diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/55841-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/55841-8.txt | 58254 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 58254 deletions
diff --git a/old/55841-8.txt b/old/55841-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f2e8ca1..0000000 --- a/old/55841-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,58254 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Catholic World, Vol. 06, October, 1867 -to March, 1868., by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Catholic World, Vol. 06, October, 1867 to March, 1868. - -Author: Various - -Release Date: October 28, 2017 [EBook #55841] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CATHOLIC WORLD, VOL. 06 *** - - - - -Produced by Don Kostuch - - - - - - [Transcriber's note: This text is derived from - archive.org/stream/catholicworld06pauluoft/catholicworld06pauluoft_djvu.txt - Page numbers are shown in curly braces, such as {123}. They have been - moved to the nearest sentence break.] - - -{i} - -The Catholic World. - -A Monthly Magazine - -Of - -General Literature And Science - - -VOL. VI. - - -October, 1867, To March, 1868. - - -New York: -The Catholic Publication House, -126 Nassau Street. -1868. - -{ii} - - - -John A. Gray & Green, -Printers, -16 And 18 Jacob Street, New York. - - -{iii} - -Contents. - -A Royal Nun, 106. -Aimée's Sacrifice, 156. -A Winged Word, 257. - -Basher's Sacrifice, and what came of it, 124. -Baby, 227. -Bellini's Romance, 408. -Bethlehem: A Pilgrimage, 462. -Bunyan, John, and Plagiarism, 535. -Bartoleme Las Casas, 829. - -Christian Schools and Scholars, 44. -Carlyle's Shooting Niagara, 86. -Cartesian Doubt, The, 234. -Composer's Difficulty, The, 251. -Christianity in France, Present Condition of, 275, 360. -Catholic Congress at Malines, The Third, 289. -Conscript, the Story of, 310, 441, 607, 732. -Cornelius, Peter, the Master of German Painting, 391. -Comedy of Convocation, The, 554. -Catholic Congress of Malines, Bishop Dupanloup's Speech at, 587. -Couture's Book, 653. -Canada Thistles, 721. -Composers, The Rival, 758. -Church and her Attributes, The, 788. - -Double Marriage, The, 776. - -Faith and the Sciences, 330. -Forget Me Not, 639. - -Indians, What shall we do with the, 403. -Irish in America, The, 765. -Italy, Affairs in, 814. - -Jesuits in North America, The, 192. -Justification, The Catholic Doctrine of, 433. -Joseph Görres, 497. - -Kings of England, The Title of, 257. - -Learned Women and Studious Women, 24, 209. -Labor Question, The, 472. -Libraries--Family, Parish, and Sunday-School, 546. -Lacordaire, Inner Life of, 689. - -Manager's Dilemma, The, 20. -Martyrs of Gorcum, The, 71. -Meadowbrook Adventure, My, 346. -Magas; or, Long Ago, 666, 804. -Miscellany, 709. -Nature and Grace, 509. - -Our Boy Organist, 64. -Old Guide to Good Manners, An, 98. -Old Religion, The, 622. -Old Roman World, The, 751. - -Protestants, A Few Thoughts about, 132. -Paris Impious--and Religious Paris, 577. -Philosophy not always Vain, 680. -Paris, The Pre-Historical Congress of, 703. - -Rome and the World, 1. -Ritualism and its True Meaning, 375. -Reign of Law, The, 595. - -Sayings of the Fathers of the Desert, 92, 171, 421, 700, 851. -Subjective in Religion, Function of the, 175. -Stage-Coach, The Inside of, 412. -Sandal of His Holiness, The Ceremonial, 471. -Sacrifice and the Ransom, The, 485. - -Temporal Power of the Popes, The, 528. -The Pre-Historical Congress of Paris, 703. - -Women, Learned and Studious, 24, 209. -Washington, Unpublished Letters of, 145. -What Doctor Marks died of, 824. - ------- - -Poetry. - -All Souls' Day, 172. -Abscondita, 731. - -Beati Mites, Quoniam Ipse Possidebunt Terram, 606. - -Divine Loadstone, The, 757. - -In Memoriam, 43. -Imogen, 190. - -Joy and Grief, 358. - -Love of the Pardoned, The, 823. - -Mater Filii, 484. -Matin, 527. - -Our Lady, 62. - -Per Liquidum AEthera Vates, 327. -Providence, 701. - -Ran Away to Sea, 103. - -Seventy-Three, 266. -Seven Sleepers, The Legend of the, 544. -Sub Umbra, 638. - -With Christ, 19. - ------- - -{iv} - -New Publications. - - -Aner's Return, 430. -Alexis, the Runaway, 575. - -Battle-Fields of Ireland, The, 288. -Blessed Margaret Mary, History of, 287. -Bohemians of the Fifteenth Century, 144. -Breaking Away, 575. -Blessed Eucharist, The, 859. - -Clergy and the Pulpit, 139. -Catholic Crusoe, 430. -Climbing the Rope, 575. -Childhood, Happy Hours of, 576. -Coral Island, The, 717. -Catholic Poets, Selections from, 718. -Claudia, 719. -Comedy of Convocation, The, 719. -Catholic Almanac, 720. -Cromwellian Settlement of Ireland, The, 859. - -Day's Synthesis and Art of Discourse, 425. -Dotty Dimple, 576. -Daughter of an Empress, The, 713 - -Essays on Religion and Literature, 141. -Extracts from the Fathers, 144. - -Froude's Short Studies on Great Subjects, 428. -Folks and Fairies, 860. - -Galin Method of Musical Instruction, The, 430. -Golden Truths, 716. - -Heiress of Killorgan, The, 432. -Haldeman's Affixes, their Origin and Application, 432. -Holy Kings, The Three, 573. -Hildebert, The Hymn of, 574. -Holly and Mistletoe, 576. -Home Fairy Tales, 860. - -Irish Reformation, Dr. Brady on the, 571. -Ireland, an Illustrated History of, 855. -Ireland, Legends of the Wars in, 858. - -Katrina, Holland's, 285. - -Lacorclaire's Letters to Young Men, 144. -Life of St. Aloysius Gonzaga, The, 288. -Little Pet Books, 288. -Life of Curran and Grattan, The, 576. -Layman's Breviary, The, 717. -Lovers' Dictionary, 860. - -Modern History, Fredet's and Kearney's, 144, -Meditations of St. Thomas, 431. -My Prisons, 575. -Marie Antoinette and her Son, 713. -Morgan Rattler, 717. -Manual of Physical Exercises, 860. - -Napoleon and Queen of Prussia, 713. -Newman's Verses on Various Occasions, 858. - -Preston's Lectures on Reason and Revelation, 710. -Poems, 711. - -Queens of American Society, The, 719. - -Recamier, Madame, Life of, 430. -Rome and the Popes, 718. - -Swetchine, Madame, Life of, 429. -Saint Ignatius and the Society of Jesus, 431. -Saint Gwendoline, Ye Legend of, 573. -Shamrock and Thistle, 574. -Saint Vincent de Paul, The Spirit of, 718. -Saint Francis of Assisi, Life of, 718. -Seek and Find, 720. -Strickland's Queens of England, 860. - -Two Thousand Miles on Horseback, 715. -Tommy Hickup, 720. - -Uberto, 286. -Ungava, 717. - -Votary, The, 286. - -Whitney on Language and the Study of Language, 423. -Women, The Friendships of, 852. - -Young Fur Traders, The, 717. - ------- - -{1} - -The Catholic World - -Vol. Vi., No. 31.--October, 1867. - ------- - - Rome And The World. - - -Under the head _Rome or Reason_ we showed in THE CATHOLIC -WORLD for last month that Catholicity is based on reality, and is -the synthesis, so to speak, of Creator and creature, of God and -man, of heaven and earth, nature and grace, faith and reason, -authority and liberty, revelation and science, and that there is -in the real order no antagonism between the two terms or -categories. The supposed antagonism results from not -understanding the real nexus that unites them in one dialectic -whole, and forms the ground of their mutual conciliation and -peace, expressed in the old sense of the word "atonement." - -Christianity is supernatural, indeed, but it is not an -after-thought, or an anomaly in the original plan of creation. -Our Lord was the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world; the -Incarnation is included in creation as its completion or -fulfilment; and hence many theologians hold that, even if man had -not sinned, God would have become incarnate, not, indeed, to -redeem man from sin and death which comes by sin, but to ennoble -his nature, and to enable him to attain to that supernatural -union with God in which alone he finds or can find his supreme -good or perfect beatitude. Christianity, whether this be so or -not, must always be regarded as teleological, the religion of the -end--not accidentally so, but made so in the original plan of the -Creator. It enters dialectically, not arbitrarily, into that -plan, and really completes it. In this view of the case the -Creator's works from first to last are dialectical, and there is -and can be no contradiction in them; no discrepancy between the -natural and supernatural, between faith and reason, nature and -grace, the beginning, medium, and end, but all form integral -parts of one indissoluble whole. - -But, if there is and can be no antagonism between Rome and -Reason, there certainly is an antagonism between Rome and the -World, which must not be overlooked or counted for nothing, and -which will, in some form, most likely, subsist as long as the -world stands. Rome symbolizes for us the catholic religion, or -the divine order, which is the law of life. -{2} -The Catholic Church in its present state dates only from the -Incarnation, out of which it grows, and of which it is in some -sort the visible continuation; but the Catholic religion, as the -faith, as the law of life, dates from the beginning. The just -before the coming of Christ were just on the same principles, by -the same faith, and by obedience to the same divine law, or -conformity to the same divine order, that they are now, and will -be to the end; and hence the deist Tindal expressed a truth which -he was far from comprehending when he asserted that "Christianity -is as old as the world." Tindal's great error was in -understanding by Christianity only the natural law promulgated -through natural reason, and in denying the supernatural. -Christianity is that and more too. It includes, and from the -first has included, in their synthesis, both the natural and the -supernatural. The human race has never had but one true or real -religion, but one revelation, which, as St. Thomas teaches, was -made in substance to our first parents in the garden. Times -change, says St. Augustine, but faith changes not. As believed -the fathers--the patriarchs--so believe we, only they believed in -a Christ to come, and we in a Christ that has come. Prior to the -actual coming of Christ the Church existed, but in a state of -promise, and needed his actual coming to be perfected, or -fulfilled, as St. Paul teaches us in his epistle to the Hebrews; -and hence none who died before the Incarnation actually entered -heaven till after the passion of our Lord. - -Now, to this divine order, this divine law, this catholic faith -and worship symbolized to us by Rome, the visible centre of its -unity and authority, stands opposed another order, not of life, -but of death, called the world, originating with our first -parents, and in their disobedience to the divine law, or -violation of the divine order established by the Creator, -conformity to which was essential to the moral life and -perfection of the creature, or fulfilment of the promise given -man in creation. The order violated was founded in the eternal -wisdom and goodness of the Creator, and the relations which -necessarily subsist between God as creator and man as his -creature, the work of his hands. There is and can be for man no -other law of life; even God himself can establish no other. By -obedience to the law given or conformity to the order established -man is normally developed, lives a true normal life, and attains -to his appointed end, which is the completion of his being in -God, his beatitude or supreme good. But Satan tempted our first -parents to depart from this order and to transgress the divine -law, and in their transgression of the law they fell into sin, -and founded what we call the world--not on the law of life, but -on what is necessarily the law of death. - -The principle of the world may be collected from the words of the -Tempter to Eve: "Ye shall not surely die, but shall be as gods, -knowing good and evil." These words deny the law of God, declare -it false, and promise to men independence of their Creator, and -the ability to be their own masters, their own teachers and -guides. "Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil;" that is, -determining for yourselves, independently of any superior, what -is right or wrong, good or evil, or what is or is not fitting for -you to do. You shall suffice for yourselves, and be your own law. -Hence, as the basis of Rome is the assertion of the divine law, -conformity to the divine order, or submission to the divine -reason and will, that is, humility, the basis of the world is the -denial of the divine order, the rejection of the law of life and -the assertion of the sufficiency of man for himself, that is, -simply, pride. -{3} -Rome is based on humility, the world on pride; the spirit of Rome -is loyalty and obedience, the spirit of the world is disloyalty -and disobedience, always and everywhere the spirit of revolt or -rebellion. Between these two spirits there is necessarily an -indestructible antagonism, and no possible reconciliation. - -The radical difference between Rome and the world is the radical -difference between the humility of the Christian and the pride of -the Stoic. All Christian piety and virtue are based on humility; -the piety and virtue of the stoic are based on pride. The -Christian is always deeply impressed with the greatness and -goodness of God; the stoic with the greatness and strength of -himself. The Christian submits to crosses and disappointments, to -the sufferings and afflictions of life, because he loves God, and -is willing to suffer anything for his sake; the stoic endures -them without a murmur, because he disdains to complain, and holds -that he is, and should be, superior to all the vicissitudes and -calamities of life. The Christian weeps as his Master wept at the -grave of Lazarus, and finds relief in his tears; the stoic is too -proud to weep; he wraps himself in his own dignity and -self-importance, and, when his calamities are greater than he can -bear, he seeks relief, like Cato, in suicide, thus proving his -weakness by the very means he takes to conceal it. The Christian -throws his burden on the Lord, and rises above it; the stoic -insists on bearing it himself, and at last sinks under it. The -world despises humility, and tramples on the humble. To it the -Christian is tame, passive, mean-spirited, contemptible. It has -no sympathy with the beatitudes, such as, Blessed are the poor in -spirit; blessed are the pure in heart; blessed are the meek; -blessed are the peacemakers. It understands nothing of true -Christian heroism, or of the greatness of repose. It sees -strength only in effort, which is always a proof of weakness, and -the harder one strains and tugs to raise a weight, the stronger -it holds him. We may see it in the popular literature of the day, -and in nearly all recent art. The ancients had a much truer -thought when they sculptured their gods asleep, and spread over -their countenance an air of ineffable repose. The Scriptures -speak of the mighty works of God, but represent them as the -hiding of his power. All the great operations of nature are -performed in silence, and the world notes them not. The -Christian's greatness is concealed by the veil of humility, and -his strength is hidden with God. He works in silence, but with -effect, because he works with the power of Him to whom is given -all power in heaven and in earth. - -Mr. Gladstone thinks he finds in Homer the whole body of the -patriarchal religion, or the primitive tradition of the race, and -he probably is not much mistaken; but no one can study Homer's -heroes without being struck with the contrast they offer to the -heroes of the Old Testament. The Old Testament heroes are as -brave, as daring, and as effective as those of Homer; but they -conceal their own personality, they go forth to battle in -submission to the divine command, not seeking to display their -own skill or prowess, and the glory of their achievements they -ascribe to God, who goes with them, assists them, fights for -them, and gives the victory. What is manifest is the presence and -greatness of God, not the greatness and strength of the hero, who -is nothing in himself. In Homer the case is reversed, and what -strikes the reader is the littleness of God and the greatness of -men. -{4} -The gods and goddesses take part in the fray, it is true, but -they are hardly the equals of the human warriors themselves. A -human spear wounds Venus, and sends Mars howling from the field. -It is human greatness and strength, human prowess and heroism, -without any reference to God, to whom belongs the glory, that the -poet sings, the creature regarded as independent of the Creator. -In reading the Old Testament, you lose sight of the glory of men -in the glory of God; in reading Homer, you lose sight of the -glory of God in the glory of men. Abraham, Joshua, Gideon, -Jephtha, David, the Maccabees fight as the servants of the Most -High; Agamemnon, Ajax, Diomed, Achilles, even Hector, to display -their own power, and to prove the stuff that is in them. - -Perhaps no author, ancient or modern, has so completely embodied -in his writings, the spirit of the world, the Welt-Geist, as the -Germans say, as Thomas Carlyle. This writer may have done some -service to society in exposing many cants, in demolishing -numerous shams, and in calling attention to the eternal verities, -of which few men are more ignorant; but he has deified force, and -consecrated the worship of might in the place of right. Indeed, -for him, right is cant, and there is no right but might. He -spurns humility, submission, obedience, and recognizes God only -in human ability. His hero-worship is the worship of the strong -and the successful. Ability, however directed or wherever -displayed, is his divinity. His heroes are Woden and Thor, -Cromwell, Frederick the Great, Mirabeau, Danton, Napoleon -Bonaparte. The men who go straight to their object, whether good -or bad, and use the means necessary to gain it, whether right or -wrong, are for him the divine men, and the only thing he censures -is weakness, whether caused by indecision or scruples of -conscience. His hero is an elemental force, who acts as the -lightning that rives the oak, or the winds that fill the sails -and drive the ship to its port. Old-fashioned morality, which -requires a man to seek just ends by just means, is with him a -cant, a sham, an unreality, and the true hero makes away with it, -and is his own end, his own law, his own means. He is not -governed, he governs, and is the real being, the real God; all -else belong to the unveracities, are mere simulacra, whose end is -to vanish in thin air, to disappear in the inane. The man who -recognizes a power above him, a right independent of him, and in -submission to the divine law, and from love of truth and justice, -weds himself to what is commanded, espouses the right and adheres -to it through good report and evil report, takes up the cause of -the oppressed, the wronged and outraged, the poor, the -friendless, and the down-trodden, and works for it, gives his -soul to it, and sacrifices his time, his labor, and his very life -to advance it, when he has no man with him, and all the world -unheeds, jeers, or thwarts him, is unheroic, and has no moral -grandeur in him, has no virtue--unless he succeeds. He is a hero -only when he carries the world with him, bends the multitude to -his purpose, and comes out triumphant. The unsuccessful are -always wrong; lost causes are always bad causes; and the -unfortunate are unveracious, and deserve their fate. The good man -struggling with fate, and holding fast to his integrity in the -midst of the sorest trials and temptations, and overborne in all -things save his unconquerable devotion to duty, is no hero, and -deserves no honor, though even the ancients thought such a man -worthy of the admiration of gods and men. -{5} -Carlyle forgets that there is an hereafter, and that what to our -dim vision may seem to be failure here may there be seen to have -been the most eminent success. The Christians conquered the -world, not by slaying, but by being slain, and the race has been -redeemed by the Cross. Indeed, pride is always a proof of -meanness and weakness, is an unveracity; for it is born of a lie, -and rests on a lie: all real magnanimity and strength for men -spring from humility, which is not a falsehood, but a veracity; -for it is conformity to the truth of things. - -The principle of opposition to the church is always and -everywhere the same, invariable in time and place as the church -herself, and has a certain consistency, a certain logic of its -own; but it varies its form from age to age and from nation to -nation, and is enraged at the church because she does not vary -with it. It is always at bottom, whatever its form, the -assumption that the creature does or may suffice for itself: "Ye -shall not surely die, but shall be as gods, knowing good and -evil." This primitive falsehood, this satanic lie, underlies all -the hostility of the world to the church, or of the world to -Rome. Analyze what is called the world, and you will find that it -is only a perpetual effort or series of efforts to realize the -promise made by the serpent to Eve in the garden, when coiled -round the tree of knowledge. The world labors to exalt the -dignity and glory of man, not as a creature dependent for his -existence, for all he is or can be, on the Creator, which would -be just and proper, but as an independent, self-acting, and -self-determining being, accountable, individually or socially, -only to himself for his thoughts, words, and deeds--subject to no -law but his own will, appetites, passions, natural propensities, -and tendencies. He is himself his own law, his own master, and -should be free from all restraint and all control not in himself. - -It is easy, therefore, to understand why, with the world and with -men filled with the spirit of the world, Rome is held to be the -symbol of despotism, and the church to be inherently and -necessarily hostile to the freedom of thought and to all civil -and religious liberty. The world understands by liberty -independence of action, and therefore exemption from all -obligation of obedience, or subjection to any law, not -self-imposed. It holds the free man to be one who is under no -control, subject to no restraint, and responsible to no will but -his own. This is its view of liberty, and consequently whatever -restricts liberty in this sense, and places man under a law which -he is bound to recognize and obey, is in its vocabulary -despotism, opposed to the rights of man, the rights of the mind, -the rights of society, or the freedom and independence of the -secular order. Liberty in this broad and universal sense -obviously cannot be the right or prerogative of any creature, for -the creature necessarily depends for all he is or has on the -creator. Hence M. Proudhon, who maintained that property is -robbery, with a rigid logic that has hardly been appreciated, -asserts that the existence of God is incompatible with the -assertion of the liberty of man. Admit, he says, the existence of -God, and you must concede all the authority claimed by the -Catholic Church. The foundation of all despotism is in the belief -in the existence of God, and you must deny, obliterate that -belief, before you can assert and maintain liberty. He was right, -if we take liberty as the world takes it. Liberty, as the world -understands it, is the liberty of a god, not of a creature. -{6} -Rome asserts and maintains full liberty of man as a creature; but -she does and must oppose liberty in the broad, universal sense of -the world; for her very mission is to assert and maintain the -supremacy of the divine order, the authority of God over all the -works of his hands, and alike over men as individuals and as -nations. She asserts indeed, liberty in its true sense; but she, -does and must oppose the liberty the world demands, the liberty -promised by Satan to our first parents, and which, in truth, -should be called license, not liberty, and also those who strive -for it as disloyal to God, as rebels to their rightful sovereign, -children of disobedience, warring against, as Carlyle would say, -the veracities, the eternal verities, the truth of things, or -divine reality. There is no help for it. The church must do so, -or be false to her trust, false to her God, false to the divine -order; for, let the world say what it will, man is not God, but -God's creature, and God is sovereign Lord and proprietor of the -universe, since he has made it, and the maker has the sovereign -right to the thing made. Here is no room for compromise, and the -struggle must continue till the world abandons its false notion -of liberty, and submits to the divine government. Till then the -church is and must be the church militant, and carry on the war -against the world, whatever shape it may assume. - -With the ancient Gentiles the world rather perverted and -corrupted the truth than absolutely rejected it, and fell into -idolatry and superstition rather than into absolute atheism. The -Epicureans were, indeed, virtually atheists, but they never -constituted the great body of any Gentile nation. The heathen -generally retained a dim and shadowy belief in the divinity, even -in the unity of God; but they lost the conception of him as -creator, and consequently of man and the universe as his -creature. By substituting in their philosophy generation, -emanation, or formation for creation, they obscured the sense of -man's dependence on God as creator, and consequently destroyed -the necessary relation between religion and morality. No moral -ideas entered into their worship, and they worshipped the gods to -whom they erected temples and made offerings, not from a sense of -duty or from the moral obligation of the creature to adore his -Creator and give himself to him, but from motives of interest, to -avert their displeasure, appease their wrath, or to render them -propitious to their undertakings, whether private enterprises or -public war and conquest. They asserted for man and society -independence of the divine order as a moral order. Severed from -all moral conceptions, their religion became a degraded and -degrading superstition, an intolerable burden to the soul, and -their worship the embodiment of impurity and corruption. Such was -the effect of the great Gentile apostasy, or Gentile attempt to -realize the freedom and independence promised by Satan. The -promise proved a lie. - -When the church in her present state was established, the world -opposed her in the name of the liberty or independence of the -temporal order, which implies as its basis the independence of -the creature of the creator, and therefore resting on the same -satanic promise, "Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil." -When our Lord was brought before Pontius Pilate, and Pilate was -about to dismiss the charges against him and to let him go, the -Jews changed his purpose by telling him, "If you let this man go, -you are no friend to Caesar." -{7} -The heathen persecutions of the Christians were principally on -the ground that they were disloyal to the empire, inasmuch as -they rejected its worship, and asserted the immediate divine -authority of their religion and its independence of the state or -civil society, holding firmly always and everywhere the maxim, -"We must obey God rather than men." All down through the -barbarous ages that followed the downfall of the Roman empire of -the West, through the feudal ages, and down even to our own -times, the state has claimed supreme authority over the church in -regard to her temporal goods and her government, and has -constantly sought to subject her to the civil authority, which in -principle is the same with subjecting God to man. The world -represented by Caesar has constantly struggled to subvert the -independence of religion, and to exalt the human above the -divine. This is the meaning of the mediaeval contests between the -pope and the emperor, as we have heretofore shown. There is not -at this day, unless Belgium be an exception, a single state in -Europe where the temporal power leaves religion free and -independent, or where the church has not to struggle against the -government to maintain the independence of the divine order she -represents. Fidelity to God is held to be treason to the state, -and hence Elizabeth of England executes Catholics at Tyburn as -traitors. - -The age boasts of progress, and calls through all its thousands -of organs upon us to admire the marvellous progress it has made, -and is every hour making. It is right, if what it means by -progress really be progress. It has certainly gone further than -any preceding age in emancipating itself from the supremacy of -the law of God, in trampling on the divine order, and asserting -the supremacy of man. It has drawn the last logical consequences -contained in the lying promise of Satan, "Ye shall be as gods, -knowing good and evil." There is no use in denying or seeking to -disguise it. The world as opposed to Rome, ceases entirely to -regard man as a creature, and boldly and unblushingly puts him in -all respects in the place of God. God, when not openly denied to -exist, is denied as creator: he is at most _natura -naturans_, and identical with what are called the laws of -nature. Hundreds of _savans_ are busy with the effort to -explain the universe without recognizing a creator, and to prove -that effects may be obtained without causes. Science stops at -second causes, or, rather, with the investigation and -classification of phenomena, laughs at final causes, and, if it -does not absolutely deny a first cause, relegates it to the -region of the unknowable, and treats it as if it were not. The -advanced philosophers of the age see no difference between moral -laws and physical laws, between gratitude and gravitation. The -heart secretes virtue as the liver secretes bile, and virtue -itself consists not in a voluntary act of obedience, or in -deliberately acting for a prescribed end, but in force of nature, -in following one's instincts, and acting out one's self, heedless -of consequences, and without any consideration of moral -obligation. Truth is a variable quantity, and is one thing with -me and another with my neighbor. There is no providence, or -providence is fate, and God is the theological name given to the -forces of nature, especially human nature; there is no divinity -but man; all worship except that of humanity is idolatry or -superstition; the race is immortal, but individuals, are mortal, -and there is no resurrection of the dead. -{8} -Some, like Fourier and Auguste Comte, even deny that the race is -immortal, and suppose that in time it will disappear in the -inane. - -But, without going any further into detail, we may say generally -the age asserts the complete emancipation of man and his -institutions from all intellectual, moral, and spiritual control -or restraint, and under the name of liberty asserts the complete -and absolute independence of man both individually and -collectively, and under pretence of democratic freedom wars -against all authority and all government, whether political or -ecclesiastical. It does not like to concede even the axioms of -the mathematician or the definitions of the geometrician, and -sees in them a certain limitation of intellectual freedom. To ask -it to conform to fixed and invariable principles, or to insist -that there are principles independent of the human mind, or to -maintain that truth is independent of opinion, and that opinions -are true or false as they do or do not conform to it, is to seek -to trammel free and independent thought, and to outrage what is -most sacred and divine in man. The mind must be free, and to be -free it must be free from all obligation to seek, to recognize, -or to conform to truth. Indeed, there is no truth but what the -mind conceives to be such, and the mind is free to abide by its -own conceptions, for they are the truth for it. Rome, in -asserting that truth is independent of the human will, human -passions and conceptions, one and universal, and always and -everywhere the same, and in condemning as error whatever denies -it or does not conform to it, is a spiritual despotism, which -every just and noble principle of human nature, the irrepressible -instincts of humanity itself, wars against, and resists by every -means in its power. - -We have shown that the world, as opposed to Rome, rests on the -satanic falsehood, and this conception of liberty, which Rome -rejects and wars against, has no other basis than the satanic -promise, "Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil," or be your -own masters as God is his own master, and suffice for yourselves -as he suffices for himself. The world is not wrong in asserting -liberty, but wrong in its definition of liberty, or in demanding -for man not the proper liberty of the creature, but the liberty -which can exist only for the Creator. By claiming for man a -liberty not possible for a dependent creature, the world loses -the liberty to which it has, under God, the right, and falls -under the worst of all tyrannies. Liberty is a right, but, if -there is no right, how can you defend liberty as a right? If -liberty is not a right, no wrong is done in violating it, and -tyranny is as lawful as freedom. Here is a difficulty in the very -outset that the world cannot get over. It must assert right, -therefore the order of justice, before it can assert its liberty -against Rome; and, if it does assert such order, it concedes what -Rome maintains, that liberty is founded in the order of justice, -and cannot transcend what is true and just. The world does not -see that, in denying the spiritual order represented by Rome, it -denies the very basis of liberty, and all difference between -liberty and despotism, because it is only on the supposition of -such order that liberty can be defended as a right, or despotism -condemned as a wrong. - -It is alleged against Rome that she opposes modern civilization. -This is so or not so, according to what we understand by modern -civilization. -{9} -If we understand by modern civilization the rejection of the -divine order, the supremacy of spiritual truth, and the assertion -of the divinity and independence of man, Rome undoubtedly opposes -it, and must oppose it; but, if we understand by modern -civilization the melioration of the laws, the development of -humane sentiments, the power acquired by the people in the -management of their temporal affairs, and the material progress -effected by the application of the truths of science to the -industrial arts, the invention of the steam-engine, the -steamboat, the railway and locomotive, and the lightning -telegraph, the extension of commerce and increased facilities of -international communication, though probably a greater value is -attached to these things than truth warrants, she by no means -opposes or discourages modern civilization. Undoubtedly she -places heaven above earth, and is more intent on training men for -eternal beatitude than on promoting temporal prosperity of this -life. The earth is not our end, and riches are not the supreme -good. She asserts a higher than worldly wisdom, and holds that -the beggar has at least as good a chance of heaven as the rich -man clothed in fine linen and faring sumptuously every day. She -would rather see men intent on saving their souls than engrossed -with money-making. The experience of modern society proves that -in this she is right. We live in an industrial age, and never in -any age of the world did people labor longer or harder than they -do now to obtain the means of subsistence, and never was the -honest poor man less esteemed, wealth more highly honored, or -mammon more devoutly worshipped; yet the church never opposes -earthly well-being, and regards it with favor when made -subsidiary to the ultimate end of man. - -Yet certain words have become sacramental for the world, and are -adopted by men who would shrink from the sense given them by the -more advanced liberals of the day; and these men regard Rome, -when condemning them in that extreme sense, as condemning modern -civilization itself. We take the Encyclical of the Holy Father, -issued December 8, 1864. The whole non-Catholic world, and even -some Catholics, poorly informed as to their own religion or as to -the meaning of the errors condemned, regarded that Encyclical as -a fulmination against liberty and all modern civilization. Nobody -can forget the outcry raised everywhere by the secular press -against the Holy Father, and what are called the retrograde -tendencies of the Catholic Church. The pope, it was said, has -condemned all free thought and both civil and religious liberty, -the development of modern society, and all modern progress. Yet -it is very likely that four fifths of those who joined in the -outcry, had they been able to discriminate between what they -themselves really mean to defend under the names of liberty, -progress, and civilization, and what the more advanced liberals -hold and seek to propagate, would have seen that the pope in -reality condemned only the errors which they themselves condemn, -and asserted only what they themselves really hold. He condemned -nothing which is not a simple logical deduction from the words of -the arch-tempter, the liar from the beginning and the father of -lies, addressed to our first parents. All the errors condemned in -the Syllabus are errors which tend to deny or obscure the divine -existence, the fact of creation, the authority of the Creator, -the supremacy of the divine or spiritual order, to undermine all -religion and morality, all civil government, and even society -itself; and to render all science, all liberty, all progress, and -all civilization impossible, as we have shown over and over again -in the pages of this Magazine. - -{10} - -The numbers who embrace in their fullest extent the extreme views -we have set forth, though greater than it is pleasant to believe, -are yet not great enough to give of themselves any serious alarm, -and hence many able and well-meaning men who have not the least -sympathy with them attach no great importance to them, and treat -them with superb contempt; but they are in reality only the -advance-guard of a much larger and more formidable body, who -march under the same drapeau and adopt the same counter-sign. The -Archbishop of Westminster, than whom we can hardly name an abler -or more enlightened prelate in the church, has said truly in a -late Pastoral, - - "That the age of heresies is past. No one now dreams of - revising the teaching of the church, or of making a new form of - Christianity. For this the age is too resolute and consistent. - Faith or unbelief is an intelligible alternative; but between - variations and fragments of Christianity men have no care to - choose. All or none is clear and consistent; but more or less - is halting and undecided. Revelation is a perfect whole, - pervaded throughout by the veracity and authority of God, the - Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. To reject any of it is to reject - the whole law of divine faith; to criticise it and to remodel - it is to erect the human reason as judge and measure of the - divine. And such is heresy; an intellectual aberration which in - these last ages has been carried to its final analysis, and - exposed not only by the theology of the church but by the - common sense of rationalism. We may look for prolific and - antichristian errors in abundance, but heresies in Christianity - are out of date." - -The great body of those outside of the Catholic communion, as -well as some nominally in it, but not of it, who are still -attached to the Christian name, adopt the watchwords of the -extreme party, and are tending in the same direction. Mazzini and -Garibaldi are heroes with the mass of Englishmen and Americans, -who wish them success in their anti-religious and anti-social -movements. The universal secular press, the great power in modern -society, with the whole sectarian press, has applauded the -nefarious measures of intriguing Italian statesmen, demagogues, -and apostates by which the Holy Father has been stripped of the -greater part of his temporal possessions, the church despoiled of -her goods, religious houses suppressed, and the freedom and -independence of religion abolished throughout the Italian -peninsula. The only non-Catholic voice we have heard raised in -sympathy with the pope is that of Guizot, the ex-premier of Louis -Philippe. Guizot, though a Protestant, sees that the papacy is -essential to the Catholic Church, and that the Catholic Church is -essential to the preservation of Christian civilization, the -maintenance of society and social order. Our own secular press, -so loud in its praise of religious liberty, applauds the Mexican -Juarez for his confiscation of the goods of the church in the -poor, distracted republic of Mexico. The sympathy of the world, -of the age, is with every movement that tends to weaken the power -of the church, the authority of religion, and even the authority -of the state. The tendency with great masses who believe -themselves Christians, a blind tendency it may be, is to -no-religion or infidelity, and to no-governmentism. It is this -fact that constitutes the danger to be combated. - -The difficulty of combating it is very great. The mass of the -people are caught by words without taking note of the meaning -attached to them. -{11} -Where they find the consecrated terms of faith and piety, they -naturally conclude that faith and piety are there. But to a great -extent the enemies of Christianity oppose Christianity under -Christian names. It is characteristic of this age that infidelity -disguises itself in a Christian garb, and utters its blasphemy in -Christian phraseology, its falsehoods in the language of truth. -Satan disguises himself as an angel of light, comes as a -philanthropist, talks of humanity, professes to be the champion -of science, intelligence, education, liberty, progress, social -amelioration, and the moral, intellectual, and physical elevation -of the poorer and more numerous classes--all good things, when -rightly understood, and in their time and place. We cannot oppose -him without seeming to many to oppose what is a Christian duty. -If we oppose false intelligence, we are immediately accused of -being opposed to intelligence; if we oppose a corrupt and baneful -education, we are accused of being in favor of popular ignorance, -and lovers of darkness; if we oppose false liberty, or license -presented under the name of liberty, we are charged with being -the enemies of true freedom; if we assert authority, however -legitimate or necessary, then we are despots and the advocates of -despotism. The press opens its cry against us, and the age votes -us mediaeval dreamers, behind the times, relics of the past, with -our eyes on the backside of our heads, and the truth is drowned -in the floods of indignation or ridicule poured out against us. -Our success would be hopeless, if we could not rely on the -support of Him whose cause we seek to the best of our ability to -defend, and who after all reigneth in the heavens, and is able to -make the wrath of man praise him, and can overrule evil for good. - -It is alleged that the church opposes democracy, and is leagued -with the despots against the people. The church herself leagues -neither with democracy nor with monarchy. She leaves the people -free to adopt the form of government they prefer. She opposes -movements pretendedly in favor of democracy only when they are in -violation of social order and opposed to legitimate authority, -and she supports monarchy only where monarchy is the law, and it -is necessary to uphold it as the condition of maintaining social -order, and saving civilization from the barbarism that threatens -to invade it. In the sixteenth century and the beginning of the -seventeenth century the contrary charge was preferred, and the -Church was condemned by the world on the ground of being hostile -to kingly government; for public opinion then favored absolute -monarchy, as it does now absolute democracy. We believe our own -form of government the best for us, but we dare not say that -other forms of government are not the best for other nations. -Despotism is never legitimate; but we know no law of God or -nature that makes democracy obligatory upon every people, and no -reason for supposing that real liberty keeps pace with the -progress of democracy. Democracy did not save France from the -Reign of Terror and the most odious tyranny, and it certainly has -not secured liberty and good order in Mexico. With us it is yet -an experiment and we can pronounce nothing with certainty till we -have seen the result of the crisis we are now passing through. We -owe to it a fearful civil war and the suppression of a formidable -rebellion, but the end is not yet. Still, there is nothing in our -form of government in discord with the Catholic Church, and we -firmly believe that, if maintained in its purity and integrity, -she would find under it a freer field for her exertions than has -ever yet been afforded her in the Old World. -{12} -At any rate, there is no room for doubt that the country needs -the church to sustain our political institutions, and to secure -their free and beneficial workings. - -But the world does not gain what it seeks. It does not gain -inward freedom, freedom of soul and of thought. It is difficult -to conceive a worse bondage than he endures who feels that for -truth and goodness he has no dependence but himself. One wants -something on which to rest, something firm and immovable, and no -bondage is more painful than the feeling that we stand on an -insecure foundation, ready to give way under us if we seek to -rest our whole weight on it, and that our constructions, however -ingenious, can stand only as we uphold them with might and main. -The man with only himself for support, is Atlas bearing the -weight of the world on his shoulders in a treadmill. He is a man, -as we know by experience, crossing a deep and broad river on -floating cakes of ice, each too small to bear his weight, and -sinking as soon as he strikes it. He must constantly keep -springing from one to another to save his life, and yet, however -rapidly he springs, gains nothing more solid or less movable. The -world in its wisdom is just agoing to get on to something on -which it can stand and rest, but it never does. Its castles are -built in the air, and it spends all its labor for naught. All its -efforts defeat themselves. Its philanthropy aggravates the evils -it would redress, or creates others that are greater and less -easily cured. In seeking mental freedom, it takes from the mind -the light without which it cannot operate; in seeking freedom -from the king, it falls under the tyranny of the mob; and, to get -rid of the tyranny of the mob falls under that of the military -despot; disdaining heaven, it loses the earth; refusing to obey -God, it loses man. - -All history, all experience proves it. Having rejected the -sacredness and inviolability of authority in both religion and -politics, and asserted "the sacred right of insurrection," the -world finds itself without religion, without faith, without -social order, in the midst of perpetual revolutions, checked or -suppressed only by large standing armies, while each nation is -overwhelmed with a public debt that is frightful to contemplate. -This need not surprise us. It is the truth that liberates or -makes free, and when truth is denied, or resolved into each one's -own opinion or mental conception, there is nothing to liberate -the mind from its illusions and to sustain its freedom. The mind -pines away and dies without truth, as the body without food. It -was said by one who spake as never man spake, that he who would -save his life shall lose it, and experience proves that they who -seek this world never gain it. "Ye shall not eat thereof, nor -touch it, lest ye die." This command, which Satan contradicts, is -true and good, and obedience to it is the only condition of life, -or real success in life. In seeking to be God, man becomes less -than man, because he denies the truth and reality of things. It -is very pleasant, says Heinrich Heine, to think one's self a god, -but it costs too much to keep up the dignity and majesty of one's -godship. Our resources are not equal to it, and purse and health -give way under the effort. Falsehood yields nothing, because it -is itself nothing, and is infinitely more expensive than truth. -Falsehood has no support, and can give none; whoever leans on it -must fall through. And if ever there was a falsehood, it is that -man is God, or independent of God. - -{13} - -The whole question between Rome and the world, turn it as we -will, comes back always to this: Is man God, or the creature of -God? He certainly is not God: then he is a creature, and God has -created him and owns him, is his Lord and Master. He, then, is -not independent of God, for the creative act of God is as -necessary to continue him in existence and to enable him to act, -to fulfil his destiny, or to attain his end or supreme good, as -it was to call him from nothing into existence. God is the -principle, medium, and end of our existence. Separation from God, -or independence of him, is death; for we live, and move, and have -our being in him, not in ourselves. The universe, when once -created, does not go ahead on its own hook or of itself without -further creative intervention; for the creative act is not -completed in relation to the creature, till the creature has -fulfilled its destiny or reached its end. God creates me and at -each moment of my existence as much and as truly as he did Adam, -and the suspension of his creative act for a single instant would -be my annihilation. So of the universe. He creates me, indeed, a -second cause and a free moral agent; but even in my own acts or -causation I depend on him as my first cause, as the cause of me -as a second cause, and in my own sphere I can cause or act only -by virtue of his active presence and concurrence. When I attempt -to act without him, as if I were independent of him, as our first -parents did in following the suggestions of Satan, I do not cease -to exist physically, but I die morally and spiritually, lose my -moral life, fall into abnormal relations with my Creator, and am -spiritually dead; for my moral and spiritual life depends on my -voluntary obedience to the law of all created life: "Ye shall not -eat thereof, or touch it, lest ye die." - -Here is the basis of the divine dominion. God is sovereign lord -and proprietor because he is creator, and man and nature are the -work of his hands. Hence the Mosaic books insist not only on the -unity of God, but even with more emphasis, if possible, on God as -creator. The first verse of Genesis asserts creation in -opposition to emanation, generation, or formation: "In the -beginning God created the heavens and the earth." All through the -Old Testament, especially in the hagiographical books and the -prophets, there is a perpetual recurrence to God as creator, to -the fact that he has made the world and all things therein, and -hence the call upon all creatures to sing his praise, so often -repeated in the Psalms. Indeed, it was not so much by belief in -the unity of God as in the fact that God is sole and universal -creator, that the Jews were distinguished from the Gentiles. It -may be doubted if the Gentiles ever wholly lost the belief in the -existence of one God. We think we find in all heathen mythologies -traces of a recognition of one God hovering, so to speak, over -their manifold gods and goddesses, who were held to be tutelar -divinities, never the divinity itself. But the Gentiles, as we -have already said, had lost, and did in no sense admit, the fact -of creation. We find no recognition of God as creator in any -Gentile philosophy, Indian, Persian, Chaldean, Egyptian, Chinese, -Greek, or Roman. The Gentiles were not generally atheists, we -suspect not atheists at all; but they were invariably pantheists. -Pantheism is the denial of the proper creative act of God, or, -strictly speaking, that God creates substances or existences -capable of acting from their own centre and producing effects as -second causes. -{14} -The Jews were the only people, after the great Gentile apostasy, -that preserved the tradition of creation. God as creator is the -basis of all science, all faith, all religion; hence the first -article of the Creed: "I believe in one God, maker of heaven and -earth, and of all things visible and invisible." In this fact is -founded the inviolable right of the Almighty to govern all his -works, man among the rest, as seems to him good. We cannot deny -this if we once admit the fact of creation; and if we deny the -fact of creation, we deny our own existence and that of the -entire universe. - -But the right to govern implies the correlative duty of -obedience. If God has the right to govern us, then we are bound -to obey him and do his bidding, whatever it may be. There is -nothing arbitrary in this, it is founded in the relation of -creator and creature, and God himself could not make it otherwise -without annihilating all creatures and ceasing to be creator. God -could not create existences without giving them a law, because -their very relation to him as his creatures imposes on them an -inflexible and invariable law, which, if created free agents, -they may, indeed, refuse to obey, but not and live. Here is the -whole philosophy of authority and obedience. We must not confound -the symbols employed in Genesis with the meaning they symbolize. -The command given to our first parents was simply the law under -which they were placed by the fact that they were creatures, that -God had made them, and they belonged to him, owed him obedience, -and could not disobey him without violating the very law of their -existence. They cannot but die, because they depart from the -truth of things, deny their real relation to God, and go against -the divine order, conformity to which is in the nature of the -case their only condition of life. So Rome teaches in accordance -with our highest and best reason. The world, listening to the -flattering words of Satan and the allurements of the flesh, -denies it, and says, "Ye shall not surely die;" you may sin and -live, may become free and independent, be as gods yourselves, -your own master, teacher, and guide. Hence the inevitable war -between Rome and the world, she striving to secure the obedience -of men and nations to the law of God, and it striving to maintain -their independence of the law, and to make them believe that they -can live a life of their own, which in the nature of the case is -not life, but death. - -Other considerations, no doubt enter into the worship of God -beside the simple fact that he is our Creator, but that fact is -the basis of our moral obligation to obey him. This obligation is -obscured when we seek for it another basis, as in the intrinsic -worth, goodness, or excellence of God. No doubt, God deserves to -be adored for his own sake, to be loved and obeyed for what he is -in and of himself, but it is not easy to prove to men of the -world that they are morally bound to love and obey goodness. -These higher views of God which convert obedience into love, and -would enable us to love God even if he did not command it, and to -desire him for his own sake without reference to what he is to -us, may in some sense be attained to, and are so by the saints, -but there are few of us perfect enough for that. The law -certainly is an expression of the goodness and love of the -Creator, as is creation itself, but this is not precisely the -reason why it is obligatory. -{15} -It is a good reason why we should love the law and delight in it, -but not the reason why we are bound to obey it. We are bound to -obey it because it is the law of our Creator, who has the -sovereign right to command us, and hence religion cannot be -severed from morality. No act of religion is of any real worth -that is not an act of obedience, of submission of our will to the -divine will, or which is not a frank acknowledgment of the divine -sovereignty and the supremacy of the moral law. There must be in -it an act of self-denial, of self-immolation, or it is not a true -act of obedience, and obedience is better than any external -offerings we can bring to the altar. - -Here is where the world again errs. It is ready to offer -sacrifices to God, to load his altars with its offerings of the -firstlings of flocks and herds, and the fruits of the earth, but -it revolts at any act of obedience, and will not remember that -the sacrifices pleasing to God are an humble and contrite heart. -It would serve God from love, not duty, forgetting that there is -no love where there is no obedience. The obedience is the chief -element of the love: "If ye love me, keep my commandments." We -show our love to the Father by doing the will of the Father. -There is no way of escaping the act of submission, and walking -into heaven with our heads erect, in our own pride and strength, -and claiming our beatitude as our right, without ever having -humbled ourselves before God. We may show that the law is good, -the source of light and life; we may show its reasonableness and -justness, and that there is nothing degrading or humiliating in -obeying it; but, whatever we do in this respect, nothing will -avail if the act of obedience be withheld. Till the world does -this, submits to the law, no matter what fine speeches it may -make, what noble sentiments it may indulge, what just convictions -it may entertain, or what rich offerings it may bring to the -altar, it is at enmity with God, and peace between it and Rome is -impossible. - -God is in Christ reconciling the world to himself, but there can -be no reconciliation without submission. God cannot change, and -the world must. No humiliating conditions are imposed on it, but -it must acknowledge that it has been wrong, and that the law it -has resisted is just and right, and, above all, obligatory. This -is the hardship the world complains of. But what reason has it to -complain? What is demanded of it not for its good, or that is not -demanded by the very law of life itself? The world demands -liberty, but what avails a false and impracticable liberty? True -liberty is founded in justice, is a right, and supported by law. -We have shown, time and again, that the church suppresses no real -liberty, and asserts and maintains for all men all the liberty -that can fall to the lot of any created being. It demands the -free exercise of human reason. In what respect does the church -restrain freedom of thought? Can reason operate freely without -principles, without data, without light, without any support, or -anything on which to rest? What is the mind without truth, or -intelligence in which nothing real is grasped? We know only so -far as we know truth, and our opinions and convictions are worth -nothing in so far as they are false, or not in accordance with -the truth that we neither make nor can unmake, which is -independent of us, independent of all men, and of all created -intellects. What harm, then, does the church do us when she -presents us infallibly that truth which the mind needs for its -support? -{16} -Society needs law, and how does the church harm it by teaching -the law of God, without which it cannot subsist? Men need -government. What harm does the church do in declaring the supreme -law of God, from which all human laws derive their force as laws, -and which defines and guarantees both authority and liberty, -protects the prince from the turbulence of the mob, and the -people from the tyranny of the prince? - -As sure as that man is God's creature and bound to obey God, -there is for him no good independent of obedience to the law of -God; and equally sure is it that obedience to that law secures to -him all the good compatible with his condition as a created -existence. The mystery of the Incarnation, in which God assumes -human nature to be his own nature, gives him the promise of even -participating in the happiness of God himself. This happiness or -beatitude with God in eternity is the end for which man was -created, and is included in the creative act of which it is the -completion or fulfilment. In estimating the good which is sure to -us by conformity to the divine order and obedience to the divine -law, we must take into the account our whole existence from its -inception to its completion in Christ in glory, and include in -that good not only the joys and consolations of this life, but -that eternal beatitude which God through his superabundant -goodness has provided for us, and remember that all this we -forfeit by obeying the law of death rather than the law of life. -We can fulfil our destiny, attain to the stature of full-grown -men, or complete our existence only by conforming to the divine -order, by adhering to the truth, and obeying the law of life. -Instead, then, of regarding the church as our enemy, as opposed -to our real good, we should regard her as our true friend, and -see in her a most striking proof of the loving-kindness of our -God. In her he gives us precisely what we need to teach us his -will, to make known to us the truth as it is in him, and to -declare to us in all the vicissitudes and complexities of life -the requirements of the law, and to be the medium of the gracious -assistance we need to fulfil them. - -No good thing will God withhold from them that love him. And he -gives us all good in giving us, as he does, himself. Nor does he -give us only the goods of the soul. He that will lose his life in -God shall find it. "Seek first the kingdom of God and his -justice, and all these things"--the things which the Gentiles -seek after--"shall be added to you." They who lay up the most -abundant treasures in heaven have the most abundant treasures on -earth. The true principle of political economy, which the old -French Economists and Adam Smith never knew, is self-denial, is -in living for God and not for the world, as a Louvain professor -has amply proved with a depth of thought, a profound philosophy, -and a knowledge of the laws of production, distribution, and -consumption seldom equalled. "I have been young, and now I am -old, but never have I seen the righteous forsaken, or his seed -begging bread." No people are more industrious or more bent on -accumulating wealth, than our own, but so little is their -self-denial and so great is their extravagance that the mass of -them are, notwithstanding appearances, really poor. The realized -capital of the country is not sufficient to pay its debts. We -have expended the surplus earnings of the country for half a -century or more, and the wealth of the nation is rapidly passing -into the hands of a few money-lenders and soulless mammoth -corporations, already too strong to be controlled by the -government, whether State or General. -{17} -If it had not been for the vast quantities of cheap unoccupied -lands easy of access, we should have seen a poverty and distress -in this country to be found in no other. The mercantile and -industrial system inaugurated by the Peace of Utrecht in 1713, -and which is regarded as the crowning glory of the modern world, -has added nothing to the real wealth of nations. But this is a -theme foreign to our present purpose, and has already carried us -too far. We will only add that the true Christian has the promise -of this life and of that which is to come. - -Now, no one can estimate the advantage to men and nations that -must have been derived and continue to be derived from the church -placed in the world to assert at every point the divine -sovereignty, and to proclaim constantly in a clear and ringing -voice that the Lord God omnipotent reigneth, and his law is the -law of life, of progress, and of happiness both here and -hereafter, the great truth which the world is ever prone to -forget or to deny. We ought, therefore, to regard her existence -with the most profound gratitude. She has done this work from the -first, and continues to do it with unabated strength, in spite of -so many sad defections and the opposition of kings and peoples. -Never has she had more numerous, more violent, more subtle, or -more powerful enemies than during the pontificate of our present -Holy Father, Pius the Ninth. Never have her enemies seemed nearer -obtaining a final triumph over her, and they have felt that at -last she is prostrate, helpless, in her agony. Yet do they reckon -without their host. The magnificent spectacle at Rome on the 29th -of last June of more than five hundred bishops, and thousands of -priests from all parts of the world, from every tongue and nation -on the earth, gathered round their chief, and joining with him in -celebrating the eighteen hundredth anniversary of the glorious -martyrdom of Peter, the prince of the apostles, whose succession -in the government of the church has never failed, proves that -their exultation is premature, that her veins are still full of -life, and that she is as fresh and vigorous as when she first -went forth from Jerusalem on her divine mission to win the world -to her Lord. The indication by the Holy Father of his resolve at -a near day to convoke a universal council, a grand assembly of -the princes of the church, proves also that she is still a fact, -a living power on the earth, though not of it, with whom the -princes of this world must count. Before her united voice, -assisted by the Holy Ghost, her enemies will be struck dumb, and -to it the nations must listen with awe and conviction, and most -of the errors we have spoken of will shrink back from the face of -day into darkness and silence. Faith will be reinvigorated, the -hearts of the faithful made glad, and civilization resume its -march, so long and so painfully interrupted by heresy, -infidelity, and the almost constant revolutions of states and -empires. We venture to predict for the church new and brilliant -victories over the world. - -Heresy has well-nigh run its course. It is inherently -sophistical, and is too much for infidelity and too little for -religion. In no country has it ever been able to stand alone, and -it acquires no strength by age. The thinking men of all civilized -nations have come, or are rapidly coining, to the conclusion that -the alternative is either Rome or no religion, or, as they -express it, "Rome or Reason," which we showed last month is by no -means the true formula. The real formula of the age is, Rome or -no religion, God or Satan. -{18} -The attempt to support anything worthy of the name of religion on -human authority, whether of the individual or of the state, of -private judgment or of the Scriptures interpreted by the private -judgment of the learned, has notoriously, we might say -confessedly, failed. Old-established heresies will no doubt -linger yet longer, and offer their opposition to Rome; but their -days are numbered, and, save as they may be placed in the -forefront of the battle with the church, the active non-Catholic -thought of the age makes no account of them, and respects them -far less than it does Rome herself. They live only a galvanic -life. We are far from regarding the battle that must be fought -with the scientific no-religion or dry and cold unbelief of the -age as a light affair. In many respects the world is a more -formidable enemy than heresy, and the Gentilism of the nineteenth -century is less manageable than that of the first, for it retains -fewer elements of truth, and far less respect for authority and -law. It has carried the spirit of revolt further, and holds -nothing as sacred and inviolable. But it is always some gain when -the issue is fairly presented, and the real question is fairly -and distinctly stated in its appropriate terms; when there is no -longer any disguise or subterfuge possible; and when the -respective forces are fairly arrayed against each other, each -under its own flag, and shouting its own war-cry. The battle will -be long and arduous, for every article in the creed, from "Patrem -omnipotentem" to "vitam aeternam," has been successively denied; -but we cannot doubt to which side victory will finally incline. - -Tertullian say, "the human heart is naturally Christian," and men -can not be contented to remain long in mere vegetable existence -without some sort of religion. They will, when they have nothing -else to worship, evoke the spirits of the dead, and institute an -illusory demon-worship, as we see in modern spiritism. The -Christian religion as presented by Rome, though it flatters not -human pride, and is offensive to depraved appetite or passion, is -yet adapted to the needs of human nature, and satisfies the purer -and noble aspirations of the soul. There is, as we have more than -once shown, a natural want in man which it only can meet, and, we -may almost say, a natural aptitude to receive it. Hence, we -conclude that, when men see before them no alternative but Rome -or no religion, downright naturalism able to satisfy nobody, they -will, after some hesitation, submit to Rome and rejoice in -Catholicity. Nature is very well; we have not a word to say -against it when normally developed; but this world is too bleak -and wintry for men to walk about in the nakedness of nature; they -must have clothing of some sort, and, when they are fully -convinced that they can find proper garments only in the wardrobe -of the church, they cannot, it seems to us, long hold out against -Rome or refuse submission to the law of life. - -We here close our very inadequate discussion of the great subject -we have opened. Our remarks are only supplementary to the article -on Rome or Reason in THE CATHOLIC WORLD for September last, and -are intended to guard against any false inferences that some -might be disposed to draw from the doctrine we there set forth. -We hold, as a Catholic, the dogma of original sin, and that our -nature has been disordered by the fall and averted from God. We -have not wished this fact to be overlooked, or ourselves to be -understood as if we recognized no antagonism between this fallen -or averted nature and Rome. -{19} -Our nature is not totally depraved. Understanding and will, if -the former has been darkened and the latter attenuated by the -fall, yet remain, and retain their essential character; but -disorder has been introduced into our nature, and the flesh -inclines to sin; its face is turned away from God, and it stands -in need of being converted or turned to him. The church brings to -this disordered and averted nature whatever is needed to convert -it, heal its wounds, and elevate it to the plane of its destiny. -But after conversion, after regeneration, the flesh, "the carnal -mind," remains, as the Council of