutiful, but he was lack- 
ing in ability to penetrate to the heart of obscure political problems 
and to deal with primary causes rather than with effects." Yet he 
fought the Senate's attempt to control patronage, modified the 
anti-British interpretation of our fishery rights or privileges, won 
the repeal of the Tenure of Office Act, freed the House of control 
by a small coterie of Republican leaders, stanchly upheld the civil 
service cause, made tariff revision Democratic doctrine and, by 
extensive use of the veto, guarded the treasury from raiders. 
Considerable space is given to the public discontent as illustrated 
by the St. Louis and, later, Pullman strikes, the beginnings of the 
American Federation of Labor, the radical programmes, Coxey's 
army fiasco, and the stout upholding of law and order by the 
President despite criticism. 

A short account is given of the interim Harrison administra- 
tion. Economic questions are not passed over the farmer's third 
parties, the demand for cheap money in the way of greenbacks 
and silver, the panic of 1893, and the whole silver issue. Cleve- 
land's invincible courage in forcing his party to repeal the Sher- 
man Silver Purchase Act and his determination to keep paper 
money at par by buying gold through bond sales, regardless of the 
charge of dealings with Wall Street, are estimated as his highest 

Professor Ford has written a thoroughgoing study of the 
Cleveland period, so treated that the political, constitutional 
and economic phases are equally well developed. 

Hispanic Nations of the New World, by William R. Shepherd. 
Professor Shepherd, like the textbook compilers, has filled a long- 

398 NEW BOOKS [June, 

felt need by giving in this slight volume an authoritative account 
of the Hispanic Nations. Those who are acquainted with the 
scholarly books and monographs on South American history and 
culture by this Columbia University professor, will read him with 
confidence, tried sorely as they so often are by books of propa- 
ganda on this subject. It is a difficult task to sketch in brief the 
troublous history of the nineteen neighboring republics, so dif- 
ferent in development and present status, although linked by the 
common heritage of the Catholic faith, Latin civilization, and a 
doctrinaire belief in republican institutions. One is guided 
through a maze of revolutions, counter-revolts, chaotic interims, 
and foreign disturbances; one is puzzled by racial politics, anti- 
clerical, and foreign programmes. Yet the reader will gain a 
more intelligent appreciation of America's sister republics. 

In connection with a description of the Latin domain and 
social conditions, Dr. Shepherd has occasion to write of the 
Church. This he does with commendable fairness. He says: 
"Matters of the mind and of the soul were under the guardianship 
of the Church. More than merely a spiritual mentor, it controlled 
education and determined in a large measure the course of intel- 
lectual life. Possessed of vast wealth in lands and revenue; its 
monasteries and priories, its hospitals and asylums, its residences 
of ecclesiastics, were the finest buildings in every community, 
adorned with masterpieces of sculptors and painters . . . The 
Church, in fact, was the greatest civilizing agency that Spain and 
Portugal had at their disposal. It inculcated a reverence for the 
monarch and his ministers and fostered a deep rooted sentiment 
of conservatism which made disloyalty and innovation almost 
sacrilegious. In the Spanish colonies in particular the Church not 
only protected the natives against the rapacity of many a white 
master, but taught them the rudiments of the Christian faith, as 
well as useful arts and trades." 

The liberating ideals of the American Revolution, of the 
French Revolution, the success of L'Ouverture, and the cry of 
"our old king or none," when Joseph Bonaparte was imposed 
at the point of the bayonet upon the Spanish people, are cited 
as the causes of the revolt of the Latin colonies. Then follow in 
bewildering succession Miranda, Francia of Paraguay, Hidalgo 
Iturbide and Morelos of Mexico, San Martin of the La Platte, 
O'Higgins of Chile, Admiral Cochrane the doughty Scottish mar- 
iner, Bolivar, Santa Ana, de Rosas of Argentina with many an- 
other. Successful in revolt, the various states were too individ- 
ualistic and sectional to accept the federalizing plans of Bolivar at 
the Congress of Panama. Bolivar was disheartened and predicted 

1920 -] NEW BOOKS 399 

the future: "The majority are meztizos, mulattoes, Indians and 
negroes. An ignorant people is a blunt instrument for its own 
destruction. To it liberty means license, patriotism means dis- 
loyalty, and justice means vengeance . . . Independence is the 
only good we have achieved, at the cost of everything else " 
Regarding the failure of union schemes, he complained- "Amer- 
ica is ungovernable. Those who have served in the Revolution 
have ploughed the sea." The age of dictators commenced, Lopez 
of Paraguay, the stout Catholic, Dr. Garcia Moreno of Ecuador 
the beneficent Pedro II. of Brazil, and Mexico's fifty fleeting 
generals" in a period of thirty-two years, Santa Ana, Juarez, and 
haz the outstanding "president." A chapter on foreign affairs 
leals with the paternalistic Monroe Doctrine in its practical ap- 
plication. Bright events are few, the early abolition of slavery 
and the remarkable prosperity of Argentina, Brazil, and Chile 
during the past three decades. Well might Argentina stand as a 
eacon for warring Europe, with her reliance on arbitration in 
boundary disputes with Brazil and Chile despite territorial losses 
The monument of the Andes will testify to coming ages this faith 
applied Christianity with its inscription: "Sooner shall these 
mountains crumble to dust than the Argentines and Chileans 
break the peace which, at the feet of Christ the Reedemer, they 
have sworn to maintain." 

Mexico, in revolution since the fall of Diaz, is a cautious 
summary of the patent events, written in such a colorless way 
that it will neither annoy the administration nor arouse the Car- 

The Path of Empire, by Carl Russel Fish. Professor Fish of 
Wisconsin, the author of a splendid text on American diplomacy 
traces in this volume our foreign policy from the early period 
olahon to the present, when the United States has assumed 
true burdens and world responsibilities. While the facts are 
not astoundingly new, the interpretation is illuminating, and the 
story is written with a very winning charm of style and phrasing 
f special appeal is the writer's genius for striking off, in a few 
sentences, a living pen portrait of our chief diplomatists. Adams 
Webster, Charles F. Adams, Seward, Elaine, and Hay stand out 
in relief. A fearless sentence often challenges attention, so ac- 
l have we become to conventional accounts of our states- 
ien. Many a phrase clings to the memory and not a few sen- 
5 are quotable, such as that likening Metternich to "the 
spider who was for the next thirty years to spin the web of 
European secret diplomacy." 

400 NEW BOOKS [June, 

In his account of the Monroe Doctrine, Professor Fish de- 
clares that from John Winthrop to Woodrow Wilson "the Amer- 
ican people have stood . . . for the right of the people of a ter- 
ritory to determine their own development. First, they have in- 
sisted that their right to work out their political destiny be 
acknowledged and made safe. ... It has followed that they 
have in foreign affairs tried to keep their hands free from en- 
tanglements with other countries and have refrained from inter- 
ference with foreign politics." Just as in Monroe's time the 
struggle was one "of absolutism against democracy, of America 
against Europe," so in the Great War our controlling principle 
led to conflict with an autocracy which endangered liberty, the 
world over. Controversies with Great Britain are considered with 
a breadth of view which grants England's rights in boundary 
difficulties, isthmian diplomacy, the Venezuela episode, or the 
Behring Sea affair, yet, is not any the less soundly American. 
Elaine's Pan-Americanism is frowned upon, although his "elderly- 
sister" attitude toward the Latin American Republics is com- 
mended. Prior to the Spanish-American War, the policy of iso- 
lation is seen to be cast aside, with the procuring of coaling sta- 
tions in the Pacific and the Americanization of the Hawaiian 
Isles. Six chapters deal with the Spanish War, its origin, condi- 
tions in Cuba, the war press, the Maine disaster, Dewey at 
Manila Bay, the naval successes, wretched lack of preparation 
in the War Department, frightful losses by disease, the feats of 
Wood and Roosevelt, the controversies between General Miles 
and Secretary Alger, the Schley-Sampson difficulties, and the 
seizure of Porto Rico. The close of the war, the peace terms, the 
acquisition of the Philippines, the guarantee of Cuban independ- 
ence and the issue of imperialism, are outlined in some detail. 
Other chapters follow our diplomacy in the Open Door in China 
programme, the Portsmouth negotiations, in Panama, in the 
Caribbean, and finally in our world relationship. 