Trent teaches, and, as long as -it remains, there must be a combat, a warfare. This combat, or -warfare, is not, indeed, between reason and faith, revelation and -science, nor between nature and grace, but between the law of God -accepted and served by the judgment and will, by the inner man, -and the law of sin in our members, the struggle between holiness -and sin, an internal struggle, of which every one is conscious -who attempts to lead a holy life. We have not only wished to -recognize the fact of this struggle as an interior struggle in -the individual, but also as passing from the individual to -society, and manifesting itself in the perpetual struggle between -Rome and the world, which ceases, and can cease, only in -proportion as men and society become converted to God, and -voluntarily submissive to his law. - ------- - - With Christ. - - "Having a desire to be dissolved and be with Christ-- - a thing by far the better." - - To die and be with Christ! far better 'tis - Than all this world of sin and strife can give, - Whose highest boon to those who easiest live - Compares not with one moment of heaven's bliss! - And to earth's suffering ones, whose hearts are torn - With anguish, while their bodies writhe in pain, - What joyous sounds are these: "To die is gain!" - To leave a world where weary souls forlorn - In sinful murmuring wish they ne'er were born. - To be with Christ! O words of solemn power - To hush the heart-cry! let me hold them fast. - If haply I may reach thee, Lord, at last, - And, this strange world with all its sorrows past, - May learn the meaning deep of each sad, suffering hour! - ------- - -{20} - - The Managers Dilemma. - - -"I Tell you, child, you can do it; and I say you shall!" - -The speaker was the fat hostess of a hotel in one of the -principal streets of Naples; the time was the summer of 1812. The -lady waddled back and forward with an air of importance, her -hands on her hips. The person she addressed was a lad apparently -sixteen years of age, and very tall and stout for his years. His -beardless chin and boyish features, combined with a shuffling -bashfulness in his deportment, did not tend to inspire confidence -in any great achievement to be expected from him. - -"But, buona mia donna--" he began deprecatingly. - -"I am a judge!" persisted the hostess. "Master Benevolo shall -find you a treasure, and the jewel of his company! Such a -company! The princess is magnificent! Did not the Duke of -Anhalt--swear she was ravishing in beauty as in acting, with eyes -like diamonds, and a figure majestic as Juno's?" - -"Superb!" exclaimed the lad. - -"And such an admirable comic actor; a figure that is one laugh, -and a wit like Sancho Panza's; a genius, too, for the pathetic; -he weeps to enchantment, and will bring tears to your eyes after -a convulsion of mirth. An unrivalled troupe! a coronet of -gems--wanting only an actor of tragedy!" - -The boy sighed, and cast his eyes on the ground. - -"And you must travel," pleaded the landlady. "You are not safe -here in Naples. You may be taken, and carried back to the -conservatorio." - -This last argument had effect. The lad sprang to his feet. - -"Back to school, to be punished for a runaway--when you might do -such wonders! Come, you are ready, I see. There is no time to be -lost." - -She took the boy by the hand and led him into the grand salon of -the hotel. Here sat the manager of an Italian theatrical company, -in absolute despair. He and his troupe were to leave Naples in an -hour. For three days he had staid beyond his time, seeking what -the city did not afford--an actor of tragedy; and he was now -bitterly lamenting to his landlord the ill luck that would compel -him to depart for Salerno destitute of so important an adjunct. - -"What shall I do?" cried the impresario, wringing his hands, -"without a Geronimo or a Falerio?" - -"You may yet find an actor," suggested the good-natured host. - -"He must drop, then, from the clouds, and at once! My friends at -Salerno have twice put off the performance, waiting for me. Saint -Antonio! to think of losing so much money!" - -The corpulent hostess had entered the room, the bashful youth a -few paces behind her. - -"I have found you a tragedian, Master Benevolo," she cried; "a -capital fellow. You have fatigued yourself running over Naples in -search of one--and he has been waiting for you here since last -evening." - -"What do you mean!" exclaimed both manager and landlord. - -{21} - -"You shall have your tragedian. All the rest is my secret. Oh! he -is a great genius! If you had heard him last night! All the maids -were in tears. Had he a robe and poniard, he would have been -terrific. He sang droll songs, too, and made us laugh till my -sides ached. I should have told you of him before, but you went -out so early." - -"At what theatres has he appeared?" asked the manager, much -interested. - -"He has never been on the stage; but he will make his way. Such -genius--such passion! He has left home to embrace the -profession." - -The impresario mused. "Let me see him," he said. - -The landlady took the lad by the hand and pulled him forward. He -stood with eyes cast down, in the most awkward attitude. - -"A mere boy!" exclaimed the disappointed director. "He--fit for -an actor!" And with a look of contempt he surveyed the youth who -aspired to represent the emperors of Rome and the tyrants of -Italian republics. - -"Everything has a beginning!" persisted the dame. "Louis, come -forward, and show the maestro what you can do." - -The overgrown lad hung his head bashfully; but, on further -urging, advanced a pace or two, flung over his arms the frayed -skirt of his coat to serve as a drapery, and recited some tragic -verses of Dante. - -"Not bad!" cried the manager. "What is your name?" - -"Louis," replied the lad, bowing. - -"Louis--what?" - -"Louis only for the present," interposed the hostess, with an air -of mystery. "You are not to know his family name. You see--he -left home--" - -"I understand: the runaway might be caught. Let me hear him in -_Otello_." - -Louis, encouraged, recited a brilliant tragic scene. The manager -followed his gestures with hands and head, and, when he had -ended, applauded loudly, with flashing eyes. - -"Bravo! bravo!" he cried, rubbing his hands. "That is what I -want! You will make a capital Moor, set in shape a little! I -engage you at once, at fifteen ducats a month: and here is the -first month's pay in advance for your outfit--a suit of clothes -to make you look like a gentleman. Go, buy them, pack up to go -with us; and I will have a mule ready for you." - -While the impresario made his preparations for departure, the -delighted hostess assisted Louis in his. He had spent two or -three days roaming about Naples before he came to the hotel, and -had some debts to pay. These liquidated, his bill paid at the -hotel, and a new suit purchased, nothing remained of his fifteen -ducats. In less than two hours the troupe was on its way out of -Naples. - -At Salerno the manager had advertisements struck off, announcing -the _début_ of a new tragic actor--a wonderful -genius--presented to the public as a phenomenon--in a popular -part. Curiosity was soon excited to see him. In the evening the -theatre was crowded. The director walked about, rubbing his hands -in ecstasy, and counting the piles of gold as they accumulated. -Louis, arrayed in an emperor's costume of the middle ages, was -practising behind the scenes how to sustain the part of a -sovereign. A pretty young girl--one of the chorus--who may be -called Rosina, stood watching him, and commenting freely on his -performance. - -{22} - -"Oh! that will not do at all, your majesty!" she cried, as he -made an awkward movement. "What an emperor! This is your style!" -And she began mimicking his gestures so provokiagly that Louis -declared he would have his revenge in a kiss. He was presently -chasing her around the scenes, to the disorder of his imperial -robes. - -The sound of voices and an unusual bustle startled him; he -fancied the curtain was going to rise, and called lustily for his -sword. But the noise was outside the private door of the theatre. -It was flung open, and the lad's consternation may be imagined -when he saw advancing toward him the vice-rector of his school, -followed by six _sbirri_. The manager was there, too, -wringing his hands with gestures of grief and despair. Louis -stood petrified, till the officer, laying a hand on his shoulder, -arrested him by an order from the King of Naples. The whole -company had rushed together, and were astonished to hear that -their tragedian was forthwith to be taken back to the -"Conservatorio clella Pieta dei Turchini," to be remanded to his -musical studies under the great master Marcello Perrino. - -The emperor _in petto_ forgot his dignity, and burst into -tears; Rosina cried for sympathy, and there was a general murmur -of dissatisfaction. - -The manager strove to remonstrate. "Such a genius--tragedy is his -vocation!" he pleaded. - -"His vocation just now is to go back to school," said the -vice-rector gruffly. - -"But, signer, you are robbing the public." - -"Has not the graceless boy been robbing his majesty, who was -pleased to place him in the conservatorio after his father's -death?" - -"He is in my service; I have paid him a month in advance." - -"You were wrong to engage a raw lad whom you knew to be a runaway -from his guardians. Come, Louis!" - -The _sbirri_ roughly removed the imperial robes from the -blubbering lad. The impresario was in an agony, for the assembled -audience began to give signs of impatience. - -"Let him only perform in this piece," he urged. - -"Away with him!" answered the vice-rector. - -Louis wiped away his tears. "Dear Master Benevolo," he said, "I -will yet be revenged. I will be a tragedian in spite of them!" - -"And my losses--my fifteen ducats cried the director. - -"I will make them up, I promise you." The vice-rector laughed -scornfully, and the men forced the lad away. Rosina ran after -him, "Stay, Louis!" she cried, putting her handkerchief into his -hands, "You forgot this." Louis thanked her with a tender glance, -and put the keepsake in his bosom. - -When the party had disappeared, the manager went to pacify his -impatient audience. He was consoled by the reflection that the -vagabond had left his trunk behind. It was very large and heavy, -and, before causing the lock to be broken next morning, Signor -Benevolo called some of his friends to make an inventory of its -contents. It was found filled with sand! The young -_débutant_ had resorted to this trick, that the servants at -the inns where they stopped might believe the trunk contained -gold and treat him with respect accordingly. - -The impresario was in a towering passion. He railed at Louis, -showering on him abusive epithets as a cheat and an impostor. He -could only retaliate for the loss of his fifteen ducats by -writing him a letter full of furious invectives, assuring him -that so base a thief need never aspire to the honors of tragedy! -The letter was read quietly by Louis, who made no answer, but -applied himself diligently to his musical studies. -{23} -His progress was so rapid that his masters declared he bade fair -to rival Bohrer on the violoncello and Tulon on the flute. As a -reward for his efforts, a hall in the conservatorio was arranged -for the private representations of the pupils. - ----- - -In the autumn of 1830, Ex-Manager Benevolo chanced to be in -Paris. The beautiful Rosina was then noted as an admired singer. -She had many conversations with the Italian, who was disgusted -with the French actors, and declared that the best days of tragic -art were past. - -One day there was no small excitement at the announcement of the -tragic opera of _Otello_. It was given out that a new artist -of great reputation would appear at the Théâtre Italien. His -progress through the Italian cities had been a continued triumph. -On his first appearance in Paris the connoisseurs had been -determined to show him no favor. As he came on the stage, his -grand, imposing figure and good-humored countenance were -pre-possessing; but, when his magnificent voice rose swelling -above the orchestra, there was a burst of rapturous applause. -Powerful and thrilling, penetrating to the depths of pathos, that -voice carried all before it; and he was voted by acclamation the -first _basse-taille_ of the age. - -"You _must_ hear him!" said Rosina, as the ex-manager -protested that he did not care for it. He would be sure to -condemn what pleased those fantastical Parisians. - -"You must hear him in _Otello_!" persisted the fair singer. -"Here is an invitation for you, written by himself." - -"Why should he have sent this to me?" asked the gratified -Italian. - -"As a friend of mine," replied the singer, "he wished to show you -attention. You will go with me." - -In the evening they went to the theatre. There was a thunderburst -of applause as the colossal form of the actor moved across the -stage. "A noble figure for tragedy!" exclaimed Benevolo. "Ha! I -should like him for the tyrant in _Anna Bolena!_" When the -superb tones of his voice, full of power, yet exquisite in -melody, filled the house with the rich volume of sound, the -Italian gave up his prejudices. In the deeper passion of the part -he was carried away by enthusiasm like the audience. "Stupendo! -Tragico!" he exclaimed, wiping his eyes, while the curtain -descended. - -"You must speak with him!" insisted Rosina. And she drew Benevolo -through the door leading behind the scenes. The great artist came -to meet them. Benevolo gazed upon him in awe and astonishment; -then, recovering himself, faltered forth the expression of his -surprise and delight. It was "the king of tragedy" whom he had -the honor of greeting! - -"I am rejoiced to see you at last, my good master Benevolo!" -cried the artist. "Tell me if you have really been pleased. Shall -I ever make a tragic actor?" - -"You are wonderful--the first in the world!" cried the enraptured -ex-manager. "And Rosina says you are an Italian! I am proud of my -countryman!" - -"Ah! mio fratello! but you had once not so good an opinion of me! -Do you not recognize your old acquaintance--the runaway Louis?" - -Benevolo stared in astonishment. - -"I have grown somewhat since the affair at Salerno," said the -artist, laughing, and clapping his stout sides. "Ah! I forgot; -you had good reason for being displeased with me. -{24} -The fifteen ducats--and that heavy trunk of mine--that gave you -trouble for nothing! It ought to have been ransomed long ago; but -I waited to do it with my pay as a tragedian. I wanted to prove -your prediction untrue! He drew out a paper from his pocket-book, -and presented it. - -"Here is an order for twelve hundred francs." - -Signor Benevolo stammered a refusal. He could not accept so large -a gift. - -"Take it, friend. It is your just due! Principal and interest you -know. My fortune has grown apace with my _embonpoint_." - -"You are a noble fellow!" cried the ex-manager, grasping his -hand. "Now, do me another favor, and tell me your real name. The -one you act under is assumed, of course!" - -"No, it is the same--Lablache." - -"Lablache! Are you a Frenchman, then?" - -"My father was a Frenchman: he fled from Marseilles at the time -of the revolution. I was born in Naples. Are you satisfied?" - -"I thought from the beginning," said Benevolo, "you were a -nobleman in disguise. I know you, now, for a monarch in art." - -Lablache thanked him cordially. "Now you must come home and sup -with me, in the Rue Richelieu," he said. "I have invited a few -friends to meet you, and they will be waiting for us." - ------- - - Translated from Le Correspondant. - - Learned Women And Studious Women. - - By Monseigneur Dupanloup. - - - [The following treatise by Monseigneur Dupanloup is given - entire, notwithstanding that some portions of it bear a more - direct application to French civilization than to our own. The - attentive reader will see that the fundamental principle on - which the argument rests applies to incomplete mental - development in every country; and those who take an interest in - foreign habits and manners will enjoy the lifelike pictures of - French society, so graphic, shrewd, and free from - exaggeration.--_Trans_.] - - -Dear Friend: Several months ago, in a volume [Footnote 1] of -letters addressed to men of the world concerning studies adapted -to their leisure hours, I published a few pages offering -suggestions also to Christian women living in the world upon -intellectual labor suitable for them. This advice I tried to -adapt and proportion especially to the exigencies of their mode -of life. - - [Footnote 1: _Letters to Men of the World concerning - Studies suitable for them and Advice to Christian Women_, - Paris: Douniol.] - -I endeavored to show how necessary it is for a woman to acquire -habits of serious thought; all the more so because modern -education seldom inculcates them; and I maintained that such -habits could easily find a place in the life of women of the -world. - -{25} - -I next indicated grave and noble studies, solid and interesting -courses of reading, historical, artistic, even philosophical, -but, above all, religious, to which they could devote themselves. - -Then followed a few practical details concerning the method and -conditions of good study, useful reading, and serious -composition. - -Various observations were addressed to me _à propos_ of this -publication; eager contradictions coming side by side with the -most favorable expressions of approbation. This did not surprise -me. In an age like ours, such counsel could hardly be given with -impunity. In the land of Molière an appeal to women to study, to -educate themselves, to cultivate letters and the fine arts, could -not be allowed to pass unreproved. - -Allow me, then, to have recourse to the _Correspondant_, -that my various opponents may be answered at one stroke. The most -considerate and the most serious among them supported themselves, -not upon Molière, but, strange to say, upon M. de Maistre. It is -M. de Maistre, then, with the quotations made from his works and -the objections raised in his name, who demands my first -consideration. - - - I. - - M. De Maistre's Opinion. - -Some of M. de Maistre's letters to his daughters form a veritable -treatise upon the humble destiny of woman here below, and the -sumptuary laws that should regulate her acquirements and -education. - -"A woman's great defect," he writes, "is being like a man, and to -wish for learning is to wish to be a man. Enough if a woman be -aware that Pekin is not in Europe, and that Alexander the Great -did not demand a niece of Louis XIV. in marriage." - -Also M. de Maistre allows her in scientific matters to follow and -"understand the doings of men." This is her most perfect -accomplishment, her _chef-d'oeuvre_. - -He permits women, moreover, to love and admire the beautiful; but -what he does not permit is, that they should themselves seek to -give it expression. When his eldest daughter, Mademoiselle Adele -de Maistre, avowed a taste for painting, and when the youngest, -Mademoiselle Constance, confided to her father her ardent love -for literary pursuits, M. de Maistre, in, alarm, taking shelter -behind the triple authority of Solomon, Fénélon and Molière, -declared that women should not devote themselves to pursuits -opposed to their duties; that a woman's merit lies in rendering -her husband happy, in educating children, and in making men; -that, from the moment she emulates man, she becomes an ape; that -women have never achieved a _chef-d'oeuvre_ of any kind; -that a young girl is insane to undertake oil-painting, and should -content herself with pencil-sketches: that, moreover, science is -of all things the most dangerous for women; that no woman must -occupy herself with science under pain of being ridiculous and -unhappy; and, finally, that a coquette is far easier to marry -than a scholar. In virtue of this last argument, which embraces -the preceding ones, M. de Maistre recommends them all to return -to their work-baskets, conceding, however, the consecration of a -few hours to study by way of distraction. - -{26} - -But let them beware of wishing to enlarge their intelligence and -undertake great things. They would be nicknamed _Dame -barbue_. - -Moreover, "it is not in the mediocrity of education that their -weakness lies:" it is their weakness that makes "mediocrity of -education" inevitable. In one word, they are radically incapable -of anything great or serious in the way of culture. - -Perhaps it would be presumption to contest assertions so firm and -uncompromising. I shall not attempt it. I shall beg leave to -inquire--for this is the most important point now--whether or -not these principles lead us logically and imperiously to the -conclusion of M. de Maistre; if a woman, "who would make her -husband happy, educate her children well, and not transform -herself into an ape in order to _emulate_ man," must -therefore renounce not only the exercise of all creative faculty -in art and literature, but also of serious self-culture, and turn -to her work-basket with no better consolation than the assurance -that "Pekin is not in Europe, and that Alexander did not ask in -marriage the hand of a niece of Louis XIV." - - - II. - - The Question Fairly Stated. - -Before grappling with a subject, one should clearly define its -significance. - -Let us set aside the name of learned women, so strangely misused -since the days of Molière. We Frenchmen are too apt to settle -great questions with a jest; sending silly prejudices down to -posterity to be nourished and perpetuated for centuries with idle -railleries. In the first place, is there not a just distinction -to be made, lest we commit the error of confounding in the same -anathema studious women with learned women, cultivated women with -absurd women, women of sense, reflection, and serious habits of -application with pedants? - -Is it not evident that Molière, in his _Femmes Savantes_, -attacked neither study nor education, but pedantry, as in his -_Tartuffe_ he attacked hypocrisy, not genuine devotion? - -Did not Molière himself write this beautiful line? - - "Et je veux qu'une femme ait des clartés de tout" - -With these preliminary words, I enter on the question. The whole -theory of M. de Maistre is reduced to this assertion: that women -should confine themselves to their own domain and not invade that -of men. Agreed! but let us see what is man's peculiar domain. Is -man by divine right the sole proprietor of the domain of -intelligence? God has reserved to him physical force, and I agree -with M. de Maistre that, notwithstanding Judith and Joan of Arc, -women should not presume to bear arms or to lead armies. But is -intelligence measured out to them in the same exact proportions -and with the same limitations as physical strength? I have never -thought so. The pen seems to me as well placed in the hand of St. -Theresa as in that of M. de Maistre; and I select her name with -the intention of citing many more in the following pages, because -the name of St. Theresa alone suffices to refute the argument -that women should not write for the reason that they have never -shown superior ability in writing. St. Theresa is one of the -greatest, if not the greatest, prose-writer of Spain, and she -even cultivated poetry occasionally. - -Beyond discussion, a woman's great merit, her incomparable honor, -lies in rearing her children wisely and in making men; as her -dearest privilege and her first duty lies in making her husband -happy. But precisely in order to make men, and to ensure the -virtue and happiness of her husband and children, a woman must be -strong in intelligence, strong in judgment and character, -assiduous, industrious, and attentive. -{27} -In the words of Scripture, that look, that beauty, that goodness, -which adorn and embellish a whole household, must be illumined -from on high; (_sicut sol oriens mundo, sic mulier?? -[Transcriber's note: Illegible] bona species in ornamentum domus -ejus._) The hand that holds the distaff and manages household -matters should be guided by a head capable of conceiving and of -governing. The portrait sketched by Solomon is not that of a -woman engrossed solely with material life; it is that of an able -woman; and, if her children rise up and call her glorious and -blessed, it is because she has an elevated sense of the affairs -of life, a provident care for the future, and a solicitude for -souls; because she stands on a level with the noblest duties and -the most serious thoughts; in one word, because she is an -intelligent companion worthy of a spouse who sits at the gates of -the city upon the most exalted bench of justice. - -I could quote other passages from Holy Scripture proving that -natural science, art, sacred literature, poetry, and eloquence -were not foreign to the education of Israelitish maidens or to -the career of Jewish women. Was it not the mother of Samuel who -proclaimed God the Lord of knowledge and the Giver of -understanding? Was it not Miriam, the sister of Moses, who taught -music and sacred canticles to the young Israelites? - -But it is especially since the enunciation of the gospel that the -intellectual and moral dignity of woman has been elevated, and -that Christian women have taken so noble a place in human -society. What I demand is, that absurd prejudices, coarse names, -and worn-out jests should not drag them down from the exalted -rank assigned to them by the gospel into frivolity and -materialism. - -Let me be clearly understood. I desire, above all, not _femmes -savantes_, but, for the sake of husbands, children, and -households, intelligent, attentive, and judicious women, -well-instructed in all things necessary and useful for them to -know as mothers, heads of households, and women of the world; -never disdainful of practical duties, but knowing how to occupy -not only their fingers, but their minds, understanding the -cultivation of the whole soul. And I add that we ought to dread -as disastrous evils those frivolous, giddy, self-indulgent women -who, in idleness, ignorance, and dissipation, seek for pleasure -and amusement; who are hostile to exertion and to almost every -duty, incapable of study or of continuous mental effort, and -therefore unfitted to exercise any important influence over the -education of their children, or over the affairs of their -household or of their husbands. - - - III. - -On these conditions I willingly resign the name of learned woman, -claiming it for no one. And yet before laying it aside, I would -remark that ages more Christian than our own were far from -disdaining it. The disciple and biographer of the illustrious St. -Boniface plainly tells us that St. Boniface loved St. Lioba for -her solid erudition, _eruditionis sapientia._ This admirable -virgin, in whom the light of the Holy Ghost enhanced an -enlightenment laboriously acquired from study, united to purity -and humility (those virtues which preserve all things in a heart) -a knowledge of theology and canon law that became one of the -glories of the new-born German church. And, moreover, St. -Boniface, far from despising his spiritual daughter's efforts to -rise to intellectual pursuits, sometimes robbed the apostolate of -hours which he deemed well spent in correcting the literary -compositions and Latin verses of Lioba, and in answering her in a -similar style; poetic messages carried across seas by confessors -and martyrs. - -{28} - -And if, going back to earlier ages, we closely examine the -records of history, we find that, after the establishment of -Christianity, feminine names are constantly met with on the -literary monuments most revered by posterity; as, for instance, -the celebrated Hypatia, who had Clement of Alexandria for a -disciple; the illustrious St. Catharine, teacher of Christian -philosophy; and, again, St. Perpetua, who wrote the acts of her -own martyrdom and recorded the glory of her companions. - -When peace was restored to the church, and the age of doctors -commenced, succeeding the age of martyrs, who were more -celebrated for the gravity of their minds and the extent of their -knowledge than the Paulas, the Marcellas, Melanias, and -Eustochiums, with many other saints and noble Christian women? -Remember St. Marcella, in whom St. Jerome found so powerful an -auxiliary against heresy; and St. Paula, who inspired St. Jerome -to undertake his noblest and most important works, the Latin -translation of the Bible from the Hebrew text, and a complete -series of commentaries upon the prophets. - -Nothing is finer than St. Paula's letter to St. Marcella. There -we see all that Marcella had done to elevate the souls and the -intelligence of women and maidens who called her their mother; -there we comprehend the intelligence and the eloquence of St. -Paula. [Footnote 2] - - [Footnote 2: We read with great interest in _The History of - St. Paula_, just published by M. l'Abbé F. Lagrange, those - chapters devoted to the studies in Holy Scripture of Roman - ladies in St. Jerome's school, and to those of St. Paula made - at Bethlehem, under the direction of the same saint.] - -Who does not know what Theresa was in the following century to -St. Paulinus, whose reputation is as much the glory of Aquitaine -as the name of Ausonius? Who does not know that Elpicia (the wife -of Boëthius) composed hymns adopted by the Roman liturgy? - -In the midst of barbarism education was one of the first -conditions imposed on Christian virgins. Those who evinced an -aptitude for literary pursuits were dispensed from manual labor, -according to the precept of St. Cesarius, that they might devote -themselves exclusively to intellectual work. In most monasteries -we hear of them engrossed in study, writing, translating, -copying, or deciphering without interruption. - -St. Radegonde, not content with attracting to Poitiers one of the -last Roman poets, induced him to give so complete a training to -her nuns as to form among them writers who soon eclipsed their -master. Classic elegance and purity are revived in the writings -of Bandonovia. All the charm of Christian inspiration is revealed -in the hymn improvised by a nun of Poitiers at the moment of -Radegonde's death, and one of the earliest flowers of the new -poetic era blooms over the grave of this holy queen who so loved -letters. - -The monasteries of England, Ireland, and France were nurseries -for erudite and devout women. - -"It is proved beyond dispute by numerous and well-authenticated -witnesses," says M. de Montalembert, "that literary studies were -cultivated in female monasteries in England during the seventh -and eighth centuries, with no less assiduity and perseverance -than in communities of men; perhaps with even more enthusiasm. -Anglo-Saxon nuns did not neglect the occupations proper for their -sex. But manual labor was far from satisfying them. -{29} -They willingly left distaff and needle, not only to transcribe -manuscripts and adorn miniatures according to the taste of the -day, but still oftener to read and study holy books, the fathers -of the church, or even classic authors." [Footnote 3] - - [Footnote 3: _Monks of the West_, vol. v. This fifth - volume, and the two preceding ones, written during a cruel - and persistent malady, astonish us by the powerful impulse, - the tenderness and loftiness of sentiment which they breathe; - showing how steadily a valiant, Christian soul can hold - itself erect amid the most grievous physical and moral - trials. These are books that I would gladly see in the hands - of everyone; today especially, when we are overwhelmed with a - malaria-tainted literature.] - -St. Gertrude, under Dagobert's guidance, learned the Holy -Scriptures entirely by heart and translated them from the Greek. -She sent beyond seas to Ireland for masters to teach music, -poetry, and Greek to the cloistered virgins of Nivelle. From all -these glowing centres issued shining lights; as, for instance, -Lioba, foundress of the abbey of Richofsheim; Roswitha, and St. -Bridget. It was by St. Edwiga that the study of Greek was -introduced into the monastery of St. Gall. And the enlightenment -of the learned Hilda was so highly esteemed in the Anglo-Saxon -church that more than once the holy abbess, screened behind a -veil, was present at the deliberations of bishops assembled in -synod or council, who craved the advice of one whom they regarded -as especially illumined by the Holy Ghost. - -It would make a list too long to record the examples of all the -women in whom sanctity was accompanied by a gift of luminous -science. - -We may name here a daughter of William the Conqueror, Cecilia, -abbess of a monastery at Caen; the illustrious Emma, abbess of -St. Amand; and, above all, Herrade, who astonished her -contemporaries by learned cosmological works, comprising all the -science of her day. - -In the twelfth century, St. Hildegarde received revelations -concerning the physical constitution of our globe, and wrote -treatises upon the laws of nature, anticipating modern science. -Nothing surpasses the elevation and nobility of intellect -revealed in the various works of this illustrious woman. - -It was St. Elizabeth, of Thenawge, who wrote the admirable page -quoted in the logic of Père Gratry. St. Hildegarde and St. -Elizabeth both lived in monasteries on the banks of the Rhine, -where women wrote, painted, and worked; where they did wonderful -things, says Père Gratry. - -"What can we say of St. Catharine of Siena, who shares the glory -of the great writers?" asks Ozanam. - -M. de Maistre maintains that _a young girl is insane to think -of painting._ And yet saints have had this mania. St. -Catharine of Bologna was a celebrated miniaturist. She wrote -learned treatises and painted _chef-d'oeuvres_; she composed -sacred music and perfected musical instruments; even on her -death-bed she played on instruments whose conception and -execution belong to her. It is for this reason that she is -represented over altars holding the lyre or viola invented by -herself. - -Following all these names claimed by the arts as well as by -literature comes that of St. Theresa, already cited above. Here -M. de Maistre is vanquished. Yes, genius has descended upon a -feminine intellect, endowing it with a gift as brilliant as any -that can be cited. One might dread the guilt of profanation in -using the words _chef-d'oeuvre_ and human genius in speaking -of those sublime pages penetrated with a divine light, those -marvellous echoes of heaven that stir our souls even on earth. -But where can we find the beautiful realized with more vividness, -more simplicity, more nature and grandeur? - -{30} - -If all these names have been the names of saints whose aim and -supreme inspiration was religion, why wonder? I have already said -that women had been elevated by Christianity, heart, soul, and -understanding. They owed to Christianity the homage of all the -gifts it had bestowed upon them, and that homage they rendered. - -To complete this hasty outline of the history, not so much of -learned as of intelligent women, women of mind and heart, of -faith and Christian virtue, I will mention that, in times more -nearly approaching our own, Christina Pisani wrote admirable -memoirs of Charles V., in which we find great moral elevation as -well as a charming style. - -Let me name, also, Elizabeth of Valois and Mary Stuart, who -carried on a Latin correspondence for several years concerning -the advantages of literary studies. Elizabeth Sarani, one of the -most religious painters of the Bolognese school in the -seventeenth century; Helena Cornaro, in the sixteenth century, -was made doctor at Milan, and died in the odor of sanctity. And -then what a charming writer was the Mère de Chaugy in the -beginning of the seventeenth century! - -In conclusion, I will mention Mademoiselle de Légardière, who -wrote a work esteemed by M. Guizot as "the most instructive now -extant upon ancient French law." It was a woman, then, who -consecrated a life, in which severe labor and charitable actions -alone found place, to the execution of the first work that opened -the way to new discoveries of modern science, a work of -prodigious erudition, _The Political Theory of French Laws_. -This _savante_, for so we must call her, lived in an -isolated chateau, where her piety was an example to all who knew -her, and left a memory venerated by her countrywomen. - -Many other examples could be cited to reestablish the epithet -_learned woman_; but I promised to resign it, and resign it -I do quite willingly. - -M. de Maistre concludes his dissertation by saying: "Women have -never created masterpieces!" Does he mean to assert that their -intellectual efforts have been, and that they always will be, -sterile? We have seen, and history proves, to what point the -exertions and the acquirements of women have contributed to the -preservation of ancient literature. It is a hard measure to expel -them from the ship they have helped to rescue from the storms of -barbarism. Moreover, one need not create masterpieces to prove -the possession of talent. God sends dew to little flowers as well -as to great trees. Humble works may receive the fecundity of a -good action. The success of our adversaries must be our -encouragement. If women of talent have done so much mischief, -then Christian women must struggle on the same ground. There are -a great many books, and one book more is but a drop in the -ocean--true! All are not destined to distinction and -immortality. Some must console a few souls only, and, like daily -bread, meet the day's requirements, without enduring until the -morrow. - -"If you work for God and for yourself," says St. Augustine, "the -better to heed the utterance of the Word within you, there will -always be a few beings who will understand you." - -These words are an encouragement for all humble works, for all -faithful efforts, that, while developing the faculties received -from God, know not to what purpose they are destined. Let each -one cultivate her natural faculties. Intelligence is one of the -noblest of gifts, and in the field of the father of the family no -laborer must stand unoccupied, useless, without toil and without -recompense. - -{31} - -But, it may be argued, most of the examples brought forward prove -only that women are especially fitted for Christian learning. I -recognize the fact. Inspiration, descending into their souls, -rises again more directly toward God. Their talents must be -intimately allied with virtue, and shine forth like those pure -rays that are filled with the light and warmth of the centre -whence they emanate. - -But, alas! one must recognize also the fact that women born with -talents and for works of the first order have too often never -found this supreme source. M. de Maistre, after discharging his -unjust spleen against Madame de Staël, calling her discourteously -"Science in petticoats, and an impertinent _femmelette_" -whose works he qualifies as "gorgeous rags," confesses, finally, -in one of those impetuous contradictions so familiar to him, that -Madame de Staël needed only the torch of truth to raise her -"immense abilities" to the highest grade. "If she had been a -Catholic," he says later, "she would have been adorable instead -of being famous." What would he have said of the female writers -of our own day? - -What intellectual ruins! What grief it is that talents like those -of Madame de ---- and Madame ---- should be lost to the good -cause!--souls that in their fall bear still the impress of the -divine ray; crumbling temples that seem to be struggling to rise -from their ruins, uttering from the depths of their desolation -plaints like these: - - "O my greatness! O my strength! you have passed like a - storm-cloud; you have fallen upon the earth to ravage it like a - thunderbolt. You have smitten with barrenness and death all the - fruits and all the blossoms of my field. You have made of it a - desolate arena, where I sit solitary in the midst of my ruins. - O my greatness! O my strength! were you good or evil angels? - - "O my pride! O my knowledge! you rose up like burning - whirlwinds scattered by the simoom through the desert; like - gravel, like dust you have buried the palm-trees, you have - troubled and exhausted the water-springs. And I sought the - stream to quench my thirst, and I found it not; for the - insensate who would cut his way over the proud peaks of Horeb - forgets the lowly path that leads to the shadowy fountain. O my - pride! O my knowledge! were you the envoys of the Lord? were - you spirits of darkness? - - "O my religion! O my hope! you have swept me like a fragile and - wavering bark over shoreless seas, through bewildering fogs, - vague illusions, dimmest images of an unknown country; and - when, weary with struggling against the winds, and, groaning, - bowed down beneath the tempest, I asked you whither you led me, - you lighted beacons upon the rocks to show me what to avoid, - not where to find safety. O my religion! O my hope! were you a - dream of madness, or the voice of the living God?" - -No; these impulses toward heaven, this need of God, this -strength, this pride, this greatness, were not bad angels; they -were great and noble faculties, sublime gifts. But they should -not have been deluded! They should not have been misled into -vanity and falsehood! They should have been employed for good -ends, and not turned into spirits of darkness. - -{32} - - - IV. - - Duty. - - -The rights of women to intellectual culture are not merely -rights, they are also duties. This is what makes them -inalienable. If they were only rights, women could sacrifice -them; but they are duties. The sacrifice is either impossible or -ruinous. - -This is the point of departure for all I have to say. I declare -unhesitatingly that it is a woman's duty to study and educate -herself, and that intellectual labor should have a place reserved -among her special occupations and among her most important -obligations. - -The primordial reasons of this obligation are grave, of divine -origin, and absolutely unanswerable; namely: - -In the first place, God has conferred no useless gifts; for all -the things he has made there is a reason and an aim. If the -companion of man is a reasonable creature; if, like man, she is -made in the image and likeness of God; if she, too, has received -from her Creator the sublimest of gifts, understanding, she ought -to make use of it. - -These gifts, received from God for an especial purpose, must be -cultivated. Scripture tells us that souls left to waste, like -fallow ground, bring forth only wild fruits, _spines et -tribulos_. And God did not make the souls of women, any more -than the souls of men, to be shifting, barren, or unhealthy soil. - -Moreover, every reasonable creature is to render to God an -account of his gifts. Each one in the judgment day will be dealt -with according to the gifts he has received and the use he has -made of them. - -God has given us all hands, (which, according to the -interpreters, signify prompt and intelligent action,) but on -condition that we do not bring them to him empty. Again, he has -categorically explained his intentions in the parable of the -talents, where he declares that a strict account must be rendered -to him, talent by talent. I do not know a father of the church or -any moralist who has ever asserted that this parable did not -concern women as well as men. There is no serious distinction to -be made. Each must give an account of what he has received; and -good human sense, like good divine sense, plainly indicates that -one sex has no more right than the other to bury or to waste the -possessions granted by Heaven to be employed and increased. - -In short, I say with St. Augustine, no creature to whom God has -confided the lamp of intelligence has a right to behave like a -foolish virgin, letting the oil become exhausted because she has -neglected to renew it; letting that light die out that was to -have enlightened her path and that of others too, if only, as in -the case of some wives and mothers, that of her husband and -children. - -The generality of books relating to the merits, the destinies, -and the virtues of woman, far from considering her as a being -created in the image of God, intelligent, free, and responsible -to her Creator for her actions, treat of her as a possession of -man, made solely for him, and whose end he is. In all these -books, a woman is only a blooming creature meant to be adored, -but not respected--a being essentially inferior whose existence -has no other aim than to secure the happiness of man, or bend to -his most frivolous purposes; dependent, above all, upon man, who -alone is her master, her legislator, and her judge--absolutely, -as if she had no soul, no conscience, no moral liberty; as if God -were nothing to her; as if he had not endowed her soul with -cravings, faculties, aspirations, in one word, with rights that -are at the same time duties. - -{33} - -The world declaims, and with reason, against the futility of -women, against their love of approbation, and what is called -their coquetry. But is not this futility produced and propagated -by the fear of making them learned, of too fully developing their -intelligence?--as if such a thing were possible, as if that true -development through which one better understands duty, and learns -to calculate consequences, could be injurious. Are not women who -have serious tastes obliged to hide them or make excuses for them -by every means in their power, as if they were concealing a -fault? - -Or if, indeed, a woman is allowed to educate herself, it is only -within very restricted limits, and merely, according to the -wishes of M. de Maistre, that she may understand the conversation -of men, or that she may be more amusing, and set off her trilling -talk in a more piquant fashion by mingling it with odds and ends -of wisdom. With such a dread does the learned woman inspire idle -and frivolous men who will neither work themselves nor let any -one else work. - -In plainer terms still: does not the present system of education -create and foster coquetry and a love of admiration, by making -man the only end of woman's destiny? It is vain to tell her that -she is destined for one alone, and that all others should be to -her as if they existed not. This is perfectly true from a -Christian point of view, which embraces at once all rights and -all duties; but apart from Christian virtue, when that one proves -tedious, vicious, and absolutely unworthy of affection, and when -temptation presents itself under the traits of another, a -superior being, (or one who seems to be superior,) for whom alone -she believes herself created, how, I ask, can you persuade her to -fly from the latter and live only for the former? Imprudent and -fatal guide that you are, you have taught her that she is an -incomplete being, who cannot suffice to herself, who must lean -upon the superiority of another; and then you complain because, -when she meets this support, this other and truer half of -herself, she clings to it, and cannot fly from the fatal -attraction! Undeniably she violates the holiest of obligations; -but have you not yourselves been blind and guilty? Are you not so -still? - -I have no hesitation in asserting that only Christian morality -can teach a woman with absolute and decisive authority her true -rights and her true duties in their necessary correlation. - -Until you have persuaded a woman that she is first created for -God, for herself, for her own soul, and in the second place for -her husband and children, to value them next to God, with God, -and for God, you will have done nothing either for the happiness -or the honor of families. - -Of course, husband and wife are two in one, and their children -are one in them. But, if God is not the foundation of this -providential union, Providence will be avenged, and the union -dissolved. This is the misfortune, almost always irreparable, -that so often meets our eyes. [Footnote 4] - - [Footnote 4: Does the reader believe these warnings uncalled - for in American society? We once explained to a Frenchman the - system in vogue in many of our States, of divorce followed by - a second marriage. "Ah!" said he, "in France we call that a - _liaison_" _Trans_.] - -This excessive absorption of the _personality_ of a wife -into her husband's existence was useful, perhaps, for the -preservation of the antique matron. Such moral and intellectual -restrictions were reasonable, perhaps, at a period when duty had -no sanction sufficiently strong. The seclusion of the gynaeceum -may have served to preserve the domestic circle from frightful -disorder. -{34} -But a Christian woman is conscious of a different destiny. For -her gynaeceum and harem are useless. She loves the being to whom -God has united her with a tenderness and devotion rarely met with -in pagan times, if one may judge by the eulogiums lavished on -those who approached most nearly the standard we see realized -every day. The Christian woman regards herself as her husband's -companion, as his assistant in earthly as in heavenly things, -_socia, adjutorinm;_ as bound to console him and make his -happiness; but she thinks, too, that they should help each other -to become better, and that, after having educated together new -_elect_, they should share felicity together through all -eternity. For such destinies, a woman's education cannot be too -unremitting, too earnest, or too strong. - -The contrary system rests upon a pagan appreciation of her -destiny, or, as has been said with reason, upon the idleness of -men who wish to preserve their own superiority at small expense. -The pagan conception consists in believing women to be merely -charming creatures, passive, inferior, and made only for man's -pleasure and amusement. But, as I have already said, Christianity -thinks differently. In Christianity a woman's virtue, like a -man's, must be intelligent, voluntary, and active. She must -understand the full extent of her duties, and know how to draw -conclusions from divine teaching for herself, her husband, and -her children. - -This prejudice against the intellectual development of women is -one of the most culpable inventions of the eighteenth century, -that age of profligacy and impiety. The Regent and Louis XV. have -fostered it more than Molière, as they have created more -prejudices against religion than _Tartuffe_. It was useful -to all unprincipled husbands to have wives as worthless as -themselves, who should be incapable of controlling their -disorderly lives. - -A superior woman obliges her husband to depend upon her. He is -forced to submit to the control of an intelligent spirit, and -does not feel free to follow his own caprices. This is why -vicious husbands need ignorant wives. - -Molière struck a blow as severe at frivolity, in the -_Précieuses Ridicules_, [Footnote 5] as at pedantry in the -_Femmes Savantes_. The eighteenth century retained merely a -prejudice convenient to itself, which the regency established as -a law, and finally licentious men surrendered the honor of their -familie rather than find in a wife an inconvenient judge, a -living conscience, an ever-present reproach. They preferred to -have wives as vain and frivolous as themselves, and to make of -marriage a contract in which fortunes and titles only were -considered, and where affection on either side went for nothing. -The world saw with affright the corruption that speedily engulfed -French society. - - [Footnote 5: It is also to be observed that Molière's learned - women had only the affectation and not the reality of science, - just as the _précieuses_ merely affected the fine language - and manners of the court. The former were ignorant women - playing the part of _savantes_ the latter provincial women - aping Paris fashions.] - -Why did not M. de Maistre, who saw the remains of this corruption -and the chastisements it had merited, understand that the -degraded position assigned to women was one of its causes, and -that prejudice against the intellectual elevation of women was -the work of vice? - - - V. - - The Dangers of Repression. - -The very nature of things speaks plainly enough. Human nature in -all its faculties demands instruction, enlargement, -enlightenment, elevation. -{35} -From my own observation I must assert that nothing is more -dangerous than smothered faculties, unanswered cravings, -unsatisfied hunger and thirst. Thence comes the perversion of -passions, created for noble ends, but turned against truth and -virtue. Thence issue those distorted, crooked, and perverse ways -into which we are drawn by an ignorance incapable of choice, -judgment, or self-restraint: _conversi dirumpent vos_, says -the sacred writer. There lies the secret of many falls, many -scandals, or, at least, of much wretched levity among women! If -these rich and ardent powers had been cultivated, we need not now -deplore their ruin; we should not have to sigh over the pitifully -incorrect intellectual standard, the mental weakness of so many -women of distinguished nature, called to be ornaments to the -world and to do honor to their families, but of whom education, -checked in its development, has made elegant women perhaps, at -thirty years of age, but frivolous, commonplace and useless. -Surely no one can seriously contradict me in these assertions. - -Again, and this is a very important consideration: - -M. de Maistre would make a woman humble and virtuous in the -aridity of her occupations, without anything to raise and console -her beyond the knowledge "that Pekin is not in Europe," and so -on. - -This is impossible. She will not remain in this humble sphere. If -we do not give her intellectual interests to recreate her from -the material duties, often overwhelming, that weigh her down, she -will reject these very duties, which humiliate her _when they -come alone_, and seek relief from _ennui_ in frivolity. -Do not we see this every day? Let us not deceive ourselves. - -The duties of the mistress of a household, ever recurring with a -thousand matter-of-fact details--the responsibilities of domestic -life are often wearisome and excessively wearisome. Where shall a -woman find consolation? who will give a legitimate impulse to her -sometimes over-excited imagination? Who will offer to her -intelligence the rightful satisfaction it demands, and prevent -her from feeling that she is a mere domestic drudge? - -I have no hesitation in saying--and how many experiences have -contributed to fortify my conviction!--that there are times when -piety itself does not suffice! Work, and sometimes very serious -intellectual work, is required. Drawing and painting are not -enough, unless the painting be of a very elevated character. What -the hour calls for is a strong and firm application of the -understanding to some serious work, literary, philosophical, or -religious. Then will calmness, peace, serenity be restored. Let -us acknowledge the truth. Rigid principles and empty occupations, -devotion combined with a purely material or worldly life, make -women destitute of resources in themselves, and sometimes -insupportable to their husbands and children. - -But allow a woman two hours of hard study every day, during which -the faculties of her soul can recover their balance, perplexities -assume their true proportions, good sense and judgment resume -their sway, excitement subside, and peace reenter the soul: then -she will lift up her head once more; she will see that the -intellectual life to which she aspires, in accordance with a -craving implanted in her being by God himself, is not denied to -her. Then she will be able to fall on her knees and accept life -with its duties, and bless the divine will. - -{36} - -This is the fruit of genuine work performed in the presence of -God. It renders her soul submissive, sometimes more so than -prayer itself. It restores her to order and good sense, -satisfying within her a just and noble desire. - -I have sometimes heard mothers say that they dreaded for their -children faculties overstepping ordinary proportions, and that -they should endeavor to repress them. "What use are they?" it is -said: "How can a place be found for these great abilities in that -real life, with its narrow, cramped limits, which begins for -women at the close of their earliest youth?" These remarks have -secretly shocked me. What! would you check the expansion of that -fairest of divine works, a soul where God has implanted a germ of -ideal life? You respect this gift in men, provided that it be -employed in practical life, and that it serve to make money or -create a social position. But, since the utility of great gifts -is less lucrative among women, they had better be repressed! Then -lop off the branches of the plant that craves too much air and -room and sunlight; check the redundant sap. But the plant was -intended to be a great tree, and you will make of it a stunted -shrub. Take care lest the mutilation do not kill it utterly while -torturing it. To extinguish a soul designed by God to shine is to -bury therein the seed of an interior anguish that you will never -cure, and which may exhaust the soul with vague, exaggerated -aspirations. There is no torture comparable to the sense of the -beautiful when it cannot find utterance, to the interior agony of -a soul which, perhaps unconsciously, has missed its vocation. -That word, expressive of a call from on high, of a solemn and -irresistible claim, applies to women as well as to men, to the -ideal life as much as to the external life. The soul is a thought -of God, it has been said. There is a divine plan with regard to -it, and our exertions or our languor advance or retard the -execution of that plan, which exists none the less in God's -wisdom and goodness, and must appear one day as our accuser if we -fail to execute it. - -And to secure its accomplishment, the development of the whole -soul, mind, and heart is necessary. - -It is difficult to discover in advance to what God destines his -gifts; but none the less true is it that he destines them to an -especial end, and that this providential vocation, faithfully -answered, turns aside the dangers we dread to meet in its -fulfilment. - -Individual natures should be consulted, that we may develop them -according to their capacities. I would not create factitious -talents by a culture which nature does not demand, but neither -would I leave uncultivated those she has bestowed. Nothing is -more dangerous for a woman than incomplete development, -half-knowledge, a half-talent that shows her glimpses of broader -horizons without giving force to reach them, makes her think she -knows what she does not know, and fills her soul with trouble and -bewilderment, combined with a pride that often betrays itself in -sad misconduct. When equilibrium is not established between -aspiration and the power to realize it, the soul, after making -fruitless struggles to attain its ideal, becomes discontented -with common life, and, craving some excitement of mind and -imagination, seeks it in emotions and pleasures always dangerous -and often culpable. - -If you do not direct the flame upward, it will feed upon the -coarsest earthly aliment. A superior person once said to me: "In -art, mediocrity is to be above all things feared. A great talent -escapes many dangers. The impetus once given, one must reach the -goal; otherwise, who can say how low one may fall?" - -{37} - -Terrible examples of this I have seen, showing me what becomes of -smothered faculties and of a rich nature rendered abortive. -[Footnote 6] - - [Footnote 6: I know a woman endowed with a creative faculty - which her education has tended to crush. One feels in her - incomplete and suffering nature a sort of interior discord. - Ill at ease with herself, she seeks excitement in dress and - in frivolous distractions. People attribute these defects to - her artistic nature. On the contrary, she would not suffer if - she possessed the plenitude of her faculties. She has not - been allowed to cultivate fully the talent bestowed by God; - she has never arrived at the genuine power of production or - reached the repose of legitimate interior satisfaction.] - - - VI. - - Fatal Results of Ignorance and Levity in Women. - -We complain of the vanity of women, of their luxury and coquetry; -but for what else do we prepare them, what else do we inculcate -in their education? We leave them no other resource on earth. Far -from elevating, developing, strengthening, and ennobling them, we -dissipate, enervate, and debase them; nor am I speaking of the -most fatal kind of debasement. Far from forming in them a taste -for serious things or even for subjects worthy of interest, we -teach them to ridicule those who have such tastes. We reduce them -to coquetry, gossip, every kind of mediocrity and _ennui_. -The world is positively irritated against those who sometimes -remind women what they are in the estimation of God, what they -are capable of doing, what they owe to God, to society, to -France, to their husbands and sons, and to themselves; against -those who dare to assert that it is for them, daughters of that -Eve to whom humanity owes the chastisement of toil, to accept and -make others accept this fruit, which, though perhaps a little -bitter, is expiatory, honorable, and salutary; that it is for -them to follow its holy practices from infancy, and, later, to -inspire in others a taste for it, or, at least, courage to endure -it; that it is for them to speak that noble language of reason -and of faith which calls labor the primordial law of humanity, at -once a dominion and a reward. - -The world is angry with those who teach women that they should -use the gift of _influence_ with which they are endowed, not -to become queens of the ball-room, and shine beneath the -candelabra of a drawing-room or behind foot-lights, but to become -in their own homes skilful and patient advocates of everything -noble, just, intellectual, and generous; not to _futilize_, -if I may so express myself, the spirits of men, already too -inclined to futility, but to remind them constantly that life is -composed of duties, that duty is serious, and that happiness is -only found in the performance of duty. - -Instead of this, what are they? Stars of a day, meteors too often -fatal to the repose, the fortune, and the honor of families. We -may say that these women who have the brilliancy and the passing -influence of comets exercise also their sinister power. Instead -of enervating them with nonsense, tell them that they will not -always remain twenty years old, and that they will soon need -other resources than their own beauty and caprices. Tell them -that, even supposing they can always rule their husbands so -easily, this sophistical authority will never gain a hold upon -their children; and yet it is a woman's true aim, her first duty, -often, alas! her sole happiness, to possess influence over her -children and _especially over her sons_. But to obtain that, -she needs not only goodness, tenderness, and patience, but -reason, reflection, good sense, and enlightenment. To obtain -these, real instruction, attentive study, serious education are -necessary. - -{38} - -But there are few women who are capable of rendering solid -service to their husbands and children. - -"As a usual thing," wrote to me a woman of the world, of very -general interests, but exceedingly intelligent--"as a usual thing -we know nothing, absolutely nothing. We can talk only about -dress, fashions, or steeple-chases--nonsense all of them! A woman -knows who are the famous actors and horses of the day; she knows -by heart the _personnel_ of the opera and the Variétés; the -stud-book is more familiar to her than the _Imitation_; last -year she voted for _La Tonque_, this year for -_Vermouth_, and gravely assures us that _Bois-Roussel_ -is full of promise; the grand Derby drives her wild, and the -triumph of _Fille de l'Air_ seems to her a national victory. -She can tell who are the best dressmakers, what saddler is most -in vogue, what shop is most frequented. She can weigh the -respective merits of the equipages of Comte de la Grange, Duc de -Morny, and M. Delamarre. But, alas! turn the conversation to a -matter of history or geography; speak of the middle ages, the -crusades, the institutions of Charlemagne or St. Louis; compare -Bossuet with Corneille, Racine with Fênélon; utter the names of -Camoëns or Dante, of Royer-Collard, Frédéric Ozanam, Comte de -Montalembert, or Père Gratry; the poor thing is struck dumb. She -can only amuse young women and frivolous young men; incapable of -talking of business, art, politics, agriculture, or science, she -cannot converse with her father-in-law, with the curé, or any -other sensible man. And yet it is a woman's first talent to be -able to converse with every one. If her mother-in-law visits -schools and poor people, and wishes to enroll her in charitable -associations, she understands neither their aim nor their -importance, for compassion and kindness of heart do not suffice -in a certain class for the execution of good works. To acquire -influence and give to a benefit its true worth, its whole moral -significance, one needs an intelligence only to be acquired by -study and attentive reflection." - -And, now, I must go further, and indicate the fatal results of -the present condition of things to domestic life, to society, and -to religion; and I will tell the entire truth. - -I know, I have seen, and thanked God in seeing, the sway -exercised in her family by a Christian wife and mother; the -pursuits introduced under her guidance; the ideas, at first -indignantly rejected, adopted to please her; thoughts of -religion, of charity, of devotion, resignation, and forgiveness; -but more rarely, I must confess, principles of industry. - -It is a painful fact that education, not excepting religious -education, rarely gives a serious taste for study to young girls -or young women. Envoys from God to the domestic hearth, guardians -of the holy traditions of faith, honor, and loyalty, women, even -devout Christian women, seem to be the adversaries of work -whether for their husbands or their children, but especially for -their sons. I have seen women who found it difficult not to -regard the time given to study as stolen from them. Is this for -want of intelligence or aptitude? I think not. I attribute this -prejudice, first, to the education we give them, light, -frivolous, and superficial, if not absolutely false; and, -secondly, to the part assigned to them in the world, and the -place reserved for them in families, and even in some Christian -families. - -{39} - -We do not wish women to study; they do not wish those about them -to study. We do not like to see them employed; they do not like -to see others employed, and they succeed only too well in -preventing their husbands and children from working. This is an -immense misfortune, a most fatal influence. It is useless to say -to men, "Work, accept offices, occupy your time." While women -seek to destroy the effect of our advice, it will never produce -results. So long as mothers advise their daughters not to marry -men in office; so long as the young wife uses her whole art to -disgust her husband with employment, and the young mother fails -to inculcate in her children the necessity of self-culture, of -training the mind and talents as one cultivates a precious plant, -so long will the law of labor remain, with rare exceptions, -unobserved. - -In the present stage of customs and manners, home life being what -it is, women only can effectively protect a spirit of industry; -make it habitual; inculcate, foster, facilitate, and even enforce -it upon those around them; early preparing the way for it, -rendering it possible and easy, according to it esteem, -encouragement, and admiration. - -Now, on the contrary, children are placed as soon as possible -_en pension_; that is the word; or for the boys a tutor is -appointed, for the girls a governess. The mother, out of love of -amusement, deprives herself as early as possible of the supreme -happiness of bestowing upon her children the first gleam of -intellectual and spiritual life--she who gave them corporeal -existence. The children then go to college or to a convent, and -what becomes the mother's chief care? That they should not work -too hard! If there is a tutor or governess, the case is far -worse. The mother often appears to be the born adversary of both, -bent upon finding fault, upon alienating her children from them, -and extorting privileges, walks, exemptions, and incessant -interruptions. The only dream of this weak and blind mother, her -only idea of _occupation_ for her son, is to plan hunting -parties for him, gatherings of young people, hippodromes, plays, -watering-places, and balls, where she follows him with her eyes, -enchanted with his triumphs in society, which should perhaps -rather make her sigh. No longer daring to be vain for herself, -she is vain for him. What defects does she blame? An ungraceful -gesture, an unrefined expression, or the omission of some -courtesy. She never says to him: "Aim at higher things; cultivate -your mind; learn to think, to know men, things, yourself; become -a distinguished man; serve your country; make for yourself a -name, unless you have one already, and in that case be worthy to -bear it." - -Few mothers give such counsel to their children--still less, -young wives to their husbands. They seem to marry in order to run -about in search of amusement or of the principle of perpetual -motion. Country places, city life, baths, watering-places, the -turf, balls, concerts, and morning calls leave not a moment's -rest for them day or night. Willingly or unwillingly, the husband -must share this restlessness. He yawns frequently, scolds -sometimes, but no matter for that; he must yield, longing for the -blessed moment when he can shake off the yoke and take refuge at -his club. The young wife employs every gift of art and nature, -everything that God bestowed upon her for better purposes, grace, -beauty, sweetness, address, fascination, to make him yield. Oh! -that she would employ half these providential resources to prove -to her husband that she would be proud to be the wife of a -distinguished man; that she longs to see him cultivated, clever, -worthy of his name, worthy one day to be held up as an example to -his son; to persuade him either to take some office, or to live -upon his estates and exercise a righteous influence, protecting -elective places, gaining the confidence and esteem of his -fellow-citizens, setting a noble example, and thus