The Reign of Andrew Jackson, by Frederick Austin Ogg. 
As this chronicle of the life and era of Andrew Jackson is Pro- 
fessor Ogg's second contribution to the series, readers will antic- 
ipate his pleasing, readable style, scholarly method, and breadth 
of view. As an interpretation of Jackson and the democracy of 
the western frontier this volume is secondary only to Professor 
Turner's Rise of the New West. Jackson, Indian fighter, illiterate 
lawyer, honest and courageous judge, duelling or fistic defender 
of his own honor, incorruptible, extravagantly generous to friends, 
relentless to foes, chivalrous to women, a good politician with 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 401 

some mark of the demagogue, arbitrary of will, and anti-English 
in his red-blooded Americanism is the description of the man 
who better than anyone epitomizes the turbulent, back-country 
of the early national period. The Creek War and the Battle of 
New Orleans, are considered in connection with the hero's early 
career. The "Death of King Caucus" as a chapter heading affords 
the opportunity to consider the broadened democracy, as illus- 
trated by universal suffrage, convention nominations, and direct 
presidential balloting. The triumph of democracy in the reign of 
Andrew Jackson is virtually the thesis of two chapters, para- 
doxical as the combination may appear. Then one is given an 
outline, in no way strikingly original, of the Webster-war against 
the Bank, and the removal of the Southern Indians. Dartmouth 
men, who always quote Webster's small college eulogy, will resent 
the suggestion that this portion of the famous speech is of 
dubious origin, if not from a Yale professor's version of the trial. 
Mr. Ogg's volume is no mere calendar of events. It is a study 
of Jackson within his generation, written in a tone which makes 
one a better democrat and less fearful of the people's will. 

Pioneers of the Old Southwest, by Constance Lindsay Skin- 
ner. Miss Skinner commences her volume on the Old Southwest 
by describing the various pioneer elements, the Scotch-Irish, High- 
landers, Pennsylvanische Deutsche, and Anglo-Saxons of the rov- 
ing instinct. The account of the Scotch-Irish, their frontier ac- 
tivities in Pennsylvania, in the Shenandoah Valley, and in the 
Carolina back country is no newer than the valuable study of 
this people by Professor Henry Jones Ford. The Ulsterman as 
a pathfinder is well depicted: "Thanks to his persecutors, he 
made religion of everything he undertook and regarded his civil 
rights as divine rights. Thus . . . emerged a new type of man 
who was high principled and narrow, strong, and violent, as 
tenacious of his own rights as he was blind often to the rights of 
others, acquisitive yet self-sacrificing but most of all fearless, 
confident of his own power, determined to have and to hold." 
A race of such morale was destined to make its mark in America 
and leave its impress upon the national development. 

The sketch of colonial folkways is a charming literary essay 
but highly imaginative. Interesting are the doings of the Creek 
and Chickasaw Indian traders, such as James Adair and Lachlan 
McGillivray and the wanderings of Boone who, true to frontier 
type, moved with the changing frontier from Virginia to Ken- 
tucky and Tennessee, and thence to Missouri. In the struggle 
with Indians and wilderness for Kentucky and Tennessee, a few 

VOL. cxi. 26 

402 NEW BOOKS [June, 

Irishmen were found, the McAfee brothers, James Mooney, and 
Dr. John Connolly, but the majority were Ulsterites, George 
Rogers Clark, Richard Henderson, Benjamin Logan, Richard Cal- 
loway with John Sevier, the Huguenot, and James Robertson, the 
Scot history makers of the Southwest. 

The volume is well written; at times its fascination draws 
the student from the exercise of his critical office. Its chief value 
would seem to be the appreciation of the labors of the various 
racial elements in crowding the frontier line further back into 
the hinterland. 

The Day of the Confederacy, by Nathaniel W. Stephenson. 
This is the second volume in the series from the pen of Professor 
Stephenson of the University of Charleston. Moderate and im- 
partial, save for a slight Southern bias, sympathetic in its treat- 
ment of General Lee and President Davis, this chronicle affords 
an excellent, if somewhat standard, resume of the history of the 

The introductory chapter describes affairs on the eve of se- 
cession, the radical step of South Carolina, the ill-considered 
manifesto of the Southern Congressmen, the bootless fight of the 
moderates for delay, the sectional zeal of Toombs, Rhett, Cobb, 
Davis, Breckenridge and Yancey, the revolt of the Lower South, 
and the secession of Virginia, North Carolina, Arkansas, and 
Tennessee. The government of the Confederacy is reviewed in 
three especially instructive chapters. Jefferson Davis we are 
to regard as a moderate, suffering radical attack, undermined by 
his cabinet, and attacked by the press and certain war governors. 
Like Lincoln, Davis perforce assumed a dictatorship, forcing 
conscription, proclaiming martial law, averting clashes between 
State and Confederate authorities, and setting aside constitutional 
niceties. Like Lincoln, he found that military strategists were in 
editorial chairs and that too few of the legal martinets were 
conscripted. Unlike Lincoln, Davis could be easily attacked, for 
with all his high qualities of integrity, courage, faithfulness, and 
zeal, he lacked that insight into human life, which makes the 
genius of the supreme executive. "He was not an artist in the 
use of men. ... In fact, he had a dangerous bent toward 
bureaucracy." While cordial with Lee, he failed to recognize him 
"as one of the world's supreme characters." In his cabinet ap- 
pointments, too, Davis was far from sagacious. Neither Toombs 
nor Hunter being qualified to serve on the state department, and 
Benjamin as secretary of war never gained popular confidence. 

Under the title, the "Fall of King Cotton" financial problems 

192( >.] NEW BOOKS 403 

are discussed, munitions contracts, taxes, loans, depreciated 
paper, the Slidel (?) transactions with Erlanger in cotton futures 
bankruptcy of the South, and Egyptian cotton. Foreign rela- 
tions are made to centre around the intrigues of Napoleon III 
Life in the Confederacy as the blockade tightened, is a story of 
hardship and privation, quite in contrast with the apparently 
normal social conditions in the North with its inflated prosperity. 

John Marshall and the Constitution, by Edward S. Corwin 
This sketch of Chief Justice John Marshall, "the Hildebrand 
of American constitutionalism," by that eminent scholar in con- 
:itutional history, Professor Corwin of Princeton University, 
mets the need of the lay reader as fully as ex-Senator Albert G 
Jevendge's four volume work does the rigid requirements of the 
historical and legal scholar. To summarize in a slight volume the 
work of the great jurist demanded ability for condensation, the 
art of describing momentous decisions in precise yet non-technical 
terms, a deep realization of their constitutional importance, and 
an intensive knowledge of the man and of his time. These qual- 
ifications, combined with nicety of expression, Professor Corwin 
possesses in the fullest sense. 

The establishment of the judiciary, the origins of the judicial 
view of legislative enactments, the judiciary acts of the char- 
acter of the Supreme Bench prior to Marshall's appointment are 
considered in an introductory chapter. The lack of leadership 
the resignation of Chief Justice Jay to appear as gubernatorial 
candidate in New York, the absence of Chief Justice Ellsworth on 
a diplomatic mission, the offensive partisanship of the judges are 
emphasized to make apparent the fearful decline of the court. 
Then came the "mid-night" appointments of Adams, the most 
important that of Secretary of State Marshall, without even pre- 
vious consultation. Republicans raged in vain. John Randolph 
decried and Dickinson wrote: "The Federalists have retired into 
the judiciary as a stronghold. There, the remains of Federalism 
are to be preserved and fed upon the Treasury and from that 
battery all the works of Republicanism are to be beaten down 
and destroyed." Marshall's career is recounted, his primitive 
youth, his frontier-wrought audacity and initiative which breathes 
in his great decisions, his lessons in nationalism rather than in 
sectionalism learned at Brandywine, Germantown, and Valley 
Forge, his scanty legal training, his stout Federalism, and his 
hostility to Jefferson and close association with Adams. 

Of especial value are the chapters dealing with Jefferson's 
attack upon the judiciary, the impeachment of Chase and the 

404 NEW BOOKS [June, 

Burr trial. No sounder interpretation is available for the famous 
decisions of Marbury versus Madison, M'CulIoch versus Maryland, 
Gibbons versus Ogden, Brown versus Maryland, all pronouncing 
nationalist doctrines, or for that series, such as the Dartmouth 
College case and the Georgia Indian case, guaranteeing the sanc- 
tity of contracts. Jefferson, as the spokesman of a party, de- 
nounced the judiciary as "a subtle corps of sappers and miners 
constantly working underground to undermine our confederated 
fabric," declaring that, "An opinion is huddled up in conclave, 
perhaps by a majority of one, delivered as if unanimous, and with 
the silent acquiescence of lazy or timid associates, by a crafty 
judge who sophisticates the low to his own mind by the turn of 
his own reasoning." Indeed, at times, the author is a little of 
a Federalist in his refusal to understand Jefferson's viewpoint. 
These attacks affected Marshall the more, as they were but the 
prelude to the deeper hostility displayed by Jackson with whose 
nullification policy alone could he agree. Rather than resign in 
favor of a Jacksonian appointee, Marshall, with martyr-like pa- 
tience, clung to the bench until death. The labors of the great 
jurist are summed up in a masterful fashion. He is the oracle of 
the formative period, a nation-builder whose constitutional inter- 
pretation has become a part of the vital, organic law, and one 
whose success was due to his ingrained nationalism, integrity, 
independence of view, courage of conviction, conservatism of 
judgment, and personal ascendancy in his court. 

THE SKILLED LABOURER (1760-1832). By J. L. Hammond and 

Barbara Hammond. New York: Longmans, Green & Co. 

$4.50 net. 

The publication of this book marks the completion of a dis- 
tinguished trilogy of sociological studies in the history of Eng- 
land from 1760 to 1832. The previous volumes were The Town 
Labourer and The Village Labourer. The whole work is a splen- 
did example of enlightened industry and painstaking care, and 
takes its place immediately among the great classics of English 
sociological literature. The authors treat here of some of the 
immediate economic and social results of the introduction of ma- 
chinery, and the new mechanical inventions generally, at the 
close of the eighteenth century. They review with a wealth of 
detail the cases of the miners of Northumberland and Durham, 
of the cotton workers, of the workers in woolen and worsted, 
and of the weavers of Spitalfields. 

Not the least interesting portion of this fine and exhaustive 
study concerns itself with the Luddite uprisings in the northern 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 405 

shires. Those were stormy times. A great war was raging 
throughout Europe, and England was in the midst of a period of 
"labor troubles" even more acute and more dangerous than those 
of the present hour. Having won the war abroad, Castlereagh 
was engaged in stifling liberty at home; an example which has 
not been without its recent imitators. He crushed English work- 
ingmen almost as cruelly as he had persecuted Irish nationalists. 
Those workingmen in smashing the machines knew what they 
were about; they saw that the use of machinery would, before 
long, impoverish them and darken the lives of their children. 
"Machinery," write the authors, "was introduced under a system 
that placed the workers at the disposal of owners of capital, who 
valued machinery as a means, not to a larger and richer life for 
the workers, but to greater and quicker profits from their enter- 
prise." A knowledge of the contents of this book is essential to 
any thorough study of English industrial history. 


ture. Translated by Fr. Sabinus Mollitor, O.F. St. Louis: 

B. Herder Co. 60 cents. 

A sub-title, De Sex Alls Seraphim, explains the idea of the 
Saint. It is noteworthy that he compares a good Superior to the 
Seraphim, symbolizing love, rather than to the Cherubim, typi- 
fying knowledge of Divine things. After a chapter concerning the 
general qualities required for such a responsibility, the six wings 
are defined to be: Zeal for Justice, Pity or Compassion, Patience, 
Edification, Prudent Discretion, Devotion to Prayer. These are 
enlarged upon by the Saint with that mysticism directed by the 
sane common sense so characteristic of the Catholic mystic. On 
page fourteen, "sensual" is used unfortunately for "sensitive;" 
the first term has a disagreeable connotation, and the grammatical 
construction is, at times, confusing. 


By a Seminary Professor. Philadelphia: John J. McVey. 


This is an authorized English translation from the French, of 
a book that well deserves the favor with which its previous edi- 
tions have been received. In this sixth edition, it has been re- 
vised according to the New Code of Canon Law, the arrange- 
ment and order, however, remaining the same. It is a com- 
pendious course of Moral Theology, outlining in a clear and prac- 
tical way all that it is necessary for the average person to know 
about the general principles of Morality and Human Acts, the 

406 NEW BOOKS [June, 

Commandments of God and the Church, and the Evangelical 
Counsels and Beatitudes. It is written in catechetical form of 
question and answer, but at the end of each chapter is a splendid 
summary and tabular analysis of the matter explained. The book 
was prepared for the Brothers of the Christian Schools, but mem- 
bers of all teaching congregations and the intelligent laity will 
derive great profit from a close study of it. 

the French of Rt. Rev. A. LeRoy. Translated by E. Leahy. 
New York: Frederick Pustet Co. $1.50. 
This volume, Credo, as its sub-title indicates, is an explana- 
tion in brief form of the whole subject matter of Catholic Faith and 
Practice. The first chapters deal with the articles of the Apostles' 
Creed. These are followed by chapters on Catholic morals, the 
natural law, the Decalogue, and the commands of the Church. 
The rest of the book is devoted to Catholic worship, the seven 
sacraments, prayer, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, the liturgical 
year, and the practical organization of the Christian life. The 
treatment, being brief and pointed, is well adapted to the needs 
of the busy man and woman of today. It ought to prove a useful 
book both for those busy Catholics who feel the need of refresh- 
ing their memories on the teachings of the Church and for non- 
Catholics seeking knowledge of those teachings. 

GREAT WAR. By George Barton. Boston: The Page Co. 
$2.00 net. 

This book contains more promise than performance. Not 
that the subject matter is uninteresting or unworthy of a per- 
manent record. It treats of many of the great tragedies of the 
War events that marked important phases of a struggle replete 
with dramatic incidents. The death of Edith Cavell, the murder 
of Captain Fryatt, the adventure of Roger Casement, the murder 
of the Archduke Ferdinand no one can deny these happenings 
their rightful place in the War's history. But to catalogue them 
as "famous mysteries" is to cheapen them and bring them down 
to the level of the melodramatic, an element altogether absent 
from the actual occurrences. Not merely does the author per- 
sist in thus misguiding his reader by making promises he cannot 
possibly fulfill, he attempts to "write up" his version of the 
events, to throw a green calcium upon actors and to enshroud 
them in mystery. The result is that whatever interest the stories 
themselves might hold is entirely spoiled by this stagey dressing. 

1920 -] NEW BOOKS 407 

GOTLAND. By Mary Austin. New York: Boni & Liveright. 

-, I /) 

Herman, a professor of sociology, proposes a matter-of-fact 
marriage with Mona, a retired school teacher, who rejects him 
with scorn, because he failed to recognize within her "a vast un- 
discovered country, full of wandering lights and crying voices " 
In other words, she is looking for a lover, who will not talk of 
similarity of tastes and ample money to provide a home for his 
future wife, but will really love "with passion." Our University 
professor certainly needed some training to meet Mona's require- 
ments. In despair Mona runs away to the woods California 
woods beyond question in the vicinity of Montereyand naturally 
enough our prosaic German hero, Herman, runs after her by the 
trail of the Broken Tree. Together they come across a strange 
and wonderful people, the Wood Folk, who initiate them into all 
the mysteries of nature, and furnish enough adventures to con- 
vert the most matter-of-fact soul into a poet of the finest type 
When they return to civilization or the House Folk Herman is 
completely changed, and is ready to love in proper, orthodox 

Outland is a most fantastic tale of hidden treasures with 
Vestal maids to guard them, combats to the death between Wood 
Folk and Far Folk, and incidents of treachery, jealousy and mur- 
der, much ado about nothing the judicious reader would say, 
after he had read about one-quarter of the volume. 

HAPPY HOUSE. By Baroness von Hutten. New York: George 

H. Doran Co. $1.75 net. 

This, her latest novel, is of a more acceptable sort than the 
Baroness von Hutten is wont to contribute. Its central figure is 
an elderly woman, Violet Walbridge, whose naive romances have 
for many years been household favorites, bringing her a substan- 
tial income. They reflect her personality, the self-respecting, self- 
forgetting type, described in the parlance of our enlightened gen- 
eration as mid-Victorian. She receives scant affection and total 
lack of appreciation from her sophisticated children, who scarcely 
veil their contempt for her writings to which, however, they, as 
well as their father, owe most of their worldly comforts. The 
quiet story is full of interest and pathos. The author employs the 
ever-effective method of conveying her intentions by means of 
their effect upon a sympathetic observer, a young man, in this 
case, whose sense of comedy lightens the atmosphere. 