serving God -and society! - -{40} - -But far from behaving thus, if the poor husband ventures to take -up a book and seek repose from the whirlwind he is condemned to -live in, madam makes a little face, (considered bewitching at -twenty, but one day to be pronounced insufferable;) she flutters -about the literary man, the rhetorician, the scholar, retires to -put on her hat, comes back, seats herself, springs up again, -flits back and forth before the mirror, takes her gloves, and -finally bursts out into execrations against books and reading, -which are good for nothing except to making a man stupid and -preoccupied. For the sake of peace the husband throws down his -book, loses the habit of reading, suffers gradual annihilation by -a conjugal process, and, having failed to raise his companion to -his own level, sinks to hers. - -Here we have a deplorable vicious circle. So long as women know -nothing, they will prefer unoccupied men; and so long as men -remain idle, they will prefer ignorant and frivolous women. Men -in office are no less persecuted than others. Many women torment -a magistrate, a lawyer, a notary, making them fail in exactitude -and in application to business, instead of encouraging a strict -and complete fulfilment of duty. They consider punctuality a bore -and assiduity insufferable. When they succeed in accomplishing -the neglect of an appointment or of some important occupation, -one would think they had achieved a victory. The case is worse -still for certain careers generally adopted by rich men or by -those whose families were formerly wealthy, such as the army and -navy. An officer must remain unmarried, or marry a girl without -fortune. Otherwise, in discussing the marriage, the first thing -demanded is a resignation. Every young lady of independent -fortune wishes her husband to _do nothing_. In view of this -ignorant prejudice, this conjugal ostracism, even sensible -mothers hesitate about recommending their sons to adopt careers -which will make marriage possible to them only at the expense of -a noble fortune; or else they say in words too often heard: "My -son will serve for a few years, and then resign. A married man -_cannot pursue a career_." - -And young men are asked to work with this perspective before -them! How can one love a position which is to be abandoned on -such or such a day in accordance with a caprice? What zeal, what -emulation, what ambition can a man have who is to leave the -service at twenty-five or twenty-eight years of age, when he is -perhaps captain of artillery or lieutenant of a ship, that is to -say, when he has worked his way through the difficulties that -beset every career at its outset? - -I have known mothers fairly reduced to despair at seeing a son, -just on the point of attaining an elevated position, forced to -renounce the thought merely in accordance with the -_exigence_ of a young girl and the blindness of her mother, -who ought to foresee and dread the inevitable regrets and -inconveniences of idleness succeeding to the charm of an occupied -life, of the monotony of a _tête-à-tête_ coming after the -excitements of Solferino, or the perpetual _qui vive_ of our -Algerian garrisons, or the adventurous and almost constantly -heroic life of the navy. - -{41} - -It is the duty of an intelligent Christian wife or mother to -point out the dangers of idleness and stultification; the social -and intellectual suicide resulting from standing aloof from every -office and all occupation; the political and religious necessity -of occupying responsible places, distinguishing one's self in -them, and holding them permanently in order to exercise one's -influence in favor of morals and religion. This is a vital matter -which will never be understood until mothers teach it with the -catechism to their little children. This is the commentary which -every mother and every catechist must give, in explaining the -important chapter on sloth, one of the seven deadly sins. And the -same ideas must be inculcated in instructing their daughters -until they are twenty years old; teaching them to be reasonable -and capable, showing them the evil consequences of idleness in a -young husband, the difficulty of amusing him all day long, of -pleasing without wearying him, of averting _ennui_, -ill-humor, and monotony. And let the teacher never fail to add -the truth so often proved that it is impossible to induce a son -to work after having dissuaded his father from working. Of -course, there are moments of pain in an occupied life. It is hard -to see a husband embark for two or three years, going perhaps to -Sebastopol or to Kabylia. But it is sadder still to see a husband -bored to death, and thinking his wife tedious, his home -unbearable, his affairs drudgery; and this is not uncommon. I -have heard wives who had consented to necessary separations say -that the trial had its compensations; that the consciousness of -duty fulfilled was a source of inestimable satisfaction; that the -agony was followed by a joy that obliterated the memory of -suffering; that as the time of return drew near, as the regiment -or the ship appeared in sight, they experienced a happiness -unknown to other women. It must be so; God leaves nothing -unrewarded; every sacrifice has its compensation, every wound its -balm. I am told that the most admirable households are to be -found in our seaport towns, our great manufacturing centres, and -even in our large garrison towns in spite of the bustle, -agitation, and dissipation reigning there. I can easily believe -this--every one is busy in such places. A husband who has spent -the day in barrack or factory (still more, one who has been at -sea a long time) thirsts for home, longs to be again by his own -hearth, enjoying domestic life. The wife on her side, separated -for several hours from her husband, reserves for him her most -cheerful mood and her pleasantest smile. She saves him from the -thousand annoyances of the day, the household perplexities, the -little embarrassments of life, the children's romping. The little -ones run to meet their father, and recreate him after his work -with caresses and prattle. This is the way in which men enjoy -children; as a necessity of every day and all day, they dread -them. - -But without rising so high, I ask simply what can be more -agreeable, even for a husband who spends his life in hunting or -anywhere else out of his own house, than to find on coming home -his wife cheerful and good-tempered, because after getting him a -good dinner she has amused herself with painting a pretty -picture, or studying with genuine interest a little natural -history, or trying some experiment in domestic chemistry, or even -solving a problem in _géométrie agricole_, instead of -finding her languid and melancholy, a _femme incomprise_, -with some novel or another in her hand. - -{42} - -If I persist in preaching industry to men and women, it is for -very urgent reasons, not only domestic and political, but social. -Who does not see that we verge on socialism at present? The -masses will not work, they detest labor. Salaries have been -raised again and again; for many trades they go beyond necessity, -and so the workman, instead of giving six days in the week to his -trade, gives but four, three, or even two days. It is for the -higher classes who are supposed to understand their duties and to -feel the import of their responsibilities, it is for them to -reinstate labor in popular estimation. In this as in all other -things, example must come from above; for here, as in religion -and morals, the higher classes owe to society and to their -country some expiation. The eighteenth century, with its -corruptions, its scandals, and its irreligion, hangs upon us with -the weight of a satanic heritage. Like original sin, these errors -have been washed in blood; it is the history of all great errors. -It remains for us to expiate the idleness, the inaction, -inutility, annihilation to which we have hitherto surrendered -ourselves, setting a fatal example to those around us. - -Our generation must be steeped in labor. There and only there is -to be found our safety, and mothers must be convinced of this -truth. The mother is the centre of home, everything radiates from -her--on one condition, that she is a mother worthy of the name -and mission--and such mothers are rare. - -We know what is in general the education of women. Add to it the -indulgence and weakness of parents, the species of idolatry they -have for their daughters, the premature pleasures lavished upon -young girls, the pains taken to praise them, to adorn them from -their earliest infancy, and afterward to show them off and make -them shine in a sort of matrimonial exhibition. How can we hope -to find earnest mothers of families among those whose youth has -been spent in balls, _fetes_, and morning visits? Alas! it -is not possible. Reasonable ideas rarely come to them until age -or misfortune has withdrawn their surest means of influence. - -And the greatest sufferers from this calamity are society and -religion; it cannot be otherwise. A little drawing, a little more -music, enough grammar and orthography to pass muster, sufficient -history and geography to know Gibraltar from the Himalaya and to -recognize Cyrus as King of Persia, but not enough to avenge noble -memories outraged or to rectify erroneous estimates; of foreign -languages a slight smattering, enough to enable one to read -English and German novels, but not to appreciate the glorious -pages of Shakespeare, Milton, or Klopstock; no literature, -nothing of our great authors, unless a few fables of La Fontaine -and perhaps a chorus out of Esther learned in childhood; of -religious knowledge a sufficiency to allow of being admitted to -first communion, not enough to answer the most vulgar objections, -the most notorious calumnies, not enough to understand one's -position and duties, to impose silence on the detractors of -religion, or the adversaries of reason and Christian evidence, to -refute the grossest sophistry, to lead back to faith and holy -practices a young husband or perhaps an aged father; with such an -education what influence can a young woman exercise? - -If the poor young creature so insufficiently prepared by -education never reads, or reads only romances, where will she -find arms to defend her against error and blasphemy? In spite of -sincere piety, she must, useless and timid soldier that she is, -desert the holy cause of God and truth for fear of compromising -it by an ignorant defence. -{43} -And yet it is a noble cause, and one that belongs especially to -her, for it is the cause of the weak and defenceless, and only -asks in its service a sincere conviction, a devout heart, and a -little knowledge. But the knowledge is wanting. Because she has -acquired neither a habit of reflection nor of seeking in good -books necessary information, she must be silent, and, while God -and his faith are outraged in her presence with impunity, drop -her eyes upon her worsted work and sigh. - -Yes, sigh--that is right; and sigh not only for the poor men who -read such wretched books and intoxicate themselves with vile -poisons, but also for the fact that there is no one to open their -eyes, to lead these misled hearts back into the right path, or, -at least, to excite a doubt in their perverted minds and warped -consciences; no mother, sister, daughter, wife, no intelligent, -enlightened, educated woman to fulfil woman's essential mission. -No one else can do the work. If women are not the first apostles -of the home circle, no one else can penetrate it. But they must -render themselves thoroughly capable of fulfilling their -apostleship. Nowadays, when all the world reasons or rather -cavils, when everything is discussed and proved, when even light -and life must be demonstrated, it is necessary that women should -participate in the general movement. To speak without reserve--in -the face of a masculine generation who graft on to the -_hauteurs_ which especially belong to them feminine -indifference, affectation, idleness, frivolity, and -weakness--women must show themselves serious, thoughtful, firm, -and courageous. When men copy their defects, it behooves them to -borrow a few manly virtues. "It is time," nobly says M. Caro, -"that minds possessed of any intellectual claims awoke to full -vitality. Let every being endowed with reason learn to protect -himself against literary evil-doers and to repulse their attacks -upon God, soul, virtue, purity, and faith." - - To Be Continued. - --------- - - In Memoriam. - - When souls like thine rise up and leave - This Earth's dark prison-place, - 'Tis foolishness to grieve: - Or think thou dost thy life regret, - And would return if God would let - Thy feet their steps retrace. - - 'Tis he who ends thy banishment, - And by an angel's hand has sent - A merciful reprieve. - --------- - -{44} - - The Early Christian Schools and Scholars. [Footnote 7] - - [Footnote 7: _Christian Schools and Scholars_; or, - Sketches of Education from the Christian Era to the Council - of Trent. By the author of _The Three Chancellors_, etc. - Two vol. London: Longmans, Green & Co.] - -The history of the schools and scholars of the early ages of the -church is not only interesting as forming an important chapter in -the history of the church itself, but is full of most remarkable -facts and valuable suggestions bearing on the as yet apparently -unsolved problem of education. It is replete with matter well -worthy the profound attention of all who consider the proper -training of youth one of the gravest and most important of public -questions; and one which, in this age of advanced enlightenment, -still remains the subject of many crude and conflicting opinions. -Not only do we recommend its perusal to the Catholic teacher, who -is manfully overcoming the peculiar obstacles presented in our -unsettled community, as a source of consolation and -encouragement; but we call it to the notice of those gentlemen -who spend so much of their time during summer vacations debating -on the quantity and quality of discipline necessary to enforce -the time-honored authority of the teacher, and in endeavoring to -define the exact minimum of moral training required to be -administered to the secular student to fit him for the proper -discharge of the duties of life. We do this in all sincerity; for -with this latter class of persons we are not inclined to find too -much fault. Many of them are men of intelligence and good -intentions; but, groping as they are in utter darkness, and -bringing to their deliberations a lamentable ignorance of the -essential principles of Christian education, it is not wonderful -that their counsels should be divided, and their labors as -unprofitable as that of Sisyphus. Disguise it as we may, it -cannot be doubted that the state colleges and schools of our -country, after a very fair trial, have not answered the -expectations of even those who profess themselves their warmest -admirers. There is a feeling in the public mind, as yet partially -expressed, that there is something lacking in our method of -dealing with the ever-constant flood of young hearts and minds -which is daily looking to us for direction and guidance. It is -becoming more and more painfully apparent that the mere intellect -of the children who attend our public institutions is stimulated -into unnatural and unhealthy activity, while their moral nature -is left wholly uncultivated and undeveloped. Conducted, as such -institutions must necessarily be, by persons unqualified or -unauthorized to administer moral instruction, it cannot, of -course, be expected that the souls for a time entrusted to their -care can be fortified by wise counsels and that moral discipline -which was considered in past ages and in all nations as the -fundamental basis of all Christian education. - -Even in a worldly sense, it ought to be a source of our greatest -solicitude that the generation which is to hold the honor and -integrity of the nation in its keeping should be schooled in the -principles of justice and rectitude upon which all true -individual and national greatness must depend. If, then, we have -exhausted the wisdom of the present, with all its examples before -our eyes, to no good purpose, let us turn reverently to the -experience of the past, and see if we cannot find something fit -for meditation in the varied pages of the history of the -Christian church, in her struggles against ignorance and false -philosophy. - -{45} - -From the very beginning the church had to contend against three -distinct elements, positively or negatively, opposed to her -teachings. In the East, as then known, what was called the Greek -civilization, superimposed on the Roman, denied all particular -gods while worshipping many, and culminated either in refined -atheism or the deification of man himself: proud of its -disputants, its arts and literature, it affected to feel, and -perhaps actually felt, a contempt for the simple doctrines of -Christianity, accompanied, as they were, by self-denial, poverty, -and lowliness. Over continental Europe and many of its islands -the wave of Roman conquest had swept irresistibly and receded -reluctantly, leaving behind it the sediment of an intelligence -which served only to nourish the latent weeds of ignorance and -paganism; while in the far West existed a people with a peculiar -and, in its way, a high order of civilization, untouched, it is -true, by Roman or Greek pantheism, but completely shut out from -the light of the gospel. - -To overcome the scattered and diversified opposition thus -presented, to overturn false gods and uproot false opinions, to -bend the stubborn neck of the barbarian beneath the yoke of -Christian meekness, and to mould whatever was brilliant and -intellectual in mankind to the service of the true God, was the -task assumed by the church through the means of education. - -During the first three centuries of our era schools were -established at Alexandria, Jerusalem, Edessa, Antioch, and other -centres of Eastern wealth and learning; of these, that at -Alexandria, founded by St. Mark, A.D. 60, was the most -celebrated, and had for its teachers and scholars some of the -most learned men of the period. They were catechetical in their -nature, and at first were confined to oral instructions on the -chief articles of the faith and the nature of the sacraments; but -in process of time their sphere of usefulness was greatly -enlarged, and the character of the studies pursued in them -assumed a wider and higher tone, till not only dogmatic theology -and Christian ethics, but human sciences and profane literature, -were freely taught. Thus we read that, toward the close of the -second century, St. Pantaeus, a converted Stoic of great -erudition, and Clement of Alexandria, who is said to have -"visited all lands and studied in all schools in search of -truth," taught in the school of St. Mark, with an eloquence so -convincing, and a knowledge of Grecian philosophy so thorough, -that multitudes of Gentiles flocked to hear them, astonished to -find the doctrines of the new faith expounded in the polished -language of Cicero, and the very logic of Aristotle turned -against the pantheistic philosophy of Greece. Their successor, -the celebrated Origen, whose reputation has outlived all the -attacks of time, in a letter to his friend St. Gregory, gives us -some idea of the course of instruction pursued in his time, in -this school, in regard to the study of the human sciences. "They -are to be used," he writes, "so that they may contribute to the -understanding of the Scriptures; for just as philosophers are -accustomed to say that geometry, music, grammar, rhetoric, and -astronomy, all dispose us to the study of philosophy, so we may -say that philosophy, rightly studied, disposes us to the study of -Christianity. -{46} -We are permitted, when we go out of Egypt, to carry with us the -riches of the Egyptians wherewith to adorn the tabernacle; only -let us beware how we reverse the process, and leave Israel to go -down into Egypt and seek for treasure; that is what Jeroboam did -in olden time, and what heretics do in our own." Here we find -expressed, at so early a day, the beautiful idea of the church -respecting education; that enduring pyramid which she would build -up, whose base is human science, and whose apex is the knowledge -of God. - -The episcopal seminaries, intended exclusively for the training -of ecclesiastics, were coeval with, if not anterior to, the -catechetical schools, for we find the germ of the system in the -very earliest apostolic times. They originally formed but part of -the bishops' households; and the students were taught by him -personally, or by his deputy. When the community life became more -general and the number of ecclesiastical pupils increased, the -seminaries assumed more extensive proportions, the school being -held in the church attached to the bishop's house, but the -scholars still living under his roof. Great care was always -manifested by the early fathers of the church in the moral and -intellectual training of ecclesiastical students. Thus, Pope St. -Siricius, in his decretal, A.D. 385, to the Bishop of Tarragona, -lays down the following rules to be observed in preparing -candidates for the priesthood. He orders that they shall be -selected principally from those who have been devoted to the -service of the church from childhood. At thirty years of age they -are to be advanced through inferior orders to subdiaconate and -diaconate, and after five years thus spent they may be ordained -priests. In several provincial councils held in the early -centuries we find the greatest stress laid on the importance of -the careful culture of seminarians, and the second council of -Toledo, A.D. 531, fixes the ordination of subdeacons at twenty, -and of deacons at twenty-five years of age. As to the course of -studies pursued, besides the reading of the Scriptures, the -Psalter, and a knowledge of the duties of the holy offices, -Latin, Greek, and generally Hebrew were taught, together with the -liberal sciences, and sometimes even law and medicine. - -Thus did the church gradually but firmly lay the foundation of -her system. First, by giving to the adult neophyte such -instruction as befitted his age and condition, to enable him to -become a worthy member of her fold; and next, by providing, under -the direct inspection of each bishop, a school where children, -disciplined in his household, taught from his mouth and by his -example lessons of piety, humility and self-control, and armed -with all the resources of sacred and profane learning, were at -mature years sent forth to convert a gentile world, and in turn -become teachers of men. - -While the catechetical schools were flourishing in the East and -the episcopal seminaries assuming form in Spain and Gaul, the -bloody persecutions which prevailed intermittingly at Rome -retarded for a long time education in that city. Many of her -first citizens, it is true, regardless alike of family -considerations and imperial edicts, were to be daily found by the -side of her humblest bondmen, listening, through the gloom of the -catacombs, to the teachings of the gospel; and to this day their -places can be pointed out beside the rough hewn seat of their -teachers. The Roman pontiffs also labored in their own dwellings -to educate their young priests, many of whom, like St. -Felicitanus, passed only from their care to testify their -devotion to the faith by a glorious martyrdom. -{47} -When the Emperor Constantine was converted, the palace of the -_Laterni_ became the residence of the popes, and here was -established the Patriarchium, or seminary, which for several -centuries gave so many distinguished occupants to the chair of -Peter. The schools of the empire were also thrown open to the -Christians, who largely availed themselves of their superior -advantages to become acquainted with the old authors. But the -professors of the imperial academies were but semi-christianized, -and, though conforming outwardly to the new order of things, they -retained not a little of their old ideas and customs. Hence, we -find a variety of opinions entertained by contemporary -authorities as to the propriety of Christians studying in them. -In most cases, however, where the danger of contamination was not -imminent, or where, as in the case of Victorinus, the -academicians were _bona-fidè_ Christians, the practice was -permitted, so eager were the fathers to encourage learning. - -Tertullian was of opinion that, while Christians could not -lawfully teach in the schools with pagans, they might be -listeners, without, however, taking part in idolatrous -ceremonies. St. Basil, who studied for a time in them, and who -was a devoted lover of classical learning, entertained much the -same views, comparing the student to a bee who sucks honey out of -the poisoned flower. St. Chrysostom, who cannot be accused of any -antipathy to education in all its most elegant branches, but who -had in his own person experienced the dangers which beset the -young Christian in the academies, after great deliberation, and -with evident reluctance, decided against the public schools as -then conducted. His words have a significant sound, even in these -days. He writes: - - "If you have masters among you who can answer for the virtue of - your children, I should be very far from advocating your - sending them to a monastery. On the contrary, I should strongly - insist on them remaining where they are. But, if no one can - give such a guarantee, we ought not to send our children to - schools where they will learn vice before they learn science, - and where, in acquiring learning of relatively small value, - they will lose what is far more precious, their integrity of - soul. ... 'Are we, then, to give up literature?' you will - exclaim. I do not say that; but I do say that we must not kill - souls. ... When the foundations of a building are sapped, we - should seek rather for architects to reconstruct the whole - edifice, than for artists to adorn the walls. In fact, the - choice lies between two alternatives a liberal education, which - you may get by sending your children to the public schools, or - the salvation of their souls, which you secure by sending them - to the monks. Which is to gain the day, science or the soul? If - you can unite both advantages, do so, by all means; but, if - not, choose the most precious." - -The character of the academies must have soon changed for the -better; for, when Julian some time after closed them to the -Christians, ostensibly with a view to the purity of morals, but -actually to deprive Christian students of the benefit of any -education, St. Gregory, who quickly saw through the Apostate's -designs, protested in the strongest terms against the injustice. -"For my part," he says, "I trust that every one who cares for -learning will take part in my indignation. I leave to others -fortune, birth, and every other fancied good which can flatter -the imagination of man. -{48} -I value only science and letters, and regret no labor that I have -spent in their acquisition. I have preferred, and ever shall -prefer, learning to all earthly riches, and hold nothing dearer -on earth next to the joys of heaven and the hopes of eternity." -The decree was afterward revoked by the Emperor Valentinian at -the request of St. Ambrose, and the academies gradually fell into -decay; and, growing dim in the light of the new Christian -foundations of other countries, finally ceased to be objects of -discussion. - -Perhaps the greatest good that resulted from the evils complained -of by St. Chrysostom was the establishment of the Benedictine -order; an organization destined to exercise for centuries a -controlling influence over the educational system of Christendom. -In the year A.D. 522, a poor solitary named Benedict, while -engaged at his devotions in the grotto of Subiaco, was visited by -two Roman senators, who desired him to take charge of the -education of their sons, Maurus and Placidus. He consented, and -other children of the same rank, whose parents feared the -contagion of the imperial schools, were soon after placed in his -care. For their government he established a rule, and from this -apparently slight foundation sprang the numberless monasteries -which were the custodians and dispensaries of learning in the -middle ages. In 543, St. Maurus carried the Benedictine rule into -Gaul, where under his charge and that of his successors -monasteries multiplied with great rapidity. We have seen that at -first this illustrious order was designed only for the education -of the children of the rich, who were to be instructed "_non -solum in Scripturis divinas, sed etiam in secularibus -litteris;_" but so great did its reputation become that, in a -short time, we find the doors of its schools thrown open to all -classes. - -It was not, however, in the polished circles of the cities of -Greece and her colonies, nor even in the future centre of -Christendom, that the church was destined to achieve her most -substantial triumphs. The civilization of the East, long in a -state of decay, waned with the decline of the Empire, and its -opulent cities and elaborate literature became part of the -_débris_ of the colossal ruins of that once stupendous -power. The soil in which the seeds of education had been planted -by St. Mark and St. Basil, Origen and Cassian, was already -exhausted, and incapable of producing those hardy plants and -gigantic trees which defy time and corruption. We must, -therefore, look to Western Europe as the proper field wherein -were to be sown the germs of a more enduring growth. - -The monastic system, more or less defined, was introduced into -Gaul long before the advent of St. Maurus, and the education, not -only of monks, was attended to with care, but of the laity also. -From the earliest times we find traces of the exterior schools -attached to the monasteries for the training of children not -intended for a clerical life. The rules of Saints Pachominus and -Basil, then generally followed, were careful to provide that -children should be taught to read and write, and instructed in -psalmody and such portions of the Holy Scriptures as were suited -to their comprehension. They were to live in the monastery and be -allowed to sit at table with the monks, who were strictly -cautioned not to do or say anything that could disedify their -young minds. With a tenderness truly paternal, the young scholars -were allowed a separate part of the building for themselves, and -plenty of time for amusement. -{49} -On the subject of punishment, we recommend the following advice -of St. Basil to modern teachers, believing that juvenile human -nature is much the same now as it was sixteen or seventeen -centuries ago. "Let every fault have its own remedy," says this -experienced teacher, "so that, while the offence is punished, the -soul may be exercised to conquer its passions. For example: Has a -child been angry with his companion? Oblige him to beg pardon of -the other and to do him some humble service; for it is by -accustoming him to humility that you will eradicate anger, which -is always the offspring of pride. Has he eaten out of meals? Let -him remain fasting for a good part of the day. Has he eaten to -excess and in an unbecoming manner? At the hour of repast, let -him, without eating himself, watch others taking their food in a -modest manner, and so he will be learning how to behave at the -same time that he is being punished by his abstinence. And if he -has offended by idle words, by rudeness, or by telling lies, let -him be corrected by diet and silence." - -The early Gallican bishops showed as great a desire to encourage -learning among their clergy as did those of Spain, and were never -tired of enforcing the necessity of the attentive study of the -Scriptures and the cultivation of letters, even in religious -houses occupied by women. The result of this zealous spirit is to -be found in the establishment of the schools of Tours and Lyons, -Grinni and Vienne, the abbey of Marmontier and the more famous -one of Lerins, which produced thousands of missionaries, and such -scholars as Apollinaris of Lyons, Maumertius, the author of -_The Nature of the Soul_, and the poets, Saints Prosper and -Avitus. The "Academy of Toulouse," of disputatious memory, is -claimed to have had a very ancient origin, but was probably not -in existence until the sixth century. - -But the first period of literary culture on the continent of -Europe was fast drawing to a close. At the end of the fifth -century heresy and schism; the converted Ostrogoths of Northern -Italy were subdued by the semi-paganized Lombards; the Roman -empire existed but in name; and civil war broke out in Gaul, -desolating her fields and laying in ruins her churches and -schools. Darkness succeeded light, and anarchy and barbarism -prevailed on both sides of the Alps. But the cause of Christian -learning was not lost. Driven from the mainland, the Christian -scholars had already taken refuge in the adjacent islands, where -they rekindled their torches, and kept them burning with an -effulgence unknown in the palaces of kings or the schools of the -empire. The providence of God, which permitted the ravages of war -and heresy to prevail for a time in Gaul, Spain, and Italy, -ordained that a newer and more secure asylum should be provided -for the handmaid of the faith, whence were to issue, when the -storm passed over, of hosts of zealous and learned men to -reconquer for the church her desolated and darkened dominions. - -Ireland and England were destined to be this asylum, and, even -humanly speaking, no choice could have been more propitious. The -qualities which distinguished the people of these islands, and -which characterize them even at this day, admirably adapted them -for missionary life. The Anglo-Saxon genius, mollified by contact -with the more imaginative mind of the Briton, developed a strong, -unconquerable will, great tenacity of purpose, vast powers of -cooperation, and a capacity for solid attainments; while the -Celts of the sister island, who had never known a conqueror, -exhibited the indomitable zeal of a free-born people united to an -insatiable love of learning and fine arts, and a subtility of -mind which easily grasped the most beautiful and abstruse dogmas -of Christian philosophy. - -{50} - -The earliest monastic schools of England were destroyed by the -Saxon invaders about the middle of the fifth century, and what -remained of their teachers were driven with the remnant of the -Britons into the mountains of Wales. Yet even before the invasion -many of her youth found their way to the continent, and there -obtaining an education, returned to their native country to teach -their compatriots. Thus St. Ninian, who had studied at Rome under -Pope St. Siricius and had visited Tours, established his -episcopal seminary and a school for the neighboring children at -Witherne, in Galloway, about the beginning of that century. He -was, says his biographer, St. Aelred, "assiduous in reading." St. -Germanus of Auxerre and St. Lupus of Troyes followed in 429, and -established at Caerleon, the capital of the Britons, seminaries -and schools, in which they lectured on the Scriptures and the -liberal arts. Stimulated by their example, monastic schools -sprang rapidly into existence, the most successful of which were -those at Hentland; Laudwit, among whose first scholars was the -historian Gildas; Bangor on the Dee, in which, according to Bede, -there were over two thousand students; Whitland, where St. David -studied; and Llancarvan, founded by St. Cadoc. This latter saint -was educated by an Irish recluse named Fathai, who was induced to -leave his hermitage in the mountains to take charge of the school -of Gwent, in Monmouthshire. - -We must not be surprised to find an Irish teacher at that early -period in Wales; for already the wonderful exodus of Irish -missionaries and teachers had commenced. The twenty years' -missionary labors of St. Patrick and his disciples had literally -converted the entire people of Ireland, and, following the -lessons taught him at Tours, Rome, and Lerins, that saint studded -the island with seminaries and monastic schools. His own, at -Armagh, founded A.D. 455, doubtless formed the model upon which -the others were built. "Within a century after the death of St. -Patrick," says Bishop Nicholson, "the Irish seminaries had so -increased that most parts of Europe sent their children to be -educated there, and drew thence their bishops and teachers." So -numerous, indeed, were the schools of Ireland founded by the -successors of St. Patrick that it is impossible even to enumerate -their names in the limits of an article. The most celebrated were -those of Armagh, which at one time furnished education to seven -thousand pupils; Lismore; Cashel; Aran, "the Holy;" Clonard, the -_alma mater_ of Columba the Great; Conmacnois; Benchor, of -which St. Bernard speaks in such terms of admiration; and -Clonfert, founded by St. Brendan the navigator. When we remember -the disturbed condition of the continent during the sixth and -seventh centuries, and the almost profound peace which prevailed -in Ireland during that time, we cease to be astonished at the -influx of foreigners which thronged her schools. St. AEngus -mentions the names of Gauls, Romans, Germans, and even Egyptians -who visited her shore; and St. Aldhelm of Westminster, in the -seventh century, rather petulantly complains of his countrymen -neglecting their own schools for those of Ireland. "Nowadays," he -remarks, "the renown of the Irish is so great that one sees them -daily going or returning; and crowds flock over to their island -to gather up, not merely the liberal arts and physical sciences, -but also the four senses of Holy Scripture and the allegorical -and tropological interpretation of its sacred oracles." - -{51} - -As to the course of study pursued in the Irish monastic schools, -there is reason to believe that not only were theology, grammar, -that is, languages, and the physical sciences taught, but poetry -and music also received special attention. The bardic order were -the first to embrace Christianity, and their love for those two -beautiful arts was proverbial. Latin and Hebrew were studied, but -the sonorous language of Homer and Cicero seems to have been most -in favor, probably on account of its remarkable resemblance, in -euphony at least, to the vernacular Gaelic. Mathematics and -astronomy ranked first on the list of the sciences, and -geography, as far as then known, must have been familiar to St. -Brendan and his adventurous companions. - -But, as we have said, the missionary labors of the Irish had -already commenced. Obedient to a law beyond human control, the -pent-up zeal of the people had burst its boundaries and -overflowed Europe. Of the devoted men destined to roll back the -tide of paganism, the first in point of greatness, if not in -time, was St. Columba, the founder of the schools of Iona, A.D. -563. Amid all the Irish missionaries, this saint stands out in -the boldest relief. Of proud lineage and dauntless spirit, -passionately fond of books, yet sharing willingly with his monks -the toils of the field, we fancy we can almost see his tall, -austere figure stalking amid the unknown and unheeded perils of -the barbarous Hebrides and the mountains of North Britain, with -his staff and book, overawing hostile chiefs and princes by his -very presence, and winning the hearts of the humble shepherds by -his sweet voice and gentle demeanor. "He suffered no space of -time," says Adamnan, "no, not an hour to pass, in which he was -not employed either in prayer, or in reading or writing, or -manual work." - -Leaving Ireland forging the weapons of spiritual and intellectual -combat, and the Albanian Scots to the care of Columba and his -monks, we turn again to England, which, with the exception of -Wales, was up to the end of the sixth century sunk in the -grossest paganism. In the year 596, when, to use the words of -Pope Gregory, "all Europe was in the hands of the barbarians," -that pontiff conceived the idea of converting the Saxons of -England. He accordingly despatched St. Augustine and some monks -from Monte Cassino, lately reduced to ruins. St. Augustine -brought with him a Bible, a psalter, the gospels, an apocryphal -lives of the apostles, a martyrology, and the exposition of -certain epistles and gospels, besides sacred vessels, vestments, -church ornaments, and holy relics. He forthwith established a -seminary and school at Canterbury, which afterward attained great -celebrity. But the schools of Lindisfarne, founded by St. Aiden, -A.D. 635, eclipsed all lesser luminaries. Aiden was a worthy -descendant of Columba, and brought to his task all the learning -and discipline of Iona. "All who bore company with Aiden," says -the Venerable Bede, "whether monks or laymen, were employed -either in studying the Scriptures or in singing psalms. This was -his own daily employment wherever he went." In the south of -England, Maidulf, also an Irish missionary, founded the schools -of Malmsbury; Wilfred, a student of Lindisfarne, the abbey and -school of Ripon, introducing the Benedictine rule into England; -while Archbishop Theodore, a native of Tarsis, and Adrian, -described as a "fountain of letters and a river of arts,"' gave a -wonderful impetus to the study of letters in Canterbury. -{52} -These latter added to St. Augustine's library the works of St. -Chrysostom, the history of Josephus, and a copy of Homer. The -studies pursued at Canterbury consisted of theology, Latin and -Greek, geometry, arithmetic, music, mechanics, astronomy, and -astrology. The most illustrious pupil of the early schools of -Canterbury were St. Aldhelm, who was thoroughly familiar with the -classical authors, himself a writer of no mean order, and who -afterward became teacher at Malmsbury; St. Bennet Biscop, who -founded schools at Monk Wearmouth, Yarrow, and various other -places, endowing them with valuable books which he had collected -on the continent. He first introduced the use of glass in -England. - -In the school at Yarrow, Bede commenced his studies. This -extraordinary man, besides attending to his duties as a -missionary and teacher, found time to compose forty-five books on -the most diverse subjects, including commentaries on the Holy -Scriptures, works on grammar, astronomy, the logic of Aristotle, -music, geography, arithmetic, orthography, versification, the -computum or method of calculating Easter, and natural philosophy, -besides his _Ecclesiastical History_ and _Lives of the -Saints_. He was well versed in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew -languages, and, for his success in reducing the barbarous -Anglo-Saxon tongue to something like grammatical rules, he has -been justly styled the father of the English language. For the -immense knowledge which he displayed in his various writings, he -was indebted, doubtless, to the valuable libraries collected by -St. Bennet, who, like a true son of Iona, seized upon a book -whenever or wherever an opportunity was afforded. At the -beginning of the eighth century, the schools of York attained -general notoriety under the management of Egbert, who taught the -seven liberal sciences, chronology, natural history, mathematics, -and jurisprudence. Here Alcuin, the adviser and friend of -Charlemagne, received his first lessons. - -Nor are we to suppose that the great schools above mentioned -occupied the entire attention of the hierarchy of England. On the -contrary, every bishop had his own seminary; and every monastery, -of which there were hundreds in the seventh and eighth centuries, -had its _interior_ or claustral, and its _exterior_ -school for the education of the children of its neighborhood. In -England, as elsewhere, wherever a monastery was built, no matter -how remote the situation or how barren the soil, people flocked -round it not only to hear the gospel preached, but to learn the -mechanical arts and the laws of agriculture. Besides this, parish -priests, or, as they were called in the Anglo-Saxon, "mass -priests," were obliged to open and sustain parochial free schools -for the children of the peasantry and serfs. - -It is acknowledged by all writers, no matter how sceptical they -may be on other points, that the church was the first to raise -woman to her true place in society. In pagan times woman was -treated much the same as she now is in Mohammedan countries, and -only the very vilest of the sex enjoyed any freedom of speech or -action; but Christianity not only threw its aegis around her, but -provided for her education with a care only second, if indeed not -fully equal, to that bestowed on ecclesiastics. -{53} -We find by the correspondence between St. Boniface and his -relative Lioba, that the nuns of England at that time understood -and could write the Latin language, and were well versed in the -Scriptures and the writings of the fathers. Nunneries were, in -fact, in the middle ages almost as numerous as monasteries, and -in their sphere as powerful agents in the advancement of religion -and education. - -By the close of the eighth century England had reached the zenith -of her first period of literary glory. Not only were her people -thoroughly instructed according to their degree and rank, but the -island abounded in saints and scholars, many of whom, like those -of Ireland, went forth, from time to time, to repay to benighted -Europe a portion of the debt contracted two centuries earlier. - -It were an interesting study, if space permitted, to trace the -divergent paths pursued by Irish and English scholars on the -continent, in what may be called their initial campaigns against -ignorance. We find the Irish invading France, Switzerland, Italy, -and even Spain, while the Anglo-Saxons, with a like affinity for -race and habits, preferred the northern part of Europe, the -cradle of their ancestors. St. Columbanus, whose rule, next to -that of St. Benedict, was the most generally adopted in the -continental monasteries, founded the schools of Luxeuil in -Burgundy and of Bobbio in Italy; St. Gall, one of his companions, -laid the foundation of the famous schools of that name in -Switzerland; St. Cathal of Lismore became the patron saint of -Tarentum, and Donatus and Frigidan were bishops of Fiesole in -Tuscany and Lucca. - -St. Winifred, or, as he was afterward called, Boniface, the first -great English missionary to the continent, achieved great -successes in the north about 723, and, being desirous of training -up a native priesthood to perpetuate his works, invited several -of his countrymen to Germany to take charge of the seminaries of -the different bishoprics he had founded. Among those who accepted -the invitation were his two nephews, one of whom, Willibald, -established a college at Ordorp. The seminary of Utrecht owes its -origin to one of his earliest pupils, Luidger, a direct -descendant of Dagobert II., who also built several seminaries and -monastic schools in Saxony. Another of St. Boniface's students, -Strum, laid the foundation of the celebrated abbey and school of -Fulda in 744; and, to complete the work of regeneration, thirty -nuns were brought over from England, who established religious -houses innumerable, and introduced among the rude Germans the -learning and refinement which marked the nunneries of their -native land. St. Boniface, having been appointed papal legate and -vicar with jurisdiction over the bishops of Gaul and Germany, -applied several years of his life to the reformation of abuses -and the establishment of strict rules of life among the clergy of -both countries. To this end we are told that in every place where -he planted a monastery he added a school, not only for the -benefit of young monks, "but in order that the rude population by -whom they were surrounded might be trained in holy discipline, -and that their uncivilized manners might be softened by the -influence of humane learning." His grand work having been -accomplished, he resigned his delegated powers, resumed his -missionary life, and, with nothing but his "books and shroud," -proceeded to Friesland, the scene of his first labors, where he -suffered martyrdom in 755. This saint was a devoted friend to -education, and that portion of the decrees of the council of -Cloveshoe, held in 747, in which the subject of learning is -treated, is ascribed to his pen. -{54} -The council ordered that "bishops, abbots, and abbesses do by all -means diligently provide that all their people incessantly apply -their minds to reading; that boys be brought up in the -ecclesiastical schools, so as to be useful to the church of God; -and that their masters do not employ them in bodily labor on -Sundays." - -While Germany was being reclaimed from its primitive barbarism, -Gaul, which had given so many missionaries to the Western -Islands, was not neglected. For more than two hundred years this -country, once so fertile in pious men and learned institutions, -was the theatre of the most frightful disorders, consequent on -domestic wars and foreign invasions. There were but few -monasteries surviving, but even these were true to the design of -their founders, and in them learning, to use the eloquent remark -of the Protestant historian, Guizot, "proscribed and beaten down -by the tempest that raged around, took refuge under the shelter -of the altar, till happier times should suffer it to appear in -the world." But a memorable epoch had arrived in the history of -France. In 771 Charlemagne became monarch of all the Franks, and -by his extraordinary military successes and political wisdom soon -made himself master of the entire continent north of the -Pyrenees. But great as were his conquests in the field, his -victories in the cause of letters in France were more splendid -and far more durable. Under his long and brilliant sway the evils -of previous centuries were swept away; churches were restored, -monasteries rebuilt, seminaries and schools everywhere opened. -Like all great practical men, the Frankish monarch knew admirably -well how to choose his assistants when grand ends were to be -reached, and in this instance he selected Alcuin of York as his -agent in restoring to his dominions religious harmony and -Christian education. The result showed the wisdom of his choice, -for to no man of that day could so herculean a task be assigned -with better hope of its execution. Trained in the schools of -York, then among the best in England, he united to a solid -judgment profound learning and an energy of mind as untiring as -that even of his royal patron. The Palatine school, though in -existence previous to the reign of Charlemagne, was placed under -the charge of Alcuin, and the emperor and various members of his -family became his first and most attentive pupils. It consisted -of two distinct parts: one, composed of the royal family and the -courtiers, followed the emperor's person; the other necessarily -stationary, in which were educated young laymen as well as those -intended for the cloister; Charlemagne, himself setting the -example of diligent study, managed to acquire, amid the turmoil -of war and the labors of the cabinet, a considerable knowledge of -Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, the liberal sciences and astronomy, of -the latter of which he seems to have been particularly fond. - -The first step taken by Alcuin was the correction of the copies -of the Holy Scriptures, which had become almost unintelligible -from the accumulated errors of former transcribers. This he -succeeded in doing about the year 800. He next turned his -attention to the multiplication and replenishing of libraries. "A -staff of skilful copyists was gradually formed, and so soon as -any work had been revised by Alcuin and his fellow-laborers, it -was delivered over to the hands of the monastic scribes." - -{55} - -The capitulars of Charlemagne in relation to civil affairs and -municipal laws mark him as one of the ablest statesmen of any -age, and are peculiarly his own; but those on education are so -comprehensive, and of so elaborate a nature, that we cannot help -thinking them the fruits of Alcuin's suggestions, embodying, as -they do, in an official form the precise views so often expressed -by him in letters and lectures. By these decrees monastic schools -were divided into _minor_ and _major_ schools, and -public schools, which answered to the free parochial schools of -England. In the minor schools, which were to be attached to all -monasteries, were to be taught the "Catholic faith and prayers, -grammar, church music, the psalter, and computum;" in the major -schools, the sciences and liberal arts were added; while in the -public schools, the children of all, free and servile, were to -receive gratis such instruction as was suitable to their -condition and comprehension. Those monks who, either from neglect -or want of opportunity, had not acquired sufficient education to -enable them to teach in their own monasteries, were allowed to -study in others in order to become duly qualified for the duty -imposed on them. A more complete system of general education -could not well be devised nor more rigidly carried out. - -Alcuin ended his well-spent life in 804, and Charlemagne ten -years later; but their reforms lived after them, and were -perpetuated in succeeding reigns with equal vigor, if not with -equal munificence. Theodulph, Bishop of Orleans, not only -established schools in every part of his large diocese, but -compiled class-books for the use of their pupils; the diocese of -Verdun was similarly supplied by the Abbot Smaragdus; Benedict of -Anian, reformed the Benedictine order, and like Leidrade, was a -zealous teacher and a great collector of books; and Adalhard, the -emperor's cousin, became, as it were, the second founder of Old -Corby. - -During the ninth and tenth centuries, so fruitful of scholars in -every part of Europe, the monastic schools may be said to have -reached their highest development. Of those north of the Alps we -may mention Fulda, Old and New Corby, Richneau, and St. Gall, -though there were a great many others of nearly equal extent and -reputation. - -Fulda, as we have seen, was founded by Strum, a pupil of St. -Boniface, who adopted the Benedictine rule. After its founder, -its greatest teacher was Rabanus, a pupil of Alcuin, who assumed -the charge of the school about 813. His success in teaching was -so great that it is said that all the German nobles sent their -sons to be educated by him, and that the abbots of the -surrounding monasteries were eager to have his students for -professors. He taught grammar so thoroughly that he is mentioned -by Trithemius as being the first who indoctrinated the Germans in -the proper articulation of Latin and Greek. His course embraced -all sacred and profane literature, science, and art; yet he still -found time to compose, and afterward, when Archbishop of Mentz, -to publish his treatise _De Institutione Clericorum_. Among -his pupils were Strabo, author of the _Commentaries on the Text -of Scripture_; Otfried, called the father of the Tudesque, or -German literature; Lupus, author of _Roman History_; Heinie, -author of the _Life of St. Germanus_; Regimus, of Auxerre; -and Ado, compiler of the _Martyrology_. While those great -scholars were teaching and writing, it is worth our while to -inquire what the lesser lights of the monastery were doing. Here -is the picture: - -{56} - - "Every variety of useful occupation was embraced by the monks; - while some were at work hewing down the old forest which a few - years before had given shelter to the mysteries of pagan - worship, or tilling the soil on those numerous farms which to - this day perpetuate the memory of the great abbey in the names - of the towns and villages which have sprung up on their site, - other kinds of industry were kept up within doors, where the - visitor might have beheld a huge range of workshops, in which - cunning hands were kept constantly busy on every description of - useful and ornamental work, in wood, stone, and metal. It was a - scene not of artistic _dilettanteism_, but of earnest, - honest labor, and the treasurer of the abbey was charged to - take care that the sculptors, engravers, and carvers in wood - were always furnished with plenty to do. Passing on to the - interior of the building, the stranger would have been - introduced to the scriptorium, over the door of which was an - inscription warning copyists to abstain from idle words, to be - diligent in copying books, and to take care not to alter the - text by careless mistakes. Twelve monks always sat here, - employed in the labor of transcribing, as was the custom at - Hirsauge, a colony sent out from Fulda in 830, and the huge - library which was thus gradually formed, survived till the - beginning of the seventeenth century, when it was destroyed in - the troubles of the Thirty Years' War. Not far from the - scriptorium was the interior school, where studies were carried - on with an ardor and a largeness of views which might have been - little expected from an academy of the ninth century. Our - visitor, were he from the more civilized south, might well have - stood in mute surprise in the midst of these fancied - barbarians, whom he would have found engaged in pursuits not - unworthy of the schools of Rome. The monk Probus is perhaps - lecturing on Virgil and Cicero, and that with such hearty - enthusiasm that his brother professors accuse him, in - good-natured jesting, of ranking them with the saints. - Elsewhere disputations are being carried on over the Categories - of Aristotle, and an attentive ear will discover that the - controversy which made such a noise in the twelfth century, and - divided the philosophers of Europe into the rival sects of the - nominalists and realists, is perfectly well understood at - Fulda, though it does not seem to have disturbed the peace of - the school. To your delight, if you be not altogether wedded to - the dead languages, you may find some engaged on the uncouth - language of their fatherland, and, looking over their - shoulders, you may smile to see the barbarous words which they - are cataloguing in their glossaries; words, nevertheless, - destined to reappear centuries hence in the most philosophical - literature of Europe." [Footnote 8] - - [Footnote 8: _Christian Schools and Scholars_, pp. - 205-206.] - -The school of Old Corby owed its reputation not only to its royal -abbot, but also to its master, Pachasius Radpert, who, like -Strabo, was of humble origin, and was indebted to the nuns of -Soissons for an education. He was one of the most remarkable -scholars of the age, and the author of several books in prose and -verse. His most famous pupil was Anscharius, the first teacher at -New Corby, in Saxony, founded by monks of the parent house in -822, and afterward a missionary to Denmark and Archbishop of -Hamburg. The two Corbys, founded on the same plan, long vied with -each other in the erudition of their masters, the multitude of -their students, and the rarity and number of their books. - -But the monastery and schools of St. Gall surpassed in extent and -variety of studies all their contemporaries. For the benefit of -those who affect to believe that the monasteries of the middle -ages were nests of slothfulness and ignorance, as well as for the -beauty of the sketch itself, we transcribe the following -description from the author before us, premising that it is a -faithful condensation of Ekkehard's account of this celebrated -house, of which he was one of the inmates: - - "The first foundation of St. Gall's belongs, indeed, to a date - far earlier than that of which we are now treating: it owed its - origin to St. Gall, the Irish disciple of St. Columbanus, who, - in the seventh century, penetrated into the recesses of the - Helvetian mountains and there fixed his abode in the midst of a - pagan population. Under the famous abbot, St. Othmar, who - flourished in the time of Pepin, the monks received the - Benedictine rule, and from that time the monastery rapidly grew - in fame and prosperity, so that, in the ninth century, it was - regarded as the first religious house north of the Alps. -{57} - It is with a sigh of irrepressible regret, called forth by the - remembrance of a form of beauty that is dead and gone forever, - that the monastic historian hangs over the early chronicles of - St. Gall. It lay in the midst of the savage Helvetian - wilderness, an oasis of piety and civilization. Looking down - from the craggy mountains, the passes of which open to the - southern extremity of the lake of Constance, the traveller - would have stood amazed at the sudden apparition of that vast - range of stately buildings which almost filled up the valley at - his feet. Churches and cloisters, the offices of a great abbey, - buildings set apart for students and guests, workshops of every - description, the forge, the bakehouse, and the mill, or, - rather, mills, for there were ten of them, all in such active - operation that they every year required ten new millstones; and - then the houses occupied by the vast numbers of artisans and - workmen attached to the monastery; gardens, too, and vineyards - creeping up the mountain slopes, and beyond them fields of - waving corn, and sheep specking the green meadows, and, far - away, boats busily plying on the lake and carrying goods and - passengers--what a world it was of life and activity; yet how - unlike the activity of a town! It was, in fact, not a town, but - a house--a family presided over by a father, whose members were - all knit together in the bonds of common fraternity. I know not - whether the spiritual or social side of such a religious colony - were most fitted to rivet the attention. Descend into the - valley, and visit all the nurseries of useful foil, see the - crowds of rude peasants transformed into intelligent artisans, - and you will carry away the impression that the monks of St. - Gall had found out the secret of creating a world of happy - Christian factories. Enter their church and listen to the - exquisite modulations of those chants and sequences, peculiar - to the abbey, which boasted of possessing the most scientific - school of music in all Europe; visit their scriptorium, their - library, and their school, or the workshop where the monk - Tutilo is putting the finishing touch to his wonderful copper - images and his fine altar-frontals of gold and jewels, and you - will think yourself in some intellectual and artistic academy. - But look into the choir, and behold the hundred monks who form - the community at their midnight office, and you will forget - everything save the saintly aspect of those servants of God, - who shed abroad over the desert around them the good odor of - Christ, and are the apostles of the provinces which own their - gentle sway. You may quit the circuit of the abbey, and plunge - once more into the mountain region which rises beyond the reach - of its softening, humanizing influence. Here are distant cells - and hermitages with their chapels, where the shepherds come for - early mass; or it may be that there meets you, winding over the - mountain paths of which they sing so sweetly, going up and down - among the hills, into the thick forests and the rocky hollows, - a procession of the monks, carrying their relics, and followed - by a peasant crowd. In the schools you may have been listening - to lectures in the learned and even in the Eastern tongues; but - in the churches, and here among the mountains, you will hear - those fine classical scholars preaching plain truths in - barbarous idioms to a rude race, who, before the monks came - among them, sacrificed to the evil one, and worshipped stocks - and stones. - - "Yet, hidden away as it was among its crags and deserts, the - abbey of St. Gall's was almost as much a place of resort as - Rome or Athens, at least to the learned world of the ninth - century. Her schools were a kind of university, frequented by - men of all nations, who came hither to fit themselves for all - professions. You would have found here not monks alone, and - future scholastics, but courtiers, soldiers, and the sons of - kings. The education given was very far from being exclusively - intended for those aspiring to the ecclesiastical state; it had - a large admixture of the secular element, at any rate, in the - exterior school. Not only were the sacred sciences taught with - the utmost care, but the classic authors were likewise - explained: Cicero, Horace, Virgil, Lucan, and Terence were read - by the scholars, and none but very little boys presumed to - speak in anything but Latin. The subjects for their original - compositions were mostly taken from Scripture and church - history, and, having written their exercises, they were - expected to recite them, the proper tones being indicated by - musical notes. Many of the monks excelled as poets, others - cultivated painting and sculpture, and other exquisite and - cloistral arts; all diligently applied to the grammatical - formation of the Tudesque dialect and rendered it capable of - producing a literature of its own. Their library in the eighth - century was only in its infancy, but gradually became one of - the richest in the world. They were in correspondence with all - the learned monastic houses of France and Italy, from whom they - received the precious codex now of a Virgil or a Livy, now of - the sacred books, and sometimes of some rare treatise on - medicine or astronomy. -{58} - They were Greek students, moreover, and those most addicted to - the cultivation of the Cecropian muse were denominated the - 'Fratres Ellencini.' The beauty of their native manuscripts is - praised by all authors, and the names of their best - transcribers find honorable mention in their annals. They - manufactured their own parchment out of the hides of the wild - beasts that roamed through the mountains and forests around - them, and prepared it with such skill that it acquired a - peculiar delicacy. Many hands were employed on a single - manuscript. Some made the parchment, others drew the fair red - lines, others wrote on the pages thus prepared; more skilful - hands put in the gold and the initial letters, and more learned - heads compared the copy with the original text--this duty being - generally discharged during the interval between matins and - lauds, the daylight hours being reserved for actual - transcription. Erasure, when necessary, was rarely made with - the knife, but an erroneous word was delicately drawn through - by the pen, so as not to spoil the beauty of the codex. Lastly - came the binders, who enclosed the whole in boards of wood, - cramped with ivory or iron, the sacred volumes being covered - with plates of gold and adorned with jewels." - -The English missionary scholars of the eighth century were -followed in the ninth by their Irish brethren in even greater -numbers. St. Bernard, in his _Life of St. Malachi_, notices -this learned invasion, and Henry of Auxerre declares that it -appeared as if the whole of Ireland were about to pass into Gaul. -Virgil, Bishop of Saltzburg, was not only a learned man, but an -ardent promoter of education. Clement, who succeeded Alcuin as -scholasticus of the Palatine school, was an excellent Greek -linguist. Dungal, his companion, opened an academy at Pavia, and -finally died at Bobbio, to which he bequeathed his valuable -classical library. Marx and his nephew Moengall settled at St. -Gall in 840, where the latter became master of the interior -school, and introduced the study of Greek; and finally Scotus -Erigena appeared in the literary firmament, like a comet in -brilliancy, and as portentous of dire strifes and contests. -Erigena, who first came into notoriety by his translation of -_Dionysius the Areopagite_, was unquestionably the most -erudite man of his time, powerful in argument and exceedingly -subtle in discussion, with a perfect knowledge of the learned -languages, science, and the profane literature of both ancients -and moderns. His great gifts, however, were sadly marred by -extravagant vanity and a pugnacity which brought him into -collision with nearly every contemporary of note. He wrote many -books, in which he advanced opinions more remarkable for their -boldness and originality than for soundness; and finally, his -writings having been condemned by several provincial councils, he -was obliged to retire from the Palatine school, of which he had -enjoyed the direction for many years under Charles the Bald. - -Let us now return to the country of St. Boniface and of Alcuin, -which we left at the beginning of the ninth century, in the -plenitude of its intellectual greatness. What a change has taken -place in seventy-five years! Churches, monasteries, and schools -in utter ruin; the weeds growing rank over broken altars; the -reptile crawling undisturbed where worked the busy hands of a -thousand monks; and the solitude of the once noisy school -disturbed only by the flutter of the bat or the screech of the -night owl. The fierce Northmen, the barbaric executors of the -Huns and Vandals, had been over the land, and desolation -everywhere marked their foot-prints. "The Anglo-Saxon Church," -says Lingard, "presented a melancholy spectacle; the laity had -resumed the ferocious manners of their pagan forefathers; the -clergy had grown indolent, dissolute, and illiterate; the -monastic order was apparently annihilated." -{59} -When Alfred had crushed the Danish power at the battle of -Ethandun in 873, and, like a wise prince, proposed to revive -learning in his kingdom, he could not find one ecclesiastic south -of the Thames who understood the divine service, or who knew how -to translate Latin into English. Nevertheless, this king, justly -surnamed the Great, resolutely set himself to work, and, with the -help of the West British scholar, Asser, Grimbald of Rheims, John -of Old Saxony, and other foreign monks, effected many useful -reforms, and to a limited extent provided the means of education -for his benighted subjects, setting the example himself by -diligent and persevering study. He commenced to learn Latin at -thirty-six, and left after him several works, principally -translations from that language. - -The grand designs of Alfred were not carried out in his lifetime. -Their execution was reserved for St. Dunstan, a pupil of some -poor Irish monks who had settled in the ruins of the old abbey of -his native town, Glastonbury, and supported themselves by -teaching the children of the neighboring peasantry. How