To one point alone must the Catholic reader take exception 
and that is where the tired, patient woman yields to her worthless 

408 NEW BOOKS [June, 

husband's importunate demands for a divorce, and begins to 
indulge vague dreams of happiness for herself, a lover of her 
youth having reappeared. The divorce is not consummated, 
though; and at no time is the general tone lowered. As a whole, 
the book is decidedly pleasing and out of the ordinary. 

..* ,j ( j 
RONALD O' THE MOORS. By Gladys Edson Locke. Boston: 

The Four Seas Co. $1.75 net. 

Dartmoor, in the time of George II., is the scene of 
this novel; its story, the adventures of Sir Roger Hetherington, 
who is sent from court to capture Wild Ronald, a Cornish high- 
wayman, and to track down the outlawed Earl of Penraven, an 
adherent of the Stuart cause. He encounters a formidable oppo- 
nent in the person of the earl's young and beautiful sister, who is 
passionately loyal to her brother. Needless to say, the customary 
love affair follows. There is plenty of action, along the well-worn 
grooves. The book is about on a par with the average of its 
class, fiction of which the authors seem to be under the impres- 
sion that vital interest is imparted by a liberal supply of oaths 
and expletives, and the use of archaic language whether appro- 
priate to the period or otherwise. 

BACK TO THE REPUBLIC. By Harry F. Atwood. Chicago: Laird 

& Lee, Inc. 

There is much wisdom in this little book and its words should 
be heeded. Its purpose is to make clear the meaning of the 
words, "autocracy," "democracy," and " republic." In present- 
ing a clear conception of these terms, the writer brings out the 
attributes of the republic and proves it the "golden mean," the 
standard form of government. 

This standard, he declares, was given to us in the Constitu- 
tion. As long as we adhered to it, we made progress. Digression 
from it has brought about confusion, inefficiency and expensive 
waste. He pleads for a return to the golden mean by the aboli- 
tion of all our commissions, the simplification of a Federal and 
State government, and a check upon all socialistic tendencies. 

Hadley, Ph.D., LL.D., President of Yale University. New 
Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press. $1.75. 
The eighteen short essays sermonettes if you will gath- 
ered under the foregoing title, were delivered before students and 
graduates of the Connecticut University at various times during 
a period of eleven years, 1908-1919, as Sunday morning talks. 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 409 

Dealing in trenchant, but dignified style, with such vital themes 
as "The Honor of the Service," "Fitness for Command," "Self- 
Consecration," "The Compelling Power of Ideals," etc., these short 
papers form a valuable addition to what may be called our liter- 
ature of public service. The form of expression is sufficiently 
dynamic to place them among the inspirational, in the best sense 
of that much mouthed word. 

From a Christian standpoint the essays fall short, as one 
might expect, in the matter of positiveness, a defect, however, 
which it is possible their author might extol as virtue. Dr. 
Hadley, for example, appears to harbor certain crass and popular 
misconceptions concerning asceticism. He fails to distinguish 
properly between Christian and pagan concepts. Like so many 
others, he sees in asceticism nothing more than a mere rejection 
of human joys, from motives that are, to say the least, unworthy. 
His vision stops short of a transformation of lawful desire into 
something infinitely higher through the action of grace. "The 
Christian philosophy is the Stoic philosophy with the human 
element added," sets forth a definition that those who believe in 
the truths of revelation will scarcely accept. 

The division of the volume into two sections, one dealing with 
"Ethics of Citizenship," the other with "Ethics of Leadership," 
impresses us as arbitrary. A better method, it seems, would have 
been to range the sermons in the order of their delivery. 

HIGHBENTON. By William Heyliger. New York: D. Appleton 

& Co. $1.50 net. 

Mr. Heyliger has done himself much credit in this story 
for boys, a work of more substance and depth than his usual 

Stephen Benton is a fundamentally honorable, well-inten- 
tioned lad, but too much inclined to carelessness and shirking, 
content merely to scrape through, rather than exert himself to do 
his best. He sees no necessity for finishing his course at the High 
School, feeling himself sufficiently educated to go to work, 
whether in his home town or elsewhere. Advice and remon- 
strance have no effect. Experience comes to his aid. By a per- 
fectly natural course of circumstances, there is forced upon his 
observation the contrast between two men, brothers, of whom 
one has made a success of his life, while the other has been 
ruined by consistent following of the easy-going policy which 
Steve pursues. Being an intelligent boy, he takes the lesson to 
heart, turns over a new leaf, and becomes "High" Benton. 

The tale is told in Mr. Heyliger's own agreeable manner, 

410 NEW BOOKS [June, 

which is all the more effective because it excludes formal moral- 
izings. He has been most generous with his material, lavishing 
incident and action, as well as an unwonted number of clear-cut 
characterizations. The book is juvenile fiction of the best type. 

Accustomed as we are to the author's attitude, healthful and 
ethically correct, but totally religionless, it is with a little shock 
of pleasant surprise that we read Steve's account of how, during 
a thunderstorm, he took refuge in a Catholic church, and, seeing 
the red light at the altar, felt as if God were there; eliciting from 
his hearer the comment: "Perhaps He was." 

MOUNT MUSIC. By E. O. Somerville and Martin Ross. New 

York: Longmans, Green & Co. $2.00. 

For many years Miss Edith Somerville and Miss Viola Martin 
have been writing stories and sketches of Irish life. Most or 
all of the present volume has been written by Miss Somerville, 
for her friend and collaborator died two or three years ago. 

It is hard nay, it is impossible for an alien to write 
sympathetically or truthfully of things Catholic, especially if there 
be question of Catholic Ireland. Our Protestant friends may 
write with zest of an Irish fox hunt, or describe with humor the 
arts of the social climber, but they cannot portray the soul of 
Ireland. Why are all their priests stupid, gluttonous, intolerant, 
domineering men "of bovine countenances," and their Catholic 
laymen dishonest tricksters like the Doctor Mangan who domin- 
ates this story, or weak-kneed, namby pamby heroes like Larry, 
"who debated the question as to whether a common atheism were 
not the only panacea for the hatreds that ruled the Isle of Saints?" 

THE BOOK OF THE DAMNED. By Charles Fort. New York: 

Boni & Liveright. $1.90 net. 

"By the damned, I mean the excluded," explains the author; 
and by the excluded he means certain phenomena which Science 
has not applied itself to account for. These are such as black 
rains, red rains, strange substances, animal, vegetable and min- 
eral, falling upon the earth, bodies of planetary size "floating 
or navigating through inter-planetary space," and so on. These 
data are surprisingly numerous, and their compilation repre- 
sents research of a particularly difficult kind, as the records of 
these singular occurrences are principally to be found in news- 
papers and magazines, covering a period of many years. To read 
of them is to be inspired with an interest which has no need of 
the book's sensational title; nor is it increased by the author's 
quasi-scientific speculations which he presents in a staccato style 
that soon produces the wearying effect of a series of explosions. 

!920.] NEW BOOKS 


THE HOMESTEAD. By Zephine Humphrey. New York- E P 
Dulton & Co. $1.90 net. 

Memories of Miss Humphrey's earlier novel, Grail Fire, will 
predispose the reader in favor of the present work. It would be 
pleasant to assure him that his anticipations will be realized- 
but the unfortunate truth is that the author has not quite suc- 
ceeded on this occasion. In the former book she dealt with that 
surpassingly important theme, the search for religious truth Its 
vitality imparted life to her characters, who were very real human 
beings. Of course, it is not to be expected that she should confine 
herself to kindred subjects; but in The Homestead all such inter- 
its are abandoned without supplying an effective substitute 
With all the good will possible, we cannot find the main theme 
other than labored and artificial. Naturally, this is reflected in 
the characters who, for the most part, are mere automatons, con- 
veying the impression that they are neither clear to the author's 
vision nor close to her heart. The most genuine note is sounded 
by the woman, Martha Sloan, whose jealousy of her son's love 
develops into criminal insanity. This is well handled in itself 
but its disproportionate weight destroys the artistic balance. 

We look forward to what we may receive from Miss Hum- 
phrey at some future time, when she has been again impelled by 
earnestness of conviction to write upon a theme of general appeal. 

THE BEST GHOST STORIES. New York: Boni & Liverright 

York : Boni & Liveright. 85 cents each. 

Fashions change in ghost stories, and, besides, every coun- 
try boasts its own special brand of spirits. With this considera- 
tion in view the compiler, Mr. J. L. French, has selected stories 
that will satisfy every taste and fancy. The best known of 
those included are Defoe's "Apparition of Mrs. Veal," Bulwer 
Lytton's "The Haunted and the Haunters,' and Kipling's "Phan- 
tom Rickshaw." The Irish banshee, and French, Jewish, Negro 
and American spooks are all represented in the other selections 
3 round out the volume, or perhaps to convince the skeptical, 
the editor has included several newspaper accounts of "real 
American ghosts." There is a brief, but interesting introduction 
by Arthur B. Reeves on "The Fascination of the Ghost Story." 

In Redemption and Other Plays three plays of Tolstoy are 

reproduced. Of these two are tragedies "Redemption" and 

lie Power of Darkness" gripping realistic pieces of crime and 

expiation with Tolstoy's grim ethical purpose showing through 

412 NEW BOOKS [June, 

them. The third, "Fruits of Culture," is a comedy which satir- 
izes the grossness and the credulity of some Russian gentlefolk 
whose cult is Spiritualism. 

SIMONETTA. By Edwin Lefevre. New York: George H. Doran 

Co. $1.50 net. 

Here we have a little of Marion Crawford and a little more 
of Anthony Hope molded and finished with the art and dexterity 
of Mr. Lefevre himself. It is a delightful bit of unsubstantiality 
concerning an American lover and an Italian inamorata whose 
beauty exactly reproduces that of La Bella Simonetta, most 
famous of Botticelli's subjects. The usual role is played by the 
bottomless American purse, but we have to thank Mr. Lefevre 
for the light grace of his touch, and for his mastery of delicate 

(New York: Boni & Liveright. $1.50), is the first of a 
series of juvenile books that Mr. Greenberg is writing to illustrate 
the manners and customs of foreign peoples. The story is laid 
in Porto Rico and centres around the popular sport of cock- 
fighting, condemned by the United States Government. There is 
adventure and tragedy and romance told in a simple unaffected 
way. The enlightening work of American educators is well 
emphasized, but one would imagine that this Catholic people 
were atheists, for the mention of God and Catholicism is skill- 
fully omitted. 


The America Press issues two pamphlets of practical instruction 
and genuine moral value; one, The Church and the Sex Problem (10 
cents), the other, Courtship and Marriage (25 cents). The Church and 
the Sex Problem is a lecture delivered by Richard H. Tierney, S.J., at 
a meeting of the American Federation for Sex Hygiene, held in 
Buffalo, August 27, 1913. It shows that the teaching of sex hygiene not 
only fails in its purpose to inculcate purity, but even frustrates that 
purpose. Courtship and Marriage contains practical instructions for 
those who contemplate matrimony, and safeguards the sanctity of the 

Fordham University prints a pamphlet, entitled Puritanism in 
History and Literature (15 cents), by Terence L. Connolly, S.J. It 
corrects a false impression of the Church contained in Long's History 
of English Literature. 

The Martyrs of Uganda, issued by the Catholic Truth Society of 
London, is of particular interest now, on account of the approaching 
ceremony of Beatification of the Uganda Martyrs. It contains a record 

1920.] NEW BOOKS 413 

of the heroic sufferings of the first converts of Uganda, whose blood 
has been the source of many blessings to the Church in that far-off land. 

Two pamphlets of real apologetic value are entitled What the 
World Owes to the Papacy, by Rt. Rev. Monsignor Grosch, and The 
Failure of Anglicanism, by Frederick Joseph Kinsman, late Protestant- 
Episcopal Bishop of Delaware (London: Catholic Truth Society). 

Among recent contributions on economic subjects we note Cooper- 
ation Among Farmers and Consumers, issued by the National Catho- 
lic War Council, and Two Years of Faulty Taxation and the Results, 
by Otto H. Kahn. Both these publications try to point out a more 
satisfactory economic arrangement for the public advantage. 

The Hon. Daniel F. Cohalan in The Freedom of the Seas, published 
by the Friends of Irish Freedom, calls attention to British control 
of the seas, and affirms that the possession of such points by one 
nation is not only without precedent, "but is a menace to the liberty 
of all the other peoples of the earth." 

American Masonry and Catholic Education, by Rev. Michael 
Kenny, S.J., is an exposition of Masonic activities in education. (In- 
ternational Catholic Truth Society of Brooklyn. 5 cents.) 

In these days of political upheaval and unrest, when nations are 
contending for their separate freedom, we must not forget that the 
Papacy has a right to its freedom, too. Hence, the Roman question. 
The freedom of the Papacy is presented to us again in The Pope 
and Italy, by the Very Rev. Nazareno Casacca, O.S.A., D.D., translated 
from the original Italian by Rev. J. A. Hickey, O.S.A., D.D., and con- 
taining a preface by the Most Rev. D. J. Dougherty, D.D., Archbishop 
of Philadelphia. (Philadelphia: John Joseph McVey. 50 cents.) 

The Catholic Educational Association Quarterly Bulletin, under 
date of February, 1920, announces the Seventeenth Annual Meeting of 
the Catholic Educational Association in New York City, Monday, Tues- 
day, Wednesday, and Thursday, June 28, 29, 30, and July 1, 1920, 
under the auspices of His Grace, Most Rev. Patrick J. Hayes, D.D., 
Archbishop of New York. 

Two interesting pamphlets, published by the Central Bureau of 
the Central Society, St. Louis, Mo., are The Non-Partisan League of 
North Dakota, by Frank O'Hara, Ph.D., and The Facts and Fallacies 
of Modern Spiritism, by J. Godfrey Raupert, K.S.G. 

The Congregation de Notre Dame of Montreal have issued in small 
pamphlet form a Tercentenary Sketch of the Venerable Marguerite 
Bourgeoys, their Foundress. This favored servant of God was born 
two hundred years ago, at Troyes, France. Her work in the cause of 
education earned for her the title of Apostle in that field, and her 
virtues have been declared heroic by the Holy See. 

The Catholic Truth Society of Ireland makes an interesting con- 
tribution to historical studies in a magazine, entitled From Peter to 
Constantine, Studies in Early Church History. 

IRecent Events. 

The Polish advance against the Bolshevik 
Russia. armies continued throughout the month, 

and early in May a joint Polish and Uk- 
rainian army under General Pilsudski swept into Ukrainia and 
captured Kiev, the Ukrainian capital, which has been in the hands 
of the Bolsheviki since the Denikin collapse. At the same time, 
Ukrainian troops under General Petlura occupied Odessa, Russia's 
most important outlet on the Black Sea. These victories are the 
culmination of a month's severe fighting in which the Bolsheviki 
have uniformly been forced to give ground, and military observers 
are of opinion that they mark the beginning of the end of the 
Bolshevik menace in the west. 

One of the most important features in the latest Russian de- 
velopment is the military, economic, and political convention 
signed by Poland and Ukrainia just before the drive toward Kiev. 
By this compact Poland agrees to free Ukrainia of the Bolshevik 
troops, and to recognize Ukrainia as an independent State. In re- 
turn, she will be granted certain advantages. Full details of the 
agreement are not yet published, but it is understood the pro- 
visions will grant Poland an outlet to the Black Sea; a Vice-Min- 
ister in the Ukrainian Cabinet, which will be composed principally 
of experts, in order to help the new State obtain a footing in its 
fight for existence; and virtual control of the railroads through 
the vast stretches of wheat country from which the Bolsheviki 
have hitherto been deriving benefit. Poland agrees to give Uk- 
rainia military support for a ten-year period; she further agrees 
to withdraw her troops as soon as the Ukrainian state is safely 
established, and an invasion from the east provided against. Uk- 
rainia definitely renounces in favor of Poland any claim to eastern 
Galicia, and marks out Ukrainian territory as lying between the 
Dneiper and the Dneister Rivers, and extending to the Black Sea, 
with Odessa as its seaport. 