strange a -coincidence that the countrymen of Columba and Aidan were again -to be the instruments, under Providence, of bringing back to -England the light of the gospel, and all that adorns and -beautifies life. St. Dunstan's reforms were of the most sweeping -nature; he introduced the Benedictine rule in all its strictness, -not only at Glastonbury, but in every monastery he restored or -established; and, despairing of effecting any good through the -medium of the secular clergy, he unhesitatingly turned them -adrift, and proceeded to create a new and more intelligent body -out of the young men who surrounded him: an exercise of authority -the right to which he derived from his position as primate and -apostolic legate. Of the assistants of St. Dunstan in his work of -reorganization, the most active were St. Ethelwold, a close -student not only of classics, but of Anglo-Saxon, in which -language he composed several poems; AElfric, author of several -school-books in Latin and Anglo-Saxon, and translator of Latin, -German, and French; Abbo of Fleury came to England and taught for -him in the school of Ramsey; and the monks of Corby, mindful, no -doubt, of their ancient origin, sent him some of their best -students, well versed in monastic discipline. From this time -forth England, despite the occasional inroads of the Danes and -the Norman conquest, advanced steadily in educational progress -until the blight of the "Reformation" long after threw her back -into ignorance and unbelief. - -Britain was not the only country which suffered from the greedy -and ubiquitous sea-kings. Ireland, France, Italy, even to the -suburbs of Rome, were ravished by those barbarians during the -tenth century. In some countries, as in Italy and Ireland, they -were eventually expelled or subdued; in others, like France, they -made a permanent lodgment, and were strong enough to dictate -terms to kings. Wherever they appeared, they seem to have been -actuated by the same diabolical lust of plunder and murder, the -monasteries and schools being special objects of hatred, and -favorite places where their ferocity could be gratified at little -risk of opposition. Even the Saracens, taking courage from the -distractions of the times, took possession of accessible points -on the French coast, and added to the general disorder. -{60} -It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that the tenth century is -generally considered the darkest intellectual epoch in our era. -Germany perhaps was the only country comparatively free from -those disturbing causes, and, under the protection of a line of -sagacious kings, the cause of learning, if it did not advance -with rapid strides, certainly did not retrograde. That country -continued to produce great teachers like Adelberon, Bennon, -Notker, and Gerbert, afterward Pope Sylvester II., and to sustain -such schools as St. Gall's, Richneau, and Gorze. - -With the opening of the eleventh century we begin to perceive the -gradual decay of the monastic schools, the rise of scholasticism -and the university system, and the consequent evils resulting -from the teachings of irresponsible and sceptical professors. -Heretofore Christian education went hand in hand with religion; -the priest who celebrated the divine mysteries in the morning -taught his assembled pupils during the day; religion became more -beautiful, clothed, as she was, in the garments of science and -art; and education was ennobled by losing its selfishness and -pride in its contact with the faith; humility, order, and -obedience marked the scholar, and disinterestedness and a deep -sense of the greatness of his calling distinguished the master. -Teaching with the monks was a sacred duty, a means by which they -might gain salvation and "shine like stars for all eternity;" -with the scholastics of the eleventh and succeeding centuries it -became a profession like that of law or medicine, in the exercise -of which money and notoriety could be gained, opponents silenced, -and, as was too often the case, vanity gratified and senseless -applause won from the unthinking multitude. The school ceased to -be a holy retreat, and the professor's chair was converted into a -rostrum from which the most absurd and illogical dogmas were -fulminated, alike dangerous to religion, morals, and good -government. In the statement of abuses presented to the Council -of Trent in 1537-63 by the commission appointed by Paul III., it -is declared that "it is a great and pernicious abuse that, in the -public schools, especially in Italy, many philosophers teach -impiety;" and it is a well-recognized fact in history that, from -the time the universities adopted the study of the Roman civil -law, to the exclusion almost of ecclesiastical and common law, -they became the strongest bulwarks of despotic power, and the -pliant tools of absolute princes. - -It is true that the change was gradual and almost imperceptible -to its friends and enemies; but, when we come to compare the wild -vagaries of Berengarius, the eloquent but empty harangues of -Abelard, the scepticism of Erasmus, and the revelries which -disgraced such universities as Oxford and Paris, with the moral -spirit and peaceful calm that brooded over the monasteries of St. -Gall, Fulda, and Glastenbury, we can at once perceive to what -monstrous excesses the mind of man is prone when unrestrained by -religion. Many of the old-established monastic schools continued -to flourish, and new ones, like that of Bec and the college of -St. Victor's at Paris, became celebrated. Men distinguished for -piety and learning were numerous during the middle ages, -notwithstanding the growing tendency toward irreligion and -heresy; among whom may be mentioned such theologians as St. -Thomas and Anselm, scholars like Lanfranc and Thomas à Kempis, -great doctors like St. Bernard and John Duns Scotus, devotees of -science such as Albertus Magnus and Roger Bacon, authors of the -calibre of William of Malmsbury, and the almost inspired writer -of the _Following of Christ_, St. Bonaventure, and Peter the -Venerable. - -{61} - -But the schools of Europe, notwithstanding the examples and -exhortations of those illustrious divines, continued in their -downward tendency toward materialism. The introduction of Eastern -books of philosophy, due to the returned crusaders, the Arabic -symbolism and pretended magic of some of the Spanish schools, -and, finally, the fall of Constantinople and the dispersion of -Greek scholars over Europe: all had their peculiar and decided -influence on the manners and views of the generations which -immediately preceded the Council of Trent. Seminaries had -entirely disappeared, so that ecclesiastical education could only -be obtained in the dissolute and noisy universities, and it -became the fashion with the _dilettanti_ of the great cities -to ridicule and underrate the quiet teachings of the country -monasteries. - -The Council of Trent, mindful of the welfare of the children of -the church, took the first great step toward the correction of -those abuses. By its eighteenth chapter, twenty-seventh sessions, -it reestablished the seminaries in every diocese in Christendom, -giving to each bishop authority over the professors, and making -the expense of educating ecclesiastics a charge on the faithful. -In accordance with this decree, an unwonted degree of activity -was observable in Europe. Provincial councils took steps to -enforce it in their special localities; saints, like Charles of -Borromeo, became champions of genuine Christian education, and -the Dominicans, the Franciscans, and the illustrious order of the -Jesuits vied with each other in their devotion to its interests, -and became the inheritors of the glories of the monks of Saints -Benedict and Columbanus. - -In looking back for fifteen centuries, and perusing the long and -brilliant catalogue of those holy teachers who, through danger, -degradation, and defeat, never allowed their minds to swerve from -the even tenor of their way; who cared as tenderly for the soul -and intellect of the poor young barbarian as for the nursling of -a palace; who despised death, and braved alike the fury of the -savage and the wrath of princes, that they might win souls to God -and develop the God-given gift of human genius; we are lost in -astonishment at the ignorance or mendacity, or both, of some -modern writers who unblushingly repeat and exaggerate the slander -of the post-"Reformation" writers against the monks of the middle -ages. With a history like that of the _Christian Schools and -Scholars_ before us, so fruitful in incidents and so -suggestive of moral lessons, we are equally at a loss to account -for the tenacity with which people, otherwise sensible, cling to -the idea of education divorced from moral instruction. Whatever -is great in the past, personally or nationally -considered--whatever was pure, unselfish, and heroic, is due, and -only due, to the monk-teachers of the Christian church. They were -not only the custodians of the books which we now prize so much, -but they were the conservators of arts, science, and literature, -and the originators and discoverers of most of the useful -inventions which now adorn life and make men more civilized, and -bring them nearer to their Creator. They were not only all this, -but they were, as soldiers of the church, the guardians of -civilization itself, and without them the darkness that -enshrouded the world would have been as perpetual as the causes -which produced it were active, and, against any other power, -irresistible. - --------- - -{62} - - Our Lady. - - - - "Ancilla Domini." - - - The Crown of creatures, first in place, - Was _most_ a creature; is such still: - Naught, naught by nature--all by grace-- - The Elect one of the Eternal Will. - - She was a Nothing that in Him - A creature's sole perfection found; - She was the great Rock's shadow dim; - She was the Silence, not the Sound. - - She was the Hand of Earth forthheld - In adoration's self-less suit; - A hushed Dependence, tranced and spelled, - Still yearning toward the Absolute. - - Before the Power Eternal bowed - She hung, a soft Subjection mute, - As when a rainbow breasts the cloud - That mists some mountain cataract's foot. - - She was a sea-shell from the deep - Of God--her function this alone-- - Of Him to whisper, as in sleep, - In everlasting undertone. - - This hour her eyes on Him are set: - And they who tread the earth she trod - With nearest heart to hers, forget - Themselves in her, and her in God. - - - II. - - MATER FILII. - - - He was no Conqueror, borne abroad - On all the fiery winds of fame, - That overstrides a world o'erawed - To write in desert sands his name. - - No act triumphant, no conquering blow - Redeemed mankind from Satan's thrall: - By _suffering_ He prevailed, that so - His Father might be all in all. - -{63} - - His Godhead, veiled from mortal eye, - Showed forth that Father's Godhead still, - As calm seas mirror starry skies - Because themselves invisible. - - Thus Mary in "the Son" was hid: - Her motherhood her only boast, - She nothing said, she nothing did: - Her light in His was merged and lost. - - - III. - - Nazareth; or, The Hidden Greatness - - - Ever before his eyes unsealed - The Beatific Vision stood: - If God from her that splendor veiled - Awhile, in Him she looked on God. - - The Eternal Spirit o'er them hung - Like air: like leaves on Eden trees - Around them thrilled the viewless throng - Of archangelic Hierarchies. - - Yet neither He Who said of yore, - "Let there be light!" and all was Day, - Nor she that, still a creature, wore - Creation's Crown, and wears for aye, - - To mortal insight wondrous seemed: - The wanderer smote their lowly door, - Partook their broken bread, and deemed - The donors kindly--nothing more. - - In Eden thus that primal Pair - (Undimmed as yet their first estate) - Sat, side by side, in silent prayer-- - Their first of sunsets fronting, sat. - - And now the lion, now the pard, - Piercing the Cassia bowers, drew nigh, - Fixed on the Pair a mute regard, - Half-pleased, half-vacant; then passed by. - - - Aubrey De Vere. - Feast Of The Assumption, 1867. - --------- -{64} - - Our Boy-Organist. - - What He Saw, And What Came Of It. - - -"How was it, doctor, that you first thought about it?" - -Well, I suppose I had better tell you the whole story. It may -interest you. Just twenty years ago, on a bright Sunday morning, -I was hurrying along the road home to Tinton, hoping to be in -time to hear the sermon at church. My watch told me that I should -be too late for the morning prayer. Happening to look across the -fields, I was surprised to see little Ally Dutton, our -boy-organist, running very fast over the meadows, leaping the -fences at a bound, and finally disappear in the woods. "What -could possibly take our organist away during church time? -Surely," thought I, "the minister must be sick. And, being the -village doctor, I hurried still faster. - -"But what could take our boy-organist in that out-of-the-way -direction at such an hour, and in such haste? Is it mischief?" I -asked myself. But I banished that thought immediately, for Ally -had no such reputation. "There must be something wrong, however; -for he ran so fast, and Ally is such a quiet, old-fashioned lad. -The minister is ill, at any rate," said I to myself, "or Ally -would not be absent." Contrary to my expectations, I found the -minister preaching as usual. I do not recollect any thing of the -sermon now except the text. Rev. Mr. Billups, our minister, had a -fashion of repeating his texts very often, sometimes very -appropriately, and sometimes not. It was Pilate's question to our -Lord: "What is truth?" You will see, after what happened -subsequently, that I had another reason for remembering it -besides its frequent repetition. The sermon ended, the hymn was -sung, but the organ was silent. The silence seemed ominous. I -cannot explain why; perhaps it was one of those strange -presentiments of disaster, but I fancied our boy-organist dead. I -loved Ally very much, and my heart sank within me as I looked up -through the drawn choir-curtains, and missed his slight little -form, perched up as he was wont to be, on a pile of books so as -to bring his hands on a level with the key-board, trolling forth -his gay little voluntary as the congregation dispersed after -service. I missed his voice in the hymn, too; those clear, -ringing tones which were far sweeter to me than any notes that -musical instrument ever breathed. I was so filled with this -presentiment of coming evil that I did not dare to ask any one -the cause of his absence. "Pooh!" said I to myself, "there is -nothing in it. I saw him but just now alive, and well enough, if -I may judge from the way he cleared those fences and the -swiftness of his footsteps as he ran across the meadows." I -thought no more of it until a messenger came two or three days -afterward to my office and said: - -"Will you please, doctor, come down to the widow Button's? Ally -is sick." - -"I will come immediately," said I to the messenger. "We shall -lose our boy-organist," said I to myself. And so we did; but not -as you suppose. Ally became--but I must not anticipate. - -{65} - -I found our much loved boy-organist in a high fever. "He has been -constantly raving all night," said his mother, in answer to my -inquiries, "about what he has seen. There has been something -preying on his mind lately," she continued. "He has been very sad -and nervous, and I fear it has helped to make him ill." - -In a tone of command, which I find will often elicit a direct -answer from patients whose minds are wandering, I said to him: -"Ally, answer me directly, sir; what did you see?" - -With his eyes still staring at the ceiling he answered in a -wondering manner, "God!" - -I was sorely perplexed what further question to ask, but, -thinking to lead him on gradually to some more reasonable answer, -as I thought, I asked, "Where?" - -"The kneeling people and the priest," he replied dreamily. "And -Jesus said, Neither do I condemn thee." And here he burst into -tears. Then the remembrance of the last Sunday morning came back -to my mind, and I knew what had taken Ally across the fields, and -what he had seen. He was so faint and weak, his pulse fluttered -so unsteadily, that I feared the worst, and the anxious, -searching look of the mother read my tell-tale countenance. She -began to weep violently. - -"Mother!" cried Ally. - -"Yes, my child," she responded quickly, and bent over and kissed -him. - -"Don't cry, mother. God will not let me die till I know what is -true, first." - -"That is a strange remark," thought I, "for a boy like him to -make. What can he mean?" - -"My darling Ally," said the widow, "you do know what is true. You -always say what is true." - -"Why should they say it isn't true, then?" asked Ally. - -"What isn't true, my dear?" "God!" answered the boy, turning his -eyes upward to the ceiling again, and looking, as it were, at -some object miles away, "and the kneeling people, and the priest. -It's true, and no lie. This is my body, this is my blood." And he -joined his hot and feverish little hands together as if in -prayer. - -"Don't trouble about this," said I to the weeping mother. "I know -what it is. He has been down to Mike Maloney's, in the Brook -woods, and seen the Catholic Mass. Don't refer to it again just -now. I will give him some composing medicine. But I wish," I -added, "that this had not happened. It only tends to weaken him." - -Presently I noticed him playing with his fingers on the coverlet -as if he were playing the organ. I thought to take advantage of -this, and said: - -"Ally, my boy, get well soon, now, and let us have a grand -voluntary on the organ--one of your very best." - -"For God, for Mass, for the kneeling people and the priest," he -murmured. - -"Oh! never mind the Mass," said I, "that's nothing to you." - -Turning his eyes suddenly upon? me, he cried: - -"O doctor! it seems everything to me. I never can forget it. How -could anybody ever forget they had seen Mass. Could you?" - -"That I can't say, Ally," I replied; "for I never saw it." - -"Never saw it! Why, I've seen, it." - -"Often?" I asked. - -"Well--I saw it--_one_ Sunday, anyway," answered Ally, with -the air of one who had never been anywhere else all his life. - -"What was it like, Ally dear?" asked the mother. - -"Like heaven, mother, if the angels had only been there." - -{66} - -"Angels!" said I contemptuously. "Pretty place to find angels, in -Mike Maloney's shanty! Why, it's like a stable." - -Again Ally's eyes went up to the ceiling, and, while his fingers -nervously played an invisible organ on the coverlet, he began to -sing, so plaintively and sadly that it quite unmanned me: - - "He came down to earth from heaven, - Who is God and Lord of all, - And his shelter was a stable, - And his cradle was a stall. - With the poor, and mean, and lowly, - Lived on earth our Saviour holy." - -The widow and I stood watching and listening long after he had -ceased singing. In a few moments a lucid interval occurred, and, -noticing me, he said: - -"Doctor, why can't we have Mass in our church? Oh! wouldn't I -like to play the organ for it always till I died!" - -"We couldn't have Mass, Ally," I replied, "because it is only -Catholic priests who can say Mass." - -"Is it? I know I'd like to play the organ forever and ever for -the Mass; but I'd rather be a priest. Oh! a thousand, thousand -times rather!" And his pale, sad face lighted up with an -unearthly glow. - -Seeing I could not divert his mind from the subject, and fearing -to continue a conversation which excited him so much, I quietly -gave directions to his mother, and left. I had little hopes of -Ally's recovery, but his words made a deep impression on my mind: -"_God will not let me die till I know what is true, first_." -"What truth can he mean?" thought I. "Can he have imagined he -does not know the true religion? What can have made him think -that our Episcopal Church is not true? What strange fancies will -get into some children's heads! I should be sorry to lose Ally, -but I'd rather see him die, I think, than grow up to be a Roman -Catholic. Ugh! and a priest too, perhaps, who knows? God forbid!" -Revolving these disagreeable thoughts in my head as I went down -the street, I met Mr. Billups, our minister. We shook hands, or -rather I shook Mr. Billups's hand while he shook his head, a -manner of his that gave him a general doubting air, somewhat -puzzling to strangers. - -"Mr. Billups," said I, "do you know that Ally Button is ill?" - -"No, I did not hear it," he replied, emphasizing the word -_did_, as much as to say, "But I hear it now." Although the -negative accompaniment with his head would seem to imply that he -did not quite believe it. - -"Yes, and very ill too," I added. "If his mind becomes calmer -than it is, I think it might do good just to drop in and see him. -I fear he has been under some bad influences lately." - -"You astonish me, not to say grieve me," rejoined Mr. Billups. -"Ally was always a good, pious boy, and one of our head boys, as -you are aware, in the Sunday-school." - -"I mean," said I, "that he has been reading or hearing something -about Catholics and their Mass, and other things; and it really -has made a deep impression on his mind, which ought to be -effaced; that is," I added, "in case he recovers, which I fear is -doubtful." - -"Of course, of course, which ought to be effaced," repeated he. -"Not a doubt of it. I remember, now, Mrs. White, his -Sunday-school teacher, telling me that he had asked her in class -what the sixth chapter of St. John meant. I hope he has not been -reading that chapter of the Bible _too_ attentively, for it -is calculated, I am sorry to say, to make a deep, very deep, not -to say, in regard to the popish Mass doctrine, a most alarming -impression upon the mind, especially of a boy like Ally." - -{67} - -"Well, if you see him," said I, not much relishing this opinion -about the Bible being in favor of Catholic doctrines, "you can -manage to bring the subject up, and easily explain its true -meaning to him." - -"Yes, oh! yes! easily explain its true meaning to him," again -repeated Mr. Billups after me, yet looking rather puzzled, as I -thought, and doubtful of success; but perhaps it was only his -manner that gave me that impression. "Would to-morrow, think you, -do, doctor?" he continued, after a pause, "I am quite busy, just -now." - -"Better," I replied, "much better; Ally is very low at this -moment." I do not know what made me say it, but Ally's words came -suddenly to my mind again, and I added confidently: "He will not -die just yet. He will surely be better to-morrow." - -I bade Mr. Billups good-morning, not at all satisfied. "The sixth -chapter of St. John! the sixth chapter of St. John!" I went on -repeating to myself. Strange! I have never read that chapter with -any thought of the doctrine of Catholics. And yet, to judge from -what the minister said, it might trouble the mind, even of a -child. As I waited in the parlor of a sick lady whom I went to -visit before returning home, I could not refrain from turning -over the leaves of a large family Bible on the centre-table, and -finding the chapter in question. I had not time, however, to read -many verses before I was summoned to the sick-chamber. Attention -to my professional duties drove the subject from my mind during -the rest of the day, and I retired to rest considerably exhausted -and fatigued. - -"Now for a good sleep," said I to myself, "and a quick one, for I -shouldn't wonder if I were called up to Ally again before -morning." But I could not sleep. Tossing to and fro in the bed, I -began to question myself about the cause of my sleeplessness; I -soon found it. The thought of Ally had revived the memory of that -sixth chapter of St. John. "Well," said I, "I will remove the -cause by just getting up and reading it, and there will be an end -of it. Then I shall sleep." So I rose and lit my lamp, got out my -Bible, and there, half-dressed, read the troublesome chapter. As -I reflected upon what I was doing, I felt more like a thief, a -midnight robber, or some designing villain laying plans for -murder or housebreaking, than as an honest Christian reading his -Bible; for was I not allowing myself to do what was calculated to -make a deep, not to say an alarming impression on my mind, that -the Catholic religion was true, and the Protestant religion -false? - -Now, without vanity I say it, few people know their Bibles better -than I did, and, although I must have read that identical chapter -many times, it seemed to me that I had never read it before. I -thank God for that midnight perusal of my Bible. - -One thing I then and there determined, for private reasons of my -own, which was, to be on hand at Mrs. Button's when the minister -called; and there I was. Ally was a good deal better and -brighter. After some commonplace remarks, Mr. Billups said to -Ally: - -"You are fond of reading your Bible, are you not, my dear child; -and would you not like me to read a little of the Word to you?" - -"Oh! yes, sir," answered the boy eagerly. - -"I will read for you, then," continued Mr. Billups, producing a -Bible from his pocket, "a most beautiful and instructive passage -from St. John's gospel, commencing at the sixth chapter." -{68} -He said this in such a church-reading tone that Mrs. Dutton -instinctively responded as far as "Glory be"--but, discovering -her mistake, covered it up with a very loud cough. Mr. Billups -read the chapter, but quite differently from the manner in which -I had read it; slowly and distinctly where I had read rather -quickly, that is, from the beginning to the fiftieth verse; and -quickly where I had read slowly, from that verse to the end. - -"That's very beautiful, and very strange," said Ally pensively, -as the minister paused at the end of the chapter. "But, Mr. -Billups, is it all true?" - -"The Bible, my dear Ally ought to know, is all true," replied Mr. -Billups. - -"And did Jesus give his flesh and blood, as he said he would?" -asked Ally. - -"Yes, my child," answered Mr. Billups, "he certainly made all his -promises good." - -"I wish I knew where," said Ally inquiringly. "I asked Mrs. -White, and she said she didn't know, and that I asked too many -questions." - -"When he died on the cross, and shed his blood for our -salvation," said the minister solemnly, closing the Bible, and -looking at me as if he would say: "There's an end of the whole -matter: you see how easily I have explained it to him." Ally did -not, however, seem so easily satisfied. - -"But where can we get it to eat and drink?" asked he. "Jesus said -we must eat and drink it." - -Mr. Billups again glanced at me with a look which I interpreted -to mean, "I fear he has been reading this _too_ -attentively," and then said: - -"You partake of it by faith, my child, but you do not really eat -it." - -"I must _believe_ I eat it, and don't eat it after all," -said Ally explanatorily. - -"Yes--no--not precisely," replied Mr. Billups, with some -confusion of manner, and coughing two or three short little -coughs in his hand. "We eat the communion bread, and drink the -communion wine, and then we believe we partake, by faith, of the -body and blood of the Saviour." - -"But, then," asked Ally, pushing the difficulty, "don't we eat -and drink what we _believe_ we eat and drink?" - -"H'm, h'm," coughed the minister, shifting uneasily in his seat. -"We believe--we think--in short, as I was about to remark, we -have faith in Jesus Christ as our blessed Saviour." - -"But don't eat his flesh nor drink his blood?" added Ally. - -"Not at all, not at all," replied Mr. Billups decidedly. - -"Then I can't see what the Bible means," said Ally, scratching -his head in a disappointed manner: "Except ye eat the flesh of -the Son of Man, and drink his blood, ye cannot have life in you." - -"My dear, de-ar child," cried Mr. Billups, quite distractedly, -"what _can_ you have been reading to put this in your head?" - -"Only the Bible, sir," replied Ally simply, "what you have read -just now, sir, and the story of the Last Supper; and I heard -Pompey Simpson say it was all true." - -"Pompey Simpson," returned Mr. Billups, "is a negro, and I am -sorry," he continued, turning to me, "I should say both grieved -and shocked, to add, doctor, one of those misguided beings -groping in the darkness of Roman idolatry, whose numbers are -increasing to an alarming extent in our country. Have nothing to -do with Pompey Simpson, my dear," again addressing Ally, "or who -knows you might be led away to become a Romanist?" -{69} -An event which Mr. Billups's head intimated at that moment to be -too deplorable to be expressed. "Yes, one of those emissaries of -giant Pope, described so truthfully in Bunyan's _Pilgrim's -Progress_, as you remember. Do not go near them, Ally, for my -sake, for your mother's sake, for the sake of the church of your -baptism, or they will make you like unto them, an idolatrous -worshipper of the host; which, as you have never seen it, I will -tell you, is only a piece of bread. You see what ignorant, -deluded people these Catholics must be. Just to think of it--to -worship a piece of bread!" - -"But the Catholic is the old church and the first one, Pompey -said," rejoined Ally, "and the old church ought to know. Besides, -I--I--saw it myself." - -"Saw it yourself!" exclaimed Mr. Billups, his hair fairly -standing upright with horror. "My organist dare to enter a popish -Mass-house!" And he frowned very severely at the widow. - -"It was only Mike Maloney's," said Ally deprecatingly. "And the -priest in his beautiful robes, and the people all kneeling -around, didn't look mistaken, sir; and I felt so sure that God -was there," continued Ally, trembling, "that I'm all the time -thinking about it. Somehow I can't drive it out of my mind." - -"Your son, madam," said the minister, turning to Ally's mother, -"_must_ drive this out of his mind. It would be a fearful -calamity, madam, to have a child whom you have reared, and, I may -add in behalf of the vestry of our church, an organist, whose -salary we have paid, fall into the toils of the man of sin. It -would be well to curb the inquiring mind of your son, madam, and -restrain his wandering footsteps; because, if he is permitted to -worship at a foreign altar, he can no longer exercise the -position of--in short--perform on the organ of our church. -Good-morning." And he rose abruptly, and left the house. - -All this nettled me. I had hoped he could easily explain the -doubts in the boy's mind, not to mention my own, and it -exasperated me to see him have recourse to such base means to -silence these doubts, instead of using kindly Christian counsel -and teaching. To deprive Ally of his situation, and the widow of -the support which his salary gave, would be, I knew, to inflict a -heavy loss upon them. Unwilling to depart and leave the widow and -son without some comfort, and yet not knowing what to say, I went -to the window and looked out, flattening my nose against the -glass in a most uncomfortable state of mind, and presenting a -spectacle to the passers-by which must have impressed them with -the conviction of my being subject to temporary fits of -derangement. As I stood there, I heard Ally say to his mother: - -"Don't cry, mother. I won't be a Catholic if it isn't true. But -it's better to know what's true than to play the organ or get any -salary, if it's ever so big. Isn't it, mother?" - -I assented to this sentiment so strongly with my head that I -nearly put my nose through the window-pane, an action that -elicited a strong stare for my supposed impudence from the two -Misses Stocksup, daughters of the Honorable Washington Stocksup, -who happened to be passing the house at that moment. - -"So it is, my dear," answered the widow. "But I'm afraid, my -darling, you are only fancying something to be true that is not -true." - -"Doctor!" cried Ally, appealing to me, "isn't it true? Oh! it -must be true!" - -{70} - -"I can't say I believe it is," I replied, "but I'm very much -afraid it is." - -"Afraid!" exclaimed Ally, "what makes you afraid?" - -Poor Ally! He could little comprehend how much it would cost him -or me to say we believed it to be true. Excusing myself with all -sorts of bungling remarks, I left the house, my mind torn by many -conflicting doubts and emotions. Ally slowly, very slowly -recovered. In the mean time a new organist, a poor man with a -dreadful asthma, as I recollect, had taken his place. Deprived of -the aid which his salary afforded them, the widow and Ally found -it hard to live. - -The minister, it seems, related to his wife what had taken place -at Ally's sick-bed, and it soon got bruited about that both Ally -and his mother were going to turn Catholics. They soon left the -village, and I did not hear of them until several years after. As -for myself, it was not long before I took Ally's way across the -fields to Mike Maloney's shanty, and now you know how I first -came to think about it. - -"What became of Ally?" - -Well, I'll tell you. One day I happened to be in the city of -Newark. It was the festival of Corpus Christi, and crowds were -flocking to St. Patrick's cathedral to assist at the grand -ceremonies that were to take place. At the gospel the preacher -ascended the pulpit, and what was my surprise to recognize in the -person of the youthful priest my dear boy-organist, Ally Dutton. -He took for his text these words, "This is my body, this is my -blood," and preached a powerful and eloquent sermon. After the -services were concluded I went to the presbytery to call upon -him, but he did not recognize me; so I said: - -"Allow me, reverend sir, to thank you for your beautiful sermon. -This doctrine of the real presence which you Catholics hold is a -wonderful and a very consoling doctrine; and what is more, _I -am rather afraid it is true_." - -"Afraid!" answered Ally, smiling. "That reminds me of a dear old -friend of mine who once said the same thing, but he was not long -overcoming his fears." - -"And the dear old friend is sorry now," added I, looking at him -closely, "that it was even so long as it was." - -"Doctor!" - -"Ally!" - -As I knelt to crave the blessing of our quondam boy-organist, now -a priest of the holy Catholic church, he caught me in his arms -and folded me in a warm embrace. - ------- -{71} - - Translated from les Etudes Religieuses, etc., etc. - - The Martyrs of Gorcum. - - - I. - -We hear it sometimes asked, "Why does the Catholic Church have so -many canonizations, jubilees, and religious displays?" We pity -those who speak in this way, for they do not seem to understand -the destiny of the church. If the church, connected as she is -with the advance of the human race, has her interests to look -after in the revolutions which agitate the world; if, in order to -defend her rights which are attacked or are not recognized, she -is obliged occasionally to interfere in the struggles which arise -between men, this is but one aspect of her history, though it -seems to be the only one which impresses superficial and -unthinking minds. At the same time that she shows this exterior -action of catholicity, there is wrought in her heart a mysterious -work, which reveals the divine illuminations of the faith. It is -an admirable exchange, a divine intercourse between heaven and -earth--the world offering to heaven its supplications, its -atonements, the heroic virtues of its saints, and the merits of -its martyrs; heaven bestowing upon the world its aid for the -combat, its abundant graces, the seeds of sanctity. At certain -eventful periods, when greater perils call forth more generous -sacrifices and more earnest appeals to heaven, the mystery of -this inward life of the church shines forth in marvellous events, -which overturn all preconceived human opinion, and confound the -wisdom of the world. We see, then, a throne, which remains firm -without any apparent support, and on this throne an old, helpless -man, who holds all the powers of revolution in check; we see a -society, against which are unchained all anarchical passions, -face the storm which threatens to overwhelm it, proclaim its -proscribed doctrines without fear, lead nations which had -wandered into the paths of naturalism back to the fold of the -church, and maintain its independence against the coalition of -tyrannies. - -Has a pontificate ever shown this divine spectacle of the -struggle of spiritual forces with the powers of materialism -better than that of Pius IX.? To the increasing oppression of -vice the pope does not cease to oppose the miracles of virtue and -the fruits of grace which distinguish the elect of God. To the -insolent cries of error he replies by the calm affirmation of -eternal truth. The assaults of impiety he resists only by the -prayers of pure souls, by the intercession of those saints to -whom he has granted the honors of veneration, and by the aid of -the Blessed Virgin, whose conception he has proclaimed -immaculate. So, when a voice, disturbing the harmony of our love -and gratitude, was lately heard to ask the ill-timed question, -"_Why so many saints?_" what was the reply of the pontiff, -in whom his faithful children venerate the wise man of the -gospel, drawing from his treasure in opportune time the old good -and the new? "They reproach me," said he, with his accustomed -sweetness, "for making too many saints, but I cannot promise to -correct this fault. Have we not more need than ever of -intercessors in heaven, and models of religious virtue in the -world?" - -{72} - -In 1852, a distinguished prelate, who has since entered into the -repose of the Lord, Mgr. de Salinis, pointed out to the faithful -of the diocese of Amiens, in announcing a jubilee, the -supernatural character which distinguishes the acts of Pius IX. -"You do not ask," he wrote, "the reason of the munificence which -lavishes upon you favors which at other times go forth but rarely -from the treasure of the church. It suffices for us to know that -the Vicar of Jesus Christ receives light from above which is -given only to him. He who holds the keys of the kingdom of heaven -can alone tell the time when it is good to spread over the earth -the waves of divine mercy. He who directs the bark of the church -through the storms of this world can question the winds, and -discover in the horizon the signs which warn him to urge on the -journey of the ship. He who is the common father of all -Christians alone knows the needs of his immense family. His -glance, which watches over every place that the sun shines -upon--his solicitude, which embraces all evil and all virtue--his -heart, which feels all the sorrows of the Spouse of Christ--his -prayers, in which are summed up all the prayers of the church, -the particular inspiration which God reserves for him who holds -his place on earth--all these reveal to him, so far as is -necessary, the proportion which should exist between grace and -misery." [Footnote 9] - - [Footnote 9: _Charges, Pastoral Instructions, and Various - Discourses of Mgr. de Salinis._ Paris, Vaton. 1856.] - -This is the reply that should be made to these _petite -génies_ who presume to criticise the holy see, and put the -counsels of their mean diplomacy in the place of the inspirations -of God. Do these men, whose minds are so enlightened, not see -that they are in the presence of an administration of -supernatural power? Do they not suspect the strength of the -church militant ranged about its chief, and praying with him for -the assistance of the church triumphant? Do they not witness the -pious eagerness of the people to venerate, to invoke, and to -imitate the new patrons which are given them? - -The eyes of all the obedient children of the church are now -turned toward Rome. The Catholic world, in a rapture of faith and -piety, is united to the pilgrims of the holy city, to the -bishops, and to the bishop of bishops, celebrating the triumph of -Peter, always living and reigning in his successor, applauding -the glory of the legion of the blessed, that the churches of -Poland, of Spain, of the Netherlands, of Italy, of France, and of -Japan have given to the church of Rome, their common mother, and -to the church of heaven, the lasting city of the elect. - -We should have liked, if our space and time allowed, to say -something of the many beautiful subjects that this happy time -suggests; the coming, the episcopate, and the martyrdom of St. -Peter at Rome, the lives and virtues of the saints proposed for -our veneration. We should have taken pleasure in retracing the -sweet picture of that humble child of the people who represents -France in this illustrious group of the Blessed; of that little -shepherdess of Pibrac, whose name will henceforth be popular in -the fatherland of Genevieve and Joan of Arc. [Footnote 10] But -who among us has not heard of Germaine Cousin, her poor and -suffering life, her angelic virtues, the marvellous favors due to -her intercession? And who can add to the glory of this young -saint, who, in addition to the honor of being placed upon our -altars, has had such a historian as M. Louis Veuillot and such a -panegyrist as the Bishop of Poitiers? - - [Footnote 10: _Vie, Vertus et Miracles de la B. Germaine - Cousin, bergère. Par M. Louis Veuillot. Paris, Palmé. OEuvres - de M. l'Eveque de Poitiers_, t. ii. p. 109.] - -{73} - -We propose, then, to follow those saints who are at present less -known among us, but which in the future must not be strangers. It -is a page in the history of the church which should be made -prominent, and in devoting our time to it we are sure of -obtaining the approbation of him whom God has given us to be at -once our Father and our Master. - - - II. - -We are aware that even the name of the martyrs of Gorcum was -until recently quite unknown to the greater part of the learned. -Modern historians are not accustomed to eulogize the merits of -the victims of schism and heresy. But the church never forgets -her children who have perished in the cause of God; and God -himself takes care of his servants by multiplying miracles over -their tombs. These nineteen martyrs of Gorcum, who suffered for -the faith on the 9th of July, 1572, were placed in the ranks of -the blessed by Clement X. in 1675, and since that time they have -always been held in the greatest veneration in Belgium and -Holland. It is now almost three years since our Holy Father, -yielding to one of those inspirations of which his life is full, -felt the desire that the supreme honors of the church should be -paid to these noble champions of Jesus Christ; and January 6th, -1865, the day of the Epiphany, his holiness caused a decree to be -read in his presence, ordering the proceedings to be instituted -for their solemn canonization. The preamble of the decree -deserves notice, it says: "Born of the blood of Jesus Christ and -nourished with the blood of martyrs, the Catholic Church will be -exposed to bloody persecutions until the end of the world. And it -is not without a marvellous design of divine Providence that the -cause of these illustrious victims of the Calvinistic heresy of -the sixteenth century is taken up and completed in these unhappy -days, when heretics and false brothers are recommencing a war, an -implacable war, against Jesus Christ, against his holy church, -and against this holy apostolic see." The Holy Father expressed -the same thought in a discourse which followed the promulgation -of the decree. "The Most High," said he, "has reserved for this -time the glorification of these Holland martyrs, to prove to our -century, full of scorn or indifference for the revealed faith and -plunged in the grossest materialism, that the memory of the -martyr is never forgotten in the church of Jesus Christ, that -there are always men ready to shed their blood for that faith, -and a supreme authority which is always ready to recognize their -merits." - -The object of the sovereign pontiff is not uncertain; it is to -call the attention of the world to the fact of the continual -recurrence of martyrs in the church; to cite these heroes, who -have sealed the faith with their blood, as an example and a -witness; such has been the special aim in canonizing the martyrs -of Gorcum. Far be it from the holy church to stifle the voice of -blood which has flowed from the veins of her children for -nineteen centuries! This blood, shed in every land from the most -barbarous to the most cultivated, bears witness everywhere that -the mother of martyrs is also the faithful spouse of Jesus -Christ. -{74} -The Catholic Church is peculiarly a _witness_, while the -sects about us are founded on negation and doubt. Our blessed -Lord was the first witness, and the truth of his testimony he has -sealed on the cross and in his cruel passion; the apostles were -witnesses to him who had sent them and the doctrine they were -bidden to teach; they have gone to give their testimony to the -Good Master; and now their faith and prayers sustain their -children even to the extremities of the earth, making them gladly -choose to die sooner than deny that faith which cost the Son of -God his life. This illustrious testimony of blood has never -ceased from the day of Calvary up to the present nineteenth -century; the succession of martyrs is like the church herself, -for it knows no limits of time or space; they are dying today in -Cochin-China and Corea, as they have died in Japan in former -years, as they have died in Europe, when Protestantism swept over -that fair portion of the flock of Christ, and as millions died in -the Roman Empire under the pagan Caesars. Look at what Rome -offers to-day to the world: a noble army of martyrs gathered -about Saints Peter and Paul, the victims of Nero, the valiant -soldiers of such fearless chiefs; the B. Josophat, Archbishop of -Polotsk, slain by followers of the Moscovite schism; B. Peter of -Arbues, murdered by Jews in the church of Saragossa; our nineteen -martyrs of Gorcum, the victims of the assassins of Calvinism; and -two hundred and five who sweetly yielded up their lives for the -faith in Japan. - -Schism and heresy are always ready to conceal the blood which -stains so many pages of their annals, and to hide the crimes -which dishonor their ancestors. But, if the living are silent, -the dead are now speaking to us from their tombs; the victims of -Protestantism have risen from their graves to bear witness to the -truth. We cannot thank Pius IX. too much for proposing for the -veneration of the church these champions of the faith, who have -fallen so gloriously in the struggles of modern society, and on -the same battle-field, as it were, where we continue to engage -the foes of our holy mother, the church. Nor can we praise the -historians enough who have consecrated their talent to the sacred -work of writing the account of these persecutions, and showing -forth to Catholic and Protestant the glorious record of these -martyrs of the sixteenth century. The time has now come to count -our slain, that the remembrance of their fortitude may awake -Christian faith and zeal in our souls. - -The three centuries that have passed since the impious Luther -first dared to raise the standard of revolt against the holy -church bear a resemblance to the first centuries of the Christian -era. To-day Protestantism is ready to fall to pieces; it is the -"sick man" among the religions of the world, as Turkey is among -the nations; it is the time to present the well-meaning souls -that its myriad sects embrace with a clear view of its origin, -and of what it now teaches in its closing years. The -reestablishment of the hierarchy in England and Holland, the -restoration of the episcopal see of Geneva, the beatification of -F. Canisius, the third centennial anniversary of the council of -Trent, and several other acts of the holy see show us the unity -of the Catholic Church compared with the disorganization of the -Protestant sects, which are now, we can truly say, without faith -or law. We should take care that those who have been misguided -should know the violent means the so-called reformers used to -establish their opinions. -{75} -Their origin was stained with the blood of the faithful, and they -have completed their course by adopting atheism. Such has been -the sad story of Protestantism; a destiny that must ever be the -fate of those who oppose the teaching of the church that our Lord -has bidden to convert the nations. - -Vainly do Protestants attempt to evade the shameful acts of the -first "reformers" by showing its own scars and framing a list of -martyrs. No wounds are glorious while the cause they sustain is -an iniquity; and heresy can never be justified in its rebellion -against the church of Christ. If its apologists tell us that -revolution is necessary in order to get liberty, we deny this -theory of the end sanctifying the means, of a bad end sanctified -by unjust means. Let heretics not speak of their martyrs. A -martyr is one who witnesses, not one who protests; a man who -dies, not to sustain a passionate and obstinate denial, nor in -defence of speculative opinions and personal ideas, but as a -witness to seal the traditional teaching, to confirm the faith -which is sustained by unexceptionable evidence. A martyr is not a -conspirator, an instigator, and upholder of civil war; he lives -without reproach, defends the truth without fanaticism, suffers -without vain exaltation, and dies without anger; his memory is -irreproachable before God and man. Would that heresy could point -to such heroes! We are only too proud and happy in presenting to -our friends and foes the picture of such men, in whose holy hands -the church has put the palm of martyrdom. - - - III. - -In the Low Countries more than elsewhere, Protestantism has -concealed from its posterity its sanguinary and tyrannical -instincts. It has perfidiously taken advantage of the national -sentiment and appears clothed in the cloak of liberty. How many -consider Philip II. a monster, the Duke d'Alba an executioner, -and that they are solely responsible for all the blood shed in -the Low Countries? But the time has come when we should no longer -allow ourselves to be duped by hypocritical declamations against -Catholic reprisals. They who have first taken arms and begun the -war are held responsible for the blood that is shed. - -One of the most learned students of modern history, Baron -deGerlache, said, in opening the congress of Malines, on August -24th, 1864: "The history of the sixteenth century, written by -Protestants and copied by Catholics, needs to be rewritten from -beginning to end, from the real statement of the facts, which are -contained in the archives of the church. Then Protestants will -appear as they really are, such as they are now in Ireland and -elsewhere, aggressive, violent, intolerant, inaugurating -persecution when they are powerful enough, and demanding liberty -when they are weak." These words sum up the history of the -pretended reform, acting its double part, the farce of liberty -and the tragedy of blood, according to the number of its -partisans. - -The seventeen provinces had unfortunately prepared their country -for the introduction of Protestantism; their nobility was immoral -and their people poorly instructed in their religion, strongly -attached to worldly goods, impatient of the control of the -church, while continual wars kept the people in a state of -excitement, and even the very geographical position of the -country and its commercial relations contributed to open the way -to the new and, as yet, unknown religion. -{76} -The church could not oppose the rapid growth of heresy; there -were but four episcopal sees in the whole territory; and, -although the colleges and abbeys were rich and numerous, they -were subservient to the civil power. The church could neither -guard them from the error, nor act with energy when it had -obtained a foothold in the land. Charles V., who was aware of the -seditious and anarchical character of the "reform," put forth in -vain all the severities of the law against its preachers; he -could not check the torrent. Error can scarcely be repressed by -force when it meets no opposition in the conscience, and when it -has already gained a part of a people. - -The severity of Charles V., while it did not prevent the increase -of the heresy, at least kept the dissenters from forming a sect -powerful enough to menace the church or the state. Philip II. -added nothing to the edicts of his father. And this despot, this -tyrant, even made concessions to them that are to be regretted. -Three thousand Spanish troops were in the Netherlands at that -time, and they were sufficient to hold the rebels in check; but, -when they protested against the presence of these soldiers, -Philip recalled them to Spain. Cardinal Granvelle aided the -regent, Margaret of Parma, with his counsel: they protested -against this able and worthy minister, and Philip gave him his -dismissal. Everything served as a pretext for the disturbers; the -hypocritical and ambitious Prince of Orange, William of Nassau, -the chief of the leaders who had taken the name of Gueux, -[Footnote 11] spread discontent and insurrection on every side. - - [Footnote 11: _Gueux_, beggars. The origin of the word - is as follows: Three hundred Calvinistic deputies were sent - to Margaret of Parma to protest against the measures of the - government. She became much alarmed at this demonstration, - when Count Barleymont said, "_Ce ne sont que gueux_," - (they are only beggars,) alluding to the meanness of their - appearance. This imprudent remark was overheard and at once - adopted by the insurgents as their title. See Bouillet's - _Dictionnaire Universel d'Histoire et de Geographie_, - article Gueux.] - -He found fault with all the measures that the government took and -all that he accused it of wishing to take. The creation of -fourteen new bishoprics by the king with the consent of the pope -was looked upon as an outrageous act of tyranny. At last the -government was unarmed, the victims had been sufficiently worked -upon by their leaders, and the Catholics were completely -intimidated: the rage of the sects was now let loose to pervert -and destroy the fair fabric that God had raised in the land. We -shall not attempt to describe the hideous saturnalias of the -"reform;" we leave that to Protestant authors, to Schiller, to -Schoel, to Prescott. We cite from the latter a few lines to give -our readers an idea of what learned Protestants say of their -ancestors: "The work of pillage and devastation was carried on -throughout the country. Cathedrals and chapels, convents and -monasteries, whatever was a religious house, even the hospitals, -were given up to the merciless reformers. Neither monk nor -religious dared to appear in their habit. From time to time, -priests were seen fleeing with some relic or sacred object that -they desired to preserve from pillage. To the violence they did, -they added every outrage that could express their scorn for the -faith. In Flanders, four hundred churches were sacked. The ruin -of the cathedral of Anvers could not be repaired for less than -four hundred thousand ducats. ... One becomes sad in seeing that -the first efforts of the reformers were always directed against -these monuments of genius, erected and made perfect under the -generous protection of Catholicism; but, if the first steps of -the reform have been made on the ruins of art, the good it has -produced in compensation cannot be denied, in breaking the chains -that bound the human mind and opening to it the domains of -science, to which until then all access had been refused." The -readers know how much this _compensation_ is worth. - -{77} - -And now may we ask, if it be true that Philip took too severe a -vengeance for these outrages, if the Duke of Alva followed the -rebels with an unreasonable severity, if all that is said of them -be multiplied a hundred times, is there a single argument in -favor of that liberty of conscience which makes its way at the -sword's point? Catholicism has never hesitated to disavow and -condemn all violence, and every _coup d'état_ done in her -name; she has always separated from politicians who pretend to -defend her in any other way than she demands; no "compensation" -can disarm her justice against criminal abuses which are excused -for "state reasons." The "reform" which does not feel itself -innocent ventures to proclaim an anathema which falls upon its -own doctrines and disciples. It is more easy for their historians -to turn the anger of posterity upon "the sallow tyrant before -whom the people were filled with terror," or upon the executor of -his vengeance, "the ogre thirsting for human flesh." Such authors -as M. Quinet find material here for their eloquence, (?) and -subjects for such articles as suit the _Revue des Deux -Mondes_. But history will pay but little attention to these -melodramatic effusions. What esteem can scholars demand when they -deliberately calumniate governments and nations in order to -conceal the heinous crimes perpetrated in the name of free -thought; or pamphlet-writers who industriously circulate the -silly stories of the inquisition, and have not a word, a single -word of blame for the sectarians who have covered Europe with -blood and ruins? - -To those who desire to know, without seeking far, the judgment of -history upon these facts and persons, we counsel the reading of -Feller, whose opinions always bear the stamp of truth. "The -severity of the Duke of Alva--or, if you wish, his hardness, or -even his inhumanity--was legal, and conformed most scrupulously -to judicial proceeding, and forms a striking contrast with the -chiefs of the rebellion and their tools, whose cruelties had no -other rule than fanaticism and caprice. William of Marck, for -example, the _des Adrets_ of the Low Countries, murdered in -a single year (1572) more peaceable citizens and Catholic priests -than the Duke of Alva executed rebels in the whole course of his -administration." [Footnote 12] To support his statements, Feller -quotes three or four works which recount the atrocities of the -Protestants. We shall content ourselves with a statement of the -death of our nineteen martyrs, which happened in this same sad -year, 1572, and by the orders of this same William of Marck, one -of the most abominable of the wretches who figured in the -revolution of the sixteenth century. In this single example we -shall see the barbarous fanaticism of the "reform," and the -sublime virtues which distinguished these martyrs of the Catholic -faith: error will show its power as a persecutor; truth, the -divine fortitude with which it vests its faithful champions. - - [Footnote 12: _Dictionnaire Historique_, article Tolède, - Ferdinand Alvarez du, duc d'Albe.] - -{78} - - IV. - -The Duke of Alva had quelled the revolt: he had not rooted it out -of the land, for its numerous and powerful ramifications were -only waiting to begin a new life. The Prince of Orange, who had -taken care to avoid the punishment due to his treason by a -voluntary exile, was raising troops, conspiring and intriguing -with the great Iconoclastic sect of Calvin and with the court of -France, then under the influence of the Huguenots. The Admiral de -Coligny advised him to build a fleet and attack the northern -provinces, where the "reformers" were in greater numbers. There -had been Beggars on land, and now there were to be Beggars at -sea; they rivalled each other in massacre and sacrilege, to the -great honor of the "reform" and the "reformers," who by these -means had obtained a partial triumph. We are aware that political -prejudices are complicated with this religious war; but facts -prove beyond doubt that these people were urged on by a deep -hatred of the Catholic faith. - -A fleet of about forty sail had been fitted out in the ports of -England, and from thence, under the direction of the ferocious -William of Marck, the Beggars made their course across the North -Sea and along the coast of Flanders. The Duke of Alva complained -to Elizabeth, Queen of England, and as she did not wish at this -time to break with Spain, she gave the corsairs orders to leave -the kingdom. This was in the spring of 1572. An adverse wind -drove them on the isle of Voom, at the mouth of the Meuse; the -neighboring port of Briel was without defenders, and was captured -by these Calvinists on April 1st, 1572. "They pillaged the -convents and churches about the city, broke images, and destroyed -all that bore marks of the Roman Church." [Footnote 13] - - [Footnote 13: _The Delights of the Netherlands_. A - General History of the Seventeen Provinces. New Edition 1743, - t iv. p. 121.] - -This town was fortified by the pirates, for whom it was a place -of refuge, and afterward the nucleus for insurrection. Three -months after its occupation, Brandt, a captain, ascended the -Meuse as far as Gorcum. As soon as the people saw his vessels, -they sought shelter in the citadel; religious and priests -hurriedly transported the sacred vessels and objects of -veneration to this place of safety. However, the town council and -the body of magistrates began a parley with Brandt, who assured -them that he only desired religious liberty, and that no outrage -would be committed by his followers. They opened the gates. The -band was increased by several of the inhabitants of the town, who -were partisans of this Calvinistic rebellion, and they then -required all the citizens to take an oath of allegiance to -William of Nassau, Prince of Orange, _governor royal_ of the -Holland provinces. During this time that the revolutionary troops -had possession of the city, the commander of the palace still -held out, but was eventually compelled to capitulate because of -the failure of hoped for supplies. Brandt solemnly promised to -spare their lives and give them their liberty; but, scarcely had -they taken possession of the place, when, forgetting their oaths, -they confined their victims as prisoners. The laymen were finally -released in consideration of large sums of money, except a few -who were put to death as firm Catholics and royalists; the -priests and religious, nineteen in number, remained: they could -hope for no deliverance but that of martyrdom. - -{79} - -Then the scenes that are ever recurring in the church, the scenes -of the passion of our Lord, were reenacted. As our divine Saviour -had to undergo the outrages of a brutal soldiery, so did these -heroes of Gorcum; they, like him, were forced through crowds of -infuriated people, who greeted them with scornful questions, with -blows, and scourges, and mockery, and imprecations, and, last of -all, with the gibbet. In the midst of this display of rage and -hate, our heroes were entirely tranquil, blessing God, praying -for their executioners, encouraging each other to bear their -sufferings with patience, gladly offering their lives as a -testimony to their sincerity in professing the dogmas denied by -the heretics; in one word, they bore themselves as true witnesses -of our Lord should. - -The facts of their martyrdom have been told by well-informed -historians. God, who leaves nothing hidden in the lives of those -whom he has determined to honor, raised witnesses to testify to -the merits of those who were such faithful witnesses of his Son. -History celebrated their triumph while waiting for the church to -crown them. One of the most intrepid of the martyrs, Nicholas -Pieck, superior of the Franciscans, had a nephew living at -Gorcum, who was a witness to these events, and who is now known -as the celebrated William Estius, chancellor of the university of -Douai. He collected all the facts that were known, and then wrote -a complete history of their martyrdom, which reflects so much -credit upon his country and family. A young Franciscan novice, -who begged for mercy when he was to be executed, lived to tell of -the firmness of these confessors of the faith; a canon, Pontus -Heuterus, who was also unfaithful to the grace of martyrdom, -wrote the story in Holland verse. It is useless, however, to -detail a list of our authorities; for there are no pages in the -annals of the church more luminous than the acts of these -nineteen martyrs. Surely God has wished to erect from their -heroic virtue a monument to the sanctity of the church and to the -satanic character of this heresy. [Footnote 14] - - [Footnote 14: The work of Estius, _Historic Martyrum - Gorcomiensium Libri Quatuor_, was first printed in Douai - in 1603. It was afterward republished, with notes and a - supplement, by M. Reussen, professor in the university of - Louvain. A French translation of Estius appeared at Douai in - 1606, under the title, _Histoire Véritable des Martyrs de - Gorcum en Hollande_, etc. _Acta Sanctorum_, t. xxvii. - ad 9 Julii, fol. 736-847. _Esquisses Historiques des - Troubles des Pays-Bas an XVII. Siècle_. Par E. H. de - Cavrines. Deuxième édit. Bruxelles, Vromant. 1865.] - -As we have already said, there was but one way to please these -Calvinistic executioners, and that was to renounce the faith; but -their victims chose rather to endure all the suffering that their -malignant ingenuity could suggest. The martyrs affirmed -successively the right of the church to impose laws in the name -of God, the divine maternity of the Blessed Virgin, and the -veneration which is due to the real presence of Jesus Christ in -the sacrament of the altar and the primacy of the pope. - -The first day of their captivity (June 27th) was a Friday. They -had no food offered them but meat, from which they cheerfully -abstained, rather than put in doubt their fidelity to the -precepts of the church. There was but one who thought it -necessary for him to take some nourishment, and he was one of -those who did not persevere to the end. - -In the following night, a band of Protestants rushed into their -cell and pretended that they had come to execute them -immediately. "Behold me," said Léonard Vechel, the aged pastor of -Gorcum, "I am ready." His assistant, Nicholas Van Poppel, was -dared to repeat what he had so often preached in the pulpit. -"Willingly," he answered, "and at the price of every drop of my -blood, I confess the Catholic faith; above all, the dogma of the -real presence of Jesus Christ in the holy eucharist." -{80} -They then threw a rope about his neck and began to strangle him; -the superior of the Franciscans was treated in the same way; they -were both choked until they fainted, when the ruffians held their -torches to the faces of their victims, recalling their lives in -this gentle way! "After all," said one of the monsters, "they are -only monks. Of what account are they? Who will trouble themselves -about them?" - -On July 2d, the feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin, -Father Leonard was released for a short time, as his friends had -purchased permission for him to say Mass. The courageous pastor, -in an address to his flock, extolled the virtues of our blessed -Lady, and when concluding urged them to remain firm in the faith -of their fathers. This purchased for him increased tortures on -his return to the prison. - -John Van Omal, the apostate canon of Liège, was the hero of -another of these pretended executions. He was more than a Judas, -for he was not only a traitor, but it was through his efforts -that the execution finally took place. Enraged at having been -foiled in his attack on Bommel, (July 3d,) he determined to -revenge himself on the priests and religious of Gorcum. At that -time the liberation of the captives was spoken of, as some -members of the town council had been sent to the Prince of Orange -to beg him to release them. The apostate, after reflecting upon -the possibility of their release, concluded that he had better -take them to the Count of Marck, who was at his headquarters in -Briel. In the middle of the night of the 5th, they were hurried, -scarcely clothed and without food, on board of a vessel, which -rapidly descended the Meuse. They reached Dordrecht at nine -o'clock, and Van Omal had an opportunity to satisfy his malice by -exposing the venerable band to the idle curiosity and unfeeling -taunts of a Calvinistic mob. They arrived at Briel in the -evening, but were detained on board the vessel all night, so that -the news of their coining might be well known and their foes -properly prepared to torture them. On the morning of the 7th, the -count, who esteemed himself particularly fortunate in having -these poor monks and religious to torment, ordered them to march -in procession through the town; he chose for himself a most -unenviable position, that of riding behind his unfortunate -prisoners, with a huge whip, and unfeelingly beating them as they -made their way through the throngs of infuriated people. That -nothing should be wanting to this humiliating scene, he commanded -the martyrs to sing: a _Te Deum_ was first intoned, and then -a _Salve Regina_. He sought to turn them into ridicule; but -their heroism made them sublime. - -The afternoon of the 7th and the following morning were taken up -by discussions with the ministers in the presence of the count. -The generous soldiers of Christ sustained their belief firmly and -with dignity; they bore witness particularly to the dogma of the -eucharist, and to the supremacy of the Roman pontiff. "Renounce -the pope," said they to Father Leonard, "or you will hang." -"How," answered he, "how can you contradict yourselves in this -way? You are always proclaiming that you wish for religious -liberty, and that no one has the right to prevent the exercise of -your worship. And now you desire to force me to deny my faith! It -is better for me to die than to be untrue to my conscience." - -{81} - -However, a letter came from Gorcum, in which William of Nassau -ordered the clauses of the convention of June 26th to be strictly -observed in regard to the prisoners. This, of course, only -exasperated the Count of Marck, who saw that his prey might -escape him. As he was going to bed, after one of the orgies which -were habitual with him, he cast his eyes again over the note of -the Prince of Orange. He then for the first time perceived that -Brandt had sent him only a copy of the order, and had preserved -the original. This served as a pretext for a display of his -amiable temper, and he declared that he was master of the place, -and that it was high time for it to be known; an order was issued -at once to take the prisoners and conduct them to Ten Rugge, -[Footnote 15] a convent which he had sacked when he first -captured Briel. The torture began at about two o'clock in the -morning of Wednesday, the 9th of July; it was accompanied by -shameful outrages which we prefer to pass over in silence. Their -captivity had lasted twelve days, of which nine were passed at -Gorcum. - - [Footnote 15: The Catholics of Holland have recently - repurchased this stolen convent for 16,000 florins. It will - soon be a place of pilgrimage for the pious people of Holland - and Belgium.] - -Of the nineteen prisoners who were taken from that city, only -sixteen suffered death. Three priests and religious filled the -gaps in their noble band. "A mysterious judgment of Providence, -of which there is more than one example in the history of the -martyrs. There were nineteen called to martyrdom, and the -defection of some did not prevent the number being preserved to -the end." (R. F. Cahier, SJ.) We have mentioned two of these -unhappy deserters, whom God deigned to lead back to himself; the -third entered the service of the Count of Marck, and was hung -three months after for stealing. But apostasy did not always -preserve life, for we read that the curé of Maasdam was put to -death eight days after the martyrs, although he had renounced the -papacy. - -William of Marck at last received his reward from a just -Providence; he was bitten by one of his dogs, and died in the -most horrible agony, amid shrieks of rage and despair. It is a -general law; the Neros are plunged in the depths of shame and -despair, while martyrs ascend to their eternal glory. Eighteen -centuries after his crucifixion, Peter receives the honors of a -triumph such as kings have never had; three centuries after their -torment, the nineteen martyrs of Gorcum are venerated in every -corner of the earth where Christianity is known. - -We present to our readers the names of these martyrs: Fathers -Nicholas Pieck, superior of the Franciscans; Jerome Werdt; -Thierry Van Emden; N. Janssen; Willehad Danus, a venerable old -man of ninety years who did not cease repeating _Deo -Gratias_ during the twelve days of his confinement; Antony -Werdt; Godfrey Mervel; Antony Hoornaer; Francis de Roye, who was -scarcely twenty-four years of age, being the youngest of the -martyrs; Cornelius Wyk, and Peter Assche. The foregoing were all -Friars Minor. The Dominicans had a representative in the person -of Father John, of the province of Cologne, who was captured -while going to baptize an infant. Father Adrian Beek and his -curate, F. James Lacops, were seized on the night of the seventh -or morning of the eighth of July and sent to Briel, where they -joined those who had come from Gorcum; they were both -Premonstrants. There was a canon of St. Augustine, John -Oosterwyk, who was directing a convent of the order at Gorcum. -{82} -When he heard that his own convent (that of Ten Rugge, the place -of martyrdom) was sacked and the religious put to death, he -exclaimed, "Oh may our Lord deign to grant that I may die as -they have!" How exactly was his prayer granted! The following -were seculars: Leonard Vechel; Nicholas Van Peppel; Godfrey Van -Duynen, a doctor of theology and formerly rector of the -university of Paris; he had merited by his pure life the crown of -martyrdom that he received when more than seventy years of age; -and, lastly, Andrew Wouters, who was taken near Dordrecht, and -who was the third substitute for those who shrank from the trying -ordeal. - - - V. - -We are not astonished that God by miracles, and the holy church -by her veneration, has made this episode of the religious -persecution of the Netherlands so prominent. If we will but -reflect, it offers to us the most precious teaching; it presents -one of those striking proofs which are sure to convince the good -sense of the people. A cause which succeeds by such crimes as -this is already judged; we are not called upon to condemn it. And -if this is the cause of a "_reformed_ religion," what need -has any honest man of any further arguments to convince him of -its error? Was Christianity established in the Roman empire by -overturning the government and giving up its inoffensive citizens -to pillage, to outrage, and to murder? Does the "liberty of -conscience" preached by the "reform" resemble the liberty that -the church asked of the Caesars, and which she is asking of -Protestant governments today? The champions of this modern -"liberty" imposed their doctrines upon unwilling people at the -point of the sword, while its opponents gave their blood in -defence of their religious rights. In countries where -Protestantism did not maintain itself by an unrelenting -despotism, the people eagerly returned to the faith of their -fathers, the very violence of the sects causing a healthful -reaction. [Footnote 16] And this was also the case with the -greater part of the provinces of the Netherlands, which gladly -threw off the yoke of William of Orange and returned to their -former allegiance--an example of a wavering faith being revived -by the lawlessness of its opponents. The sectaries retained only -seven of the seventeen provinces, now known as Holland, and which -were inundated with the blood of faithful Catholic priests. The -martyrs of Gorcum were only a little band of this vast army of -Jesus Christ. In the year 1572, there were more martyrs in the -Low Countries than in all the preceding centuries together: the -cradle of the republic of Holland floated in a sea of Catholic -blood. - - [Footnote 16: "France," says a Protestant historian, "after - having been almost reformed, found herself, in the result, - Roman Catholic. The sword of her princes, cast into the - scale, caused it to incline in favor of Rome. Alas I another - sword, that of the reformers themselves, insured the failure - of the Reformation." (D'Aubigné, _History of the - Reformation_, vol. i. p. 86.)] - -We wonder what learned and sincere Protestants, such as M. -Guizot, think in their hearts of these bloody pages of their -ancestors? Do they believe in the "compensation" that Mr. -Prescott talks about, and that such dreadful crimes were -necessary to purchase freedom of conscience, which, after all, is -only permission to believe nothing? "Notwithstanding the -disorders it caused," says M. Guizot, "and the faults it -committed, the reform of the sixteenth century has rendered to -modern times two great services." M. Guizot tells the truth; it -has. -{83} -It has given to the Catholic Church a noble army of martyrs, and -confirmed the promise of our Lord to Peter, when he declared "the -gates of hell shall not prevail against the church." "It (the -reform) reanimated, even among its adversaries, the Christian -faith." [Footnote 17] "It has imprinted upon European society a -decisive movement toward liberty." [Footnote 18] Liberty for whom -and liberty for what? For Calvinistic Holland, it was the liberty -of civil war, the liberty to rob unprotected convents, the -liberty to circulate immoral books, the liberty to follow -licentious desires, to desecrate the churches, and, above all, -the liberty to persecute the adherents of Catholicism. - - [Footnote 17: We are at a loss to discover M. Guizot's - authority for this assertion. Erasmus, one of the most - learned men of the sixteenth century, says: "Those whom I had - known to be pure, full of candor and simplicity, these same - persons have I seen afterward, when they had gone over to the - gospellers, become the most vindictive, impatient, and - frivolous; changed, in fact, from men to vipers. . . . - Luxury, avarice, and lewdness prevail more among them than - among those whom they detest. ... I have seen none who have - not been made worse by their gospel." (_Epist. Tractibus - Germaniae Inferioris_.) "Our evangelists," says Luther, - "are now sevenfold more wicked than they were before the - Reformation. In proportion as we hear the gospel, we steal, - lie, cheat, gorge, swill, and commit every crime. ... The - people have learned to despise the word of God." (Luther, - _Werke_, ed. alt. tom. iii. p. 519.)] - - [Footnote 18: _L'Eglise et la Société Chrétiennes en_ - 1861. Deuxieme édit. p. 8.] - -Error must necessarily persecute, for this is the only way in -which it can predominate; it never feels sufficiently protected -against the truth over which it has obtained a temporary triumph. -It is first the tyranny of the sword, and then the tyranny of the -law. Public opinion has long been imposed upon by followers of -the "reform," for they have cried so lustily for religious -freedom and liberty of conscience that few have taken the trouble -to ascertain the fact that their acts have invariably belied -their words. But history, which has been made an accomplice to -this delusion, is now effectually unmasking it. If we attribute -the introduction of religious toleration to Protestantism, it is -not because it has practised it, but because it has made it -necessary. Truth has tolerated error, while error has continually -sought to exterminate the truth. The principle of religious -toleration was introduced by Catholic governments, where heresy -triumphed; as in England, Sweden, and Holland, the most severe -laws were enacted against the former faith, laws so cruel that we -can say they were written in blood, and that the church has been -for the past three centuries in a state of martyrdom in those -countries. We shall notice briefly some of the enactments of -Holland; but, before we do so, we will briefly refute a sophism -by which the Protestants attempt to palliate their atrocities. -The history of Protestantism is so constituted that, before any -question can be discussed, it is necessary to remove a number of -objections due either to ignorance or prejudice. - -Religious intolerance, say they, was a characteristic feature of -the people of the middle ages. The church held its authority to -be a fundamental principle, and, seeing this put in danger, it -forgot the rights of liberty and used force and the arm of civil -power to enforce it dogmas. On the other hand, after liberty -conquered its rights, it unfortunately went beyond its doctrines, -and even embraced the opposite principle. Thus Christians -persecuted each other, until the progress of society led them to -mutual respect. But the illogical position of Protestantism is -apparent: it begins a war in the name of religious liberty, and -finishes by putting the church in a state of siege! The church -was, at least, consistent, for she never said that men were free -to deny their Maker and adopt a religion of their own brain or -that they possessed an imprescriptible right to preach and -disseminate false doctrine. -{84} -An illustrious bishop who lives now among the children of the -reformation, lately showed them on the forehead of their mother -this sign of contradiction, and defended the honorable -consistency which exists between the doctrines and the acts of -the church. "The church distinctly holds that society, as well as -the family, has its duties to Jesus Christ, and that God is -equally the Master and Lord of man, regarded as an isolated -individual, as of man in social relations with his fellows. She -looks back with joy upon the times when, seeing her liberty -protected, she became the inspirer of the Christian republic. ... -But, if she has thankfully received the protection of the sword -which vindicated her justice, and shielded her weakness when she -was forced upon the defensive, she has never wished it to be used -to impose doctrine; faith is not a forced belief, but a free -adhesion of both mind and heart to revealed truth. Liberty of -conscience, in its proper sense, far from being scouted and -condemned by the church, is the essential condition of her -spiritual sovereignty." - -It was not enough to attempt to overturn the secular throne of -the spouse of Christ, the queen of European civilization; it must -be put in chains and confined in dungeons. Let us cite some of -the proscriptions of the Protestants in Holland: - - "1596.--The Jesuits are forbidden to enter the country. Whoever - attends their seminaries or universities shall be banished from - the country." - - "1602.--1st. The police are ordered to arrest any Jesuit, monk, - or priest of the papist religion. - - "2d. The people are forbidden to take any oath or make any - promise to maintain the power of the Pope of Rome. Public or - private meetings, sermons, or collections in favor of the papal - superstition are prohibited." - -Another placard decrees "that every person in holy orders shall -leave the country in less than six days, under pain of arrest and -being punished as an enemy to the country." It was also forbidden -Catholic teachers to instruct their pupils, if either of the -parents had been of the reformed religion; and to will any money -to any priest, religious, or for any hospital or religious -edifice. - -This will be sufficient to give our Protestant readers an idea of -the liberty of conscience which flourished in Holland. Many -endeavor in these times to hide the accusing witness of these -acts, and to conceal entirely the manner in which the religion of -our forefathers has been overcome; but the day is breaking, the -shadows of heresy are fast fading away, and they will not be able -to bring them back again. Pius IX., in an allocution in -consistory on March 7th, 1853, alluded to the lamentable -calamities the church had suffered in the Netherlands. The court -of Holland, as it did not desire to acknowledge the odious acts -of its former government, sent a letter to the Roman court -protesting against these historical allusions. The able minister -of the holy see replied to this effrontery in the following -language: "The pontifical document only pointed out, in passing, -something that is fully told not only by Catholic, but also by -Protestant historians, who are interested in giving impartially -the true history of the facts." [Footnote 19] - - [Footnote 19: Note of his eminence, Cardinal Antonelli. - "_Ami de la Religion_" t. clxi. No. 5552, July 11, - 1853.] - -{85} - -There is but one resource for Protestant powers who blush at the -intolerance of those who have preceded them, and this is to -strike from their laws the unjust proscriptions they have -levelled against Catholicism. We owe it to justice to say that, -while several Protestant countries, Sweden, for example, retain -these unjust enactments, Holland is steadily giving up its former -fanaticism, and has fairly entered into the way of religious -liberty. - - - VI. - -The persecution of the sword and the law have demonstrated the -cruel and hypocritical character of this heresy, at the same time -it has proved the vigor and stability of the church. - -More than once in these nineteen centuries, it has been attempted -to extirpate Catholicism from the heart of a nation, as Russia is -trying to do now: We do not know that they have ever succeeded. -Even under Mohammedan rule, the church has maintained its -existence for more than twelve centuries in Turkey and in -Northern Africa; and though it has suffered one continual -persecution, and lost innumerable multitudes through martyrdom, -it counts to-day in these very countries more than three millions -of faithful children. [Footnote 20] In Japan, where missionaries -had scarcely time to sow the seeds of Catholic truth before a -savage war was waged upon it, its roots are still living, and -show after two centuries an unwavering fidelity to the faith. -[Footnote 21] - - [Footnote 20: See Marcy's _Christianity and its - Conflicts_, p. 405, and Marshall's _Christian - Missions_, vol. ii. p. 24, for a more complete statement - of the church in those countries.--ED. C. W. The - _Bibliothèque de l'Ecole des Chartes_ for May to June, - 1866, contains an interesting analysis of some curious - documents on the relations of Popes Gregory VII., Gregory - IX., Innocent IV., and Nicholas IV., with the Christians of - Africa.] - - [Footnote 21: "When some Japanese martyrs were added to the - catalogue of saints a few years ago, there were found to be - in Japan some thousands of Christians who had preserved their - faith without any human ministry solely by the aid of their - good guardian angels."--_Discourse pronounced by the Holy - Father on the Promulgation of the Decree relative to the - Beatification, of the 205 Martyrs of Japan_, April 30, - 1867.] - -Heresy, inspired with the same fury as paganism and Islamism, has -exhausted every resource to destroy the ancient faith: the young -and flourishing churches of England and Holland proclaim its -failure. The Catholics have vanquished by faith those who -overcame them by force; the blood of martyrs is always the seed -of its liberty and life. Three centuries have passed, and God, -through his vicar, pronounces the word of resurrection: -_Puella, tibi dico, surge._ And she has risen, weak, but -glorious and full of hope; her fair countenance again shines over -the land of St. Boniface and St. Willibrord, making even heretics -tremble at her marvellous life. Poor fanatics! You said formerly, -"Renounce the pope, or you will be hung;" but how has God and the -children of those martyrs revenged your cruelty! The pope yet -rules at Rome; he appoints bishops in your cities to govern your -sees; he places your victims on the altar; your fellow-citizens -venerate these victims. The hour of the complete return of -Holland to Christianity cannot be much longer delayed. The -canonization of the martyrs of Gorcum is an additional element of -strength for Catholics, while it must cause the most bigoted of -its opponents to reflect upon the failure of Protestantism to -overthrow "the abominations of popery." "When Rome," says the -great bishop of Poitiers--"when Rome glorifies the saints of -heaven, she never fails to multiply the saints of earth." - --------- - -{86} - - Carlyle's Shooting Niagara. - - -Of the many expressive words with which the English language has -been endowed few are more forcible than the little term "bosh." -For a long time we have in vain tried to discover a synonym with -which to relieve it from too frequent use, and we think that -Carlyle's last "essay" has gratified our patience. Thomas Carlyle -is what the world sometimes calls a philosopher. No one can deny -that he is a man of excellent abilities. Having been an -extraordinarily close observer of men and things from his -earliest childhood--and he is now seventy-two years old--and -having, from his first appearance in _Brewster's -Encyclopaedia_, gone through a literary career of forty-four -years with extraordinary success, the world is naturally -interested in any criticism he may see fit to pronounce upon it. -He will be judged, however, as severely as he judges, by those -who have placed him upon the little pedestal from which he looks -down. People are anxious to know whether in his old age he ought -to be dethroned. Naturally of a serious and taciturn mind, having -been buried from his youth amid the works of the most sombre and -gloomy of Germany's theorizers, and given ever to solitude and -meditation, it was not surprising that his writings ever -displayed excessive bitterness, and a distrust of human nature -more than Calvinistic; but, when we heard that, in the good old -age to which Providence had brought him, he had written his ideas -upon the present state of society, we expected to find a little -more of kindness and of love of truth than had been displayed by -Diogenes Teufelsdröckh, the "Great Censor of the Age." We must -regard _Shooting Niagara_ as the _résumé_ of the -thoughts of Carlyle's life. Coming out of his solitude, as he -tells us, to grapple with the problem of whither democracy is -drifting, and realizing, as he does, "that it is not always the -part of the infinitesimally small minority of wise men and good -citizens to be, silent," we expected, in spite of his modesty, to -meet something interesting and profitable. Interested we have -been, and so would we be at seeing the convulsions of a shark -brought to grief upon the strand. The only profit we have -received is the knowledge of how miserably small prejudice can -make a great mind. In the present paper Carlyle has used to -perfection (?) that curious style for which he has enjoyed -celebrity among many--a celebrity obtained pretty much like that -of certain metaphysicians, whose obscurity makes some give them -credit for profundity. As of two opinions Carlyle always chooses -the more uncharitable, so, of two ways of expressing an idea, he -invariably adopts the more obscure, intricate, and verbose. In -our endeavor to illustrate his position, we have been obliged to -select his more plain and simple passages, with a sacrifice very -often to the strength of our own opinions, which would have been -materially increased had we wished to try the patience of our -readers. - -{87} - -Paragraph No. 1 is devoted to a kind of clouding over of the -subject matter, in anticipation of the Carlylian thunder to -follow. We can see, however, that there are "three altogether new -and very considerable achievements lying ahead of us;" and the -first is, that Democracy is to complete itself, and run on till -each man is "free to follow his own nose, by way of guide-post, -in this intricate world." If the length of a man's nose indicates -correct perception, and an ordinary power of separating wheat -from chaff, then, though Mr. Carlyle's nose may be a post, it -must be a very small one. The second "achievement" is the -deliquescence and final evaporation of all religions. Such an -"achievement" would be wonderful, but how it can be terrible to -Mr. Carlyle we do not know; for he can have no concern about -future damnation, having been born, it would seem, without a -soul. The third "achievement" is, that "everybody shall start -free, and everywhere under enlightened popular suffrage. The race -shall be to the swift, and the high office shall fall to him who -is ablest, if not to do it, at least to get elected for doing -it." - -This is _the_ "achievement." Of all the cuts which the -prescient genius of Carlyle has dealt his gushing heart, this is -the "unkindest cut of all." _Hinc_ those tears, _hinc_ -those thunders, _hinc_ all that follows. With the exception -of a few hundred unimportant digressions, the slashing of these -"achievements" is the object of Carlyle's endeavor. - -The commencement of paragraph two is characteristic of Mr. -Carlyle, who never omits a chance of showing a knowledge of -classic lore. He flings at once into your face the terrible -Antoninus with the cry, "Who shall change the opinion of these -people?" The quoted prophecy was certainly Greek to Mr. Carlyle, -as he thinks it proves that what, individually taken, is the -human face divine becomes, when collectively regarded, a cheese; -and that, when the human head is regarded in the masses, it has -about as much intellect as a cocoanut. In some of his paragraphs -he tries to prove a point or so, but in this one he plainly shows -that he cannot change the opinion of the masses, erroneous though -it be. He asserts that delusions seize whole communities without -any basis for their notions; he will not admit the possibility of -there being even a false one. He asserts that the world -reverberates with ideas eagerly made his own by each individual, -and affects to believe that the original propagator had no -arguments to enforce their adoption; nay, he seems to ignore the -existence of the first propounder, and to admit that thoughts -are, like cholera or any other pest, inhaled with the air. To be -sure, as though he felt the absurdity of his position, he invents -a _swarmery_ theory, in which he contends that ideas get -into the masses by means of some "commonplace, stupid bee," who -gets "inflated into bulk," and forms a swarm merely on account of -his bulk. But he forgets that the "bulk" of his specimen-bees, -Cleon the Tanner and John of Leyden, was, in the first case, the -flattery poured upon the people, and, in the second, a religious -fanaticism based upon well-defined though erroneous grounds. Two -better specimen-bees for a _swarmery_ theory could not have -been selected than the Athenian general and the fierce -anabaptist; but in neither case did the people swarm unless for -what they regarded as honey. To say the people may err is to say -they are not God; but to contend that they are insensible to -argument is worse than foolish. Were the laboring classes of -England whom Carlyle so severely berates but so many -_swarmeries_, he would be drowned in a horse-pond; but as -his theory is false, he will live a little longer--a specimen of -prostituted intellect and self-crushed humanity such as many of -his school have already presented for the firmer conviction of -their opponents. -{88} -Mr. Carlyle thinks our late war was "the notablest result of -swarmery." He calls "the nigger question one of the smallest -essentially," and says that "the Almighty Maker has made him (the -negro) a servant." With regard to the first of these two -opinions, the mass of humanity disagree with the perceptive -Thomas; as for the second, not having been present when the -ordinance was promulgated, we cannot deny that possibly Mr. -Carlyle knows more of the matter than we do. But, when we are -told that, "under penalty of Heaven's curse, neither party to -this preappointment shall neglect or misdo his duties -therein--and it is certain that servantship on the _nomadic_ -principle, at the rate of so many shillings a day, _cannot_ -be other than misdone"--we thank Providence that all armed men -are not Carlyles. Take away the right of the laborer to leave his -master when he feels he can better himself, and the earth would -become a pandemonium. Lest his position may be mistaken Mr. -Carlyle tells us that the relation between master and servant -must become like wedlock, which was once nomadic, but is now -permanent. To refute such "philosophy" would be to notice the -ravings of a madman. In commenting upon the Reform movement, Mr. -Carlyle kindly devotes a long passage to prove for us that -freedom does not mean liberty to sin, and then informs the -English nation that each privilege it has wrung from the -monarchy, each extension of the suffrage, was a strap untied from -the body of the devil, so that the devil is now an "emancipated -gentleman." Having thus shown that to really tie up his satanic -majesty for the advent of the millennium we must go back to the -good, innocent days of Assuerus and Nabuchodonosor, or, at least, -to the pure times of Caligula, Mr. Carlyle opens his third -paragraph. - -We meet with something refreshing here. Although the extension of -the franchise is so evidently nothing but "a calling in of new -supplies of blockheadism, gullibility," etc., that Mr. Carlyle -thinks his opponents to be men of "finished off and shut up -intellect, with whom he would not argue," he feels a "malicious -and _justice-joy_" in the fact of England's being about to -take the Niagara-leap, and, after some ferocious experience of -the horrors of democracy, having a chance to come up washed of -her hypocrisy, "the devil's pickle in which she has been steeped -for two hundred years," and thus to show herself regenerated and -ready for heaven. The desperate philosopher must have been -reminded at this point that most who "shoot" Niagara get smashed, -and don't come up regenerated or unregenerated; for he runs out -of his way to give a howl at her majesty's ministry for not -having rewarded Governor Eyre, and then stops to dabble a little -more in England's "hypocrisy," which he calls "the devil's -choicest elixir." We fear you misname that curious brine, Mr. -Carlyle. You have been drinking of it, and your language is -unchoice and simply disgusting. Having taken a lesson in -descriptive geography, Mr. Carlyle now opens his fourth -paragraph, ready for the consequences of a trip over the falls. - -"From plebs to princeps there is no class intrinsically so -valuable and recommendable as aristocracy;" and it is to "this -body of brave men and beautiful polite women" that Mr. Carlyle -looks with imploring, half-despairing eyes for the creation of a -new and better England after the inevitable "immortal smash" of -the present. -{89} -He thinks that, in the smash-up of all things English, this class -will be alone unsmashed, because no other class dislikes it: -"they are looked up to with a vulgarly human admiration, and a -spontaneous recognition of their good qualities and good -fortune." We are glad to have found one idea upon which we can -agree with Mr. Carlyle. We believe that, of all the peoples of -Europe, the English will be the last to assert the principle of -political equality. Great and influential men are contending for -its actuation, and powerful journals are lending it their aid, -but their influence is in reality felt more upon the Continent -than in England herself. It may be owing to the degrading -ignorance to which the masses have been reduced, and it may not; -but, with regard to their love of aristocracy, the same may be -said as Mr. Carlyle says, though unjustly, perhaps, of England's -hypocrisy, "they are saturated with it to the bone." Mr. Carlyle -accuses, in most virulent terms, the varnishing proclivities of -his countrymen, who, in spite of the agitation of centuries, he -thinks, never really rebuild or even repair. But his going to the -root of the evil would be somewhat averse to our poor ideas of -propriety, if we may judge by his "devil's strap" theory. Yet no -one can deny that English politicians, whether tory or liberal, -are almost universally varnishers. In the various struggles for -ascendency for which reform has been the pretext, very often the -conquering power has gone back of its former principles, and been -utterly averse to any extension of the rights of the masses. In -those cases where through intimidation, such as in the present -reform bill, an extension of the franchise has been granted, it -has been merely a diminution of the amount of property necessary -as qualification. Tories and liberals alike recognize the -principle of distinction; they berate each other merely as to its -extent. It is not unlikely that, after a few more reform bills -have passed, there will be one put through, making twopence the -price of the "privilege" of voting; nor is it at all probable -that the few friends of manhood suffrage will ever in their -lifetime see their theory in practice on English soil. Though we -agree, however, with Mr. Carlyle in this one fact, we cannot -believe with him that to the aristocracy of England or that of -any other land is exclusively confided by God and by reason a -country-saving mission. If the selling of one's country to the -foreigners, or the betrayal and robbery of one's vassals, -constitute, such a mission, then the almost constant history of -Italy, Ireland, and Poland will yet set up a new choir of -celestial spirits _crême de la crême_. When Bulwer invented, -in his _Strange Story_, a man composed of body and mind, -without soul, people laughed--even those who admired -Chateaubriand's idea of man's being constituted of body, soul, -and _bête_. They were wrong, for Bulwer has talked with -Carlyle. But, though Mr. Carlyle may have no soul, he has not -entirely lost his reason, little though there seems to be of it -exercised by him. As if he realized that his blind and -unscrupulous devotion to _titled_ aristocracy would be -ridiculed by all outside of his _ipse dixit_ crowd of -philosophical pigmies, he beats a half-retreat with the dismal -"and what if the _titled_ Aristocracy fail us?" But charge -again, Carlyle! About face we have him as quick as lightning. To -be sure, the masses, "with whatever cry of 'liberty' in their -mouths, are inexorably marked by destiny as _slaves;_" but -to save England after her "immortal smash," when titles fail, she -will yet rely upon "the unclassed aristocracy by nature, not -inconsiderable in numbers, and supreme in faculty, in wisdom, -human talent, nobleness, and courage, 'who derive their patent of -nobility direct from Almighty God.'" - -{90} - -Forgive us, sweet Thomas! 'Tis true that this sounds, after your -last few remarks, like the declaration of one who, on finding it -impossible to cross the Atlantic upon a donkey cries out that -he'll try a steamship; but yet forgive us for the past--there is -about this latter speech a ring of genuine metal. 'Tis ability -and courage, and not blood and rank, you depend upon? Alas! our -hopes have vanished. The man of ability, of innate worth, is of -some avail, but he is not fit to rule until the _blood_ -comes in. He must become absorbed into the good old stock; -_Orson_ must be _Valentinized_. Still the cry, "Blood -is blood." Of the "industrial hero," Carlyle's aristocrat by -nature, a transmogrification must take place ere he can wear the -crown or wield the baton, and the change is--new blood for his -children, and for himself a new alliance. "If his chivalry is -still somewhat in the _Orson_ form, he is already, by -intermarriage and otherwise, coming into contact with the -aristocracy by title; and by degrees will acquire the fit -_Valentinism_, and other more important advantages there. He -cannot do better than unite with this naturally noble aristocracy -by title; the industrial noble and this one are brothers born, -called and impelled to cooperate and go together." The state -cannot be saved unless by aristocracy of blood. Even when it -condescends to avail itself of the energies of the plebeian, it -must take that plebeian out from the throng of "brutish -hobnails," and make of him a titled aristocrat. Only this and -nothing more is Carlyle's idea. Even though the collection of -titled rulers become emasculated for all good, and for existence -are forced to recruit their ranks from the vulgar crowd, each -conscript _Orson_ must not only come under the polite -influence of _Valentine_, but must acquire the "other more -important advantages" found in his society. If _Valentinism_ -is necessary, and the titled gentry are already possessed of the -"_more_ important advantages," why not use a born -_Valentine?_ The truth is, that Mr. Carlyle regards -aristocracy very much as we would a man, and the _vulgus_ -very much as we would meat or turnips. Man stands first in the -order of mundane creation; but he requires nutriment, and so eats -meat and turnips, absorbs them into his blood, becomes stronger, -but remains still a man, lord of creation, meat and turnips -included. As meat and turnips play their allotted part in -relation to man, so has the _plebs_ its task assigned -precisely for the benefit of aristocracy. Heaven has placed the -irrevocable seal of slavery upon the "nigger," and whoever -interferes to remove that seal is as guilty of sacrilege as -though he robbed the altar of its victim. As for the white -"nigger," the system of "nomadic" servantship by means of which -he is not a real "Nigger" is a "misdeed," and--oh! listen, -history! "never was, and never will be possible, except for brief -periods, among human creatures." To the establishment of these -canons of his social system, Mr. Carlyle devotes the greater part -of his essay--his fourth, fifth, and sixth paragraphs, and part -of the seventh. When England shall have shot Niagara, therefore, -her titled aristocracy is to recreate her, and the process is to -be the rendering "permanent" the relation between master and -servant; then will the devil be again tied up, and then will come -the millennium. -{91} -Well does Mr. Carlyle observe, however, that it will be a long -time "before the fool of a world opens its eyes to the tap-root" -of its evils, and that, when it "has discovered it, what a -puddling, and scolding, and jargoning there will be before the -first real step toward remedy is taken!" - -Mr. Carlyle's seventh paragraph is taken up with some pretty -sound advice upon domestic economy, especially upon the "cheap -and nasty" tendency of the times, which leads us to be too often -contented with appearances instead of realities. His remarks upon -the inferiority of the London brick of modern make are practical, -but the moral he draws about the necessity of rebuilding England -at once and properly is much more so. It is well, however, for -humanity that those Englishmen who wish to rebuild her have a -different system of philosophy from that Mr. Carlyle advocates at -present. It is well, also, for humanity that, while it is not -impossible that an experienced "drill-sergeant," such as he -presents in his concluding paragraph as a remedy for our -insubordination in all matters, would be a blessing, it is well -that heaven has not given him the baton. Mr. Carlyle gave to the -world in 1840 his entire political system in his _Hero -Worship_, and it is the same substantially in his present -essay. Then he told us that to heroes alone belonged the right to -govern society, and that the duty of society was to discover -these providential beings and to blindly obey them. Cromwell and -Napoleon he presented as types of this heroism. By his many -allusions to "Oliver" in his present essay and his two entire -paragraphs upon his Industrial and his Practical Hero, we see -that he has not yet realized that the very necessity of making -and following heroes proves the still greater necessity of -raising people to a higher appreciation of the dignity of their -manhood. Could the "devil's strap" theory be actuated, there -would be in the state a hero, but he would only be great because -his people were contemptible. Although Mr. Carlyle promised to -say something about the second "achievement" of democracy, -namely, the gradual deliquescence and final evaporation of all -religions under its baneful influence, he says nothing whatever -about God or religion. His illiberality, bitterness, and love of -tyranny make us suspect that in his heart there dwells but little -love for that which cannot but be liberal, kind, and respectful -to the rights of man. Indeed, one finds in this essay an -undercurrent of the same nature as the spirit shown in Carlyle's -works of middle-life, especially in his _Latter-day -Pamphlets_, namely, individualism, raised to the dignity of a -principle of morality and of a one only rule for the safety of -mankind. - -Most men have an ideal of their own of the beautiful in both the -aesthetic and the ethical order. Many men of thought have formed -to themselves an ideal of a happy and prosperous country, of a -wise and beneficent government, and so has Mr. Carlyle. An ideal -is always a key to the workings of the brain and to the -aspirations of the heart. Mr. Carlyle's accords precisely with -what we can gather of both in his present as well as most all his -other writings. In giving it to the public, he puts his seal upon -all his philosophical speculations, and shows his opponents that -he is game to the end. It is his "_La garde meurt, mais ne se -rend pas_." For the establishment of his Utopia, he sails to -the West Indies in company with a "younger son of a duke, of an -earl, or of the queen herself." He keeps shy of Jamaica, (and -well he may,) and goes to Dominica, an island which is "a sight -to kindle a heroic young heart." -{92} -He gets grandly pathetic, and describes Dominica as "inverted -wash-bowl;" its rim for twenty miles up from the sea is fine -alluvium, though unwholesome for all except "niggers kept -steadily at work;" its upper portion "is salubrious for the -Europeans," of whom he puts to dwell 100,000, who are "to keep -steadily at their work a million niggers on the lower ranges." He -pulls up the cannon which are now going to honeycomb and oxide of -iron in the jungle, and plants them firmly on the upper land to -guard his niggers and keep off the sacrilegious invader. With -tears of mingled joy and regret he cries, "What a kingdom my poor -Frederick William, followed by his Frederick, would have made of -this inverted wash-bowl; clasped round and lovingly kissed and -laved by the _beautifulest_ seas in the world, and beshone -by the grandest sun and sky!" This, then, is the end for which -Carlyle has lived seventy-two years; this is what he has learned -by fifty years' study of history and political economy! Three -wise men of Gotham once went to sea in a tub and came to grief -therein. Carlyle might imitate their example, and, bidding adieu -to the "brutish hobnails" whom he is powerless to regenerate, go -out as far as he would: he could never be so much at sea as he -was when he penned this remarkable essay. - --------- - - Sayings Of The Fathers Of The Desert. - - -Abbot Alois said: "Unless a man say in his heart, 'Only God and I -are in this world,' he will not find rest." - - -Abbot Hyperchius said: "He is really wise who teaches others by -his deeds, and not by his words." - - -Abbot Moses said: "When the hand of the Lord slew the first-born -of Egypt, there was no house in that land in which there lay not -one dead." - -A brother asked him: "What does this mean?" - -The father answered: "If we look at our own sins, we will not see -the sins of others. It is foolishness for a man having a corpse -in his own house to leave it and go to weep over that of his -neighbor." - - -Abbot Marcus said to Abbot Arsenius: "Why do you avoid us?" - -He answered: "God knows I love you, but I cannot be with God and -with men." - --------- - -{93} - - An Old Guide to Good Manners. - - -In the first number of _The Catholic World_ we gave our -readers some account of the great Christian school of Alexandria -in the time of St. Clement, the philosopher. The article, -borrowed from _The Dublin Review_, sketched the corrupt, -luxurious, and effeminate society of the Egyptian -metropolis--that gay, bustling, frivolous city which was to the -old Eastern world what Paris now is to the continent of -Europe--and showed how St. Clement thought it well worth his -while to spare an occasional hour from the discussions of -philosophy and dogma, and the definition of a code of Christian -ethics, to rebuke the scandalous luxury of dandies and -_gourmands_, and the follies of fashionable ladies. It would -have been but a meagre code of ethics, indeed, which had -overlooked the busy trifles that made up so much of the life of -Alexandrian gentlefolks. The teacher who would form a better -school of morality could not confine himself to the church and -the market-place. He must enter the bath and the banquet-hall, -the shops of the silk merchant, the jeweller, and the perfumer. -He must touch with sharp hand little things which are only -foolishness to us, but, to the pagan society of Egypt, made up a -large part of the sum of human existence. All this St. Clement -did, and the substance, if not the words, of his directions to -the flock has come down to us in the pages of his -_Instructor_. - -It is a curious picture which he gives us of Alexandrian manners; -but we question, after all, if much of what he says will not -apply pretty well to our own day. He begins with the diet. This, -he remarks, ought to be "simple, truly plain, suiting precisely -simple and artless children." He had no faith in the fattening of -men as one fattens hogs and turkeys. If he had lived in the days -of prize-fights and rowing-matches, he would have inveighed -against the processes of "training," and looked with no favor -upon a bruiser or a boatman getting himself into condition with -raw beef-steaks and profuse sweating. Growth, and health, and -right strength, says the venerable father, come of lightness of -body and a good digestion; he will have none of the "strength -that is wrong or dangerous, and wretched, as is that of athletes, -produced by compulsory feeding." Cookery is an "unhappy art," and -that of making pastry is a "useless" one. He points the finger of -scorn at the gluttons who "are not ashamed to sing the praises of -their delicacies," and in, their greed and solicitude seem -absolutely to sweep the world with a drag-net to gratify their -luxurious tastes. They give themselves "great trouble to get -lampreys in the straits of Sicily, the eels of the Meander, and -the kids found in Melos, and the mullets in Sciathus, and the -muscles of Pelorus, the oysters of Abydos, not omitting the -sprats found in Lipara, and the Mantinican turnip; and, -furthermore, the beet-root that grows among the Ascraeans; they -seek out the cockles of Methymna, the turbots of Attica, and the -thrushes of Daphnis, and the reddish-brown dried figs, on account -of which the ill-starred Persian marched into Greece with five -hundred thousand men. -{94} -Besides these they purchase birds from Phasis, the Egyptian -snipes, and the Median pea-fowl. Altering these by means of -condiments, the gluttons gape for the sauces; and they wear away -their whole life at the pestle and mortar, surrounded with the -sound of hissing frying-pans." Do we not feel a little ashamed at -reading this? Are we so much better than the gluttons of Egypt? -They sent to Abydos for their oysters, and we export the -shell-fish of Norfolk and Saddle Rock to all parts of the -country. If they yearned for snipe, so do we. If they had a -hankering after eel pot-pies, pray, is the taste unknown to -ourselves? Was the Median pea-fowl, we wonder, a more costly -luxury than woodcock, or the Sicilian lamprey worse than Spanish -mackerel? Perhaps we do not quite "sweep the world with a -drag-net;" but that is only because we should gain nothing by it. -We may not ransack the four quarters of the globe for unknown -viands; but we lay distant climes and far-off years, under -contribution to furnish us with rare and luscious wines. The good -saint, had he lived in the nineteenth century, would have -delighted in Graham bread; for he blames his countrymen for -"emasculating their bread by straining off the nourishing part of -the grain." He inveighs against "sweetmeats, and honey-cakes, and -sugar-plums," and a multitude of desserts, and suppers where -there is naught but "pots and pouring of sauce, and drink, and -delicacies, and _smoke_" The smoke to which he alludes is -undoubtedly the fume of the "hissing frying-pans," but it almost -seems as if he were describing a modern carouse with punch and -tobacco. The properest articles of food are those which are fit -for immediate use without fire. The apostle Matthew ate "seeds, -and nuts, and vegetables, without flesh;" and St. John the -Baptist, "who carried temperance to the extreme, ate locusts and -wild honey." St. Clement does not give us his authority for the -statement regarding St. Matthew's diet; nor, it may be objected, -is there any evidence that the Baptist did not cook his locusts -before he fed upon them. In some parts of the East, where locusts -are still regarded as a delicacy, they are prepared for the table -by pulling off the legs and wings, and frying the bodies in oil. -But Clement's object was not so much to prescribe a bill of fare -as to teach men of gluttonous proclivities how to emancipate -themselves from the thraldom of that "most lickerish demon," whom -he calls "the Belly-demon, and the worst and most abandoned of -demons." First of all, we must guard against "those articles of -food which persuade us to eat when we are not hungry, bewitching -the appetite." (How he would have shuddered at a modern grand -dinner, with sherry-and-bitters first to whet the palate; then -three or four raw oysters, just to give a relish to the soup, the -fish, and the _entrées_; and in the middle of the repast a -sherbet, or a Roman punch, to wipe out the taste of all that had -gone before, and give strength for a few more courses of meat!) -Then, being naturally hungry, he says; let us eat the simplest -kind of food; bulbs, (we hope he does not mean _onions_,) -olives, certain herbs, milk, cheese, fruits, all kinds of cooked -food without sauces, and, if we must have flesh, let it be roast -rather than boiled. - -Wine, of course, ought to be taken in moderation, if it is taken -at all; and it is well to mix it always with water, and not to -drink it during the heat of the day, when the blood is already -warm enough, but to wait until the cool of the evening. -{95} -Even water, however, must be drunk sparingly, "so that the food -may not be drowned, but ground down in order to digestion." What -a disgusting picture the holy philosopher draws of those -"miserable wretches whose life is nothing but revel, debauchery, -bath, excess, idleness, drink!" "You may see some of them, -half-drunk, staggering, with crowns round their necks like -wine-jars, vomiting drink on one another in the name of -good-fellowship; and others, full of the effects of their -debauch, dirty, pale in the face, and still, above yesterday's -bout, pouring another bout to last till next morning." Moreover, -he entirely disapproves of importing wines. If one must drink, -the product of one's native vines ought to suffice. "There are -the fragrant Thasian wine, and the pleasant-breathing Lesbian, -and a sweet Cretan wine, and sweet Syracusan wine, and Medusian -and Egyptian wine, and the insular Naxian, the highly perfumed -and flavored, another wine of the land of Italy. These are many -names, but for the temperate drinker one wine suffices." - -St. Clement concerns himself not only with what people ought to -eat and drink, but with how they ought to eat and drink it. The -chief thing necessary at table is temperance; the next is good -manners. We remember to have had the pleasure and profit of -reading once a modern hand-book of etiquette which abounded in -the most amazing instructions for gentlemen and ladies at their -meals. When you go to a dinner party, it said, do not pick your -teeth much at table. Do not breathe hard over your beef. Don't -snort while you are eating. Don't make a disgusting noise with -your lips while taking in soup. And don't do twenty other -horrible things which no gentleman or lady would any more have -thought of doing than of standing up on their chairs or jumping -upon the table. But St. Clement's directions for polite behavior -show that worse things than these were in vogue in those beastly -old days. He pours out words of indignation and contempt upon -those 'gluttonous feasters who raise themselves from the couches -on which the ancients used to recline at their banquets, stretch -out their necks, and all but pitch their faces into the dishes -"that they may catch the wandering steam by breathing in it." -They grab every minute at the sauce; they besmear their hands -with condiments; they cram themselves ravenously--in such a hurry -that both jaws are stuffed out at once, the veins about the face -are raised, and the perspiration runs all over as they pant and -are tightened with their insatiable greed. - -Suppose St. Clement had dined on board an American steamboat! - -Then about drinking. In this, too, the old Alexandrians must have -had some queer ways. "We are to drink without contortions of the -face," says the saint, "not greedily grasping the cup, nor, -before drinking, making the eyes roll with unseemly motion; nor -from intemperance are we to drain the cup at a draught; nor -besprinkle the chin, nor splash the garments while gulping down -all the liquor at once--our face all but filling the bowl, and -drowned in it. For the gurgling occasioned by the drink rushing -with violence, and by its being drawn in with a great deal of -breath, as if it were being poured into an earthenware vessel, -while the throat makes a noise through the rapidity of -ingurgitation, is a shameful and unseemly spectacle of -intemperance. ... Do not haste to mischief, my friend. Your drink -is not being taken from you. Be not eager to burst by draining it -down with gaping throat." -{96} -Sad to say, even the women were addicted to "revelling in -luxurious riot," and "drawing hiccups like men." It used to be -the fashion for ladies to drink out of alabaster vessels with -narrow mouths--quite too narrow, Clement complains and, to get -at the liquor, they had to throw their heads back so far as to -bare their necks in a very unseemly manner to their male boon -companions, and so pour the wine down their throats. This custom -the saint strenuously condemns. It was adopted because the women -were afraid of widening their mouths and so spoiling their -beauty, if they rent their lips apart by stretching them on broad -drinking-cups. - -These drinking-cups themselves, and much other furniture of the -table, were causes of offence in the good father's eyes, and he -thunders against them with indignant eloquence, as marks of the -shameless luxury and extravagance which pervaded the daily life -of the richer classes. The use of cups made of silver and gold, -and of others inlaid with precious stones, is out of place, he -declares, being only a deception of the vision. For, if you pour -any warm liquid into them, they become so hot that you cannot -touch them, and, if you pour in anything cold, the material -changes its quality, injuring the mixture. St. Clement was right. -Of jewelled drinking-vessels we freely confess that we have no -personal knowledge; but we have a very distinct and painful -recollection of certain silver mugs and silver-gilt goblets which -used always to be given to children by their god-parents, and -from which the unfortunate youngsters were forced to drink until, -say, they were old enough to leave boarding-school. How many a -time have we not longed in our boyhood to exchange the uneasy -gentility of a chased silver cup for the plain comfort of a good, -honest tumbler of greenish pressed glass! How hot those dreadful -cups used to be when filled with a vile, weak compound known in -the nursery as tea! How they used to hide the refreshing sparkle -of the clear, cold water in summer, and the beautiful color of -the harmless decoctions, flavored with currant jelly or other -delicacies, which were allowed us on rare occasions of festivity! -St. Clement was right; they were out of place and a deception of -the vision. But there was many a vessel on the Alexandrian -tables, besides the drinking-cups of silver, and gold, and -alabaster, which shocked this fearless censor of manners and -morals. Away, he cries, with Theracleian cups and Antigonides, -and Canthari, and goblets, and limpet-shaped cups, and the -endless forms of drinking-vessels, _and wine-coolers and -wine-pourers_ also. Away with the elaborate vanity of chased -glass vessels, more liable to break on account of the art, and -teaching us to fear while we drink. Ah! had he seen a Christian -dinner-party in the nineteenth century, with the delicately cut -wine-glasses, slim of stem, fragile as an eggshell, scarcely safe -to touch; the claret-jugs of Bohemian ware, elaborately -ornamented and hardly less costly than gold; the curiously -contrived pitchers for icing champagne; the decanters, the -water-flagons, the decorated goblets, and all the other glass and -china ware, what would good St. Clement have said? Many other -things are there which he reprehends among the apparatus of the -banquet, and of these some we have assuredly copied or retained, -while of others we can only conjecture the nature and uses. -{97} -There were silver couches, and pans and vinegar saucers, and -trenchers and bowls, and vessels of silver, and gold, and easily -cleft cedar, and thyme-wood, and ebony, and tripods fashioned of -ivory, and couches with silver feet and inlaid with ivory, and -folding-doors of beds studded with gold and variegated with -tortoise-shell, and bedclothes of purple and other colors -difficult to produce. And let no one wonder that he should -enumerate bedclothes among the objectionable furniture of a -dining-room. It must be remembered that in those gluttonous old -times people took their meals not sitting on chairs, but -reclining on couches, so that it would hardly be out of the way -to say that they breakfasted, and dined, and supped in bed. They -used to eat and drink so much that this attitude was perhaps, on -the whole, the most convenient for them. Among the other blamable -luxuries which he enumerates are ivory-handled knives. The basins -in which it was customary to wash the feet and hands before meals -ought to be of no better material than common potter's ware. You -can get off the dirt just as well in a cheap earthen washbowl, -says the saint, as in one of price; the Lord did not bring down a -silver foot-bath from heaven. - -Music at feasts is an abomination to be carefully shunned, and a -comic song is unworthy of a Christian gentleman, for "burlesque -singing is the boon companion of drunkenness." If people occupy -their time with "pipes and psalteries, and Egyptian clapping of -hands," they become, by degrees, quite intractable, and even -descend so low as to "beat on cymbals and drums, and make a noise -on the instruments of delusion." We must be on our guard against -whatever pleasure effeminates the soul by tickling the eye or the -ear, and so must shun "the licentious and mischievous art of -music," which disturbs the mind and corrupts the morals. Grave, -temperate, and modest music may, indeed, be permitted, but -"liquid" strains and "chromatic harmonies" are only for immodest -revels. All which shows that in Clement's time there must have -been a wickedness associated with music which that glorious art -has now happily lost. The psalmist, it is true, exhorts us to -praise the Lord in the sound of the trumpet, with the psaltery, -the lyre, the timbrel and dance, the chords, and the organ, and -the clashing cymbals; but the Alexandrian philosopher interprets -all this passage symbolically. The trumpet to which King David -refers is the blast which shall wake the dead on the last day. -The lyre is the mouth struck by the spirit. The timbrel and dance -are the church "meditating on the resurrection of the dead in the -resounding skin." Our body is the organ; its nerves are the -strings by which it has received harmonious tension; and the -clashing cymbal is the tongue, resounding with the pulsations of -the mouth. Reading St. Clement's instructions, with no light by -which to interpret them, except the bare words of the text -itself, it would seem to be but a solemn and joyless life which -he inculcated a perpetual Puritan Sunday--than, which, probably, -nothing more doleful was ever imagined of man. But we must -remember that he lived in an age of ineffable vileness. -Amusements, the most innocent in themselves, were the recognized -cloaks or accompaniments of horrible deeds of licentiousness. The -employment of certain kinds of music at banquets naturally -suggested the criminal excesses with which such music was -ordinarily associated. It was like meats offered to idols. -Christians were bound to shun it, not because it was bad, but -because it had been dedicated to bad uses. So was it also with -burlesque singing. -{98} -The songs were not only comical, but wicked. And it is in pretty -much the same sense that we must understand the saint's curious -chapter on laughing, in which he rebukes ludicrous remarks, -buffoonery, and "waggery," and declares that "imitators of -ludicrous sensations" (mimics) ought to be driven out of good -society. It is disgraceful to travesty speech, which is the most -precious of human endowments, though pleasantry is allowable, -provided laughter be kept within bounds. But we ought not to -laugh in the presence of elderly persons or others to whom we owe -respect, unless they indulge in pleasantries for our amusement; -and women and children ought to be especially careful not to -laugh too much, lest they slip into scandal. It is best to -confine ourselves to a gentle smile, which our author describes -as the seemly relaxation of the countenance in a harmonious -manner, like the relaxation of a musical instrument. "But the -discordant relaxation of the countenance in the case of women is -called a giggle, and is meretricious laughter; in the case of men -a guffaw, and is savage and insulting laughter." Of all such as -this, it is needless to say, St. Clement disapproves. - -Young men and young women ought never to be seen at banquets, and -it is especially disgraceful for an unmarried woman to sit at a -feast of men. When you go to a banquet, you ought to keep your -eyes downcast, and recline upon your elbow without moving; or, if -you sit, don't cross your legs or rest your chin upon your hand. -It is vulgar not to bear one's self without support, and a sign -of frivolousness to be perpetually shifting the position. Then, -when the food is placed upon the table, don't grab at it. What if -you are hungry? Curb your appetite: hold back your hand for a -moment; take but little at a time; and leave off early, so as to -appear, indifferent to what is set before you. If you are an old -man, you may now and then, but very rarely, joke and play with -the young; but let your jokes have some useful end in view. For -instance, suppose you had a very bashful and silent son with you; -it would be a most proper and notable good joke to say, "This son -of mine is perpetually talking." That would not only be very -funny, but it would be an indirect encomium upon the young man's -modesty. Old men may talk at table, provided they talk sense. The -young should speak briefly and with hesitation when they are -called upon; but they ought to wait until they are called at -least twice. Don't whistle at table. Don't chirrup. Don't call -the waiter by blowing through your fingers. Don't spit often, or -clear your throat, or blow your nose. If you have to sneeze or -hiccup, don't startle your neighbors with a loud explosion, but -do it gently. Don't scrape your teeth till the gums bleed, and -don't scratch your ear! - -They had a very silly and preposterous custom, those disgusting -old pagans, of crowning themselves with flowers, and anointing -their head and feet with perfumed ointments, especially on -occasion of grand banquets and drinking bouts. St. Clement had no -patience with this. Oils may be good, he says, for medicinal and -certain other purposes. Flowers are not only pretty, but useful -in their proper place. But what is the sense of sticking a -chaplet of roses on the top of your head where you can neither -see it nor smell it? It is pleasant in spring-time to while away -the hours in the blooming meads, surrounded by the perfume of -roses and violets and lilies; but no crowns of flowers for my -head, if you please! -{99} -They are too cold; they are too moist. The brain is naturally -cold: to add coolness to it is plainly against nature. Then he -enumerates the various kinds of ointments made from plants and -flowers and other substances. Leave these, he says, to the -physicians. To smear the body with them out of pure wanton luxury -is disgraceful. - -After supper, first thank God: then go to bed. No magnificent -bedclothes, no gold-embroidered carpets, no rich purple -sleeping-robes, or cloaks of fleece, or thick mantles, or couches -softer than sleep itself; no silver-footed couches, savoring of -ostentation; none of those lazy contrivances for producing sleep. -Neither, on the other hand, is it necessary to imitate Ulysses, -who rectified the unevenness of his couch with a stone; or -Diomede, who reposed stretched on a wild bull's hide; or Jacob, -who slept on the ground with a stone for his pillow. St. Clement -was not too severe in his instructions. He taught moderation to -all men, leaving the difficulties of asceticism to the few who -were called to encounter them. He never forbade comfort, but only -rebuked luxury. Our beds, he says, ought to be simple and frugal, -but they ought to keep us cool in summer and warm in winter. -Those abominable inventions called feather-beds, which let the -body "fall down as into a yawning hollow," he stigmatizes with -deserved contempt. "For they are not convenient for sleepers -turning in them, on account of the bed rising into a hill on -either side of the body. Nor are they suitable for the digestion -of the food, but rather for burning it up, and so destroying the -nutriment." Who that has groaned through a restless night on one -of those vile things--we were going to say, tossed through the -night, but one can't toss in a feather-bed--has been -half-suffocated by the stuffy smell of the feathers, and -oppressed in his dreams by the surging hills of bedding which -threaten to engulf him on either hand like the billows of some -horrible sea, will not thank good, sensible St. Clement for -setting his face against them, and wonder how they have survived -to the present time? The Alexandrian philosopher knew how to make -a good bed as well as the most fashionable of modern -upholsterers. It ought to be moderately soft, yet not receive too -readily the impress of the body. It ought to be smooth and level, -so that one can turn over easily. But the reason he gives for -this direction is rather comical: the bed is a sort of nocturnal -gymnasium, on which the sleeper may digest his food by frequent -rollings and tumblings in his dreams. - -The couch ought not to be elaborately carved, and the feet of it -ought to be smooth and plain. The reason for this is not only the -avoidance of luxury; but "elaborate turnings form occasionally -paths for creeping things, which twine themselves about the -mouldings and do not slip off." - -In speaking of dress, St. Clement gives free rein to his -indignation at the folly and extravagance of both men and women, -and points his remarks with many a shaft of keen wit and sallies -of dry humor. Of course, he says, we must have clothes, but we -require them as a protection for the body, not as mere ornaments -to attract notice and inflame greedy eyes. Nor is there any good -reason why the garments of women should differ from those of men. -At the utmost, women may be permitted the use of softer textures, -provided they wear them not too thin and curiously woven. -{100} -A silk dress is the mark of a weak mind. Dyed garments are silly -and extravagant; and are they not, after all, offences against -truth? Sardian, olive, rose-colored, green, scarlet, and ten -thousand other dyes--pray, of what use are they? Does the color -make any difference in the warmth of the robe? And, besides, the -dye rots the stuff, and makes it wear out sooner. A good -Christian who is pure within ought to be clad in spotless white. -Flowered and embroidered clothing, cunningly wrought with gold, -and figures of beasts, and elaborate tracery, "and that -saffron-colored robe dipped in ointment, and these costly and -many-colored garments of flaring membranes," are not for the -children of the church. Let us weave for ourselves the fleece of -the sheep which God created for us, but let us not be as silly as -sheep. Beauty of character shows itself best when it is not -enveloped in ostentatious fooleries. When St. Clement comes to -particulars, especially in speaking of the dress of women, it -almost seems as if he were pointing at the fashions of the -nineteenth century. The modern fondness for mauve, and the -various other shades of purple, is nothing new. The same colors -seem to have been "the style" in the year 200. "Would it were -possible," exclaims the saint, "to abolish purple in dress! The -women will wear nothing else; and in truth, so crazy have they -gone over these stupid and luxurious purples, that, in the -language of the poet, _purple_ death has seized them!" So we -see that the good father was not above making a pun. He -enumerates some of the articles of apparel--tunics, cloaks, and -garments, with long and obscure names, about which the fine -ladies of Alexandria were perpetually "in a flutter;" and it is -rather startling to encounter in the list--what think you? Why, -nothing less than the _peplum_, so dear to the hearts of -women in 1867. Female extravagance in coverings for the feet also -seems to have been as rife in ancient Egypt as it is in modern -Paris or New-York. He condemns the use of sandals decorated with -gold, and curiously studded on the soles with "winding rows" of -nails, or ornamented with amorous carvings and jewelled devices. -Attic and Sicyonian half-boots, and Persian and Tyrrhenian -buskins, are also to be avoided. Men had better go barefoot -unless necessity prevents, but it is not suitable for a woman to -show her naked foot; "besides, woman is a tender thing, easily -hurt." She ought to wear simple white shoes, except on a journey, -and then her shoes should be greased. - -Our saintly censor devotes an indignant chapter to "the stones -which silly women wear fastened to chains and set in necklaces;" -and he compares the eagerness with which they rush after -glittering jewelry to the senseless attraction which draws -children to a blazing fire. He quotes from Aristophanes a whole -catalogue of female ornaments: - - "Snoods, fillets, natron, and steel; - Pumice-stone, band, back-band, - Back-veil, paint, necklaces, - Paints for the eyes, soft garment, _hair-net_, [Footnote 22] - Girdle, shawl, fine purple border, - Long robe, tunic, Barathrum, round tunic, - Ear-pendants, jewelry, ear-rings, - Mallow-colored cluster-shaped anklets, - Buckles, clasps, necklets, - Fetters, seals, chains, rings, powders, - Bosses, bands, Sardian stones, - Fans, helicters." - - [Footnote 22: Is it possible that _waterfalls_ were worn - in those days?] - -And he cries out, wearied with the enumeration: "I wonder how -those who bear such a burden are not worried to death. O foolish -trouble! O silly craze for display!" And of what use is it all? -It is nothing but art contending against nature, falsehood -struggling against truth. If a woman is ugly, she only makes her -ugliness more conspicuous by decking herself out with -meretricious ornaments. -{101} -Besides, the custom of "applying things unsuitable to the body as -if they were suitable, begets a practice of lying and a habit of -falsehood." The sight of an over-dressed woman seems to have -affected St. Clement very much as a worthless picture in an -elegant frame. "The body of one of these ladies," he exclaims, -"would never fetch more than one hundred and fifty dollars; but -you may see her wearing a dress that cost _two hundred and -fifty thousand._" We complain of the extravagance of modern -belles; but, do they ever spend such enormous sums as that on a -single dress? Alexandria, we imagine, must bear away the palm -from Newport and Saratoga. - -There were particular fashions in jewelry and ornament toward -which the saint had a special dislike. Bracelets in the form of a -serpent, he calls the manifest badges of the evil one. Golden -chains and necklaces are nothing better than fetters. Earrings -and ear-drops he forbids as contrary to nature, and he beseeches -his female hearers not to have their ears pierced. If you pierce -your ears, he says, why not have rings in your noses also? A -signet-ring may be worn on the finger, because it is useful for -sealing; but no good Christian ought to wear rings for mere -ornament. Yet he makes one curious exception to this rule. If a -woman have, unfortunately, a dissipated husband, she may adorn -herself as much as she can, for the purpose of keeping him at -home. - -How bitter is the contempt which the philosopher pours out upon -the fashionable ladies of the time, who spend their days in the -mysterious rites of the toilet, curling their locks, anointing -their cheeks, painting their eyes, "mangling, racking, and -plastering themselves over with certain compositions, chilling -the skin and furrowing the flesh with poisonous cosmetics;" and -then in the evening "creeping out to candle-light as out of a -hole." Love of display is not the characteristic of a true lady. -The woman who gives herself up to finery is worse than one who is -addicted to the pleasures of the table and _the bottle_! She -is a lazy housekeeper, sitting like a painted thing to be looked -at, not as if made for domestic economy, and she cares a great -deal more about getting at her husband's purse-strings than about -staying at home with him. And how preposterous is her behavior -when she goes abroad. Is she short? she wears cork-soles. Is she -tall? she carries her head down on her shoulder. Has she fine -teeth? she is always laughing. Has she _no flanks? she has -something sewed on to her,_ so that the spectators may exclaim -on her fine shape. A little while ago, a mania for yellow hair -broke out in Paris, and fashionable ladies had their locks dyed -of the popular hue. Well, it appears from St. Clement's -discourses that this folly is over sixteen hundred years old. He -upbraids the Alexandrian ladies for following the same absurd -custom, and asks, in the words of Aristophanes, "What can women -do wise or brilliant who sit with hair dyed yellow?" Nor is this -the only modern fashion about the hair which was known and -condemned in his time. Read this, young ladies: "_Additions of -other people's hair are entirely to be rejected,_ and it is a -most sacrilegious thing for spurious hair to shade the head, -covering the skull with dead locks. For on whom does the priest -lay his hand? Whom does he bless? -{102} -Not the woman decked out, but another's hairs, and through them -another head." Chignons, braids, tresses, and all the other -wonderful paraphernalia of the hair-dresser's art are condemned -as no better than lies, and a shameful defamation of the human -head, which, says St. Clement, is truly beautiful. Neither is it -allowable to dye gray hairs, or in any other way to conceal the -approach of old age. "It is enough for women to protect their -locks and bind up their hair simply along the neck with a plain -hair-pin, nourishing chaste locks with simple care to true -beauty." And then he draws a comical picture of a lady with her -hair so elaborately "done up," that she is afraid to touch her -head, and dares not go to sleep for fear of pulling down the -whole structure. - -A man ought to shave his crown, (unless he has curly hair,) but -not his chin, because the beard gives "dignity and paternal -terror" to the face. The mustache, however, "which is dirtied in -eating, is to be cut round, not by the razor, for that were -ungenteel, but by a pair of cropping scissors." The practice of -shaving was a mark of effeminacy in those days, and it was -thought disgraceful for a man to rob himself of the "hairiness" -which distinguishes his sex, even as the lion is known by his -shaggy mane. So St. Clement is unsparing in his denunciations of -the unmanly creatures who "comb themselves and shave themselves -with a razor for the sake of fine effect, and arrange their hair -at the looking-glass." Manly sports, provided they be pursued for -health's sake and not for vainglory, he warmly approves. A -sparing use of the gymnasium and an occasional bout at wrestling -will do no harm, but rather good; yet, when you wrestle, says the -saint, be sure you stand squarely up to your adversary, and try -to throw him by main strength, not by trickery and -_finesse_. A game of ball he especially recommends, (who -knows but there may have been base-ball clubs in Egypt?) and he -mildly suggests that, if a man were to handle the hoe now and -then, the labor would not be "ungentlemanly." Pittacus, King of -Miletus, set a good example to mankind by grinding at the mill -with his own hand; and, if St. Clement were alive now, he might -add that Charles V. employed himself in constructing time-pieces, -and that notorious savage, Theodoras, Emperor of Abyssinia, -passes most of his days making umbrellas. Fishing is a -commendable pastime, for it has the example of the apostles in -its favor. Another capital exercise for a gentleman is chopping -wood. This, we may remark, is said to be the favorite athletic -pursuit of the Honorable Horace Greeley. - -The daily occupations of women must not be too sedentary, yet -neither, on the other hand, ought the gentler sex to be -"encouraged in wrestling or running!" Instead of dawdling about -the shops of the silk merchant, the goldsmith, and the perfumer, -or riding aimlessly about town in litters, just to be admired, -the true lady will employ herself in spinning and weaving, and, -if necessary, will superintend the cooking. She must not be above -turning the mill, or getting her husband a good dinner. She must -shake up the beds, reach drink to her husband when he is thirsty, -set the table as neatly as possible, and when anything is wanted -from the store, let her go for it and fetch it home herself. We -fear it is not the fashion, even yet, to follow St. Clement's -advice. She ought to keep her face clean, and her glances cast -down, and to beware of languishing looks, and "ogling, which is -to wink with the eyes," and of a mincing gait. - -{103} - -A gentleman in the street should never walk furiously, nor -swagger, nor try to stare people out of countenance; neither when -going up-hill ought he to be _shoved up by his domestics!