The Polish-Ukrainian arrangement is looked on with mixed 
feelings by the Allies favorably by the French, who are actively 
aiding the Poles, and have much to gain by the constitution of a 
strong Poland, dubiously by England and America. The latter 
consider that if the territorial arrangement of the compact were 
carried out, it would mean the severance from Russia of a vast 
territory, beginning at Odessa on the Black Sea, and with the 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 415 

combinations previously arranged by Poland, covering Latvia, 
Lithuania, and White Russia, extending all the way to the Baltic. 
All of this territory, with a population of something like 40,000,000 
inhabitants, would be permanently lost to Russia, and would form 
a belt of semi-autonomous or autonomous states, under the more 
or less extended protectorate of Poland, and bound to the latter by 
political, military, and economic agreements. This creation of a 
"Greater Poland" would deprive Russia of economic resources 
which for more than a century have been necessary to her eco- 
nomic life. Moreover, there is a bitter hostility against the Poles, 
both in Lithuania and also in Ukrainia, where already the Polish 
policy is being carried forward in the face of a strong anti-Polish 
feeling, centuries old, entertained by the Russian Orthodox pop- 
ulation of the Ukraine and Galicia, both forming branches of the 
Russian ethnological family, and differing less in language than 
the North and South of France. England and, less outspokenly, 
America are opposed to anything like imperialistic aims on the 
part of Poland as constituting a new European storm centre. 

Meanwhile the Polish offensive still continues, and the Bol- 
sheviki are falling back along the whole front. According to lat- 
est dispatches, Polish and Ukrainian forces have struck a power- 
ful blow at the Russian Bolshevik front far north of Kiev, and 
have driven the enemy back along the Beresina River. Betchitsa, 
an important Dneiper River crossing, has been captured, and seri- 
ous losses have been inflicted on the Soviet army. Fighting is 
now going on over a front of approximately four hundred and 
twenty miles. An interesting feature of the Polish situation is 
the fact that less than two years ago, at the time the armistice was 
signed, Poland from a military point of view was non-existent, 
whereas today it is estimated she has a fighting force of more than 
700,000 men, and is maintaining a front greater than the Franco- 
German front during the War. 

Of course, the Polish offensive has put an end to all peace 
negotiations between Poland and the Soviet Government. Late 
in April and early in May negotiations for the resumption of trade 
between Russia on the one hand and various outside countries, 
such as England, Italy, Finland, Sweden, and Latvia, on the 
other, were in progress, but the Polish successes have had the ef- 
fect of slowing these up. 

The belief is expressed in British official circles that a well- 
defined plan is afoot to renew an encircling military offensive 
against the Bolsheviki. Coincident with the Polish Ukrainian 
victories over the Soviet armies in southwestern Russia, three 
additional divisions of Japanese troops have been thrown into 


Siberia, official advices say. The British Foreign Office also has 
been advised that Finland is purchasing large quantities of mili- 
tary supplies, and apparently is planning a new attack toward 

In view of these facts, and the announced decision of the 
Moscow Government to exclude from Russia any member of a 
League of Nations Investigating Committee, who represents a na- 
tion supporting the Poles and Ukrainians, any action on Lloyd 
George's plan for the resumption of trade with Russia will be 
postponed, it is thought, until the situation clears. Meanwhile, 
Russia's trade delegation at Copenhagen, which has been settling 
the main lines of the programme for trade resumption between 
Russia and the outside world, has decided to return to Russia. 
This is due to the reported refusal of Great Britain to admit Maxim 
Litvinoff to England, and because no answer was received to its 
appeal to the San Remo Conference that the trade negotiations 
be transferred to some other country. 

Though the month's record for the Bolsheviki on the western 
and southwestern fronts has been disastrous, they have been more 
successful in the east. On April 28th, the Bolshevik forces occu- 
pied Baku, an important port on the western coast of the Caspian 
Sea, and the outlet of the largest petroleum fields in the east. 
The republics of Georgia and Azerbaijan have submitted to the 
Soviet armies, and Bolshevism is reported to be spreading rapidly 
throughout Transcaucasia and into Armenia. The fall of Tiflis is 
momentarily expected, and, according to latest dispatches, the 
Bolsheviki are marching from Baku on Batum, which stands at 
the extremity of the railroad and pipe line which distributes oil 
from the Caucausus fields. If the Bolsheviki take Batum, it 
would mean the loss to Great Britain of the indispensable key to 
her exploitation of the Caucausus. 

Severe fighting occurred late in April at Chita, Transbaikalia, 
between the forces of General Voitzekoffsky, the sole remnant of 
Admiral Kolchak's army in Transbaikalia, and the opposing Bol- 
shevik faction. The Japanese are said to be supporting General 
Voitzekoffsky. The Japanese representative at Vladivostok de- 
clares that the action of the Japanese troops has been sanctioned 
by the Allies. Japanese reinforcements are constantly arriving 
at Vladivostok. 

The remnants of the Russian volunteer army in the Stochy 
region of the Black Sea coast to the number of 60,000 men are re- 
cently reported to have surrendered to the Bolsheviki. All, with 
the exception of the leaders of the rising, were granted life and 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 417 

General Wrangel, who is attempting to hold together the 
shattered forces of General Denikin in the Crimea until they are 
assured of protection, recently reported to British official quarters 
that he had been able to reorganize the men sufficiently to with- 
stand the isolated Bolshevik attacks. Other reports indicate that 
the Bolsheviki are preparing for a general attack, hoping further 
to crush Denikin's followers before Great Britain's demand for 
their protection is recognized by the Russian Soviet Government. 
Notwithstanding reports from Moscow that the Bolsheviki will 
accede to Great Britain's demand, the British Government is still 
unsatisfied with the replies received from the Soviet Government, 
and is awaiting an answer to its last note. 

An aftermath of the sessions of the Russian-Japanese Com- 
mission for the liquidation of the events of April 4th and 5th, 
when the Japanese took possession of Vladivostok, has been the 
announcement by the Provisional Government that elections will 
shortly be held for a Far Eastern Provincial Parliament. The 
Government is organizing an international Board of Trade, con- 
sisting of Russian, Chinese, American, and Japanese business men. 
The Japanese have installed a complete telephone system, both 
military and industrial. 

The results of the ten-day conference of the 
Italy. Supreme Council of Allied Premiers at San 

Remo, beginning on April 16th, were such 

that each Government participating in them considered its aspira- 
tions to be measurably satisfied. The Premiers and Foreign Min- 
isters met in mutual distrust, but they parted with great personal 
cordiality, and with much more confidence in the future. The 
decisions arrived at involved mutual concessions, and may be 
summarized under three main heads: Germany, Turkey, and 

The German decision made clear that the Allies were in com- 
plete harmony on the fulfillment of the Versailles Treaty, and that 
they would require its fulfillment, by joint military action, if nec- 
essary. The first evidence of German good faith required by the 
Allies is disarmament. The indemnity to be paid by Germany will 
be fixed as soon as possible at a lump sum to be paid in annual in- 
stallments extending over thirty years, or in such other manner 
as may later be decided on. An annual payment of three billion 
marks pre-war exchange, for thirty years, it is understood, has 
been tentatively suggested, but no definite sum will be named till 
the Allies hold their meeting with the German representatives. 
This meeting between the Allied and German representatives is 

VOL. cxi. 27 


scheduled to take place at Spa, Belgium, on May 25th. The Ger- 
man request to be allowed an army of 200,000 is refused, in view 
of the German failure to observe certain terms of the Peace Treaty. 
France on her part makes an emphatic disavowal of imperialistic 
or militaristic aims, and declares she has no intention of annexing 
the left bank of the Rhine. 

In dealing with the dismembered portions of the old Turkish 
Empire, the Council decided to make Great Britain the mandatory 
for Mesopotamia and Palestine, and France the mandatory for 
Syria. A formal offer has been made to the United States to ac- 
cept the mandate for Armenia, and, in the event of refusal, Presi- 
dent Wilson is asked to act as arbitrator in the question of the 
boundaries of Armenia. Armenian independence is recognized 
by the constitution of a free Republic. The Turkish Treaty was 
completed and was later handed to the Turkish plenipotentiaries 
in Paris on May 10th. By its terms the Turkish army is to be re- 
duced to 25,000 men. The Turks will not be permitted to main- 
tain troops on the European side except one company in Con- 
stantinople for a guard of honor to the Sultan, who is allowed to 
retain his seat of government there. The city will be in the hands 
of police with an Allied Commission supervising. Italy, France, 
and Great Britain in turn will nominate the Chairman of the inter- 
allied forces in Constantinople. 