_ -He ought not to waste his time in barbers' shops and taverns, -babbling nonsense; nor to watch the women who pass by; nor to -gamble. He must not kiss his wife in the presence of his -servants. If he is a merchant, he must not have two prices for -his goods. He must be his own valet. He must wash his own feet, -and put on his own shoes. - -And so the holy man goes on with much more sage counsel and -Christian direction, teaching his flock not only how to be -faithful children of the church, but how to be true gentlemen and -gentlewomen. The etiquette which he lays down is not based upon -the arbitrary and changeable rules of fashion, but upon the fixed -principles of morality and good fellowship. We have thought it -not amiss to give our readers a specimen of them, partly, indeed, -because they show us in such an interesting manner what kind of -lives people used to lead in his day, but also because they are -full of good lessons and wholesome rebukes for ourselves, and -because many of the follies which St. Clement condemned are still -flourishing, just as they flourished then, or are newly springing -into life after they have been for so many centuries forgotten. -Of course, there are many of his rules which are not applicable -to us. Many things which he forbade because they were indications -or accompaniments of certain sinful practices are no longer -wrong, because they have been completely dissevered from their -evil associations. But upon the whole, we doubt not that a new -edition of St. Clement's _Paedagogus_, or as we might -translate it, "Complete Guide to Politeness," would be vastly -more beneficial to the public than any of the hand-books of -etiquette which are multiplied by the modern press. - --------- - - Ran away to Sea. - - A treacherous spirit came up from the sea, - And passing inland found a boy where he - Lay underneath the green roof of a tree, - In the golden summer weather. - - And to the boy it whispered soft and low-- - Come! let us leave this weary land, and go - Over the seas where the free breezes blow, - In the golden summer weather. - -{104} - - I know green isles in far-off sunny seas, - Where grow great cocoa-palms and orange-trees, - And spicy odors perfume every breeze, - In the golden summer weather. - - There, underneath the ever-glowing skies, - Gay parrokeets and birds of paradise, - Make bright the woods with plumes of gorgeous dyes, - In the golden summer weather. - - And in that land a happy people stay: - No hateful books perplex them night nor day; - No cares of business fret their lives away, - In the golden summer weather. - - But all day long they wander where they please, - Plucking delicious fruits, that on the trees - Hang all the year and never know decrease, - In the golden summer weather. - - Or over flower-enamelled vale and slope - They chase the silv'ry-footed antelope; - Or with the pard in manly conflict cope - In the golden summer weather. - - And in those islands troops of maidens are, - Whose lovely shapes no foolish fashions mar; - Eyes black as Night, and brighter than her stars - In the golden summer weather. - - Earth hath no maidens like them otherwhere; - With teeth like pearls and wreaths of jetty hair, - And lips more sweet than tinted syrups are, - In the golden summer weather. - - Ah! what a life it were to live with them! - 'Twould pass by sweetly as a happy dream: - The years like days, the days like minutes seem, - In the golden summer weather. - - Come! let us go! the wind blows fair and free; - The clouds sail seaward, and to-morrow we - May see the billows dancing on the sea, - In the golden summer weather. - - The heavens were bright, the earth was fair to see, - A thousand birds sang round the boy, but he - Heard nothing but that spirit from the sea, - In the golden summer weather. - -{105} - - All night, as sleepless on his bed he lay, - He seemed to hear that treacherous spirit say, - Come, let us seek those islands far away, - In the golden summer weather. - - So ere the morning in the east grew red, - He stole adown the stairs with barefoot tread, - Unbarred the door with trembling hands, and fled - In the golden summer weather. - - In the last hour of night the city slept; - Upon his beat the drowsy watchman stept; - When like a thief along the streets he crept, - In the golden summer weather. - - And when the sun brought in the busy day, - His father's home afar behind him lay, - And he stood 'mongst the sailors on the quay, - In the golden summer weather. - - Like sleeping swans, with white wings folded, ride - The great ships at their moorings, side by side; - Moving but with the pulses of the tide, - In the golden summer weather. - - And one is slowly ruffling out her wings - For flight, as seaward round her bowsprit swings; - Whilst at the capstan-bars the sailor sings - In the golden summer weather. - - He is aboard. The wind blows fresh abeam: - The ship drifts slowly seaward with the stream; - And soon the land fades from him like a dream, - In the golden summer weather. - - And if he found those islands far away, - Or those fair maidens, there is none can say: - For ship or boy returned not since that day, - In the golden summer weather. - - E. YOUNG. - --------- - -{106} - - - A Royal Nun. - - -Among the pleasant alleys of Versailles, or under the stately -groves of St. Cloud, or in the grand corridors of the Tuileries, -might often have been seen, about the year 1773, pacing up and -down together in tender and confidential converse, two young -maidens in the early bloom of youth, and often by their side -would sport a careless, wilful, but engaging child some eight or -nine years old. These three young girls were all of royal birth, -and bound together by the ties of close relationship; they were -the sisters and cousin of a great king; their lineage one of the -proudest of the earth; they were all fair to look upon, and all -endowed with mental gifts of no mean order. How bright looked -their future! Monarchs often sought their hands in marriage, and -men speculated on their fate, and wondered which should form the -most brilliant alliance. Could the angels who guarded their -footsteps have revealed their future, how the wise men of this -world would have laughed the prophecy to scorn! Yet above those -fair young heads hangs a strange destiny. For one the martyr's -palm; the name of another was to echo within the walls of St. -Peter, as of her whom the church delighteth to honor; the third -was to wear the veil of the religious through dangers and under -vicissitudes such as seldom fall to the lot of any woman. Those -of whom we speak were these: Clotilde and Elizabeth of France, -sisters of Louis XVI., and Louise de Bourbon Condé, their cousin. -Louise and Clotilde, almost of the same age, were bound together -in close intimacy. We may wonder, now, on what topics their -conversation would run. Did they speak of the gayeties of the -court; of the round of the giddy dissipation which had, perhaps, -reached its culminating point about this period? or were they -talking of the last sermon of Père Beauregard, when, with -unsparing and apostolic severity, he condemned the fashionable -vices of the age? or were they speaking of the cases of distress -among the poor who day by day trooped to the house of -_Mademoiselle_, as Louise de Condé was called, and were -there succored by her own hands? On some such theme as these -latter we may be almost sure that their converse ran. The heart -of Clotilde was never given to the world; from her childhood she -had yearned for a cloister, and would fain have found herself at -the side of her aunt, Madame Louise, who was then prioress of the -Carmelites of St. Denis. To the _grille_ of this convent -Clotilde, Louise, and Elizabeth would often go; and no doubt it -was partly owing to the conversation and example of the holy -Carmelite princess that the three girls, placed, as they all -were, in most dangerous and difficult positions, not only -threaded their way through the maze safely, but became examples -of eminent piety and virtue. - -The elder of the three friends was Louise, only daughter of Louis -Joseph de Bourbon Condé, great-great-grandson of the Great Condé, -and son of the Duke de Bourbon, for some time prime minister to -Louis XV. He had early chosen the army as his career, and as -early won laurels for himself in the Seven Years' War. On one -occasion he was entreated by his attendants to withdraw from the -heat of the battle. -{107} -"I never heard," said he, "of such precautions being taken by the -_Great Condé._" His admiration for his glorious ancestor -was, indeed, intense, and he devoted himself to the task of -writing a history of this great man; for, though an ardent -soldier, he was well educated. Men of science and genius gathered -round him in his chateau of Chantilly, whither he would retire in -the brief intervals of peace. At a very early age the Prince de -Condé married Charlotte de Rohan Soubise, a maiden as noble in -her character as her birth. She was merciful to the poor, gentle -and charitable to all who surrounded her. The marriage was a -happy one, but was not destined to last long. The princess died -in 1760, leaving behind her a son, the Duke de Bourbon, and -Louise Adelaide, of whom we have been speaking. - -The little girl, thus left motherless at the age of five years, -was consigned to the care of her great-aunt, the abbess of -Beaumont les Tours, about sixty leagues from Paris. All the -religious assembled to receive the little princess on the day of -her arrival, and everything was done to please her. After showing -her all the interior of the convent, she was asked where she -would like to go. "Oh! take me," cried she, "where there is the -most noise." Poor child! she was destined to find her after-life -a little too noisy. She next chose to go into the choir while the -nuns chanted compline; but before the end of the first psalm -whispered to her attendant, "I have had enough." In these -peaceful walls her childhood passed away. She grew fond of the -convent, and gave every mark of external piety. She was wont to -declare afterward that the grace of God had made little interior -progress in her heart; nevertheless, a solid foundation of good -instruction had been laid, which was hereafter to bear fruit. At -twelve years of age she made her first communion, and then -returned to Paris to finish her education in a convent there, "to -prepare her for the world." - -Years fled on, Louise attained womanhood, her brother married one -of the Orleans princesses, and a marriage was projected for -Louise with the Count d'Artois, afterward Charles X., but -political differences caused the match to be broken off. Louise -was not destined ever to become Queen of France. The tender -friendship which subsisted between her and the Princess Clotilde -was now to be broken, in one sense, by their total separation. -Clotilde's heart's desire for the religious life was rudely -crossed; the daughters of royal houses had less control over -their fates then (and perhaps even now) than the meanest peasant -in the land. A marriage was "arranged" for Madame Clotilde with -the Prince of Piedmont, heir-apparent to the throne of Sardinia. -She was but sixteen years of age when she had to leave France and -all she loved and clung to, and set out to meet her unknown -husband; for she was married by proxy only in Paris, and was -received by the Prince of Piedmont at Turin. She was very -beautiful, but unfortunately excessively stout, to such a degree -that it injured not only her appearance, but her health. At Turin -she was welcomed by a vast crowd, but cries of "_Che -grossa!_" ("How fat she is!") struck unpleasantly on her ear. -"Be consoled," said the Queen of Sardinia; "when I entered the -city, the people cried, _'Che brutta!'_" ("How plain she -is!") "You find me very stout?" questioned Clotilde, anxiously -looking into her husband's face. "I find you adorable," was the -graceful and affectionate reply. - -{108} - -Years flew by. _Mademoiselle_, as Louise was now called, had -her own establishment, and presided at royal _fêtes_ given -by her father at Chantilly. Thither came once to partake of his -hospitality the heir of the throne of all the Russias, -travelling, together with his wife, under the incognito of the -Comte du Nord. A friendship sprang up between them and Louise de -Condé, hereafter to be put to the proof in extraordinary and -unforeseen circumstances. Little did they think as they parted -within the splendid halls of Chantilly where their next meeting -should be. - -The license of manners that preceded the Revolution, as the -gathering clouds foretell a storm, was principally to be observed -in the grossness of the theatre and the corruption of literature. -The theatre was a favorite amusement with Louise de Condé, and -she took great delight in private theatricals, and frequently -played a part. She heard Père Beauregard preach on the subject, -and her resolution was instantly taken. A comedy was to be acted -next day at Chantilly, but the princess renounced her part. It -cost her not a little thus to throw out the arrangements for the -_fête_; but she vanquished all human respect, and thus took -the part of God against the world. - -It was a turning-point in her life. It may seem to us that it was -but a small sacrifice to make; but one grace corresponded to lead -on to others, and from that resolution to give up theatrical -entertainments Louise dated the commencement of the great -spiritual graces and benefits of her after-life. That she was -endowed with the courage of her race may be known from the fact -that, having sustained by a fall a severe fracture of her leg, -she sent for her Italian master to give her a lesson while -waiting for the surgeon. This broken leg was destined in her -case, as in that of St. Ignatius, to become one of her greatest -blessings. She rose up from her bed determined to give herself -more entirely to God's service. Naturally of a deeply -affectionate disposition, Louise loved her family tenderly, but -in an especial manner her only nephew, the Duc d'Enghien, then in -his early youth. Day by day did Louise bring the name of this -beloved boy before the Mother of Good Counsel, begging her, in -her own simple words, to become his mother and protectress, and -"never to suffer his faith to perish." We shall see a little -later on how this prayer was answered. And now time had passed -on, and the Revolution was at hand, and had even begun. After the -taking of the Bastile, the Prince de Condé quitted France with -all his family, and immediately set himself to organize an army -for the defence of Louis XVI. Ordered by the _Directory_ to -return to France, he disobeyed, and was instantly stripped of all -his vast property. The prince sold all his jewels, and bore his -altered fortunes with patience and courage. Meanwhile, the -Princess Louise accompanied her father and acted as his -secretary. They moved about from place to place, and at Turin she -was able to renew the friendship of her youth with Clotilde, who -was now Queen of Sardinia, and displayed on her throne a pattern -of womanly and saintly virtues. Near the Queen of Sardinia -flattery could not subsist. It is recorded of her that she never -pronounced a doubtful word, far less the smallest falsehood. -Intercourse with this dear friend strengthened in the heart of -Louise the earnest desire she had of belonging entirely to God. -"I am obliged to take time for prayer from my sleep," she writes -to her director. "I cannot do without it. -{109} -When at table, surrounded with officers, all talking, I pray -inwardly." The crime of the 21st of January, 1793, fell like a -thunderbolt on the army of Condé; but, rising from his grief, the -brave general instantly proclaimed Louis XVII., although that -little king, whose piteous story history surely can never outdo, -was still being tortured by his savage subjects. The Archbishop -of Turin was deputed to escort the terrible news to Queen -Clotilde. "Madam," said he, "will your majesty pray for your -illustrious brother, especially for his soul?" The terrible truth -flashed at once upon her, and, falling on her knees, she -exclaimed: "Let us do better still--let us pray for his -murderers!" Surely, in the annals of the saints, few words more -truly heroic can have been recorded than this impulsive utterance -of Clotilde de Bourbon. The active operations of the army -commanded by the Prince de Condé made it impossible for the -princess to remain any longer at her father's side; she -accordingly repaired to Fribourg, a favorite place of refuge for -French emigrants. No less than three hundred French priests had -found a temporary asylum within its walls, and the services of -the church were performed with every possible care and frequency. -Among these priests the princess met one, supposed to be one of -the exiled French bishops, to whom she was able to give her -entire confidence, and from whom she received wise and spiritual -advice. The idea of a religious vocation now began to take firm -hold of her mind but her director would not let her take any step -for two years, wishing in every possible way to test the reality -of this call from God. No ordinary obstacles stood in the way of -the royal postulant. Times had changed since those when the -entrance of Madame Louise, of France, into the Carmelites had -been hailed as an especial mark of God's providence over a poor -community. Every convent in Europe was now trembling for its -safety, and few were willing to open their doors to one bearing -the now unfortunate name of Bourbon. About this time, it would -seem, the princess was in communication with the Père de -Tournely, founder of that Society of the Sacred Heart which was -afterward absorbed into the Society of Jesus, and who was -earnestly seeking to found a new order for women, and especially -at this moment to gather together a community of emigrant French -ladies, some of whom had been driven from their convents. The -idea naturally presented itself of placing the Princess Louise at -the head of such a community, but she shrank from the task. "I -should fear," she said, "from the force of custom, the deference -that would be paid to what the world calls my rank. The place -that I am ambitious of is the last of all. What are the thrones -of the universe compared to that last place?" God had other -designs for her, and for the projected order an humbler -instrument was to be chosen for the foundation-stone of the order -of the Sacred Heart; and at this moment the foundress, all -unconscious of her fate, was as yet "playing with her dolls." -Louise de Condé, determined to enter a poor, obscure convent of -Capuchinesses, or religious, following the rule of St. Clare, in -Turin, a city which it was then hoped was likely to remain in -tranquillity. Before doing so she had obtained her father's -consent, and also that of Louis XVIII, whom the emigrant French -had proclaimed as their king when the prison-house of the little -Louis XVII. had been mercifully opened by death. -{110} -The emigrants were careful to keep up with their exiled monarch -all the forms and traditions which would have surrounded him had -he been peaceably sitting on the throne of his fathers. It is -worth while to give the princess's own words: - - "Sire: It is not at the moment when I am about to have the - happiness of consecrating myself to God that I could forget for - the first time what I owe to my king. I have for long past felt - myself called to the religious state, and I have come to Turin, - where the kindness and friendship of the Queen of Sardinia has - given me the means to execute my design--a design which has - been well examined and reflected upon; but, before its final - accomplishment, I supplicate your majesty to deign to give your - consent to it. I ask it with the more confidence because I am - certain it will not be refused, and that your piety, sire, will - cause you to find consolation in seeing a princess of your - blood invested with the livery of Jesus Christ. May God, whose - infinite mercy I have so wonderfully experienced, hear the - prayers I shall constantly make for the reestablishment of the - altar and the throne in my unfortunate country. They will be as - earnest as the efforts of my relatives for the same object. The - desire for the personal happiness of your majesty is equally in - my heart. I implore him to be persuaded of it. I am, etc., - - "Louise Adélaide De Bourbon Condé. - "Turin, November, 1795." - -There could be no doubt of the devotion of Louise's family to the -cause of Louis XVIII. Her father, brother, and nephew were all -under arms for the restoration of his crown, and Delille -celebrated the incident in verse: - - "Trois générations vont ensemble à la gloire." - -The king wrote back to the royal postulant: - - "You have deeply reflected, my dear cousin, on the step which - you have taken. Your father has given his consent. I give mine - also, or rather, I give you up to Providence, who requires this - sacrifice from me. I will not conceal from you that it is a - great one, and it is with deep regret that I give up the hope - of seeing you by your virtues become one day an example to my - court, and an edification to all my subjects. I have but one - consolation, and it is that of thinking that, while the courage - and talents of your nearest relations are aiding me to recover - the throne of St. Louis, your prayers will draw down the - benedictions of the Most High on my cause, and afterward on all - my reign. I recommend it to you, and I pray you, my dear - cousin, to be well persuaded of my friendship for you. - - "Louis." - -On the 26th of November, 1798, the Queen of Sardinia took her -cousin to the convent, and saw her enter on the mode of life she -had so ardently desired for herself, but from which she had been -severed. And here Louise began to lead at once a life of hardship -and austerity. Earnest in all things by character, she threw -herself into the practice of her rule, and became a model to all -the novitiates. She counted the months as they passed which -should bring her to her profession day; but it was not to be. God -saw fit to purify her by many sufferings, by long anxieties, -before she should find rest in his house. She was to be the -instrument for a great work for his glory, and by many -vicissitudes she was to be trained and fitted for it. -{111} -The French Directory had declared war against Piedmont, the -princess's presence endangered the whole of her community, and -she hastened to quit their roof and take refuge temporarily at -the convent of the Annonciades, from whence, as she was only a -boarder, she could fly at any moment; but before leaving her -convent she cut off her hair. As a witness to herself, she wrote -of the firm resolution she had taken of living for God only. No -one but God, she said long afterward, could tell what her -sufferings were at having to leave her convent; but she adds: -"The graces that God poured upon me in that holy house gave the -necessary strength to my soul to bear the long trials which I had -to pass through for so many years!" Few recitals are more -touching than the sufferings of this poor novice, thus roughly -torn away from her beloved convent. Shortly after she took up her -abode with the Annonciades, a profession of one of their novices -took place, and the ceremony made the poor princess feel her -disappointment more bitterly. According to the custom of the -order, the novice wore a crown of flowers, and her cell and her -bed were both decked with them, and the sight moved Louise de -Condé to tears, and, when the novice pronounced her vows, her -sobs almost stifled her. She said to herself that _she_ was -unworthy to become the spouse of Christ, and therefore these -obstacles had arisen; and, humbling herself at the feet of her -Lord, she bewailed the follies of her life in the world, of which -she took a far harsher view than those did who knew how it had -been passed, and she implored him to have mercy on her and -others, to attain a perfect resignation to his will. - -She had not left her convent too soon. The rapid approach of the -French army on Turin obliged her to quit the city and direct her -steps toward Switzerland. There she hoped to find a convent of -Trappist nuns who would venture to receive her; but, when she had -passed Mount St. Bernard, she found that the community had not -yet been able to find a resting-place in Switzerland. She -travelled on to Bavaria, and was told that no French emigrant -could remain in the country. Verily, it seemed as if she were -destined to have nowhere to lay her head. She did not know where -to turn; for war was ruling in all directions, and her name was -dreaded by all who desired to keep a neutral part in the -conflict. She was driven to seek refuge at Vienna, and went to -board with a convent of Visitation nuns; for this order she did -not feel any attraction, and she cherished the hope that the -Trappist nuns, of whom she had heard would be able to find a -place of refuge and receive her among their number. While thus -waiting, she took, by the advice of her confessor, the three vows -privately, thus binding herself as closely as possible to her -crucified Lord. Her description of this action of her life gives -a great insight into the beauty of her soul. Deep humility, a -fervent love of God, and a child-like simplicity were her eminent -characteristics. She made these vows at communion, unknown to all -save God, his angels, and her spiritual guide. Then she said the -_Te Deum_ and _Magnificat_, which would have been sung -so joyfully by her sisters had she been suffered to remain among -them. "I neglected not in spirit," she adds, "the ceremony of the -funeral pall, begging from God the grace to die to all, so as to -live only in God and for God." - -This private act of consecration was an immense comfort to her; -but it by no means prevented her longing and striving to reenter -a convent, and all her hopes continued to be fixed on La Trappe. - -{112} - -At this period an affecting meeting took place between her and -Madame Royale, the only survivor of the royal victims of the -Temple, the young girl born to one of the highest destinies in -this world, and whose youth had been overshadowed by a tragedy so -prolonged and so frightful that history can scarce furnish a -parallel case. It is only extraordinary that reason had survived -such awful suffering, falling on one so young and so tenderly -nurtured. Is it any wonder that a shade was cast over the rest of -her life, and that she was never among the light-hearted or the -gay? From Vienna she wrote to Queen Clotilde: "I have had a great -pleasure here in finding that the virtues of my aunt Elizabeth -were well known, and she is spoken of with veneration. I hope -that one day the pope will place my relation in the list of -saints." It was, no doubt, a great comfort to her to speak freely -with Louise of the aunt and cousin both had so fondly loved. -Louise could tell Madame Royale many anecdotes of the youth of -one whose end had been so saintly. We must now say a few words -about the convent which the princess wished to enter. - -When the order of La Trappe was suppressed in France, in common -with those of other religious in 1790, the Abbé L'Estrange, -called in religion Dom Augustin, was master of novices, and he -conceived the idea of removing the whole community from France -instead of dispersing it. - -After many difficulties this was accomplished, and the monastery -was founded at Val-Sainte, near Fribourg. The abbé now conceived -the idea of founding a convent of Trappist nuns, to be composed -chiefly of those religious who had been driven from their own -convents, and of fresh novices. The director of Madame Louise had -many doubts as to the advisability of her entering this -community; but her desire for it was so ardent, and continued so -long, that he withdrew his opposition; and when the community had -really taken root, near that of the Trappist monks, under the -title of the Monastery of the Will of God, Louise de Condé set -out from Vienna and entered it. None but the superiors knew who -she was--such was the simplicity of her dress, so retiring her -manners, so humble were all her ways; but instead of a princess -many of the religious thought her to be of lowly extraction, and -wondered that Dom Augustin gave her so much of his time. With -great delight she received the holy habit and began to practise -the rule. The life was a hard one; the house was a great deal too -small for the number of religious who occupied it; there was a -great want of fresh air; and the rule and austerities were most -trying. In a very few months the torrent of European war was -about to pour down on Switzerland, and the whole community were -obliged to take a hasty departure. Dom Augustin could see no -other place of refuge for his flock than the shores of Russia, -and he bade Louise de Condé use her influence with the emperor to -allow them to take up their abode in his kingdom. The Emperor -Paul was the same who, as archduke and under the title of Comte -du Nord, had sat by the princess's side at the brilliant banquets -and festivities of Chantilly. Louise wrote to him with all the -grace of a French woman: "I beg the amiable Comte du Nord to -become my interpreter with the Emperor Paul." The advance of the -republican army was so rapid that there was no time to wait for a -reply. -{113} -The community were divided into different bands, and started at -different times and by different routes, all agreeing to reunite -their forces in Bavaria. The vicissitudes of this one journey -would be enough for a good-sized volume could we go into its -details. At one place she is received by the bishop of the -diocese as a princess, only to be driven out by the civil -authorities; at another she was lodged in a _bake-house_, -full of dirt and smoke. She observed only it was quite good -enough for her, and that she was very happy. At another time the -cook neglects to cleanse the copper cooking-vessels, and the -whole community are all but poisoned. When the answer came from -the Emperor Paul, it was found that he consented to receive -thirty of the religious only, to whom he promised support as well -as protection. It was necessary, therefore, to find some place -for the others, and Louise accompanied some of her sisters and -the monks to Vienna, where her former friends, the good -Visitation nuns, gave a refuge to another band of the Trappists. -Notwithstanding all these changes, Louise as strictly as possible -observed the rule of her order and the exercises of her -novitiate. Being desired by her superiors to write down her -thoughts on the religious life, she instantly complied, though -she said afterward it was difficult to do so in the midst of -fourteen persons, crowded together in a very small room, and all -at different occupations. It was true they kept silent, but they -had to ask necessary questions of the prioress, and among so many -this necessity was very frequent. - -She was now desired to set out for Russia, and thus undertake -another long journey of discomfort and fatigue. People urged her -to leave the order, saying that the weakness of her knee, which -had never wholly recovered from the fall she had had many years -before, would render it impossible for her to be useful. She -replied that, if she were only allowed to keep the lamp burning -before the blessed sacrament, she would be contented. So she set -out for Orcha, the town named by the emperor for their reception. -It proved a really terrible journey; sometimes the religious had -to sleep under the open sky; they had the roughest food, and more -than once were without any for twenty-four hours. But never once -did the patience, sweetness, and perfect content of Louise de -Condé fail; her face was always bright, for her whole soul was -filled with the one thought--a desire of doing penance. The -arrival in Russia did not put an end to the difficulties of -either Madame Louise or her order. It was necessary to make some -arrangement for the rest of the community left in Germany. The -Emperor Paul finally agreed to receive fifty. Dom Augustin -accordingly went to fetch them. During his absence no -communication could be held with him, while various offers of -help, which had to be accepted or refused, were brought to the -princess, embarrassing her greatly. - -After ten months of this suspense Dom Augustin returned, having -made up his mind to go to _America_. This was a severe blow -to Madame Louise; for, being still a novice, it became a grave -question whether she would, in such circumstances, be right in -accompanying them, and after much prayer and thought she, by the -counsel of her director, decided to leave. Once more was she to -be driven out into the cold world; once more her heart's desire -crossed, her hopes delayed indefinitely. "I thought that God -willed in his justice to break my heart, and thus arrest its -impetuous ardor. -{114} -I had once more to strip myself of the livery of the Lord, which -had been my glory and my happiness. I did it, and did _not_ -die, that is all I can say." Before her departure she implored -the emperor, and all over whom she had any personal influence, to -continue their kindness to the order. In reality, it was a good -thing for the order that Madame Louise quitted it, as events -afterward proved. One of the very first communities allowed by -Bonaparte to reenter France was this very one, and he certainly -would not have done so had a Bourbon been in its ranks. It is -true his favor was but short-lived, and the Trappists had again -to fly to America, but their return to France had been in many -ways a benefit; and in 1815 they came back again, and established -themselves at Belle Fontaine and at Meillerage. The latter house -has long since become celebrated. Dom Augustin reached Rome, and -received many marks of approval from the pope for his long and -earnest struggle in the cause of his order. He died at Lyons in -1827. - -And now where was the exile to go? Where should she rest her -weary head? Where and how begin life again under a new aspect? -Her father, brother, and nephew were either engaged in warfare, -or themselves begging shelter from distant countries; her friends -were scattered, her resources scanty. A Benedictine nun who had -joined the Trappist community quitted it, accompanied her, and -Louise endeavored to follow under her a kind of novitiate. They -took refuge at last in a Benedictine convent in Lithuania, but -where the rule was not kept in its strict observance. Here she -remained for two years, making all possible inquiries for a -convent in which she might be received; but the greater part were -destroyed, and obstacles stood in the way of entering any of -those she heard of. She wished, of course, to be more than ever -careful in this her third choice. Moreover, her means of -acquiring information were but small; there was little -communication with other countries, and few of the inhabitants -spoke French. While in Lithuania Louise adopted an orphan of four -years old, a child of good family reduced to beggary; she was -named Eléonore Dombrousha. At last she heard of a convent at -Warsaw, which seemed as if it would fulfil all her desires; and -now, indeed, she _had_ reached the place God had destined -her for. Here she was to lay the foundation of the great work for -which, by many sorrows, by much disappointment, he had been -preparing her. - -A foundation of Benedictines of the Blessed Sacrament had come -from Paris to Warsaw many years before, and were still existing: -they kept the Benedictine rule strictly, adding to it the -adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. Madame Louise asked and -received permission of the King of Prussia to enter his -dominions. He afterward wrote as follows: - - "Frederick William, by the Grace Of God King Of Prussia: As we - have permitted Madame la Princesse Louise Adelaide de Bourbon - Condé and Madame de la Brosièree, who arrived at Warsaw the - 18th of June, to remain in the convent of the Holy Sacrament, - where they seem to wish to end their days, we have in - consequence given all necessary orders to the officials. - "Warsaw, 28 August, 1801." - -{115} - -A striking circumstance occurred while on her road to Warsaw, one -of those many incidents of the time which has made the history of -the French Revolution read like a romance. Having to descend from -her carriage at Thorn, her eyes fell on a woman poorly clad in -the street, evidently seeking employment; the expression of her -face was that of suffering, but of great sanctity. The princess -was so struck by it that she went up to her, and said by impulse, -"Madam, were you not a religious?" "Yes," she replied, impelled -to confidence by the sweet face of her who addressed her. And -then Louise learnt that the lady was an exiled member of the -French Sisters of Calvary, driven into exile; that her slender -means had come to an end; and that very day she had come out to -seek work or to beg, neither dismayed nor yet afraid, but putting -her full trust in Divine Providence. - -Her wants were supplied, and she would have entered the same -convent as Madame Louise, but that she hoped to rejoin her own -community when they should reassemble. This shortly afterward -took place, and the generosity of Madame Louise furnished the -means for her journey home, and she lived many years in her -convent, leading a holy life, and died there in peace. - -At last Madame Louise commenced her _third_ novitiate, and -found in her new order all that could perfectly satisfy her -heart. She took the habit in September, 1801, and all the royal -family of Prussia were present at the ceremony; the Bishop of -Warsaw preached the sermon, and bade her glorify her convent for -ever, not by the _éclat_ of her name and of her royal birth, -but by her religious virtues. The habit which she had taken, -added he, and which she had preferred to all the pomps of the -world, was but the exterior mark of a consecration and a -sacrifice that her heart had long since made. As a novice Madame -Louise redoubled her fervor and exactness in religious life, with -many anxious hopes and prayers that this time the day of her -profession would really come. A sorrow came upon her in the news -of the death of her early and loved friend, Clotilde of Sardinia, -whose soul passed to God in March, 1802, while her whole people, -anticipating only the voice of the church, called her a saint. On -the 21st of September, 1802, Louise made her solemn profession. -"I pronounced my vows publicly," she said, "but with such -feelings that I can truly say my heart pronounced them with a -thousand times greater strength than my mouth." She now retook -her religious name, which she had chosen twice before, Soeur -Marie Joseph de la Miséricorde. The life of an ordinary good -religious would have seemed sufficiently difficult for a -princess, but Louise would do nothing by halves. She practised -the highest virtues of her state, bearing undeserved blame -without a word of excuse; she never murmured under labors; she -was obedient, gentle, and humble. So anxious was she to prevent -her rank being an occasion for raising her to offices of -authority that she wrote to the pope these words: - - "Most Holy Father: - Louise Adélaide de Bourbon Condé, now Marie Joseph de la - Miséricorde, professed religious of the convent of the - Perpetual Adoration of the Most Holy Sacrament, order of Saint - Benedict, at Warsaw, supplicates your holiness that you deign, - for the repose and tranquillity of the soul of the suppliant, - to declare her deprived of active and passive voice, and to - dispense her from all the principal offices of the community." - -{116} - -The holy father saw fit to grant the request, and sent a brief on -the subject to her. - - "The efforts that you make to attain Christian perfection in - these unhappy days," wrote Pius VII., "have filled us with joy, - and make us hope that the Divine Spouse to whom you have made - the laudable sacrifice of yourself will not fail to grant you - his grace, in order that, by the exact and religious - observation of the rules of the institute which you have - chosen, you will attain the end that you proposed to yourself - in embracing with so much joy this state of life. ... We send - you the letters of dispensation that you say are necessary for - the perfect tranquillity of your mind, desiring nothing more - than to remove the obstacles which could destroy your peace; - and further, we give you with our whole heart the apostolical - benediction, as a proof of our paternal friendship." - -And now one of the sharpest sorrows of Louise de Condé's life was -at hand. An event which was, even in that age of cruelties, to -strike Europe with horror was to fall with bitterest force on the -heart of the princess. Religious life does not extinguish the -affections of the heart; it but regulates, ennobles, and purifies -them; and the Duc d'Enghien was as tenderly loved by the aunt who -had not seen him for many years, spent in devotion to God, as -when, in the halls of Chantilly, she had watched his childish -gambols. The prayer she had offered up in his childhood was -continued more fervently, more constantly, as the dangers to his -body and soul increased. She followed him in commiseration -through the busy scenes in which his lot was cast, and she saw -him brave, loyal, and honorable, a good son and a good husband. -When Louis XVIII. consulted him, in 1803, in common with the -other French princes, as to the answer he should return to the -proposal of Bonaparte that he should renounce the throne of -France, the duke wrote: "Your majesty knows too well the blood -which runs in my veins to have had the least doubt as to the -answer which you demand from me. I am a Frenchman, sire; and a -Frenchman who is faithful to his God, to his king, and to his -vows of honor." We have no space to dwell on the treachery and -the cruelty of the capture and death of this young prince, one of -the fairest hopes of the house of Bourbon. In vain did he even -ask for a priest; but that ungranted request must have carried -consolation to the heart of Madame Louise. As we read of his -cutting off his hair to send to his "Charlotte," we are forcibly -reminded of another prince, who was treacherously slain, sending -a last adieu to another unhappy princess of the same name. To the -doors of the convent at Warsaw, bearing the news, came the Abbé -Edgeworth, whose mission it was to console and help the -unfortunate house of Bourbon. He had attended the last moments of -Louis XVI.; he had stood by him on the scaffold, undaunted by the -crowd, and bade the "son of St. Louis ascend to heaven;" he had -been the director of Madame Elizabeth; he had joined the hands of -Madame Royale and the Duc d'Angoulême in marriage; and now he -came to break the news of the last great sorrow to Madame Louise. -The Mère Sainte Rose brought a crucifix to the princess, and her -countenance told her the rest. Louise fell on her face on the -earth, crying out, "Mercy, my God! have mercy on him!" Then she -rose, and, going to the chapel, poured out her soul before Him -who alone could comfort her. -{117} -"Pardon the faults of his youth, O Lord!" she cried, "and -remember how cruelly his blood has been shed. Glory and -misfortune have attended him through life; but what _we_ -call glory--has it any merit in thy eyes? Mercy, my God! mercy!" -But her prayers did not end here. From that time forward there -rose up before the throne of God a constant cry for mercy for the -soul of Napoleon Bonaparte, from the lips of her whose dearest -earthly hopes he had destroyed. She never made a retreat -afterward without devoting much prayer and penance for the -redemption of the enemy of her name and race. Forgiveness of -injuries was an especial characteristic of the Bourbon family, -and none excelled in it more than Madame Louise. - -And now another change awaited the poor princess: thick, indeed, -upon her head came trial after trial. Nothing could, indeed, take -from her now the happiness of being a professed Benedictine; but -that she should remain peaceably in one convent for a long time -was hardly to be hoped for at this period. The Lutheran Prussian -government began to interfere with the government of the convent, -to have a voice in the election of superiors, and, of course, to -interfere, at least indirectly, with the rule. Probably the -presence of Madame Louise made them take more notice of that -convent than they would otherwise have done. Before quitting it, -however, as this was a serious step to be taken voluntarily by a -religious who has made a vow of enclosure, she wrote for counsel -to the three French bishops of Léon, Vannes, and Nantes, who were -then all living in London. Their united opinion was, that "the -reasons were well grounded and very solid, and that the repose of -her conscience and her advancement in the perfection of her -state, exact this change." Having received permission from the -bishop of the diocese, and the full consent of her prioress, who -bitterly mourned over the thraldom in which the community were -held, Louise de Condé once more went out into exile, and this -time directed her steps toward England. She landed at Gravesend, -and was, we suppose, the first nun since the Reformation who was -received with public honors by the British authorities. In London -she met her father and brother, whom she had not seen since the -year 1795, and who had since that time endured so much, and who -were still suffering so acutely under their recent sorrow in the -execution of the Duc d'Enghien. There must have been a strangely -mingled feeling of pain and pleasure in this sad meeting. After -remaining a few days in London, her father and brother escorted -her to a Benedictine convent at Rodney Hall, Norfolk, where a -refuge had been offered to her. This community followed the -mitigated rule of St. Benedict, but Louise was allowed to observe -the fasts and other points to which she had bound herself by her -profession of the rule in its strict observance. - -In this house there were fifty choir nuns, eight lay sisters, and -a large school of young ladies. Wherever Madame Louise went, she -was accompanied by the Mère Sainte Rose and the little Eléonore -Dombrousha, the child of her adoption. In this community Louise -was greatly beloved. There was about her a sweetness and a -simplicity, a self-forgetfulness and charity for others which -gave her an inexpressible charm. She was truly noble in character -as well as in birth. She gave that example which God intends -those highly born (as we call it) to give--that of more closely -resembling Him whose birth was indeed a royal and noble one. -{118} -During her stay in Norfolk, the Princess Louise suffered greatly -from bad health. The trials she had undergone, the anxiety of -mind, her long journeys, and the severity of the observances to -which she had bound herself had their effect upon her frame. More -than once there was such cause for serious alarm that the Prince -de Condé and Duc de Bourbon came to see her. It is probable, too, -that the English climate, and especially the part of the country -in which she was living, might not have agreed with her; the -convent, besides, was not sufficiently large, and it was a -favorable change in all respects when the community removed to -Heath. Here Madame Louise met with one whose acquaintance she -conceived to be one of the greatest blessings of her life. - -The Society of Jesus was not as yet restored to the church; but -many of its ancient members were living, and showed by their -lives what had been the heavenly spirit in which they had been -trained. Preeminently among these was the Père de la Fontaine, -and it was to this holy man Louise became known while in England. -He often said Mass at the convent, and frequently saw the -princess. Under his direction, the soul of Louise made rapid -progress toward perfection. He understood what God required from -her, and taught her how to correspond with God. Among other -valuable advice which he gave her, and which she committed to -paper, the following is remarkable: "A spouse of Jesus Christ -ought absolutely to avoid all communication with Protestant -society. Their want of delicacy, in general, on those points -which wound a heart consecrated to God in all purity, and their -unbelief, often amounting to aversion, for the great sacrament of -the love of Jesus Christ, are two powerful reasons for keeping at -a distance from them. A truly religious soul has reason to fear -presumption and all its attendant evils, if she allows herself, -without real necessity, to be drawn into such dangerous -intercourse." - -And so the years again passed on and other changes were at hand. -Prayers, penances, and sufferings such as Louise de Condé had -endured, and sufferings which had been borne also in various -other ways by so many holy souls among the French emigrants, had -brought down mercy from God on their unhappy country and on -Europe. The long war was at an end, the muskets _had_ fallen -from the soldiers' hands, and Napoleon was a captive. Louis -XVIII. sat once more on the throne of his father. The _fleur de -lis_ again floated from the tower of the Louvre. Madame -Royale, who had been sent out of France as a prisoner, ransomed -by treaty, came back to hold the court over which her mother had -once presided; the princes of the blood-royal hastened back to -their places, and there was a general wish that Louise de Condé -should be once more on her native soil. Ah! what a lifetime of -sorrow had she passed through since she left Chantilly and her -house in the Rue Monsieur, and even now she would not return to -_them_. - -No, never again could she come back to be the princess. If she -returned to France, it must be as the religious to reestablish a -convent of her order, and thus aid in bringing back religious -life to France. It must be confessed that rarely was a person -more fitted for the task. None should rule, says a proverb, but -those who have learned to obey, and obedience had been a task -which the princess had well studied. -{119} -She had passed through three novitiates, and she had in her -lifetime seen the management of eight different convents, and she -had known well how to profit by the knowledge she gained. -Accordingly she quitted the convent at Heath the 16th of August, -1814, and arrived in Paris just as all were preparing to keep the -_fête_ of St. Louis for the first time for many years. She -resided for a time in the house of her brother, the Duc de -Bourbon; but she never quitted the apartments allotted to her, -and lived in the utmost retirement, waiting there only till a -suitable convent could be assigned to her. - -The papers of the day, after mentioning her arrival in Paris, -added: "It was the _on dit_ that his majesty proposed to -revive a royal foundation in her favor, and to establish her with -her sisters in a magnificent monastery which would be restored to -its primitive destination. Already it was sad to think that the -church of this abbey had been used for profane purposes, and the -friends of religion and of art would joyfully see this edifice -restored. It would be purified by establishing there the -perpetual adoration, and by placing there a shining example of -piety in the person of a princess devoted in an especial manner -to God's service." - -This edifice was the grand church and monastery of Val du Grâce, -one of the chief monuments of the piety of Anne of Austria. It -was then a hospital; but, as the paper went on to remark, the -superb church was not of any especial use to the sick, and would -be a noble one for cultured religious. However, the idea of -giving Val du Grâce to Madame Louise fell to the ground. It -remained a military hospital, and so continues to this day; but -the sick are attended day and night by the sisters of charity of -St. Vincent de Paul. And as their forms flit through the -corridors, intent on works of love, and as their earnest prayers -rise up in the calm morning and close of evening to heaven, the -founders and the former possessors of that splendid pile are, we -think, contented Madame Louise had been so long absent that she -knew not a single friend in Paris. She now entered into -communication with the Abbé d'Astros, vicar-general of the -diocese of Paris. At her very first interview with him she felt -impelled to give him her full confidence, and this at once gave -her a proof that it was really the will of God she should -establish a convent in the diocese, since a full accord with -ecclesiastical superiors is one of the most valuable helps a new -foundation can have. Still, the place for the convent remained -uncertain, and the privy council to whom it belonged to settle -the affair did not deem it of much importance, and put it aside -for other matters. A friend of Madame Louise, the Comtesse Marie -de Courson, proposed to her that they should make a novena to -Louis XVI. It is unusual to pray to those whom the church has not -canonized, but it is not forbidden to do so privately; and it was -hard to believe that the soul of the monarch upon whom had fallen -the long and bitter punishment of the sins of his ancestors was -not long since in the enjoyment of perfect happiness. The novena -was commenced by a certain number of earnest and fervent souls. - -On the seventh day, at the meeting of the council, although most -pressing business was that day before its consideration, a member -suddenly rose, and reminding his colleagues that the request of -Madame Louise had not been granted, and as if moved by an -irresistible impulse, proposed that the palace of the -_Temple_ should be given to her. -{120} -A sudden silence fell on the assembly, then came a movement of -unanimous consent. What better spot for a convent of -_expiation_ than that consecrated by such memories--that in -which such innocent victims had suffered? The heart of Louis -XVIII. was deeply touched by the circumstance. - -Truly, royal pomp and ceremony, gala and festivity, could never -again enter those sorrowful halls. Most fitting would it be to -consecrate them to God, and let an unceasing strain of prayer and -praise ascend to heaven. Some doubted whether the task would not -be too painful for the princess herself, and at the first -announcement she did, in truth, shrink back. She had known them -all so well, had loved Elizabeth so tenderly, had wept over their -fates so bitterly, had prayed for them so earnestly, she missed -them, now that she was once more at home; and how, then, could -she bear to live for ever within those walls, which would be an -eternal record of their fate. - -But the first emotion passed away, and she began more fully to -understand why she had been tried in the crucible of sufferings, -why her vocation had been so often crossed, so hardly tried. It -had been all to bring her to this, to let her found in Paris a -convent of expiation. Without those trials, perhaps, she could -never have borne the severity of the task, the sacrifice she must -at once make on entering. She tenderly loved Madame Royale, or -Madame la Dauphine, as she was now called, and it could not be -expected or even wished that she should revisit a spot which must -recall to her those terrible days whose memory already -overshadowed her life too much; but this sacrifice Louise was -ready to make, and the convent of the Temple was accepted. - -Workmen were engaged to convert the old palace into a convent; -the towers, in one of which the royal family had lived, were -already demolished, but it was easy to perceive where they had -stood. A Beautiful garden surrounded the buildings, partly in the -French, partly in the English style. Water brought up from the -Seine played in fountains surrounded by artificial rocks, among -which a grotto was formed. This grotto was changed into an -oratory to the Blessed Virgin, and another to St. Benedict and -St. Scholastica. The Comte de Courson and the Abbé d'Astros -directed the alterations, and all possible haste was being made, -when, like wild-fire, the news ran through the world, Bonaparte -had escaped from Elba, and was in France. The royal family fled, -and once more the Princess Louise was to be an exile. She could -not at once procure horses, so for a week, which happened to be -holy week, she was hidden in the house of one of her former -attendants. The Mère Sainte Rose was taken very ill, and then -there was the serious difficulty of procuring passports. How -little can those who live in London now, and who breakfast at -home and sup in Paris, estimate the labor, the pain, the dread, -which a timid person like Madame Louise would feel at having to -take the weary journey to England, posting from Paris to Calais, -and then a long, stormy passage, to say nothing of the dangers of -being stopped on the route and taken to prison. She was obliged -to set off on Easter-day. At the city gates they were stopped, -and it was only by a heavy bribe that they were suffered to pass. -On the way they found themselves in the midst of a popular -tumult, and were obliged to leave their carriages and hide till -it was over. -{121} -They had a very bad passage from Calais, but at Dover Madame -Louise was received with every mark of respect and esteem. - -She had not the comfort of returning to the convent at Heath, for -it was thought better that she should await the course of events -in London, and she went to a hotel. But a serious illness was the -result of the sudden shock and journey, and after her recovery -she went to the country-house of a friend. All through her -after-life Madame Louise had a great affection for the English, -who, to do them justice, were certainly generous toward the -French emigrants. She was wont to say that their generosity would -win for them the grace of reconciliation with the Catholic -Church. Although Napoleon's second reign lasted but a hundred -days, Madame Louise did not return to France for fourteen months, -partly on account of health, partly because she wished to be -fully convinced of the stability of the Bourbon dynasty before -she commenced her arduous undertaking. - -When she reached Paris, the _Temple_ was not yet ready. She -resided some time in the Rue St. Dominique with one of her early -friends. There she made arrangements with various postulants, -with whom she entered the new convent on the second of September, -1816. The Abbé d'Astros blessed the house and said the first Mass -in the chapel. And now, at last, she had found a home; and though -after her many vicissitudes, after the disappointments and the -rapid changes she had seen, she could never have felt very -secure, she never again quitted these walls. She entered most -diligently on her duty as superioress and as mistress of novices; -for, with the exception of the Mère Sainte Rose and one other -Benedictine nun who joined her, (her own community having been -lost in the Revolution,) she had none but young subjects to -govern. Besides this she had to superintend a large school for -young ladies, so that her duties were multiplied and heavy. The -account of her religious life is most touching and beautiful. -Knowing, as we do, how the distinctions of rank cling round our -human nature; how constantly, ever since she had been a nun, she -had been _obliged_ to remind others not to make use of that -very rank; knowing also the exaggerated prestige paid under the -old _régime_ to the Bourbon race, it is wonderful to see how -utterly she forgot her birth or ignored it. She was sixty years -of age; she was lame and in delicate health; yet she kept the -rule rigidly; was gentle to others, severe to herself; would join -in the recreations of her young novices, and could be seen making -fun with them in cutting the wood for the fires. She would often -take recreation with the lay sisters, and also carefully instruct -them. In the infirmary she would perform the most menial offices -for the sick, and, in short, she was a true mother at the head of -her house. "Those who neglect little sacrifices," she would say, -"are not likely to make great ones." At the appointed times she -would not exempt herself from the penances which the rule -permitted the religious to use. The first time that she -prostrated herself at the refectory door, in order that all the -religious should walk over her, many of them could not restrain -their emotion. Afterward the princess reproved them severely, -showing them that all distinctions of worldly rank were totally -contrary to the religious spirit. If the sisters brought her -better food than the others, they were reproved, and forbidden to -do it again; or if they tried to make her straw mattress any -softer, they met the same fate. In short, to the end of her days -she was _thorough_, earnest, single-hearted in all things. - -{122} - -Sorrows did not fail to follow her into her peaceful retreat. The -assassination of the Duc de Berri, her near relative, filled her -with grief, recalling too vividly the horrors that had darkened -her younger days. She was comforted, however, by a visit from the -venerable Père de la Fontaine, who came to console her. "The Lord -has covered him with the mantle of his mercy," said the old -friend, and those simple words calmed her. Could there not, -indeed, be hope for the soul of him whose first thought on -receiving the death-blow was to say, "Pardon my murderer"? The -Père de la Fontaine had returned to Paris after the peace; and -when the Jesuits had been restored to their place in the church, -and had communities in France, he often visited the Convent du -Temple, and was by Madame Louise and many others esteemed a -saint. The princess told her sisters that, being once in great -spiritual perplexity and suffering, the father passed by her on -his way to the altar, and as his shadow fell on her all her -intense sufferings disappeared. In 1821, this holy man died, and -at the request of Madame Louise the Jesuits sent her some account -of his last hours. The writer described the strong emotion felt -by all who were present when the old man, on his dying-bed, -begged pardon for all his faults, for his breaches of the rule, -and renewed his vows--vows which he had so faithfully kept in -exile and solitude, when his beloved order had been suppressed. -He had lived on in faith and in prayer, and God had allowed him -to see the society restored to the church, so that, like Simeon, -he could depart in peace. - -Next came the illness of the princess's father, the Prince de -Condé. She had always been tenderly attached to him, and the -sorrows they had gone through together had naturally deepened the -affection. He lay dying at Chantilly, and mutual friends begged -Madame Louise to go to him. The ecclesiastical superiors would -give her dispensation, they said; she was a princess, no ordinary -nun. She firmly refused. "If our holy father the pope orders me -to go, as a child of the church I will obey; but never will I ask -for a dispensation which should give a precedent for breaking -enclosure." Outwardly she was calm before her sisters, but her -stall in the choir was bathed with tears, so deeply did she -suffer for and with the father whom she loved. Her prayers went -up unceasingly, and there is proof that they were heard. - -The Prince de Condé died with dispositions of most humble -penitence, and, when asked if he forgave his enemies, exclaimed: -"I am sure of my salvation, if God will pardon me as freely as I -pardon them." The last words on his lips were C_redo in -Deum_. Perhaps the sacrifice made by his daughter in not -assisting his dying hours had won for him the grace of a good -death. The fortune which came to the princess on her father's -death was devoted to the erection of a conventual church; the -first stone was laid in May, 1821, in the name of Madame la -Dauphine, by one of her ladies of honor. Mgr. de Guilen, then -coadjutor of Paris was present, and Mgr. Trayssinous preached the -sermon. "This place is holy ground," said he; "holy because of -the extraordinary misfortunes and the heroic virtues which it -witnessed in the time of our impious discords. Within these walls -there wept and suffered barbarously those who should have been -more worthy than all others of veneration and love. Within these -walls most noble victims of the popular fury were delivered up to -inexpressible anguish. -{123} -O days of blood and tears! O terrible and cruel scenes! O -lamentable crime! which I dare not recall, which every heart in -France would fain banish from his memory, and from the pages of -our history. But no; we are all condemned eternally to bear the -shame to posterity. Religion, at least, will have the glory of -having done all that it could to expiate it, and to reconcile the -people who were so unfortunately guilty