At the urgent request of the Italian Premier, it was decided to 
open up trade relations with Russia, and to give every facility for 
sending peaceable material to Russia, and for obtaining the sur- 
plus of Russian foodstuffs and raw materials for the rest of the 
world. It was made clear, however, that the Allies as a whole 
refused to accept on the Bolshevik trade delegation the presence 
of M. Litvinoff, because of the abuse of his privileges while in Eng- 
land by engaging in active political propaganda. The apparent 
refusal of the Soviet Government to remove M. Litvinoff from the 
Commission, and especially the new hopes engendered by the 
Polish victories since the San Remo Conference, have served to 
render this decision of the Allies largely inoperative. 

The Adriatic question was brought before the Supreme Coun- 
cil, but it was decided on the request both of the Italian Premier 
and of M. Trumbitch, the Jugo-Slav Foreign Minister, to leave the 
settlement of the dispute to negotiation between the two interested 
countries. Conversations between Premier Nitti and M. Trum- 
bitch have been going on at intervals throughout the month, and 
on several occasions a full agreement, involving plans for a buffer 
state about Fiume, were reported to have been arrived at. All re- 
ports of agreement, however, have been subsequently denied, and 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 419 

the whole matter at present is apparently as far from settlement 
as ever. Meanwhile d'Annunzio continues at Fiume, which is 
under strict blockade by the Italian authorities to prevent supplies 
from reaching the insurgents. The communications of the town 
have been completely cut off, regular Italian troops tearing up 
sections of the railway and bringing up numbers of machine guns 
to guard the frontiers. Passage in and out of the city is abso- 
lutely forbidden, not even milk going in, and connection with the 
outside world by the sea route has been completely severed. 

The fifth meeting of the Executive Council of the League of 
Nations opened in Rome towards the middle of May. Profound 
political changes have taken place since the first session of the 
Council, which opened in an atmosphere of extreme optimism, 
but now even its warmest advocates admit that the League is in a 
bad way. This is due to two principal causes: the failure of 
America to join the League, and the indefinite continuance of the 
Supreme Council of Allied Premiers and Foreign Ministers which 
threatens to become a permanent body, and to absorb many duties 
assigned to the League. At present the League has neither moral 
nor material strength. At the Rome conference several questions 
of importance are to be considered, among them being the date of 
the first meeting of the Assembly, which, under Article III. of the 
Covenant, consists of representatives of all the members of the 
League. It is planned to call the first gathering late this year, 
probably at Geneva. The Labor Department of the League has 
begun to move to Geneva, and by the end of the month it is ex- 
pected it will be permanently installed there. Another assembly, 
under the auspices of the League, is the economic conference at 
Brussels, which is scheduled to meet towards the end of May. In 
June the Committee to draft a constitution for the permanent 
court of arbitration will meet at The Hague, with Elihu Root as 
the American representative. 

With regard to purely Italian affairs, towards the middle of 
May the Ministry, of which Premier Nitti was the head, was forced 
to resign in consequence of an adverse note in the Chamber of 
Deputies. The Popular, or Catholic, Party, numbering one hun- 
dred votes, which had hitherto supported the Ministry, joined the 
opposition. Premier Nitti has been the object of innumerable 
bitter attacks in the past year, and on the eve of the reopening 
of the Chamber of Deputies early in May, there were animated 
discussions among all groups as to the attitude to be taken toward 
the Ministry. The Catholics resented the policy of the Govern- 
ment towards the radicals during recent disturbances in Northern 
Italy as being excessively mild. The Cabinet crisis is considered 


one most difficult to solve, because the Chamber is divided chiefly 
into two groups, the Socialists and Catholics, neither of which is 
strong enough to constitute a majority, while an agreement be- 
tween them is impossible on a common programme. General 
elections are prophesied for the near future, as no Cabinet can 
remain long in power with the Chamber constituted as at present. 

The internal condition of Italy has grown steadily worse dur- 
ing the month because of the great number of strikes, of which 
the most serious in its effects has been the so-called peasants' 
strike. This strike, which was called over a month ago among 
the agricultural workers in the Province of Novara in sympathy 
with the industrial strike, has been accompanied by bloodshed, 
and also by destruction of crops on a considerable scale. 

The industrial strike is reported to include all Piedmont, 
where it is estimated that the number of persons in voluntary idle- 
ness exceeds 500,000, and to be spreading to Lombardy and 
Liguria. The Turin conflict, which is being waged over the ques- 
tion of workmen's Soviets, shows no signs of settlement. A grave 
feature of the troubles is that State servants, the post and tele- 
graph workers, are really idle almost all over the country despite 
the fact that at Turin, for instance, they are supposed to have 
agreed to return to work. In fact, this form of semi-strike 
what the French call greve pertte in which the workers do not 
actually quit work, but simply do not do any, has grown terribly 
prevalent in Italy, especially in cases of Government employees, 
or elsewhere, when military force is likely to be exercised suc- 
cessfully. Its deliberate passive inertia is harder to beat than ten 
ordinary straightforward strikes. 

Since the first of May France has been dis- 

France. turbed by a series of strikes, whose object 

was the furtherance of the radical purpose 

to dictate to the Government the nationalization of the railroads, 
mines and other industries. The Government has responded by 
announcing its determination to dissolve the General Federation 
of Labor, and many of the strike leaders have been arrested. 
This drastic step is in accordance with French law, which strictly 
defines the power of syndicalists on striking, providing only for 
strikes on professional or economic grounds. The present strike 
has been called on political grounds in the endeavor to exert 
pressure on the Government to acknowledge labor's power on the 
nationalization issue. The Labor Federation has been trying to 
intimidate the Government by successive waves of strikes since 
the railway men walked out the first of the month. The Labor 


Federation has successively called out ten other unions to support 
the railway men. The first wave of the workers' attack was that 
of the miners, dockers and seamen. Then followed the metal- 
lurgists, general transport workers, subway employees, and elec- 
tricians. Finally the strike was extended to the electric-light, 
gas and furniture-trade workers, thus producing on paper every- 
thing short of a general strike, which is the Federation's last card. 
Public opinion and the great majority of the workers are un- 
doubtedly against a strike. There is, nevertheless, some trepida- 
tion concerning the result of the Government's drastic action. 

During the month much space has been given in the French 
press to discussions of the San Remo Conference. The general 
results of the Conference are hailed as a French victory, both with 
regard to the fulfillment of the Treaty, in the matter of definite 
procedure as to German disarmament and demobilization, and 
also as providing a joint indivisable programme for the Allies in 
future. To obtain these advantages, the French were obliged to 
make certain concessions, chiefly in the matter of consenting to a 
direct conference with the Germans at Spa, the fixing of a lump 
sum as the German indemnity, and waiving their objections to cer- 
tain portions of the Turkish Treaty. The outstanding feature of 
the San Remo meeting in French eyes is the definite decision by 
the three Allies against any revision of the Treaty of Versailles. 

The Peace Treaty for Turkey was presented to the Turkish 
delegation at the French Foreign Office on May llth. The Turks 
have thirty days in which to reply. The Treaty is rather remark- 
able for the great attention paid to the League of Nations, many 
duties being assigned to that organization in enforcing the terms. 
It is provided that England, France and Italy shall assume perma- 
nent and complete control of Turkish finances. A strong faction 
French opinion favors rewriting portions of the Treaty, which 
it claims sacrifice French interests for the benefit of England. 
The French ban upon the importation of all articles of luxury 
became effective April 28th, and just before it adjourned, the 
Chamber of Deputies passed a law forbidding all exportations of 
works of art of a date prior to 1830, and all paintings and sculp- 
tures of artists dead for more than twenty years. Both laws have 
been the subject of much criticism in the French press, particu- 
larly the first. It is thought that it will scarcely serve to restore 
the unfavorable trade balance and may suggest reprisal measures 
on the part of other countries. 