with Heaven. Here day and -night are crying at the foot of the altar consecrated virgins, -innocent and voluntary victims of crimes which are not their own. -Here prayers, fastings, vigils, and austerities, and the sighs of -contrite and humble hearts, are perpetually ascending up to the -throne of justice, but also of divine mercy, to draw down on the -royal family, and on the whole of France, grace and mercy. Thus -does religion avenge herself of her enemies, by expiating the -past, sanctifying the present, and preparing the future. ... And -who will raise this building? She who, concealing the beautiful -name of Condé under that of Soeur de la Miséricorde, has buried -in this cloister all the _éclat_ and grandeur of the world. -In whose name has the first stone been laid? In the name of all -that is most touching in suffering, in courage, in goodness, and -dearest to France--in the name of the royal orphan of the -Temple." - -Another death awoke considerable emotion in the heart of Madame -Louise. On the barren rock of St. Helena the proud heart of the -great conqueror wore itself out. The hand and the brain that had -worked such endless woe to her and hers were for ever still. Far -from her all thought of triumph and rejoicing. Instantly she had -Masses offered for him, and never omitted daily to supplicate in -her private prayers that he who had given her no rest on earth -might now have eternal rest given to him. - -And now her long and troubled life was hastening to its close. -She had been tossed about, indeed, on a troubled sea, seldom in -port, yet happy and peaceful amid the conflict; and now eternal -peace was at hand. - -The bells of the new church were blessed in October, 1822, the -King and Madame la Dauphine being godfather and godmother. The -church was consecrated, in August, 1823, by the Archbishop of -Paris. Louise, looking round, might have seen her work completed, -the community established and flourishing, the church finished in -which the adoration of the altar could be worthily carried out. -The next day she made a false step, and fell down. Slight as was -the accident, fainting fits constantly followed, and she was -never well afterward. She suffered most from her head, but would -not give up her ordinary duties, or lie by. Gradually her -strength failed. On December 23d, she fainted on the stairs, was -carried to bed, and was attacked by fever and sickness. Still she -struggled on with her duties. On the last day of the year, she -would hold the "chapter of peace"--a custom of her order to which -she was much attached, when the religious ask mutual pardon of -each other for any want of charity during the past year, and when -the prioress has to address them on this beautiful subject; and -she would not let her illness interfere with the feast of Holy -Innocents, a gala-day in the convent, when the youngest novice -becomes prioress for the day, and innocent mirth is in the -ascendant; and she assisted at the clothing of two novices in -January, 1824. -{124} -She showed by her manner on this last occasion that she believed -it to be the last ceremony at which she should be present. She -saw each of her sisters in private, and took leave of them with -tender affection. She suddenly became worse, and lost the use of -speech, but not consciousness. She received extreme unction from -the Archbishop of Paris. The community, all in tears, surrounded -her bed. The archbishop remarked, it was like the shower of rain -which, at the prayer of St. Scholastica, came down to prevent St. -Benedict from leaving her too soon. The dying nun understood the -allusion, and smiled. He bade her bless her children, and her -hand was raised for her, and placed on the head of one of her -religious, for she could not move it herself. - -A few days afterward she recovered her speech, and she received -the viaticum, and answered the questions of the priest with a -firm tone, "I believe with faith." Her death-agony was very long, -and, when her brother came to see her, she could not speak. The -desire of seeing her once more overcame the repugnance that -Madame la Dauphine had to reenter the Temple, and she was about -to set out thither when the king, fearing the consequences for -her, forbade her to go. The last smile of Louise de Condé was -given to a picture held before her of a dove bearing a cross and -flying to heaven. Perhaps she said inwardly words which would -have been very suitable: "I will flee away and take my rest." -Shortly afterward she expired. She was in the sixty-seventh year -of her age, and the twenty-second of her religious profession. -And thus ended a life of which it may truly be said that it was -"stranger than fiction." - --------- - - Mr. Bashers Sacrifice, and why He made it. - - -Simply because Colonel Dolickem _would_ feed himself with -his knife at table. But what could the vulgar habit of the -colonel have to do with such a sacrifice on the part of Mr. -Basher? Nevertheless, it is true, and had it not been for that, -Mr. Basher would never have made it. Colonel Dolickem cut his -mouth and severed his hopes at one blow, as it were. Fact! And -this is the way it came about. - -Mr. Basher, as you are aware, was not what might be called a -marrying man. Certainly not. I have heard him say, over and over -again, in what might possibly be considered rather too strong -language, that he would much prefer cutting his throat. Not that -he had any aversion to such a state of life, or that he had made -any vow of celibacy. By no means. Any young lady who might have -liked to marry Mr. Basher could have done so any day, if Mr. -Basher had been the lady, and the lady had been the man. As no -young lady of his acquaintance would assume the masculine -proprieties, such as popping the question, buying the ring, -seeking the priest, putting up the banns and the like, to doing -any or all of which Mr. Basher preferred cutting his throat, -there were little expectations cherished by Mr. Basher's -acquaintances of ever wishing joy to a Mrs. Basher. "I'd never -come through it alive," he would say. But he did, as you shall -hear. - -{125} - -There is one thing Mr. Basher could do, and do more perfectly -than any man I ever knew, and that was to blush. Blushing Basher -was the title we gave him the first evening he was introduced at -our club. It may be said that blushing was his normal condition. -"Do you know," said Healy, the great portrait-painter, to me one -day, speaking of Basher as a subject, "that I never painted a man -whose complexion was so difficult to determine as that of your -friend Basher?" "He has a warm complexion," said I. "Warm!" -rejoined the artist. "Warm does not express it, say, red-hot." -Old ladies would offer him their fans in the street-cars, and -mischievous young damsels with cherry-colored ribbons [attached] -to their hats look first at him, and then toy with the dangling -ends of their ribbons, as much as to say: "Just this shade." -Newsboys, seeing him pass, hailed one another with the -information that "your uncle had beets for dinner," and wily -policemen dogged his steps under the impression that he was -making off with something that lay heavy on his conscience. - -But Mr. Basher's blushing face was nothing to his blushing heart, -mind, or soul, or whatever it is that blushes inside of a man, -and causes him to feel weak and faint, to get shaky at the knees, -and bungling in speech. That he never finished a complete -sentence is a fact too well known to need confirmation. Even on -the day of his sacrifice, the charming Miss Criggles was obliged -to come to his rescue; for, when he got as far as "Miss Criggles, -will you have--" if that ready-witted young lady (thirty, if she -was a day, you know) had not divined his purpose, and said what -he just then lost the power of saying--"me, for your own," I do -not think we would have seen a Mrs. Basher to this day. - -He had no better success in his attempts to converse with -children. I remember, as he sat one day in my parlor, twiddling -his thumbs, breaking down in his remarks, and his color coming -and going in rapid succession, my little daughter Dolly climbed -upon his knee, and covered him with confusion by saying to him: - -"Mi'ter Bashy, does 'oo ever say 'oor p'ayers?" - -"I--I--I, sometimes; a--" blundered Mr. Basher in reply, his -knees beginning to involuntarily dandle the child up and down. - -"What does 'oo say?" persisted the little fairy, shaking her -curls, and giving him an arch look. "I don't t'ink 'oo do." - -"Why--why--do you a--" Mr. Basher got out. - -"'Cause 'oo never 'members what 'oo's t'inkin' 'bout." - -Poor Basher could do nothing after that but stare vacantly at the -wall, and smile a smile that is often seen on board a ship as -soon as she reaches rough water. Certainly, in another sense -little Dolly had put Mr. Basher completely at sea. - -But I'm forgetting about the sacrifice. You know what a sensation -the cards produced. The receivers whose eyes first fell upon that -of Miss Rosina Criggles expected, of course, to read "Col. -Washington Dolickem" on the other. That was a conclusion -everybody had arrived at for more than six months previous; and -if the bold, heavy card of Col. Dolickem did not accompany the -delicately scented, somewhat thinner and smaller one of Miss -Criggles, it would be, doubtless, the still heavier, manlier, -bolder card of General Yinweeski, of the Russian Embassy, or -Major Thwackemout, of the Ninth Fussyliers, as Tom Wagstaff used -to call them. -{126} -That same _farceur_ never spoke of the dwelling-place of -Miss Criggles but as "Camp Criggles." - -"None but your generals and your colonels and your majors ever -get their feet under the mahogany at Camp Criggles," said Tom; -"and a pretty mess they make of it." This was in allusion to the -everlasting _on dits_ about the duel, or the cowhiding, or -some such other agreeable encounter which was daily expected to -come off between the rival combatants for the hand, and, I may -add, the five-twenties, of the charming Rosina. - -You should have heard Tom when he heard the news. - -"Has he? What, Basher! Not Blushing Basher! Look again. Some -other Basher--some general, colonel, major, or -turkey-cock-in-boots Basher. No? Our Basher? Then draw a pen -across that line in the spelling-book, 'Faint heart never won -fair lady,' for Basher of ours has done the deed, and none so -faint as Basher." - -Mr. Basher, you know, was an admirer of Miss Criggles. No, not -surprising. It was his nature to admire; only he found it so -difficult to give expression to his sentiments that his nature in -this respect may be said to have always remained in an inchoate -state. He was an exclamation-point minus the dot. How so pure a -civilian ever got an invitation to dine at the Criggles -mess-table is shrouded in mystery; and how he ever dared when -there to brave the martial presence of General Yinweeski, of -Colonel Dolickem, or of Major Thwackemout is no less mysterious. -Dining at the Criggles table as he did--and if ever the Criggles -family made a point of anything in this world it was the service -of their table--he may be said to have gradually eaten his way -into the affections of the charming Rosina. As he spoke less, he -had more time, you see, than his martial rivals; and what was -more to the purpose, he had a better manner than they. Men of war -who are not mere "carpet valiants," but have smelt the straw -above the mould in a gusty tent, may be pardoned for not having -studied my book _On the Bad Habits of Good Society_. I -pardon Colonel Dolickem for not having read it. The tactics of -the knife and fork are good tactics to study, and practise too; -but as long as your _vis-à-vis_ at table will keep his knife -out of the butter-plate, I would advise you to say nothing about -his putting it into his mouth occasionally--especially if he -wears a sword and you do not; for he might retort by putting that -into you, and then you would find yourself quite as much at fault -for want of the knowledge of a soldier's tactics, as Colonel -Dolickem was in his ignorance of the tactics of a gentlemanly -diner-out. Tom Wagstaff, the Beau Brummel of our club, and who, -by the way, bought up an entire edition of my book for private -circulation, heartily despised the colonel for his slovenly -habit. "He had the misfortune to be brought up on a jack-knife, -sir," said Tom, "as some babies are brought up on a bottle." - -I said I would advise you not to say anything to a friend who -mouths his knife, but I don't object to your looking at him when -he does it. When he cuts the corners of his mouth, as he surely -will, sooner or later, unless he has a practised hand, (and I -_have_ witnessed feats of dexterity of this kind which would -surprise you quite as much as any ever performed by the Japanese -jugglers,) you might call his attention to it, and playfully add: -"So much, my dear fellow, for allowing yourself to be so -distracted;" and then you can tell a good story to the company -about another friend of yours--clever dog he was, too--to whom -the accident which has just happened to your friend opposite -happened so often, and from the same unfortunate habit of having -distractions at table, that he was frequently seen to rise after -dinner with both corners of his mouth gashed. -{127} -He was cured, however, not of his distractions, but of putting -his knife in his mouth at such times, by telling a joke in his -presence about another individual to whom a similar accident -happened under similar circumstances, and who cut himself so -severely that he was obliged to be fed out of a bottle for a -week. I have myself tried this friendly ruse several times, and -have never known it to fail. - -There is another class of persons besides these who may chance to -carry a longer sword than you do, about whom I would advise you, -as a bit of a philosopher, not to be too meticulous; I mean those -who carry a longer head than you. The pen is mightier than the -sword, (quotation of school-boy memory, but good,) and cuts -deeper. The writer who cut up my book so severely in the pages of -_The Square Table_ was not so far wrong. But he forgot that -I wrote as a professor, not as a casuist. Literary men, as well -as soldiers, may do certain things with impunity which some -others may not. So that Bullhead, of the _New York Sweeper_, -may gnaw on his finger-nails, by way of an appetizer, between the -courses, and nobody minds it--in Bullhead. He might put both of -his elbows on the table, smell of the fish to find out if it be -fresh, feed himself with his knife, eat as if he were doing it -for a wager, wipe the perspiration from his face with his napkin, -and indulge in other little eccentricities, and nobody would mind -him at all, bless you! Where Bullhead is concerned, I agree with -my critic of _The Square Table_. I pretend to lay down only -general laws: Bullhead is a law to himself. - -As to Basher, he is the soul of politeness and good breeding. He -has read my book, and admired it. His commendations were rather -bungling in the manner of delivery, but unfeigned. I understood -perfectly what he meant to say, that is enough. Tom Wagstaff, to -whom I dedicated it, and who, as I told you, bought up an entire -edition for private circulation, also admired it. "Chupper, my -boy," said Tom, drawing on his yellow kids, "it's grand!" By the -way, I quoted a few remarks of his, which were delivered by him -one afternoon to a half-dozen of us as a mock lecture. I think I -can recollect some of them. Speaking of soup, Tom remarked: "If -you think the soup particularly good, be sure and say so, and ask -for a second or a third plate. You will find that the host will -be much affected by such little marks of your esteem--for the -soup; and the company will understand that you do not often get -it." Of being helped at table, Tom gave this rule: "Always point -at whatever you wish, either with finger, knife, fork, or spoon. -They are all equally good for the purpose." For the proper eating -of fruit Tom gave us some laughable advice: - - "If you are eating fruit, never, by any means, convey the - stones or pits upon your plate in a quiet way, but spit them - out boldly, and with considerable noise. This not only shows - the height of good breeding, but of science also, for it is not - every one who can perform it so perfectly as not to spit more - than the fruit-stones into the plate. -{128} - A much more elegant way, although it requires considerable - dexterity--and I would not advise you to try it without a - little private practice--is to insert the blade of your knife - into your mouth, and with great care get the stones balanced - upon it; then convey them just outside of the edge of your - plate upon the table-cloth, where you may amuse yourself by - building up a very artistic little heap of any form your fancy - may suggest or your good judgment devise. Cherry-stones, it is - to be remarked, are _always_ to be swallowed, and take - care you let the company know it, as it is a highly suggestive - piece of information. Cracking the stones of prunes with your - teeth is the proper way of disposing of _them_, especially - if you are seated opposite a nervous old gentleman. Use your - tooth-pick, of course, at table, and open your mouth wide while - operating. The best kind of tooth-pick is a large, stiff - goose-quill, which makes a snapping noise and calls attention. - The place to keep it is in your pantaloons' pocket. Many - prefer, and I am among the number, to pick their teeth with - their fork. It is quite a refined practice. You will find that - your doing so will cause a marked sensation at the table." - -Tom said a good many other things equally clever. The best of -them are in my book. Read that. Tom had different individuals in -his eye at the time. The goose-quill toothpick was a favorite one -of Colonel Dolickem, and went by the name of "Dolickem's -bayonet." Speaking of Dolickem reminds me of Basher and his -heroic sacrifice, about which I was speaking, was I not? - -It was the birthday of Miss Rosina Criggles. A large party was -invited, and among the guests could be seen the tall, gaunt, -savage-featured Colonel Dolickem; General Yinweeski's burly form, -clothed in garments which fitted him so tightly that it is a -wonder how he moved without splitting them on all sides; Major -Thwackemout, moving his stiff little body about from right to -left, and from left to right, with that mechanical precision -which characterizes the wooden soldier so prized by patriotic -youth; and the blushing face of Mr. Basher. You may think it odd, -but birthday parties are very ingenious inventions to retard the -advancing years of young ladies. When rumor speaks of your -daughter as thirty or thereabouts, give her a birthday party, and -she will start afresh from twenty-three to twenty-five, as you -may please to have it hinted. Everybody believing she is thirty -at least, no one will presume to say a word about it. Pleased -with your entertainment, and flattered by your attention, people -are disposed to be generous; and then, who among your guests will -ever acknowledge that he or she has bowed, courtesied, danced, -and dined at an old maid's birthday feast! I need not mention the -names of all who crushed themselves together in the brilliantly -lighted parlors of the Criggles mansion. Of course, the Doldrums -and the Polittles were there, and the Boochers and the Coochers, -the Tractors and the Factors, the De Pommes and the De Filets, -the Van Bumbergs and the Van Humburgs, and all that set. - -Most people believed that it was to be a preparatory rout to give -_éclat_ to the expected announcement of an engagement -between Colonel Dolickem and the heiress of the house of -Criggles. The colonel believed it also. He had waited for a -suitable opportunity to ask the hand and five-twenties of Miss -Rosina, and now that opportunity had come. -{129} -Few would have had the courage to cross the path of a rival of so -belligerent a disposition as the colonel. So thought the colonel -himself. He was sure of Miss Criggles. Never be too sure of -anything. Now it happened that in the course of the evening, -somewhere about 12.30 A.M., Mr. Basher, after vainly endeavoring -to get off one of the many sentences he had prepared beforehand, -and practised with assiduity in front of his own reflection in -his mirror, and in face of his grandfather's portrait as lay -figures, and finding it no go, quietly abandoned himself to a -sweeping current which just then formed in the crowd, and was -borne along toward the half-open doors of the conservatory. -Feeling, as everybody else did, pretty warm, and his face -standing at the red-hot point of color, as indeed it had been -since he rang the bell two hours and a half previous, he -concluded to saunter a few minutes in the cool conservatory, and -refresh his heated brow and his memory at the same time. Glancing -first on one side and then on another at the flowers, his eye -fell upon a rose-bush on which bloomed one full-blown rose. The -sight of it reminded him of a toast he had prepared for this -occasion, and which he devoutly hoped to be able to give amid the -enthusiastic applause of the company and the grateful -acknowledgments of the Being, and the parents of that Being, at -whose feet he wished to blushingly throw himself, and be -blushingly accepted in return. For Mr. John Basher loved Miss -Rosina Criggles. The toast was this: - - "Miss Rosina, the Rose of the Garden of Criggles, and the - Flower of the Conservatory of Fashion and Beauty. Happy the - Hand that shall pluck it from the Parent Stem!" - -Once he repeated it in a low voice, a second time somewhat -louder, to be sure of giving the right accent at the right words. -Perfectly satisfied at his second rehearsal, he added in an -audible voice: - -"If I dared, I would pluck that rose, (meaning the one on the -bush before him,) in order to give--" Mr. Basher never did finish -a sentence yet, but he might have accomplished this one had he -not turned his head at a rustling sound, and seen approaching the -Rose of the Garden of Criggles herself. Blushing his deepest, Mr. -Basher stumbled out: - -"Cool here--ah--just admiring this--ah--" - -"Rose," added Miss Rosina, helping him out. "Beautiful, is it -not, Mr. Basher?--and precious too. It is the only one left in -the conservatory." - -"The conservatory of fashion, and--" Mr. Basher stopped short. It -would never do to spoil the originality of his toast in that way. - -"What is that you are saying, you flatterer?" asked the charming -Rosina, shaking her fan at him in a pleasingly threatening -manner. - -"I--I--I was saying, no, thinking--ah--of--now, positively, do -you know--ah--of plucking--" - -"What! thinking of plucking the only rose in the house! Would you -be _so_ cruel? O you naughty, naughty man!" And Miss -Criggles gave a look at Mr. Basher that made his knees knock -together, and his toes tingle in his patent-leather pumps. - -"I mean--ah--if I--ah--dared to--" - -"Oh! you men are so _very_ daring. We poor ladies are so -timid and so trusting, Mr. Basher. When people ask _me_ for -anything, do you know, I do not even dare to refuse them? Pa is -always saying: Rosina, you should be more daring, more repelling. -But I cannot, Mr. Basher. It's not in my nature." - -{130} - -"Then I ask you," exclaimed Mr. Basher, making a bold venture, -and getting ready to drop on his knees at the end of his request, -"to give me the--the--Rose of the Garden--" Mr. Basher stopped to -take breath and muster courage. - -"The only rose!" broke in Miss Criggles. "Think of it!" she -continued, in a voice of tender complaint, addressed to the -lilies and geraniums around, and which made Mr. Basher feel very -uncomfortable, "he has the heart to ask me for my one precious -rose. He knows, cruel man, that I have not the heart, that it is -not in my timid, trusting nature to refuse him." And with that -she broke the flower from its stem and handed it to Mr. Basher, -who was a second time preparing to throw himself into an attitude -and finish the sentence Miss Criggles had so hastily interrupted. -It is possible that Mr. Basher would never have been called upon -to make the sacrifice he did, had not the attention of both been -arrested by a loud "Ahem!" Turning suddenly at the sound, they -beheld the tall, gaunt figure of Colonel Dolickem standing bolt -upright, sentry-wise, in the doorway of the conservatory. He had -witnessed the plucking of the rose, and his soul was all aflame -with anger. His astonishment at what he saw was so great that it -made him speechless. Had he not come himself to the conservatory, -as soon as he could disengage himself from that fat, voluble Mrs. -Boggles, to meet Miss Criggles, whom he had seen entering there, -and do what this birthday party was given on purpose for him to -do? Of course. Had not Miss Criggles herself entered the -conservatory for the same purpose, speaking to him, Colonel -Dolickem, in passing, that his attention might be called to that -fact? Of course, again. Was he brought there on purpose to be a -witness to this rose-giving, this toying, and coying, and moying -with a--with a--individual such as he now saw before him in the -person of a--of a--Basher! Of course, once more. But, choking -with rage, the colonel could not utter a word of these -reflections, and, turning upon his heel, reentered the crowded -parlor. Just then certain sounds came to the ears of Miss -Criggles, which that lady rightly interpreted to mean supper. -This interpretation being conveyed to the bewildered faculties of -Mr. Basher, he hurriedly fixed the rose in his button-hole, with -the words, "For ever," presented his arm, and was soon the object -of commiseration on the part of the Misses Boocher, and the -Misses Coocher, and all the rest, who whispered to one another: -"How _can_ Rosina Criggles go on so!" - -One thing seemed a little strange to Mr. Basher when he arrived -in the grand dining-hall. Miss Criggles had released her hold -upon his arm, but when or where he could not say. He imagined he -still felt the pressure of her light, tapering fingers, even when -he stood behind his chair at table, where he found himself, he -could hardly tell how. His surprise was not a little augmented to -hear the loud voice of Papa Criggles crying out, "Colonel! -colonel! this way, colonel, if you please!" and seeing a chair -pointed out to his wrathful rival, directly opposite his, and -Rosina--_his_ Rosina, as he presumed to say to -himself--standing beside him. The colonel cast a look at Mr. -Basher, as he moved to the place appointed him, which was at once -triumphant and defiant. -{131} -In fact, the colonel's hopes began to revive, in spite of the -blushing rose in the button-hole of the deeper blushing Basher. - -Now, I am not going to describe the dinner, or call it supper if -you will. You have been to such terribly trying affairs as a -party dinner, and it is quite enough to be obliged to go through -with the ordeal without going over it again in retrospect. - -The head of the Criggles house was in a glorious humor; General -Yinweeski was jocose and told several of his best stories of the -battle-field; Colonel Dolickem devoted himself with ardor to -entertain the charming Rosina, and was freezingly polite and -patronizing to Mr. Basher; Major Thwackemout, having been put off -upon simpering Miss Boggles, lost his tongue, and became morose. -In one of those alarming lulls which you have no doubt observed -will take place in the tempest of talk common to a large -assembly, and like sudden lulls in the wind often presage a heavy -blow, the eye of Miss Boggles accidentally fell upon the rose yet -blushing in the button-hole of Mr. Basher's waistcoat. - -"Oh! what a beautiful rose, Mr. Basher," cried that enthusiastic -young lady. - -"Yes, miss," responded Basher, "it is both beautiful and--ah--" a -look at Rosina--"and--ah--" - -"Very red, you would say, Mr. Basher, would you not? True, it -is," said the colonel, showing all his teeth, yet not smiling or -laughing a whit. - -"No!" thundered Basher. "Precious - -"Oh! I beg a thousand pardons. Precious! You would not part with -it now, Mr. Basher, would you, even for a lady's smile?" The -colonel was evidently determined to spur Miss Boggles up to ask -for it. - -"Not for my heart's blood," fervently ejaculated Mr. Basher. -Rosina's glance at him brought out that sentence unbroken, and -for a moment left the colonel quite disconcerted. Returning, -however, like a veteran to the charge, he rejoined with snapping -eyes, (snapping _is_ just the word, so don't interrupt me:) - -"_Your_ heart's blood! Nor for mine, perhaps?" - -"Yours, colonel?--ha--'pon my word--ha--Yes, if you'll engage to -shed it--ha--" - -"Out with it, man," cried the general. - -"Yourself." - -"Capital! By the gods of war, that is a new way of fighting!" - -Colonel Dolickem was confused and baffled. There's not a doubt of -it. How could he say that he was not ready to shed the last drop -of his blood to obtain possession of that rose, coming, as it -did, from the hand of Rosina? Vainly beating his brains for an -evasive reply, he could do nothing meanwhile but carry two or -three mouthfuls from his plate to his mouth, after that ugly -fashion of his, as you know, upon his knife, and snarl. Now, as a -general rule, it is not the thing, as I have already said, to -feed one's self with one's knife. As a particular and special -rule, never attempt it when you are nervous or disturbed in mind. -Don't, you'll cut yourself. That is why the colonel, his hand -trembling with suppressed rage, cut himself. In vain he attempted -to hide it; the blood trickled down upon his chin, and was -quickly seen by that irrepressible Miss Boggles, who cried out in -alarm: - -"O Colonel Dolickem! you have cut yourself!" - -"Done, done!" cried the general. "Chivalry, my dear colonel, had -no knight like you! Blood is shed at the first blast of the -trumpet, and, according to the most extraordinary terms of this -fray, by your own hand. Basher, you're conquered. Sacrifice the -rose!" - -{132} - -Poor Basher did as he was bidden, and slowly, with great -reluctance, drew the flower from its place, and held it across -the table for the colonel's acceptance, saying: "It is the -greatest sacrifice--ha I--ha--ever--" - -"Mr. Basher," said Rosina, with an approving smile, "you are the -soul of honor." - -But the colonel heeded not the outstretched arm of Mr. Basher, -and the rose for which he bled, I am sorry to say, dropped from -Mr. Basher's hand into a dish of tomatoes. What could the colonel -do? Nothing, I think, but what he did--rise with a lofty and -majestic air, look a black thunder-cloud of wrath at Mr. John -Basher, say to Papa Criggles, with his handkerchief to his mouth, -"Under the circumstances," and then get out of the house, and -into a towering passion as he drove home. Next day he took the -first train for Washington. - -It was in the conservatory again, at about 2.20 A.M., that Mr. -John Basher tried if the timid and trusting Rosina Criggles could -refuse _him_. She couldn't, as I have already told you. He -got as far as "Will you have--" and she added, "Me for your own," -and there was an end of it. - -"So the sacrifice of Mr. Basher did not consist in popping the -question?" - -"By no means. Who ever said it did?" - --------- - - - A Few Thoughts About Protestants. - - -Faith, though a gift of God, depends for its actuality upon the -acceptance of it by men, and its continuance upon their careful -and constant adherence to it. We are at liberty to receive the -Christian faith or to reject it in the first instance when it is -proposed to us; and we are equally at liberty to misuse it, to -change it, to garble it, and to make it so far of no effect as to -retain nothing of true Christian religion but the name. - -Heresy is possible, all must allow, since it is possible to deny -a part of the whole truth; and, knowing to what extremes men will -permit their pride and passions to carry them, the fact of -heresies frequently occurring does not surprise us. The most -lamentable fact about heresy is, that it does not ordinarily die -with the first preachers of it; but succeeding generations rise -up to an inheritance of falsehood, deprived of the entire truth, -fancying themselves joined, to the body of Christ's church, -nourishing a dead branch long separated from the tree of life, -and prevented, as they too often are, by the pride of intellect -and the natural stubbornness of the will, from recognizing their -errors and amending the sins of their forefathers by a hearty -return to the truth that has been abandoned. - -Such is the condition--unhappy condition, as it appears to us--of -American Protestant Christians. Deprived of one or another part -of the truth by the heresy of the several founders of their -various religions, they are called no longer the faithful people, -no longer the well-beloved children of holy church, and they -share not in those unspeakable mercies of predilection which make -religion for a Catholic an unfailing treasure of comfort, and his -church a paradise of joy. - -{133} - -To abandon the source of truth, or to live separated from it, is -to cut one's self off from any reasonable hold upon the truth, -and render the allegiance which one gives to a part of truth a -matter rather of sentiment than of deep principle. A branch cut -from the living tree may be indeed a branch, but its life is -gone, though it seems to live by the suppleness of its twigs, the -greenness of its leaves, and the fruit which yet hangs upon it. -Death is in it, and it will wither. It will bear no more fruit of -itself, for the source of the fruit cannot reach it in its -separated state. - -So the truths of religious faith, separated from the source of -faith, lose their vitality; and to a reflecting man who asks -himself why he believes them, they will soon appear no longer -true, because he has no longer any faith in the original -authority which is the witness of God for them before the world. -For it should be self-evident to every one of the least -intelligence, that religious truth concerning man's future -destiny in an eternity which no man living has ever seen cannot -possibly depend upon one's experience or study in this world, and -that the mysterious doctrines of Christianity can only appear -true to a man on sufficient authority, and that, too, a living, -present authority, which is a witness to him as well as to his -forefathers. Hence the necessity of an ever-present, living -source of faith, and the equal necessity of an actual union with -it, in order to have faith in the doctrines of Christianity at -all. - -But the present position of our American Protestant brethren -seems to be at variance with this; for we see them having a good, -sincere faith in many of the revealed doctrines of Christianity, -and yet are cut off from the living source of faith, which we -know to be the infallible and divine voice of the church. And not -only cut off, but they reject that source altogether, deny its -authority, and look upon it rather as the source of falsehood -than of truth. But, when we examine the matter closely, we shall -see that they do not deny that they have a real source of their -faith, or that such source is the church of Christ--which they -suppose their own to be--only that they are ignorant of the fact -that the Catholic Church is the church of Christ, and that she is -the true source of their faith, and, if that church was destroyed -and its authority nullified, they could have no faith at all. - -When they have lost all faith and obedience to a church which -they regard as the church of Christ, and have not returned to -Catholicity, they have lost at the same time all faith in the -peculiar doctrines of Christianity. - -It would be hardly worth while to consider the answer made by -some that they believe in Christ on no church authority, but on -the authority of the Bible alone, because it is plain that one -must first know the Bible itself to be true on some authority and -surely the authority of the type-setter, the printer, and the -paper-maker would not be sufficient, and the only authority they -have or can have of its truth is that of the Christian church, -which sets its seal upon it, and declares it to be the Word of -God. - -{134} - -There is no doubt that they are cut off from all real church -authority, that their religion is a separated branch from the -living tree: and the state of things is such as we would expect -to happen; the branch will wither, they will lose faith in Christ -and his doctrines, and they are deprived of all those inestimable -blessings and privileges which can only be had in union with the -true and living church. - -We who know the history of their religious schism, and the course -it has taken, know that it is more their misfortune than their -fault. We know that they remain satisfied with their state of -poverty, because they are ignorant of the riches of faith; but we -bless God the day is approaching, and is even now at hand, when -that ignorance is fast disappearing, the prejudices and false -notions they have had of the Catholic Church are being rapidly -dispelled. The pope and the priest are no longer bug-bears to -frighten children with; the names of monk and nun are no longer -synonymous with villainy and crime. Catholics are not generally -regarded as ignorant idolaters, and even a Jesuit may pass in -society as an honest man, a sincere Christian, and a gentleman. - -Three things, then, may give us great hopes that this great and -good American people, our brethren, our friends, and our -fellow-citizens, are not far from the kingdom of heaven, the -church of God--the spread of knowledge concerning her character -and doctrines, the rapid increase of the church herself in every -part of the country, and the fact that the separated branch is -fast withering, and the people look to it no longer for the fruit -which will nourish their souls unto eternal life. - -There is no doubt but that until within a very few years the -Catholic religion was a hidden faith to the mass of the American -people. In the cities, the churches were few and small, and a -Protestant could hardly get within sight or hearing of a Catholic -preacher. In the country towns the scattered flock would get -together once in a month to hear Mass in a miserable apology for -a church in some dirty back-lane, or in a shanty in the woods. -That is all changed. Our city churches and cathedrals are getting -to be the largest and grandest buildings in the land, and in many -places the same congregations which once huddled together in the -shanty are now assembled in churches which rival all others in -the same places for size and beauty. And all this has happened in -so short a space of time that it looks like magic. Those who will -not see the true reason imagine that the wealth of old Catholic -countries has been lavishly poured out to bring it about. They -cannot comprehend that this is the work, for the most part, of -the faith of the Catholic mechanic and the Catholic servant-girl. - -The time was--and we have seen it--when the priest took the -dinner-table for an altar, upon which were placed the crucifix -that ordinarily hung at the bedside in the corner of the same -room, and two kitchen candlesticks for the ornaments. Those same -congregations have now their own churches, furnished with -everything needful for divine service. From what we know of the -rapid multiplication of church buildings, we can conclude that, -as far as regards the external appearance of her worship, and the -crowds of worshippers who are seen thronging to her sanctuaries, -the church is now fairly before the American people. They can no -longer plead ignorance of her existence, or fancy her to be a -petty sect diminishing in numbers and decaying in force. The -existence and power of the church in other lands is also forcing -itself upon their notice. -{135} -They cannot read a newspaper or a book without meeting many -proofs that the Catholic Church is, as she always has been, the -mightiest, most reverend Christian church in the world, which -claims the homage and admiration of mankind, and holds the -destiny of Christianity itself in her hands. Those who from -interest are her enemies see this, and on every hand we hear from -their pulpits and read in their religious newspapers the loudest -laments over the "fearful growth of popery," as they are pleased -to style it. - -But the interior workings of the church, her doctrines, her moral -teaching, are also being presented to them more clearly. In the -common walks of life, in the parlor, in the street, in the halls -of business, our Protestant brethren meet many who are able to -give a reason for the faith that is in them, and whose lives they -know. Sincere seekers for truth and souls in earnest about their -salvation, hearing of the claims of Catholicity and seeing many -whose religious character they have every reason to admire, will -ask questions, and Americans (we say it not to their reproach) -will ask questions, if it be only for curiosity's sake. Catholic -books, magazines, newspapers, pamphlets, speeches, sermons, and -other modes of diffusing a knowledge of Catholic faith and -practice find many readers and hearers among Protestants who -cannot fail to be impressed by them, who will be divested of -their old prejudices, and learn our religion not as it has been -taught to them by her enemies, but as she is. It would be of no -use to tell an intelligent American Protestant now that Catholics -are poor, ignorant idolaters who worship images, and who never -heard of the Bible, because they know better; and if you told -him, as you might have done twenty years ago and be believed, -that the pope and the priests had secret designs against the -liberties of this country, he would laugh in your face. Books -with pictures representing the pope with his tiara on, holding up -his hands in horror and turning away his face from an open Bible -which a Protestant minister presents to his gaze, while the -lightnings from heaven are depicted in the background descending -in wrath upon St. Peter's, may possibly be found upon the table -of some ignorant backwoodsman, but an intelligent Protestant -would blush to know that such a book was under his roof. - -People are great travellers nowadays, too, and they see enough in -Catholic countries to make them at least think well of their -religion. - -They go to Rome, perhaps have an interview with the venerable -head of the church, and invariably return penetrated with -sentiments of profound respect, and often of the most attached -affection for him. - -They go to heathen countries, they see there the work of Catholic -apostles. They find the only Christians there are Catholics, -living such perfect lives as might put Christians of more -enlightened nations to shame. In every corner of the world they -find the Catholic Church doing her appointed work for the -regeneration, civilization, and salvation of men, and numbers of -them are not slow to draw the conclusion, "Truly this is the -living church of the living God the pillar and ground of truth." - -Let us look at the second reason we suggested, namely, the rapid -increase of the church, and the character of it. - -In the year 1800 we had only 1 bishop, 100 priests, and about -50,000 Catholics. Now we have 43 bishops, 2235 priests, and at -least 5,000,000 Catholics. That this number is made up -principally by immigration is true; but we do not forget that -they bring the true faith in Jesus Christ with them, that the -truth is spreading by their example and influence, and the -American people cannot fail to feel the effects of it. -{136} -If all these immigrants were infidels, Mohammedans, or Mormons, -they would naturally affect the religious character of the people -amongst whom they are living. How much more may we look for -mighty results from the true religion and the grace of God! - -Catholicity is leavening the whole mass. Go where you will, you -will find a Catholic in almost every family of note in the -country. "Oh! I respect the Catholic religion very much," some -one will say to you. "I have a father or mother, a sister or -brother, an aunt or a cousin, who is a very good and very strict -Catholic." From the very families of American Protestant bishops -and ministers the church draws to herself one or another of the -members, from whom new American Catholic families spring up, to -give the church standing and influence in society, and compel a -respectful hearing and a respectful treatment. - -These considerations, encouraging as they are, might still lead -us to suppose that it will be yet a long while before America -shall be called, as she undoubtedly will be, one of the brightest -jewels in the crown of the holy church, were it not for the third -thought we have presented, which is, that their faith and trust -in the sapless, separated branch of a church is failing. They -have planted it anew, have watered it, have nursed it with every -care, at boundless expense, with sincere heart's devotion, but -all to no purpose. It will not grow, but withers in their hands. -Now and then some have thought that the branch was too much like -the old tree, and they cut off a twig, a blossom, or plucked a -fruit from it, and planted that, and, with many earnest prayers -and unceasing labors, they hoped their little plant would spring -into life, but its untimely decay has disappointed them and -disgusted them. Anon they endeavored to graft their withering -branch on an older and apparently more healthy stock, such as the -former and late attempts of the Episcopalians to form a union -with the schismatical Greek Church; but the graft will not take, -though they are willing to tie it on with every appliance and -prune it after every fashion. Again, a few who style themselves -Anglo-Catholics and high churchmen try to reason themselves into -a belief that their particular little twig of the branch must be -the true tree, because it is so much like in size and shape to -the young sapling which the apostles first planted in the earth. - -Slowly, however, they are beginning to ask themselves the -question which they should have asked in the beginning, "How -shall it grow without a root?" Those who take the trouble to -examine the matter at bottom find out that the branch they -cherish has no root, and now they lose all respect for it. These -divide into two parties. Those who are sincere-minded souls, -looking for true Christianity, and resting their eternal hopes -upon it, seek for the living Christian tree, and find sweet -repose beneath its grateful shade, and true nourishment of their -souls from its never-failing fruit. Others, who are less sincere, -cast aside the dead branch and all their faith in Christ with it, -become discouraged and disgusted, and fall away into -indifferentism and infidelity. - -This loss of the old traditional reverence for Christianity, -which a few years back was so strong that men felt it was -something to be ashamed of, and to need apology, when forced to -say, "I am no Christian," is now so marked that it is deplored on -all sides. -{137} -References are not unfrequently made in the columns of our daily -journals indicative of the popular temper, which hold up -celebrated preachers, and with them often the whole clerical -profession, to ridicule and contempt. Still the mass of the -people of our country are both sincere and religious-minded, and -the character of the conversions that are daily taking place is -such as to make us not only hopeful, but sure of the final -result. Surely, it is not to be said that the Catholic Church -shall prove herself less powerful in a country of nominal -Christians than she has shown herself to be in any or all the -pagan nations whom she has not only converted, but also civilized -and enlightened. Very few Protestants nowadays are compelled to -unlearn their supposed Christianity to become Catholics. The -false element which Calvinism introduced at the Reformation is -being gradually eliminated from their systems, and all that they -really adhere to is a part of Catholic truth. Many converts -express themselves surprised to find that to enter the church -they are called upon to renounce nothing whatever of what they -already hold. They find, to their delight, that the faith as -taught by the church is the completion, the realization, and also -the explanation of their religious opinions. - -The conversion of our beloved land is a work that should engage -our most ardent aspirations, and kindle all the zeal of which we -are capable. Both our hearts and our heads should be in it. We -feel like preaching a little on this subject. That we may help it -and hasten it by many things there is no doubt; by constant and -earnest prayer, by good example, by instruction, by the -distribution of good books and tracts, and such means; but it -seems to us that when any one is deeply impressed with a -conviction that a desired end will be accomplished, that it ought -to be, and, as far as in one lies, it shall be, then the end is -not far off. Aside from other things, there is in this matter a -wide field for the exercise of our theological virtues. - -Our faith: an unwavering faith in the power of truth, which must -prevail. It is God's work; it is what the church is called upon -to do; the people are fast progressing toward it; the good expect -it, the wicked fear it; God's grace is never wanting to aid all -men in their search after, and their acceptance of, the truth, -and what, then, can hinder it? The question put to us a few years -since, with a smile of mixed incredulity and pity, "Do _you_ -believe that this country will ever become Catholic?" is now, -"How soon do you think it will come to pass?" "Soon, very soon," -we reply, if your own statistics be true; for we see by one of -your late writers that the rate of growth of the Catholic -religion has been _seventy-five_ per cent greater than the -ratio of increase of population, while the rate of the decrease -of Protestantism is _eleven_ per cent less. - -Our hope: We must have large hope in this, as in all things else, -to bring about speedily what we desire: such an enthusiastic hope -as makes us see the end already. It will, moreover, encourage -them to do what we wish. Tell a sinner that you give him up and -have no hopes of him, and you give him a fatal encouragement to -go on in his wickedness. Your want of hope takes hope out of him; -but, on the contrary, tell him cheerfully that you look for his -conversion and amendment as a matter of course, and he will -conclude at once that he ought to convert himself, and will begin -to wish himself converted. -{138} -Then show him a picture of the happiness and peace of a good -life, the joy of the forgiven sinner; his mind is made up, and -the grace of God will do the rest. So it will be with our -Protestant brethren. Let them feel that we are sure of their -conversion to Catholicity, that we look for it as a certain -event, and they will begin to think it very possible, and ask -what it is to be a Catholic. Present them a picture of that -unspeakable peace which one obtains in a sure and certain faith; -tell them of the blessings in store for them, show them the -treasures of God's house, and give them to understand that they -are meant expressly for them, and that we are certain they will -enjoy them; then it will be strange, indeed, if, with the truth -before them, and the grace of God aiding and encouraging them, -they should turn away and reject their own happiness. For the -greater part of sincere Protestants there is absolutely nothing -to keep them out of the church but the old worn-out prejudices -they have against her. We know that it is thought that they have -an insuperable fear and distrust of some of our practices--the -confessional, for instance; but our experience convinces us that -they find no difficulty in overcoming their fears as soon as they -firmly believe in its necessity, and perceive its consoling and -sanctifying influence upon the individual soul and upon society -at large. Besides, this opinion is, in fact, groundless. As a -good old French Jesuit father said to us one day: "I have noticed -that when Americans have made up their mind to do anything, they -never ask if it be difficult." - -Our charity: Souls are won by love. We do not, and cannot, love -the Protestant religion. It has little that is lovable in it; and -besides, our own holy faith, all beautiful and good as it is, -absorbs all the love our hearts can possibly hold. But could our -Protestant brethren know how we Catholics love them--how we yearn -over them as a mother yearns over her wayward child--how we long -to welcome them home again; could they see how the "charity of -Jesus Christ presseth us" to labor and pray for them; could they -overhear us conversing with one another about them and learn our -wishes and plans, our hopes and our wonderings at their continued -absence, then we would win their souls. They could not stand all -that. The power of divine charity would draw them sweetly on. -Then they would ask themselves, What motive can these Catholics -have to wish us so fervently to become as they are? Would that -they might all be brought to ask that question! - -When we, who stand upon the firm rock, see them stumbling over -the bogs and marshes of a groundless and unstable faith, there is -a strong temptation to laugh at their bewilderment, and mock at -them as they go leaping about from one little hillock of opinion -to another, and at last fall, sprawling, into the mire of -religious doubt. Better pity them. Human nature, you know, has -_such_ a tendency to follow will-o'-the-wisps, even if it be -only for the purpose of scientific investigation! - -Whatever truth they have, after all, is Catholic truth. Their -piety, their love of religion, their hatred of sin, their fear of -hell and hopes of heaven, are all the results of the teachings of -Jesus Christ, in whom they believe as far as they know, and -through whom, in some vague sense, they hope for salvation. -{139} -They have been led away from the true fold, and are wandering -sheep, who are getting further and further each day out of -hearing of the voice of the true Shepherd. But the time is not -far distant when they will return. God's hand is stretched out -over this people. His Holy Spirit is moving their hearts, and the -signs of the day of peace and unity of faith are already -appearing. - -Preachers usually begin with a text; we take the liberty of -ending with one, very _à propos_, we think, to the subject -of our thoughts: "I will call them my people, that were not my -people: and her beloved, that was not beloved: and her, that had -not obtained mercy, one that hath obtained mercy. And it shall -be, in the place where it was said to them: you are not my -people: there they shall be called the children of the living -God." - --------- - - New Publications. - - - The Clergy And The Pulpit In Their Relations To The People. - By M. l'Abbé Mullois, chaplain to the Emperor - Napoleon III. and Missionary Apostolic. - Translated by George Percy Badger. - First American edition. - 12mo, pp. 308. New York: The Catholic - Publication Society, 126 Nassau Street. 1867. - -This work of the learned and pious Abbé Mullois has attained an -immense popularity in France, where it was issued a few years ago -under the title of _Cours d'Eloquence Sacrée Populaire; ou, -Essai sur la Manière de parler au Peuple._ It is the first of -a series of essays which appeared subsequently, designed as hints -to the clergy in their pastoral ministrations, especially in the -pulpit. - -It is one of the most noticeable books that have been issued by -the Catholic press, and cannot fail of receiving as cordial a -welcome with us as it has already received in France. Its -remarkable characteristic is the apostolic simplicity of its -style, and its bold, manly tone. The author's principal object is -to direct the attention of the clergy to the necessity of -cultivating a popular style of eloquence in their discourses and -instructions to the masses. But, in order that the sermon be -popular, and reach the hearts of the people, the preacher must -himself be popular. He must be a man loved by the people, -engaging both their admiration and reverence by his manner and -his language when addressing them, and above all, by loving them. -Hence, the author wisely treats of the preacher before he treats -of the sermon. The first chapter is devoted to the elucidation of -his great maxim: "To address men well, they must be loved much." -Have many rules of eloquence if you will, but do not forget the -first and most essential one: Love the people whom you would -instruct, convert, reprove, sanctify, and lead to God. "The end -of preaching is to reclaim the hearts of men to God, and nothing -but love can find out the mysterious avenues which lead to the -heart. We are always eloquent when we wish to save one whom we -love; we are always listened to when we are loved. ... If, then, -you do not feel a fervent love and profound pity for -humanity--if, in beholding its miseries and errors, you do not -experience the throbbings, the holy thrillings of charity, be -assured that the gift of Christian eloquence has been denied -you," which is the good abbé's polite way (so truly French) of -saying, "Don't preach." - -{140} - -He is not above indulging in a little bit of humor now and then -when he wishes to say something a little severe, so as to take -off the edge: "Just look at the young priest on his entrance upon -the sacred ministry. He is armed cap-a-pie with arguments; he -speaks only by syllogisms. His discourse bristles with _now, -therefore, consequently_. He is dogmatic, peremptory. One -might fancy him a nephew of one of those old bearded doctors of -the middle ages, such as Petit Jean or Courte-Cuisse. He is -disposed to transfix by his words every opponent, and give -quarter to none. He thrusts, cuts, overturns relentlessly. My -friend, lay aside a part of your heavy artillery. Take your young -man's, your young priest's heart, and place it in the van before -your audience, and after that you may resort to your batteries, -if they are needed. Make yourself beloved--be a father. Preach -affectionately, and your speech, instead of gliding over hearts -hardened by pride, will pierce _even to the dividing of the -joints and marrow_; and then that may come to be remarked of -you which was said of another priest by a man of genius who had -recently been reclaimed to a Christian life: 'I almost regret my -restoration, so much would it have gratified me to have been -converted by so affectionate a preacher.' ... Apostolical -eloquence is no longer well understood. It is now made to consist -of I hardly know what; the utterance of truths without any order, -in a happy-go-lucky fashion, extravagant self-excitement, -bawling, and thumping on the pulpit. There is a tendency in this -respect to follow the injunctions of an old divine of the -sixteenth century to a young bachelor of arts. '_Percute -cathedram fortiter; respice Crucifixum torvis oculis; nil dic ad -propositum, et bene praedicabis._'" - -It is certainly a great mistake, although a common one, that what -is called popular preaching is relished only by the poor and -illiterate, and, indeed, is only fit for them. The author's -sentiments on this subject are so just and well timed that we -venture to give them in the following extracts from the preface -of his second volume. - - "True popular preaching is not that which is addressed - exclusively to the lower orders; but that which is addressed to - all, and is understood by all. Such is the import of the word - _popular_. When a man is said to be popular, it implies - that he meets with sympathy on all sides; from among the upper, - the lower, and the middle classes of society. When we say, - charity is popular, we mean that it finds an echo in the - breasts of all. The Gospel is essentially popular; hence - Christian eloquence also should be popular at all times and in - all places; as well in large cities as in small towns and - country districts: unless an exceptional audience is addressed, - and there is only one such in France, namely, that of - Notre-Dame at Paris. - - "This is what a sermon ought to be: A learned academician - listening to it on one side, and a poor illiterate woman on the - other, both should derive therefrom something to enlighten - their minds and improve their hearts. - - "We, the clergy, are debtors to all. How can we denounce - injustice from the pulpit if we exhibit an example of it in our - own persons? This is a matter involving a sacred trust, which - has not met with adequate consideration; for how can we preach - charity when we deprive the poor of that which is their - due--the bread of knowledge? We should deem it an atrocity to - retain the alms given to us for the needy; and does not our - faith tell us that it would be a still greater crime to - withhold from them the saving truths of the Gospel? ... It is - one of the great glories, one of the great powers of the - ordinance of preaching, that the word preached should embrace - all without any exception; and we are sadly to blame for having - renounced that vantage-ground. Hence it is that our sermons - nowadays are dry, meagre, artificial, inefficacious, and no - longer exhibit that fulness and life, that broad effusion of - thought, those throbbings of the heart and thrilling accents of - the soul, which bespeak a double origin; indicating that what - we utter is at once the voice of God and the voice of the - people. - - "I am going to speak without any reserve. Painful as the - subject may be, it is desirable that the clergy should be made - thoroughly aware of it. Go where you will in France, you meet - with numbers of excellent and eminently intelligent men who - say: 'I really cannot account for it; but I can no longer bear - listening to sermons, for they weary me dreadfully. The - phraseology generally used is humdrum and threadbare, and the - matter consists of an incoherent mixture of rhetoric and - philosophy, art and mysticism, of which nobody understands any - thing. -{141} - Then, again, their monotonous uniformity throughout is enough - to send even those into a doze who have lost the habit of - sleeping. I sincerely believe that I should do better by - abstaining; but for the sake of example, I resign myself to - enduring them.' And be it remembered, that these are the - remarks, not of the ill-disposed, but of devoutly religious - men; proving the necessity of some large reform, since it would - be idle to suppose that such concurrent testimony from all - parts of France is unfounded. The same men, be it remarked, - after listening to a genial, diversified, popular, and sterling - discourse, will readily exclaim: 'That's the thing that I want! - That's what does me good! That's what I like!' - - "We must revert, therefore, to the genuine style of evangelical - preaching, which is that of a father addressing his numerous - family, and who wishes to be understood by all his children - from the eldest to the youngest. - - "But we must not be deluded into thinking that such popular - preaching is easy: on the contrary, it is very difficult of - attainment; for it involves no less a task than that of - speaking a language which shall be level to the comprehension - of the masses, and at the same time adapted to educated minds. - Would you master that task? Study much, study every thing: - theology, literature, the Holy Scriptures, more especially the - Gospel; acquire a deep insight into the human heart; and, - withal, cultivate your own mind till it can digest all - knowledge. Then write and speak like one who has really drawn - what he utters out of the good treasures of the heart, and in - such a way that all who hear you may be ready to say: 'Really, - what he states is very simple; it is sound sense; it is right. - It is just what I would have said myself under similar - circumstances.' Let us recall what has already been remarked - elsewhere--that a little study withdraws us from the natural, - whereas much study leads us to it. Reveal your heart, your - soul; for, after all, the soul of man, that masterpiece of - God's hand, will always carry more weight than all the - embellishments of philosophy or rhetoric." - -Let this zealous author speak of what he will, he invariably -comes back to his first principle: "Love the people, if you would -have any influence with them for good." Each chapter reveals the -fact that this thought is the one which is uppermost in the -writer's mind, and, therefore, the one he desires to impress the -more deeply upon the minds of his readers. He knows how to tell -plain, homely truths without offence, and criticise severely the -faults of his brethren without acerbity or presumption. - -It is a book that will do good, a great deal of good, and we -commend it most heartily to all our readers, who will assuredly -derive much pleasure and no little profit from its perusal. - -The translation has been made by a finished scholar, and leaves -nothing to be desired for purity of style or fidelity to the -original. The volume is published in a finished and elegant -style. - ----- - - Essays On Religion And Literature. - By Various Writers. - Edited by Archbishop Manning. - Second Series. London: Longmans, Green & Co. - New York: For sale by The Catholic Publication Society. - -The titles of these essays and the names of their authors will -give our readers a good idea of the character and value of this -volume: - - _Inaugural Address, Session_ 1866-7, - the Most Rev. Archbishop Manning, D.D.; - - _On Intellectual Power and Man's Perfection--Dangers of - Uncontrolled Intellect_, W. G. Ward, Ph.D.; - - _On the Mission and Prospects of the Catholic Church in - England_, F. Oakley, M.A.; - - _Christianity in Relation to Civil Society_, Edward Lucas; - - _On the Philosophy of Christianity_, - Albany J. Christie, M.A., S J.; - - _On some Events Preparatory to the English Reformation_, - H. W. Wilberforce, M.A.; - - _On the Inspiration of Scripture_, - Most Rev. Archbishop Manning, D.D.; - - _Church and State_, Edmund Sheridan Purcell; - - _Certain Sacrificial Words used by Saint Paul_, - Monsignor Patterson, M.A. - -It is impossible for us to enter here into an extended review of -all these very remarkable essays. They were read at different -meetings of the English Catholic Academia, founded six years ago -by the present Archbishop of Westminster, and which has for its -object, as the same illustrious prelate and scholar informs us in -his present inaugural address, "the maintenance and defence of -the Catholic religion, both positively and in its relation to all -other truth, and polemically as against all forms of erroneous -doctrines, principles, and thought." -{142} -This first address is a short but comprehensive sketch of the -state of religion in England, in which the present condition and -prospects of the faith are contrasted chiefly with what they were -thirty years ago. - -The second and third papers are designed to uphold the following -thesis: The perfection of man consists exclusively in the -perfection of his moral and spiritual nature, intellectual -excellence forming no part of it whatever. We cannot help but -think the author has taken a great deal of trouble to prove a -truism; for his definition of _perfection_ is closely -restricted to moral and spiritual perfection. We do not imagine -that the antagonists he summons up from the ranks of "muscular -Christianity," and from the present atheistical school in -England, would contend that pure intellect, in the sense used by -the author, would afford more than a subordinate service to man's -spiritual welfare, such as he himself proves in a second -proposition. The greater part, if not the whole, of these -antagonists to Catholic asceticism know nothing of what they are -discussing. They suppose, and falsely so, that the Catholic -Church teaches that the soul advances in spiritual perfection -precisely at the expense of intellectual excellence; that the -saint becomes the more holy as he becomes the more stupid; that -the cultivation of the reasoning power is not only useless but a -positive hindrance to spiritual perfection. It is not surprising -that our opponents make the most of intellectual acquirements, of -physical health and strength, and exalt the animal above the -spiritual, because they deny _in toto_ the moral state of -man as Catholic theology, both moral and ascetic, supposes it to -be. They contend that there is nothing wanting in man's moral -nature, any more than in his purely intellectual nature. Both are -weak, it is true, and should be strengthened and perfected, but -the results of moral weakness, which we call sin and -imperfection, are to be regarded in the same light as one would -the results of ignorance in science. Sin is simply a mistake, -culpable to the same degree as a false deduction in physics or -mathematics would be for want of better information and -scientific knowledge. Hence, it is easy to see how these -philosophers neither value nor in fact comprehend the exercises -of the spiritual life, and look upon all self-abnegation and -mortification of the senses as degrading. "Purification of the -soul" would be nonsense, because the soul does not need -purification. It needs only advancement, enlightenment, and -nurture, both in its spiritual and intellectual part. That a man -should apply himself to the perfection of his spiritual nature -without equal care to advance in worldly science, and keep his -muscles well developed, his stomach full, and his body -fashionably and comfortably clothed, is something which the -worldly wise cannot understand. How should they when they rate -the spiritual no higher than, if not below, the intellectual? -Human greatness with them consists in physical and intellectual -power; and they think the world is far more benefited by a -regiment of soldiers and a board of trade than by a community of -monks and an association of prayer. - -But too much care cannot be taken when we attempt to argue for -the thesis proposed in this essay. There is danger of giving our -adversaries an impression that we are contending for the very -things of which they accuse us. The intellect is not something -evil which is to be crushed, else we should not look for a saint -in a Chrysostom, an Augustine, a Thomas of Aquinas, a -Bonaventura, or among those thousands of men and women of great -genius and surpassing intellectual power, whose works are the -glory of the world as they are of religion. - -But one of the exercises of asceticism, say our opponents, is to -mortify the intellect. Yes, just as I mortify my sight by -restraining it from resting upon vain or immoral objects, my -appetite from too full an indulgence, my love for music from -dangerous display or vain gratification, or, what is at least as -good a reason, because I really have not the time to give my -intellect, my appetite, my love of the beautiful in art, poetry, -and music all that they demand. -{143} -I have a far higher object in life, and that is, to make my soul -pure and agreeable to God. These other and inferior objects are -worthy in themselves of attention, but as for me I am too busy to -spend either much thought or time upon them. - -Those good people whose God is their belly, or whose highest -aspiration in life is to see their name on the title-page of a -book, doubt either the sanity or the sincerity of one who says -that he loves to think about God a great deal better than he does -about what he is going to have for dinner, and chooses rather to -make a meditation than to read the morning newspaper. Such an one -is perhaps just as hungry as another for both animal and mental -food, but he puts away that anxious thought about dinner, he -declines the invitation to hear Parepa, and smashes his violin, -or consigns his mathematics to oblivion, because it happens that -some or all of these things are found to have a tendency to take -away his thoughts from God; and as to voluntary suffering, my -philosopher, I am sure that it cost one of these "degraded -ascetics" more pain to smash his violin than all the disciplines -he ever took in his life. What need was there to smash it? -Because it stood in his way, and because sacrifice is the -sweetest and most nourishing food the soul can feed upon. And the -same for his vanity, too, you say. Possibly. But do you -acknowledge that there is such a thing as vainglory, which may -arise in the heart and degrade it, thus placing a hindrance to -its perfection? I know you do, for you are constantly accusing -the Catholic saints of it. Well, then you must allow that -mortification of such a tendency is necessary for man's -perfection; and having once granted the necessity of -mortification for one thing, you have given up the question. Let -us hear no more of "degrading asceticism," or of the "unmanliness -and superstition of bodily austerities." - -The fault of this essay consists in the fact that the writer says -he uses the word "intellect" in its popular sense, while his -argument supposes it to be taken in its abstract, philosophical -sense. In relation to the question at issue, the popular sense is -not the philosophical one. The question of human perfection, as -put by the enemies of the church and the railers at her ascetic -principles and practices, is: Does not the Catholic Church teach -that man perfects himself alone in the spiritual order, and that -all human science is but vanity and vexation of spirit, and, -therefore, better left aside? And is not this as a consequence a -"degrading" standard to set before humanity, and one which tends -to superstition, ignorance, mean-spiritedness, as well as -criminal neglect of health and personal cleanliness? Is not -intellectual ability a talent, and was not the servant of the -gospel condemned for returning his to his lord unimproved? This -question the writer of the present essay does not meet, as we had -hoped he would. For ourselves, we judge, as the writer -acknowledges in his second essay, if we read him aright, that -there is such a thing as intellectual perfection, artistical, -mechanical, and even muscular perfection, each in their own -order, but inferior in character, aim, and end to the perfection -of the spiritual nature, which latter perfection it is not only -lawful but obligatory to cultivate, even at the expense of either -of the former. - -To advance in spiritual perfection is the first and highest duty -of man. "Seek first the kingdom of God and his justice." If one -can advance in any other perfection at the same time without -detriment to the first, all well and good. There is no danger -that the devil's Advocate will object to his canonization on the -score of his great intellectual superiority, his wonderful -mechanical genius, or the firmness and beautiful development of -his muscles. But let any of these things prove detrimental to his -spiritual perfection, as they without doubt frequently do, then -he must shut up his books or smash his violin, as the case may -be. - -The essay by Mr. Wilberforce, _On some Events Preparatory to -the English Reformation_, will be found an exceedingly -interesting paper. That _On the Inspiration of Scripture_, -by Archbishop Manning, presents a concise view of the teaching of -the church, and the different opinions of Protestant and Catholic -theologians on that subject. All the essays are, in fact, -literary productions of a high order, and merit the perusal of -every scholar of English Catholic literature. - -------- -{144} - - Lacordaire's Letters To Young Men. - Edited by the Count de Montalembert. - Translated by the Rev. James Trenor. - Baltimore: Kelly & Piet. 1867. - -This volume is composed of letters written to his young friends -whilst the author was engaged in the most arduous and responsible -duties. They are not studied productions of the great Dominican's -literary genius, but rather simple outpourings of paternal love -and solicitude toward those young men for whose spiritual -direction he was at once so wise a guide, so zealous a pastor, -and so warm a friend. They reveal the wealth of affection which -enriched his own heart, and the consecration of that affection to -the highest and noblest purpose of life--the perfection and -salvation of souls. These letters have been published that other -young men may also listen to his wise counsels, and receive that -direction and encouragement which the writer was so eminently -qualified to bestow. - -Those which refer to the painful steps that fidelity to the truth -and loyalty to the church led him to take in reference to M. de -la Mennais will be found exceedingly interesting. There is no -book that we could wish to see more extensively circulated among -and read by the young men of our day than this collection of -letters. The perusal of them will do much toward strengthening -that bond of holy friendship and mutual confidence which exists -between youth and the priesthood, so truly beneficial to the one -and full of consolation to the other. - --------- - - Extracts From The Fathers And Church Historians. - W. B. Kelly, - 8 Grafton Street, Dublin. - For sale by the Catholic Publication Society, - 126 Nassau Street, New-York. - -This volume contains choice selections from the fathers, -faithfully translated into English. - ---------- - - Modern History; from the coming of Christ and change of the - Roman Republic into an Empire, to the year of our Lord 1867, - with questions for the use of schools. - By Peter Fredet, D.D. - 22d edition, revised, etc. - 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 566 and 38. - Baltimore: John Murphy & Co. 1867. - - - A Compendium Of Ancient And Modern History--with questions, - adapted to the use of schools, with an appendix, etc.