The sixth meeting of the International Parliamentary Confer- 
ence on Commerce opened in Paris on May 4th, and continued for 
three days. The delegates, who are members of the parliaments 


of the various countries, represented Belgium, Brazil, China, Fin- 
land, Great Britain, Greece, Italy, Japan, Poland, Portugal, Ru- 
mania, Czecho-Slovakia, and Jugo-Slavia. The findings of the 
Conference, -which has only recommendatory powers, will be sent 
to the Brussels international financial meeting. 

The Conference adopted a series of resolutions, the first of 
which requested that international legislation be enacted to control 
responsibility in sea transportation. The second asked the for- 
mation of an international commission charged with studying the 
question of exchange, and arriving at an agreement concerning the 
debts of the Allies and former enemy countries. 

The third requested the various nations immediately take 
steps to curtail expenses, improve their financial position, and re- 
duce the circulation of paper currency for the purpose of stabil- 
izing exchange. The fourth declared the reparations clauses of 
the Versailles Treaty should not be changed, and asked that the 
Reparations Commission of the Peace Conference proceed to allo- 
cate gold bonds to the countries which suffered through the War, 
and that the nations signatory to the Treaty facilitate advance on 
the bonds. 

Apart from payment of the German indemnity the only inter- 
national anxiety seriously troubling France at present is the ques- 
tion of German disarmament. From a report recently made by 
American observers to the United States Government, this anxiety 
is well grounded. The most noteworthy instance of non-compli- 
ance with the disarmament clauses of the Treaty, according to this 
report, is the failure of Germany to reduce her military effectives. 
Although pledged to reduce her regular army to 200,000 by April 
10, 1920, and to 100,000 by July 10th, the regular army remains 
approximately 250,000. 

The state constabulary of 75,000 to 150,000, and approxi- 
mately 600,000 home guards, are regarded as a violation of the 
Treaty provision forbidding any reserve or secret armed forces. 
Although in compliance with the Treaty the German General Staff 
ostensibly has been abolished, the report says that the nucleus of 
a general staff continues to be maintained. Of the guns and 
ammunition Germany agreed to destroy by March 10, 1920 it is 
estimated that up to January 5, 1920, about one-quarter of the 
amount had been disposed of. Prohibition of the exportation of 
munitions into other countries is also said to have been violated. 
Secrets in the manufacture of gas and other munitions, which the 
Germans agreed to disclose to the Allies before April 10th, have 
not yet been divulged. Military clauses reported as completely 
complied with, include adoption of new tables of organization, 

1920.] RECENT EVENTS 423 

non-manufacture of munitions, non-importation of munitions, 
abolition of universal military service, and the destruction of 
Rhine fortifications. 

Allied military authorities were notified on 
Germany. May 10th by the German Government that 

the number of troops in the Ruhr region 

had been cut down to the number of units authorized under the 
agreement reached in Paris last August. The Germans intimated 
that they expected, in consequence, the withdrawal of French 
troops from Frankfort. An Allied Commission has been ap- 
pointed to visit the Ruhr Valley and investigate conditions. It is 
expected that the German decision not to intervene in the terri- 
tory south of the Ruhr will have to be revoked, because of urgent 
appeals from this section, where apprehension is felt over the 
possibility of another radical outbreak. The understanding is 
that some Reichwehr troops combined with a force of security 
police will enter the zone. The French have announced the with- 
drawal of the 67th Division to Weisbaden. This division included 
the Moroccan and Algerian troops, whose presence in Frankfort 
was greatly resented by the people. 

German economic experts, financiers, merchants, and cap- 
tains of industry are exceedingly pessimistic regarding the results 
of the Spa Conference, May 25th, mainly because of what they 
consider the extreme severity of the French attitude. It is an- 
nounced that the German Government will request a postpone- 
ment of the conference to June 10th because of the difficulty in 
getting together data for the conference and also because of the 
approaching German elections. It is understood that the Ger- 
mans will make a concrete proposal for annual payments, and the 
sum frequently mentioned as an average of the first ten years is 
one billion marks, to be paid in gold. Meanwhile a meeting of 
French and German experts will take place in Paris on May 17th 
to discuss Franco-German commercial relations, and to make ar- 
rangements for the restoration of northern France. 

The preliminary proceedings for the trial by the Supreme 
Court at Leipsic of German criminals have begun, though the date 
of the main trial has not yet been fixed. Forty-six Germans, rang- 
ing from an army corps commander to a simple private, figure on 
the Allies' first specified list of war culprits to be arraigned. The 
preliminaries also have been begun in the case against Wolfgang 
Kapp and Major General Baron von Luettwitz and their associates 
in the recent uprising who are charged with high treason. The 
mass of evidence in the case is still increasing. Kapp has fled to 


Stockholm, and has placed himself under the protection of the 
Swedish Government, which refuses to allow his extradition. 

Germany at present is in the midst of the campaign for the 
election of the new Reichstag, which is set for June 6th. The 
danger of new revolts and of the subversion of the Republic either 
by the reactionaries or the Bolsheviki, is dominating the campaign 
and overshadowing all other questions. Returns from the elec- 
tions to the local assemblies in the Bavarian Palatinate, at the end 
of April, show a remarkable drift from the Coalition Parties to the 
opposition. Compared with the National Assembly election in 
1919, the Catholics showed a loss in votes of twenty-five per cent, 
the Democrats of forty-three per cent, and the Majority (or mod- 
erate) Socialists nearly forty-four per cent, while the Independent 
Socialists gained three hundred and ninety-four per cent, and the 
Agrarian League and People's Party eleven per cent. 

Forty billion marks is involved in the Government's purchase 
of the Federated States Railways, which has been approved by the 
National Assembly. The annual interest is estimated at four- 
teen million marks. The Government is not over sanguine with 
respect to early returns from the investment, in view of the 
dilapidated condition of the railways, the delayed output from 
repair shops, and continued demands by the men for wage in- 
creases. More than a million employees of the railways will be 
on the Government payroll, and the whole transaction is described 
as one of the most gigantic ever effected by any parliament. 

A Swiss Commission of experts, just returned from an in- 
vestigation of conditions in Germany, declares that Germany is 
on the eve of the collapse of both the food supply and industry. 
At most they reckon that she has cereals enough to suppy bread 
only until the end of May, after which she must depend on foreign 
supplies. The scarcity extends to all articles of food, and the 
country is confronted with famine. To obviate this danger the 
German Government recently contracted for a large importation 
of food from Holland, Scandinavia and England. The contract is 
part of a huge re-victualling scheme which embraces cereals, 
cheese, rice, potatoes, condensed milk, live cattle and pigs, total- 
ing 6,500,000,000 marks. Moreover, the shipment of 10,000 tons 
of frozen meat from the United States has been contracted for at 
2,750,000,000 marks. The products imported will not be per- 
mitted to enter the free markets, but will be distributed by the 
public authorities on the basis of the present rationing system, 
preference being given the urban localities. 

May 17, 1920. 

With Our Readers. 

THE Gregorian Congress, which meets in New York on the 
first, second and third of June, under the auspices of His 
Grace, Archbishop Hayes, will, no doubt, prove a significant 
event, because it will afford a striking illustration of what can be 
accomplished towards the realization of at least one type what 
may be called the fundamental type of sacred music. 

In 1903 Pope Pius X. gave to the world in his letter on this 
subject, the instructions which were meant for the general better- 
ment of the singing in our places of worship and for the elimina- 
tion of abuses that had been allowed to intrude. Since that day 
various efforts have been made, with more or less success, to meet 
the requirements of the "Motu Proprio;" and these efforts have 
been no less prominent and effective in our own country than 
in others. Much, however, still remains to be done. 

During the Congress, the Masses and the offices of Vespers 
and Compline to be sung in St. Patrick's Cathedral by immense 
congregations of the laity, adults and children, and by trained 
choirs for the more difficult parts, notably the Proper of the 
Mass, there will be given important illustrations not only of Gre- 
gorian Chant, but also of the practicability of congregational sing- 
ing. A great service will be rendered to all interested in Church 
Music by such exemplification of one of the kinds of music 
classified by His Holiness Pope Pius X. as appropriate to the 
liturgical services of the Church. 

* * * * 

NOT the least good result that may be expe