--from the - Creation to the year 1867. - By M. J. Kerney, A.M. - 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 431. - Baltimore: John Murphy & Co. 1867. - -These works are excellent epitomes of history, and are very -popular in the Catholic schools of the United States and the -Canadas. The first of them, Fredet's History, is a useful volume, -and gives the reader a clear and correct idea of modern history, -especially if he has not time to read the more voluminous -histories of the various countries of the world. The present -edition of both these volumes is brought down to the year 1867, -and the account of our late terrible war is written with candor -and without bias, the bare facts and dates of battles being -given. They are gotten up in good, serviceable style for schools. - ---------- - - The Bohemians Of The Fifteenth Century. - Translated from the French of Henri Guenot, - by Mrs. J. Sadlier. New-York: D. & J. Sadlier & Co. - -This is a very correct translation of a beautiful little tale by -M. Guenot, illustrating the peculiar habits and manner of living -of that strange people, generally called Gipsies, who appeared in -Europe about the time selected by the author for his -illustration. The story is well told in the original, with an -attention to time and place characteristic of the best French -writers of fiction, and in the English version before us it loses -nothing in accuracy or even in vivacity of style. It is an -excellent book for young readers, and will doubtless find a large -circulation among that class. - --------------------- - -{145} - - The Catholic World. - - Vol. VI., No. 32. November, 1867. - - - - Unpublished Letters Of General Washington. - -Two years ago, Count Henri de Chastellux gave to the world, -through the pages of _Le Correspondent_ of Paris, a -translation of thirteen letters of Washington's never before -printed. They were addressed to the Marquis de Chastellux, that -gallant and accomplished French nobleman who fought with the -patriot army during our revolutionary war, serving as -major-general under Rochambeau, and of whose subsequent travels -in America we gave some account in an early number of THE -CATHOLIC WORLD. Washington seems to have entertained a sincere -regard for this distinguished soldier and man of letters, who, -besides being in complete harmony with the founder of the -American republic in his views of philosophy and politics, was a -gentleman of most amiable private character, agreeable manners, -and extensive information. After his return to France he kept up -a correspondence with Washington as long as he lived, the last -letter in the present collection bearing date only six months -before the marquis's death. Although it cannot be said that -Washington's letters reveal any facts of importance not already -known, they are not devoid of historical interest, apart from the -value which all confidential communications from his pen must -possess in the eyes of patriotic Americans. We are indebted to -the efforts of the Abbé Cazali in procuring copies of the -original from the Count Henri de Chastellux, who was kind enough -to copy them himself. To both of these gentlemen we return our -most sincere thanks. The first is dated at New-Windsor, January -28th, 1781. Count de Chastellux had just arrived at Newport, -where the French army was then quartered. - - - I. - - My Dear Sir: I congratulate you on your safe arrival in good - health at Newport, after travelling through so large an extent - of the theatre of war in America. Receive my thanks for your - courtesy in informing me of the same, and also for making me - acquainted with the Comte de Charlus. His prepossessing - appearance is a sufficient indication of the amiable qualities - of his mind, and fails not to produce at first view a favorable - impression upon all who see him. - -{146} - - After spending several days with us at headquarters, he has - gone to Philadelphia, accompanied by Count Dillon. - - I left them at Ringwood, whither I went to repress a partial - revolt at Pompton among the New-Jersey troops, who, after the - example of those of Pennsylvania, mutinied and refused to obey - their officers. The affair happily ended without bloodshed. Two - of the ringleaders were executed on the spot, and order had - been completely restored before I left. - - I am at a loss for words to express my appreciation of your - approval and friendship, and the value I attach to them. It - shall be the desire and happiness of my life to merit their - continuance, and to assure you on every occasion of my - admiration for your character and virtues. I am, dear sir, your - most obedient servant, - - G. Washington. - - - II. - - New Windsor, May 7, 1781. - - Dear Sir: Permit me, on this occasion of writing to you, to - begin my letter with congratulations on your recovered health, - and I offer them sincerely. - - Colonel Menoville put into my hands two days since your favor - of the 29th ultimo. If my inclination was seconded by the - means, I should not fail to meet this gentleman as the friend - of my friend; and if it is not in my power to comply with his - wishes on the score of provisions, I will deal with him - candidly by communicating the causes. - - I am impressed with too high a sense of the abilities and - candor of the Chevalier Chastellux to conceive that he is - capable of creating false hopes. His communication, therefore, - of the West Indies intelligence comes with merited force, and I - would to God it were in my power to take the proper advantage - of it! But if you can recollect a private conversation which I - had with you in the Count de Rochambeau's chamber, you will be - persuaded it is not; especially when I add, that the want of - which I then complained exists in much greater force than it - did at that moment; but such preparations as can be made, I - will make for the events you allude to. The candid world and - well-informed officer will expect no more. - - May you participate in those blessings you have invoked hereon - for me, and may you live to see a happy termination of a - struggle which was begun, and has been continued, for the - purpose of rescuing America from impending slavery, and - securing to its inhabitants their indubitable rights, in which - you bear a conspicuous part, is the ardent wish of, dear sir, - your most obedient and most affectionate servant, - G. Washington. - - - III. - - New Windsor, June 13, 1781. - - My Dear Chevalier: I fear, from the purport of the letter you - did me the honor to write from Newport on the 9th, that my - sentiments respecting the council of war held on board the - _Duke de Bourgogne_, (the 31st of May,) have been - misconceived, and I shall be very unhappy if they receive an - interpretation different from the true intent and meaning of - them. If this is the case, it can only be attributed to my not - understanding the business of the Duke de Lauzun perfectly. I - will rely, therefore, on your goodness and candor to explain - and rectify the mistake, if any has happened. - -{147} - - My wishes perfectly coincided with the determination of the - board of war to continue the fleet at Rhode Island, provided it - could remain there in safety with the force required, and did - not impede the march of the army toward the North river; but, - when Duke Lauzun informed me that my opinion of the propriety - and safety of this measure was required by the board, and that - he came hither at the particular request of the Counts - Rochambeau and de Barras to obtain it, I was reduced to the - painful necessity of delivering a sentiment different from that - of a most respectable board, or of forfeiting all pretensions - to candor by the concealment of it. - - Upon this ground it was I wrote to the generals to the effect I - did, and not because I was dissatisfied at the alteration of - the plan agreed to at Wethersfield. My fears for the safety of - the fleet, which I am now persuaded were carried too far, were - productive of a belief that the generals, when separated, might - feel uneasy at every mysterious preparation of the enemy, and - occasion a fresh call for militia. This had some weight in my - determination to give Boston (where I was sure no danger could - be encountered but that of a blockade) a preference to Newport, - where, under some circumstances, though not such as were likely - to happen, something might be enterprised. - - The fleet being at Rhode Island is attended certainly with many - advantages in the operation proposed, and I entreat that you, - and the gentlemen who were of opinion that it ought to be - risked there for these purposes, will be assured that I have a - high sense of the obligation you mean to confer on America by - that resolve, and that your zeal to promote the common cause, - and my anxiety for the safety of so valuable a fleet, were the - only motives which gave birth to the apparent difference in our - opinions. - - I set that value upon your friendship and candor, and have that - implicit belief in your attachment to America, that they are - only to be equalled by the sincerity with which I have the - honor to be, dear sir, your most obedient, and obliged, and - faithful servant, - - G. Washington. - - - IV. - - Philadelphia, January 4, 1782. - - My Dear Chevalier: I cannot suffer your old acquaintance, Mrs. - Carter, to proceed to Williamsburg without taking with her a - remembrance of my friendship for you. - - I have been detained here by Congress to assist in making the - necessary arrangements for next campaign, and am happy to find - so favorable a disposition in that body to prepare vigorously - for it. They have resolved to keep up the same number of - regiments as constituted the army of last year, and have called - upon the States in a pressing manner to complete them. - Requisitions of money are also made; but how far the abilities - and inclinations of the States individually will coincide with - the demands is more than I am able, at this early period, to - inform you. A further pecuniary aid from your generous nation, - and a decisive naval force upon this coast in the latter end of - May or beginning of June, unlimited in its stay and operations, - would, unless the resources of Great Britain are inexhaustible, - or she can form powerful alliances, bid fair to finish the war - in the course of next campaign, (if she mean to prosecute it,) - with the ruin of that people. - - The first, that is, an aid of money, would enable our financier - to support the expenses of the war with ease and credit, - without anticipating a change in those funds which Congress are - endeavoring to establish, and which will be productive in the - operation. - -{148} - - The second, a naval superiority, would compel the enemy to draw - their whole force to a point, which would not only be a - disgrace to their arms by the relinquishment of posts, and the - States which they affect to have conquered, but might - eventually be fatal to their army, or, by attempting to hold - these, be cut off in detail. So that in either case the most - important good consequences would result from the measure. - - As you will have received in a more direct channel than from me - the news of the surprise and recapture of St. Eustatia by the - arms of France, I shall only congratulate you on the event, and - add that it marks, in a striking point of view, the genius of - the Marquis de Bouillé for enterprise, and for intrepidity and - resources in difficult circumstances. His conduct upon this - occasion does him infinite honor. - - Amid the numerous friends who would rejoice to see you at this - place, none (while I stay here) could give you a more sincere - and cordial welcome than I should. Shall I entreat you to - present me to the circle of your friends in the army around - you, with all that warmth and attachment I am sensible of, and - to believe that with sentiments of the purest friendship and - regard I have the honor to be, etc., - G. Washington. - - - - V. - - Headquarters, Newburg, - Aug. 10, 1782. - - My Dear Chevalier: I love and thank you for the sentiments - contained in your letter of the 5th. I look forward with - pleasure to the epoch which will place us as conveniently in - one camp as we are congenial in our sentiments. I shall embrace - you when it happens with the warmth of perfect friendship. - - My time, during my winter residence in Philadelphia, was - unusually (for me) divided between parties of pleasure and - parties of business. The first, nearly of a sameness at all - times and places in this infant country, is easily conceived; - at least, is too unimportant for description. The second was - only diversified by perplexities, and could afford no - entertainment. Convinced of these things myself, and knowing - that your intelligence with respect to foreign affairs was - better and more interesting than mine, I had no subject to - address you upon; thus, then, do I account for my silence. - - My time since I joined the army in this quarter has been - occupied principally in providing for, disciplining, and - preparing, under many embarrassments, the troops for the field. - Cramped as we have been and still are for the want of money, - everything moves slowly, but, as this is no new case, I am not - discouraged by it. - - The enemy talk loudly and very confidently of peace; but - whether they are in earnest, or whether it is to amuse and - while away the time till they can prepare for a more vigorous - prosecution of the war, time will evince. Certain it is, the - refugees at New York are violently convulsed by a letter which - ere this you will have seen published, from Sir Guy Carleton - and Admiral Digby to me, upon the subject of a general - pacification and acknowledgment of the independency of this - country. - - Adieu, my dear Chevalier. A sincere esteem and regard bids me - assure you that, with sentiments of pure affection, etc., - G. Washington. - -{149} - - VI. - - Newburg, Dec. 14, 1782. - - My Dear Chevalier: I felt too much to express anything the day - I parted with you. A sense of your public services to this - country and gratitude for your private friendship quite - overcame me at the moment of our separation. But I should be - wanting to the feelings of my heart, and do violence to my - inclination, were I to suffer you to leave this country without - the warmest assurances of an affectionate regard for your - person and character. - - Our good friend, the Marquis de Lafayette, prepared me (long - before I had the honor to see you) for those impressions of - esteem which opportunities and your own benevolent mind have - since improved into a deep and lasting friendship--a friendship - which neither time, nor distance can ever eradicate. - - I can truly say that never in my life did I part with a man to - whom my soul clave more sincerely than it did to you. My - warmest wishes will attend you in your voyage across the - Atlantic, to the rewards of a generous prince--the arms of - affectionate friends--and be assured that it will be one of my - highest gratifications to keep a regular intercourse with you - by letter. - - I regret exceedingly that circumstances should withdraw you - from this country before the final accomplishment of that - independence and peace which the arms of our good ally has - assisted in placing before us in such an agreeable point of - view. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to accompany you - after the war in a tour through the great continent of North - America, in search of the natural curiosities with which it - abounds, and to view at the same time the foundation of a - rising empire. I have the honor, etc., - - G. Washington. - - P.S.--Permit me to trouble you with the inclosed letter to the - Marquis de Lafayette. - - - VII. - - Headquarters, Newburg, - May 10, 1783. - - My Dear Chevalier: The affectionate expressions in your - farewell letter of the 8th of June from Annapolis gave a new - spring to the pleasing remembrance of our past intimacy, and - your letter of the 4th of March from Paris has convinced me - that time nor distance can eradicate the seeds of friendship - when they have taken root in a good soil and are nurtured by - philanthropy and benevolence. That I value your esteem, and - wish to retain a place in your affections, are truths of which - I hope you are convinced, as I wish you to be of my sincerity - when I assure you that it is among the first wishes of my heart - to pay the tribute of respect to your nation, to which I am - prompted by motives of public consideration and private - friendships; but how far it may be in my power to yield a - prompt obedience to my inclination is more than I can decide - upon at present. - - You have, my dear Chevalier, placed before my eyes the exposed - situation of my seat on the Potomack, and warned me of the - danger which is to be apprehended from a surprise; but as I - have an entire confidence in it, and an affection for your - countrymen, I shall bid defiance to the enterprise, under a - full persuasion that, if success should attend it and I cannot - make terms for my releasement, I shall be generously treated by - my captors, and there is such a thing as a pleasing captivity. - - At present both armies remain in the situation you left them, - except that all acts of hostilities have ceased in this quarter - and things have put on a more tranquil appearance than - heretofore. -{150} - We look forward with anxious expectation for the definitive - treaty to remove the doubts and difficulties which prevail at - present, and our country of our newly acquired friends in New - York, and other places within these States, of whose company we - are heartily tired. Sir Guy, with whom I have had a meeting at - Dobb's Ferry for the purpose of ascertaining the epoch of this - event, could give me no definitive answer, but general - assurances that he was taking every preparatory measure for it; - one of which was, that, a few days previous to the interview, - he had shipped off for Nova Scotia upward of 6000 refugees or - loyalists, who, apprehending they would not be received as - citizens of these United States, he thought it his duty to - remove previous to the evacuation of the city by the king's - troops. - - The Indians have recommenced hostilities on the frontiers of - Pennsylvania and Virginia, killing and scalping whole families - who had just returned to the habitations, from which they had - fled, in expectation of enjoying them in peace. These people - will be troublesome neighbors to us, unless they can be removed - to a much greater distance, and this is only to be done by - purchase or conquest. Which of the two will be adopted by - Congress, I know not. The first, I believe, would be cheapest - and perhaps most consistent with justice. The latter most - effectual. - - Mrs. Washington is very sensible of your kind remembrance of - her, and presents her best respects to you, in which all the - gentleman of my family who are with me cordially and sincerely - join. Tilghman, I expect, has before this entered into the - matrimonial state with a cousin of his whom you may have seen - at Mr. Carroll's near Baltimore. My best wishes attend Baron - Montesquieu, and such other gentlemen within your circle as I - have the honor to be acquainted with. I can only repeat to you - assurances of the most perfect friendship and attachment, etc. - - G. Washington. - - - - VIII. - - Princeton, October 12, 1783. - - My Dear Chevalier: I have not had the honor of a letter from - you since the 4th of March last, but I will ascribe my - disappointment to any cause rather than to a decay of your - friendship. - - Having the appearances, and indeed the enjoyment of peace, - without the final declaration of it, I, who am only waiting for - the ceremonials, or till the British forces shall have taken - their leave of New York, am held in an awkward and disagreeable - situation; being anxiously desirous to quit the walks of public - life, and, under my own vine and my own fig-tree, to seek those - enjoyments and that relaxation which a mind that has been - constantly upon the stretch for more than eight years stands so - much in want of. - - I have fixed this epoch to the arrival of the definitive - treaty, or to the evacuation of my country by our newly - acquired friends. In the mean while, at the request of - Congress, I spend my time with them at this place; where they - came in consequence of the riots at Philadelphia, of which, - doubtless, you have been fully informed, for it is not a very - recent transaction. - - They have lately determined to fix the permanent residence of - Congress near the falls of Delaware, but where they will hold - their session till they can be properly established at that - place is yet undecided. - -{151} - - I have lately made a tour through the Lakes George and - Champlain as far as Crown Point; then, returning to - Schenectady, I proceeded up the Mohawk river to Fort Schuyler, - (formerly Fort Stanwix,) crossed over to the Wood creek, which - empties into the Oneida Lake and affords the water - communication with Ontario; I then traversed the country to the - head of the eastern branch of the Susquehanna, and arrived at - the Lake Otsego, and the portage between that lake and the - Mohawk river at Canajoharie. - - Prompted by these actual observations, I could not help taking - a more contemplative and extensive view of the vast inland - navigation of these United States from maps, and the - information of others, and could not but be struck with the - immense diffusion and importance of it, and with the goodness - of that Providence which has dealt her favors to us with so - profuse a hand. Would to God we may have wisdom enough to make - a good use of them. I shall not rest contented till I have - explored the western part of this country, and traversed these - lines (or great part of them) which have given bounds to a new - empire. But when it may, if it ever should, happen, I dare not - say, as my first attention must be given to the deranged - situation of my private concerns, which are not a little - injured by almost nine years absence and total disregard of - them. - - With every wish for your health and happiness, and with the - most sincere and affectionate regard, etc., - - G. Washington. - - - IX. - - Mount Vernon, February 1, 1784. - - My Dear Chevalier: I have had the honor to receive your favor - of the 23d of August from L'Orient, and hope this letter will - find you in the circle of your friends at Paris, well recovered - from the fatigues of your long inspection on the frontiers of - the kingdom. - - I am, at length, become a private citizen on the banks of the - Potomack, where, under my own vine and my own fig-tree, free - from the bustle of a camp and the intrigues of a court, I shall - view the busy world with calm indifference, and with that - serenity of mind which the soldier in pursuit of glory and the - statesman of a name have not leisure to enjoy. I am not only - retired from all public employments, but am retiring within - myself, and shall lead the private walks of life with heartfelt - satisfaction. After seeing New York evacuated by the British - forces on the 25th of November, and civil government - established in the city, I repaired to Congress and surrendered - all my powers, with my commission, into their hands on the 23d - of December, and arrived at this cottage the day before - Christmas, where I have been close locked in frost and snow - ever since. Mrs. Washington thanks you for your kind - remembrance of her, and prays you to accept her best wishes in - return. With sentiments, etc., - - G. Washington. - - - X. - - Mount Vernon, June 2, 1784. - - My Dear Sir: I had the honor to receive a short letter from you - by Major l'Enfant. My official letters to the Counts d'Estaing - and Rochambeau (which, I expect, will be submitted to the - members of the Cincinnatis in France) will inform you of the - proceedings of the General Meeting, held at Philadelphia, on - the 3d ult., of the reasons which induced a departure from some - of the original principles and rules of the society. -{152} - As these have been detailed, I will not repeat them, and as we - have no occurrences out of the common course, except the - establishment of ten new States in the western territory, and - the appointment of Mr. Jefferson (whose talents and worth are - well known to you) as one of the commissioners for forming - commercial treaties in Europe, I will only repeat to you the - assurances of my friendship, and express to you a wish that I - could see you in the shade of those trees which my hands have - planted, and which by their rapid growth at once indicate a - knowledge of my declination and their willingness to spread - their mantles over me before I go home to return no more. For - this their gratitude I will nurture them while I stay. - - Before I conclude, permit me to recommend Colonel Humphreys, - who is appointed secretary to the commission, to your - countenance and civilities whilst he remains in France. He - possesses an excellent heart and a good understanding. With - every, etc., - - G. Washington. - - - XI. - - Mount Vernon, September 5, 1785. - - My Dear Sir: I am your debtor for two letters, one of the 12th - of December, the other of the 8th of April. Since the receipt - of the first I have paid my respects to you in a line or two by - a Major Swan, but, as it was introductory only of him, it - requires an apology rather than entitles me to a credit in our - epistolary correspondence. - - If I had as good a knack, my dear Marquis, [Footnote 23] as you - have at saying handsome things, I would endeavor to pay you in - kind for the many flattering expressions of your letters, - having an ample field to work in; but as I am a clumsy laborer - in the manufactory of compliments, I must first profess my - unworthiness of those which you have bestowed on me, and then, - conscious of my inability of meeting you upon that ground, - confess that it is better for me not to enter the list, than to - retreat from it in disgrace. - - [Footnote 23: By the death of his brother, Philippe Louis of - Chastellux, on the 26th January, 1784, the Chevalier had - taken this title. ED. C. W.] - - It gives me great pleasure to find by my last letters from - France that the dark clouds which overspread your hemisphere - are yielding to the sunshine of peace. My first wish is to see - the blessings of it diffused through all countries, and among - all ranks in every country, and that we should consider - ourselves as the children of a common Parent, and be disposed - to acts of brotherly kindness toward one another. In that case - restrictions of trade would vanish: we should take your wines, - your fruits, and surplusage of such articles as our necessities - or convenience might require and in return give you our fish, - our oil, our tobacco, our naval stores, etc.; and in like - manner should exchange produce with other countries, to the - reciprocal advantage of each. And as the globe is large, why - need we wrangle for a small spot of it? If one country cannot - contain us, another should open its arms to us. But these - halcyon days (if they ever did exist) are now no more. A wise - Providence, I presume, has decreed it otherwise, and we shall - be obliged to go on in the old way, disputing and now and then - fighting, until the great globe itself dissolves. - - I rarely go from home, but my friends in and out of Congress - sometimes inform me of what is on the carpet. To hand it to you - afterward would be circuitous and idle, as I am persuaded you - have correspondents at New York, who give them to you at first - hand, and can relate them with more clearness and precision. -{153} - I give the chief of my time to rural amusements; but I have - lately been active in instituting a plan which, if success - attends it, and of which I have no doubt, may be productive of - great political as well as commercial advantages to the States - on the Atlantic, especially the Middle ones. It is the - improving and extending the land navigations of the rivers - Potomack and James, and communicating them with the western - waters by the shortest and easiest portages and good roads. - Acts have passed the assemblies of Virginia and Maryland - authorizing private adventurers to undertake the work. - Companies, in consequence, are incorporated, and that on this - river is begun. But when we come to the difficult parts of it, - we shall require an engineer of skill and practical knowledge - in this branch of business, and from that country where these - kinds of improvements have been conducted with the greatest - success. With very, etc., - - G. Washington. - - - XI. - - Mount Vernon, August 18, 1786. - - My Dear Marquis: I cannot omit to seize the earliest occasion - to acknowledge the receipt of the very affectionate letter you - did me the honor of writing to me on the 22d of May, as well as - to thank you for the present of your _Travels in America_, - and the translation of Colonel Humphreys's poem, all which came - safely to hand by the same conveyance. - - Knowing as I did the candor, liberality, and philanthropy of - the Marquis de Chastellux, I was prepared to disbelieve any - imputations that might militate against those amiable - qualities, for characters and habits are not easily taken up or - suddenly laid aside. Nor does that mild species of philosophy - which aims at promoting human happiness ever belie itself by - deviating from the generous and godlike pursuit. Having, - notwithstanding, understood that some misrepresentations of the - work in question had been circulated, I was happy to learn that - you had taken the most effectual method to put a stop to their - circulation by publishing a more ample and correct edition. - Colonel Humphreys (who spent some weeks at Mount Vernon) - confirmed me in the sentiment by giving a most flattering - account of the whole performance. He has also put into my hands - the translation of that part in which you say such and so many - handsome things, that (although no sceptic on ordinary - occasions) I may, perhaps, be allowed to doubt whether your - friendship and partiality have not, in this one instance, - acquired an ascendency over your cooler judgment. - - Having been thus unwarily, and I may be permitted to add, - almost unavoidably betrayed into a kind of necessity to speak - of myself, and not wishing to resume that subject, I choose to - close it for ever by observing, that as, on the one hand, I - consider it an indubitable mark of meanspiritedness and pitiful - vanity to court applause from the pen or tongue of man, so on - the other, I believe it to be a proof of false modesty or an - unworthy affectation of humility to appear altogether - insensible to the commendations of the virtuous and enlightened - part of our species. Perhaps nothing can excite more perfect - harmony in the soul than to have this string vibrate in unison - with the internal consciousness of rectitude in our intentions - and an humble hope of approbation from the supreme Disposer of - all things. - -{154} - - I have communicated to Colonel Humphreys that paragraph in your - letter which announces the very favorable reception his poem - has met with in France. Upon the principles indifferent to the - applause of so enlightened a nation, nor to the suffrage of the - king and queen, who have pleased to honor it with their royal - approbation. - - We have no news this side the Atlantic worth the pains of - sending across it. The country is recovering rapidly from the - ravages of war. The seeds of population are scattered far in - the wilderness; agriculture is prosecuted with industry. The - works of peace, such as opening rivers, building bridges, are - carried on with spirit. Trade is not so successful as we could - wish. Our State governments are well administered. Some objects - in our federal system might probably be altered for better. I - rely much on the good sense of my countrymen, and trust that a - superintending Providence will disappoint the hopes of our - enemies. With sentiments, etc., - - G. Washington. - - - XIII. - - Mount Vernon, April 25, 1788. - - My Dear Marquis: In reading your very friendly and acceptable - letter of the 21st of December, 1787, which came to hand by the - last mail, I was, as you may well suppose, not less delighted - than surprised to come across that plain American word, my - wife! A wife! Well, my dear Marquis, I can hardly refrain from - smiling to find you are caught at last. I saw, by the eulogium - you often made on the happiness of domestic life in America, - that you had swallowed the bait, and that you would as surely - be taken (one day or another) as you were a philosopher and a - soldier. So your day has at length come. I am glad of it with - all my heart and soul. It is quite good enough for you. Now you - are well served for coming to fight in favor of the American - rebels, all the way across the Atlantic ocean, by catching that - terrible contagion, domestic felicity, which, like the - small-pox or the plague, a man can have only once in his life, - because it commonly lasts him (at least with us in America--I - don't know how you manage these matters in France) for his - whole lifetime. And yet, after all the maledictions you so - richly merit on the subject, the worst wish which I can find it - in my heart to make against Madame de Chastellux and yourself - is, that you may neither of you ever get the better of this - same domestic felicity during the entire course of your mortal - existence. - - If so wonderful an event should have occasioned me, my dear - Marquis, to have written in a strange style, you will - understand me as clearly as if I had said, (the simple truth in - plain English,) Do me the justice to believe that I take a - heart-felt interest in whatsoever concerns your happiness. And - in this view I sincerely congratulate you on your auspicious - matrimonial connection. I am happy to find that Madame de - Chastellux is so intimately connected with the Duchess of - Orleans, as I have always understood this noble lady was an - illustrious pattern of connubial love, as well as an excellent - model of virtue in general. - - While you have been making love under the banner of Hymen, the - great personages of the North have been making war under the - inspiration, or rather the infatuation, of Mars. -{155} - Now, for my part, I humbly conceive you have had much the best - and wisest of the bargain. For certainly it is more consonant - to all the principles of reason and religion (natural and - revealed) to replenish the earth with inhabitants, rather than - to depopulate it by killing those already in existence. - Besides, it is time for the age of knight-errantry and mad - heroism to be at an end. Your young military men, who want to - reap the harvest of laurels, don't care (I suppose) how many - seeds of war are sown. But for the sake of humanity it is - devoutly to be wished that the manly employment of agriculture, - and the humanizing benefits of commerce, would supersede the - waste of war and the rage of conquest. That the swords might be - turned into ploughshares, the spears into pruning-hooks, and, - as the Scripture expresses it, the nations learn war no more. - - I will now give you a little news from this side of the water, - and then finish. As for us, we are plodding on in the dull road - of peace and politics. We, who live at these ends of the earth, - only hear of the rumors of war, like the roar of distant - thunder. It is to be hoped our remote local situation will - prevent us from being swept into its vortex. - - The constitution which was proposed by the federal convention - has been adopted by the States of Massachusetts, Connecticut, - Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Georgia. No State has - rejected it. The convention of Maryland is now sitting and will - probably adopt it; as that of South Carolina is expected to do - in May. The other conventions will assemble early in the - summer. Hitherto there has been much greater unanimity in favor - of the proposed government than could have been reasonably - expected. Should it be adopted, (and I think it will be,) - America will lift up her head again, and in a few years become - respectable among the nations. It is a flattering and consoling - reflection that our rising republic has the good wishes of all - the philosophers, patriots, and virtuous men in all nations, - and that they look upon it as a kind of asylum for mankind. God - grant that we may not disappoint their honest expectations by - our folly or perverseness! With sentiments, etc., - - G. Washington. - - P.S.--If the Duke de Lauzun is still with you, I beg you will - thank him, in my name, for his kind remembrance of me, and make - my compliments to him. - - _May 1st_.--Since writing the above, I have been favored - with a duplicate of your letter in the handwriting of a lady, - and cannot close this without acknowledging my obligations for - the flattering postscript of the fair transcriber. In effect, - my dear Marquis, the characters of this interpreter of your - sentiments are so much fairer than those through which I have - been accustomed to decipher them, that I already consider - myself as no small gainer by your matrimonial connection. - Especially as I hope your amiable amanuensis will not forget at - the same time to add a few annotations of her own to your - original text. - - I have just received information that the convention of - Maryland has ratified the proposed constitution by a majority - of 63 to 11. - --------- - -{156} - - Aimée's Sacrifice. - - A Tale. - - - Chapter I. - - -The sun was sinking in the horizon, and the sky was overspread -with a glorious array of many-colored clouds--those hues which -artists so vainly try to reproduce on canvas, and which it is -still more impossible to describe in words. It was a soft, balmy -summer evening, the 14th of August, and nature seemed as if ready -to join with faithful hearts in keeping the coming feast and to -give them a faint shadow of the glories of heaven. Very fair was -the landscape which lay outspread before the spectator's eye from -the churchyard of the little village of St. Victor, raised as it -was on a slight eminence above the rest of the village. -Beech-woods, softly undulating hills, fertile dales, cottages -scattered here and there, and the sea shining like silver in the -far distance, formed the delightful prospect; and the old curé, -as he traversed the churchyard which alone separated the modest -presbytery from the church, could never prevent himself from -pausing to admire the wonderful beauty of the scene. On this -evening particularly, he stood looking up into the gorgeous sky -with the earnest, wistful gaze of one who would fain pierce -through "each tissued fold" of that marvellous curtain of blue -and gold. - -The little church of St. Victor did not boast much architectural -beauty, and the churchyard was filled with simple green mounds -and wooden crosses, with here and there a few shrubs and wild -flowers, showing that it was the resting-place for the poor and -the lowly. The village itself was very small, but there were many -outlying hamlets, so that on Sundays a goodly congregation filled -the church. While the curé was still standing absorbed in -thought, a side-door of the church gently opened, and a young -girl, about eighteen, very simply-dressed, but with a grace in -her appearance and movements which showed her to be above the -peasant rank, came out. The face which she raised as she -approached the curé was radiant with beauty and with innocence; -the lines of care had not yet marked their furrows on the smooth -brow or cheeks; but there was a shade, as if cast by coming -sorrow, over the countenance, and on the long, dark eyelashes -tears were still trembling. - -"Well, my child," said the curé, "are your labors over?" - -"Yes, father," she replied; "I have finished everything, and I do -think Our Lady's altar looks beautiful. The ferns make such a -good background and show all the flowers to advantage. Oh! I -think it will look lovely at benediction to-morrow, and we will -take such pains with the music! O father!" she continued, "if -mamma could but come and see it and hear Mass! I did so hope she -would be well enough. I have prayed so often for it." And her -eyes filled with tears. - -"Ah! Aimée," said the curé, "sometimes our prayers are very blind -ones, and, like the apostles of old, we know not what we ask. I -have just been to see your mother--" - -{157} - -"And how did you find her? what do you think of her, father?" -said Aimée eagerly. "I do think she is a _little_ -better--just a trifle, you know!" - -The priest made no answer for a moment, then he said: "Aimée, I -do not think she is better, and she has asked me to speak to you. -She would not have sorrow come on you too suddenly. My child, my -poor child, your mother is going fast where she will no longer -need an earthly altar, and where she may gather flowers in the -gardens of eternal bliss. You have loved her well, my poor Aimée; -will you not give her up to His keeping who hath loved her best -of all?" - -Aimée had clasped her hands tightly together, and the color had -faded from her cheek. She raised her eyes to the sky above, still -radiant with its glorious hues. Within those masses of golden -clouds she fancied she could see the pathway which should lead to -the paradise of God. She turned her eyes to earth again, and, -bowing her head, she said, "_Fiat voluntas tua_. Father," -she continued, "I have all but known this for weeks past. I have -seen it in the doctor's face, in yours, but I strove to hide it -from myself." - -"I have hesitated to speak sooner," said the priest, "but this -day a letter has come from your uncle in England for your mother, -enclosed to me. I took it to her; and its contents are such that -it made us feel the time has come when you must face the truth -with her and listen to her counsels for the future." - -Aimée closed her eyes in sudden anguish, while a sharp pain shot -through her heart. "The future, father," she said--"the future -without _her?_" - -"Courage, dear child," answered he. "Life is not long. When we -look back on the years, they seem but as a day. Even for the -young, who knows what its length maybe?" And Aimée knew from the -tone of his voice that he was thinking of the fair young sisters, -of the merry brothers, one week laughing gayly in the old Chateau -de Clareau and planning their future; the next, standing on the -scaffold, already wet with the blood of their father and mother. -This scene he had witnessed as a young man, escaping by miracle -from a similar fate. And it is not to be wondered that from -henceforth life had seemed to him but a troubled and rapidly -passing dream. - -"I must go to the church, now," said the curé, after a moment's -pause. Aimée followed him, and, entering in, sank on her knees at -the foot of Our Lady's altar, so recently decked by her own -nimble fingers. The church was silent, and the last rays of the -setting sun came through the west window, made lines of golden -light upon the pavement, and cast a halo around the head of the -young girl who knelt there absorbed in prayer. Never had Aimée -prayed before as she prayed now. It is not till sorrow is fairly -upon us, till we realize that our individual battle is begun, -that the bitterness which only our own heart knows is really at -our lips--that we pray with intensity. Aimée poured out her -whole heart, and offered herself to do the will of God in all -things. She asked that his will might be done in her and by her; -she renounced the happiness of life, if it were necessary for its -accomplishment. - -In after years, Aimée looked back upon that prayer, and felt that -her offering on the threshold of her life had indeed been -accepted. - -The sunset had faded; at last twilight had settled on the earth, -when Aimée left the church and hastened home. - -{158} - - Chapter II. - -Before we follow her footsteps, we must pause for a few instants -to tell the past history of Aimée's mother. Marie Angelique de -Brissac was, like the curé, the sole survivor of a numerous -family, who all perished in the Revolution. She, then a mere -child, escaped in the arms of her foster-mother, who conveyed her -to England, and devoted her whole life to bringing up the little -girl and procuring for her a good education. When Marie was about -seventeen, she insisted on sharing her old nurse's burdens, and -procured daily pupils. She taught the children of a surgeon in -the small country town where the old French woman had taken up -her abode. And it so happened that Captain George Morton, of her -majesty's ----th cavalry, was thrown from his horse and broke his -leg at the very door of Mr. Grant's house. His recovery was -tedious, and he chafed exceedingly at the confinement, and became -at last so irritable and peevish that poor Mrs. Grant, unable to -please him, delegated the task to her young French governess. The -result may be easily foreseen. George Morton loved Marie -passionately, and was beloved in return. They were speedily -married; and as George Morton knew it would be useless to ask his -father's consent, he did without it, and then wrote to announce -his marriage to the old man, and ask leave to bring his bride to -the paternal mansion in Russell Square, London. The spoilt and -favorite son of a rich merchant, indulged in every whim he could -recollect, George was little prepared for the storm of anger that -burst upon him for the step he had taken. Mr. Morton had lost his -wife many years before, and devoted himself--heart and soul, -body and mind--to the acquisition of wealth, in which pursuit he -was warmly aided by his eldest son, Ralph. But the whole hearts -of the two silent, cold, apparently sordid-minded men were set on -George, the handsome, careless, liberal, merry younger son. -George was to make a great match, to sit in parliament, and in -time attain a peerage; and as, according to rumor, Lady Adelaide -Oswald was only too willing to enable him to take the first step -in the programme, the news of George's marriage to a penniless -French governess was more than the concentrated pride of the two -natures could bear. George was forbidden ever to communicate with -his family again, and his handsome allowance was cut off. George -laughed heartily, told his wife the cloud would soon pass, -thanked Heaven he was not in debt, and declared it would be an -agreeable novelty to have to live on his pay and the interest of -the few thousands he had inherited from his mother. In less than -two years after his marriage he was again thrown from his horse, -and met this time with such mortal injuries that he never spoke -again, and expired in a few hours. His fellow-officers did all -they could for the young, broken-hearted widow and his infant -daughter. The commanding officer wrote to Mr. Morton to implore -help, but the appeal was in vain. It was then thought better to -purchase a small annuity for Mrs. Morton with the little funds -George had died possessed of; and as she had heard that one of -the early friends of her family had been appointed curé to the -little village of St. Victor, she determined upon going there, at -least for a time. There her old nurse, who followed her -everywhere, died, and there she continued to live and educate her -child. Time had softened her great sorrows, and her existence had -been for many years a happy and tranquil one. -{159} -Her child grew up in beauty and grace, and possessing every -disposition of heart and mind a mother could desire. If she had a -fear, it was that her nature was too gentle, too pliant, too -ready to forget herself for others, to enable her to battle alone -with a hard and cruel world. Aimée Morton was one of those beings -whom nature seems to intend should be always safely sheltered -from the struggles of life. They should lean on some nature -stronger than their own, like the tendrils which wind themselves -round a tree. But when Mrs. Morton spoke of this fear of hers to -the curé, he only smiled, and bade her remember that it is the -meek who inherit the earth. When, however, Mrs. Morton perceived -that consumption was making rapid strides in her constitution, a -pang of mortal agony shot through her when she thought of what -was to be Aimée's fate, left alone in a pitiless world. The curé -was an old man, and she could not, therefore, hope that he could -long watch over and protect her darling child. Besides, Mrs. -Morton's annuity ceased with her life, and there were no means at -St. Victor for Aimée to earn her bread. She was well educated; -her mother had taken great pains in teaching her, and the curé -had made it his delight to increase her stock of knowledge. -George Morton's father had long since been dead, and Ralph had -succeeded to the full enjoyment of the old man's wealth. No sign -of relenting had come from that death-bed to the unoffending -widow and orphan of his once loved son. And now, emboldened by -the approach of death, which so levels the distinction of earth -in the eyes of those just hovering on eternity, Mrs. Morton wrote -to Ralph, telling him she was on the brink of the grave, and -imploring his help for the child she would leave behind her. She -enclosed her letter in one from the curé and doctor confirming -her statement. - -And after many days' suspense the answer had come. - -Aimée and her mother lived in a little cottage close by the -presbytery. It had originally been but a peasant's cottage, and -it did, in fact, contain but four small rooms; but Mrs. Morton -had gradually transformed it into a most graceful little home. -Creepers twined round the white walls, and roses peeped in at the -window. A pretty garden surrounded the house; while inside, the -furniture, though simple, was gracefully arranged; flowers, -books, and pictures adorned the little sitting-room, and an air -of refinement pervaded the dwelling. In that sitting-room, -reclining in an easy-chair, propped up with pillows, lay Mrs. -Morton. A stranger would have been astonished to find that Aimée -could possibly have been in ignorance as to her mother's state; -but the change had come so gradually that it was not to be -wondered at that the poor child had fondly hoped on even to the -last. But to other eyes the emaciated form, the sunken eyes, the -hectic glow, the short, dry cough, told their own tale. Aimée -hastened to her mother, and was clasped in her arms in a long, -close embrace. - -"You know all, my darling?" said she. - -"Yes, sweet mother, the curé has spoken." And Aimée resolutely -steadied her voice and drove back the rising tears. "Be at peace -about me, mother dear. God has given you to me for a long time: I -must not grudge you to him, if he wants you now." - -{160} - -"My own child!" said Mrs. Morton. And she fondly kissed the -bright, soft brown hair of the head lying on her shoulder. "God -guard thee ever, and he _will_ guard thee. He is the Father -of the orphan. Aimée, I will trust him about you." - -"And may be it won't be very long, you know, mother," said Aimée. -"You are going home before me: you will be waiting for me on the -other side." - -A long, silent kiss was Mrs. Morton's answer. - -"And this letter, mother--may I see it?" - -"Yes, dearest, here it is." And a letter in a thick, blue -envelope, with a large, red, official-looking seal, was put into -her hands. Its contents were brief, and might have been supposed -rather to refer to an assignment of goods than the future fate of -an orphan niece. - -Mr. Ralph Morton stated that, in the event of Mrs. George -Morton's death, he was willing to adopt her daughter Aimée, to -provide for her during his life, and to leave her a sufficiency -at his death, provided her conduct was such as he should approve -of; that before her arrival in England he should require copies -of his brother's marriage certificate and the child's baptismal -register; that he should be willing to pay all expenses of her -journey to England so soon as he should receive intimation of her -readiness for departure; but that he wished it to be distinctly -understood that he would have nothing to do with his niece during -Mrs. Morton's lifetime, nor would he pay any debts contracted by -that lady, or hold any further communication with her. The blood -rushed to Aimée's cheek and brow as she read the last sentences. -"Even on the threshold of the grave, could not that last insult -have been spared?" thought she. She gave a glance at her mother's -peaceful face, and realized that it is precisely on that -threshold that insult loses its sting. Mr. Morton's taunt had no -power to move the heart so soon to be done with earth. - -From this day the mother and daughter often spoke together of the -time when they should be separated, and Aimée received many a -wise counsel from her mother's lips, to be treasured up for days -to come. Mrs. Morton told her all she knew of the character of -the uncle who would soon be her only relative. Very early in life -he had been disappointed in his affections and treated with great -treachery. From that hour he grew hard, morose, and unfeeling, -and threw himself with all the strength of his iron nature into -the acquisition of wealth. Still, however, his strong affection -for his brother George had survived the wreck of his better -nature, and George had always firmly believed that Ralph's anger -would in the event of his death be ended, and that he would -extend protection to his wife and child. - -"And therefore, my child," said Mrs. Morton, "I felt compelled to -write once more to your uncle, believing that in doing so I was -fulfilling what would have been my husband's will; and it will -comfort you to feel, when you are with him, that you are doing -what your father would have wished." Mr. Morton was, Mrs. Morton -believed, a man totally without religion. She counselled Aimée to -bear the trials of her lot patiently, to do all she could to -conciliate her uncle, and to draw him to a better life; but, if -she found her life in his house was more than her strength could -bear, or if any principle were in danger, she was to try and seek -employment as a governess. The curé was going to furnish her with -a letter of introduction to a French priest in London, who would -in that case advise her how to act. - -{161} - -And so the days went on. September, which happened to be that -year a warm, radiant summer month, flew by without any -perceptible change in the invalid; but early in October came cold -north winds, rain, and mists. Mrs. Morton was taken suddenly -worse, and the last sacraments were administered. After receiving -them, she rallied and was able to be lifted from her bed to a -sofa placed near the window. Aimée hardly left her for an -instant; she grudged that any one else but herself should render -any service to the being so soon to leave her. One night Mrs. -Morton awoke from an uneasy sleep; the day was beginning to -break, and, as the feeling of suffocation which she often -experienced in bed came on, Aimée assisted her to the sofa, and -then kneeling by her side, they both watched the sun arise in his -glory, just purpling the day above, then making the heavens -glorious with his presence. Mrs. Morton opened her eyes and took -one long gaze on the earth which looked so fair, and on the -beautiful sky. Then she turned to her daughter, and she laid her -head on that loving breast. - -"I am going from you, my Aimée," she said; "but remember always, -I am _not gone to a Stranger_." - -Aimée pressed her lips softly, and Mrs. Morton seemed to sleep. -In that attitude the old servant Marthe found them when she -entered the room an hour later. And then only did Aimée wake to -the consciousness that her mother had slept into death, and that -she had heard her last words. Those words rang in Aimée's ears as -she performed the last sacred offices to the dead. Solemnly she -fulfilled her task; there were no tears in the large, soft eyes -or on the pale cheek; she compassed those dear limbs in their -shroud; she crossed the wasted hands upon the breast, and laid -the crucifix, so loved in life, between the fingers; then, when -the curé entered the room, she turned to him and said: "Father, -she is not gone to a Stranger." [Footnote 24] - - [Footnote 24: These words were used by an Irish girl on her - mother's death.] - -"No," he answered; "to her Friend and Brother, and who is also -yours and mine, my child. Leave, then, this poor, earthly -tabernacle, Aimée, for a while, and come and meet her at his -feet." And Aimée went with him to Mass. - - - Chapter III. - -It was all over: the wasted form of Marie Angelique de Brissac -Morton was laid in the quiet grave, where the rays of the rising -sun would play upon the grass; where the shadow of the sanctuary -wall would shelter it; where wild roses and sweet-brier would -scent the air; where the curé would come daily to say a _De -Profundis_; and which the faithful villagers, who had loved -the sleeper well, would always reverently tend. There Aimée left -her there she shed her last tears in the early morning before -she began her journey; there she knelt at the curé's feet for his -last blessing, and the old man's voice faltered as he pronounced -the words. Mrs. Morton's death and Aimée's departure had robbed -his life of the little sunshine that it had possessed; but he -murmured not, and rather rejoiced that tie after tie was cut -which should bind him to the love of earth. With far more -calmness than could have been expected, Aimée bade farewell to -the only home and friends she had ever known, and set out to meet -her new and untried future. -{162} -She had never been further than to the country town nearest her -village, and the journey astonished and bewildered her. More than -one compassionate and admiring glance was cast on the slight, -lovely girl, attired in such deep mourning, and whose eyes were -so dim with unshed tears. A trusty farmer of St. Victor, saw her -to the sea-coast, and put her into the charge of the captain of -the vessel in which she was to reach England. He in his turn -consigned her to the guard of the train. At length, Aimée found -herself standing in the great wilderness of a London railway -station, with people jostling, pushing, vociferating, swearing -around her, each intent on his own business, and all unmindful of -others. A footman at last came up to ask her name, and, finding -she was Miss Morton, told her he was sent for her. He showed her -to a fly, which was waiting, and having found her luggage, she -was soon rolling through the streets. At those long, dreary, -interminable streets Aimée looked with a kind of awe and -oppression. She was thankful when the carriage stopped at the -door of one of the large, gloomy-looking mansions to be found in -Russell Square. Another footman opened the door, and she entered. -No voice welcomed her, no hand was stretched out to meet hers, no -smile greeted her. A housemaid appeared to lead her up-stairs. -She found herself in possession of a large room, furnished in the -heavy style in fashion forty years ago. A luxurious four-post -mahogany bedstead half-filled the apartment, hung with dark-brown -damask; the window-curtains were of the same hue. There was a -massive wardrobe, chairs which could hardly be moved, and an -empty fireplace. Aimée shuddered, but not with cold; and, when -the door closed behind the servant, she threw herself into a -chair and wept bitterly. Presently she rose, weeping still, but -it was to cast herself on her knees and press her crucifix to her -lips. She soon grew calm; the sense of loneliness passed away. -She had a Friend who never left her, in whose company the -dreariest room was bright; and Aimée rose comforted and at peace. -She went to the window and looked out. Below her was a small -paved court, and beyond the house a vista of other houses and -lanes; not a speck of green or a flower met her eye; but she -looked higher still, and she saw the sky, very cloudy at that -moment certainly; "but then," thought she, "it will be often -blue, and I can always look at it." And so she tried to enliven -the prospect. A knock at the door interrupted her musings, and -there entered a cheerful, elderly woman, who courtesied -respectfully, and announced she was Mrs. Connell, the -housekeeper. As her eyes travelled over Aimée's sad, wan face and -deep black, an expression of compassion and interest came into -her countenance. "Do you want anything, miss?" she asked. "Sure, -it was only this morning that Mr. Morton told me you were coming, -and so things are hardly straight for you. Will you take some -tea, ma'am? Dinner won't be served for an hour." - -"Is my uncle at home?" - -"No, miss, and will not be for half an hour; then he goes to -dress, and then dinner is served. Why, Miss Morton," said the -good woman, brightening as she saw Aimée's crucifix on the table, -"you're a Catholic! To be sure, I never thought of that, though I -knew Mr. George had married a French lady." - -"Are you one, Mrs. Connell?" said Aimée, with a smile. - -{163} - -"To be sure, miss. I am an Irish woman, as perhaps you may know." -But as Aimée had never heard English save from her mother and the -curé, Mrs. Connell's accent was quite lost upon her. She felt, -however, she had found a friend; and she gladly accepted Mrs. -Connell's help in unpacking and getting ready for the formidable -interview with her uncle. They met in the drawing-room a few -moments before dinner. Mr. Morton put out two of his fingers with -an icy, "How are you?" after which he relapsed into silence. When -dinner was announced, he gave her his arm, and they went into the -dining-room. Two footmen and a butler waited. The plate was -magnificent, the dinner very fine; but not one word was addressed -to the poor, lonely girl, too terrified to eat. Once or twice she -made a desperate effort to break the ice of her own accord, but -she found evidently that this was disliked, and she gave it up. -And so day succeeded day, and there was no alteration in her -uncle's behavior. He might have been deaf and dumb as far as -intercourse with him was concerned. His orders about her--few, -brief, and decisive--were given to Mrs. Council. She was to -furnish herself with clothes from certain shops which he named, -and whose bills were to be sent to him. As soon as possible, she -was to leave off her heavy mourning. She was never to go out -alone; and as for exercise, the Square Gardens would suffice. And -having delivered himself of these sentiments, Mr. Morton -apparently considered his duty to his orphan niece was done. He -provided her with neither employment nor amusement; he gave her -no pocket money; and she had nothing but a small sum which -remained to her when all the expenses at St. Victor were paid. -The young girl, brought up, as she had been, in the open country, -accustomed to sea and mountain air, to work in her garden, and -take long, rambling walks to the hamlets round the village, felt -like a caged bird pacing up and down the gravel paths of Russell -Square, and watching the London blacks settle on the leafless -trees. She enjoyed one comfort, that of the daily walk to Mass -with Mrs. Connell; and be the weather what it might, the two -figures of the old woman and young girl might be seen flitting -through the dusk to the nearest Catholic church. Still it was -almost impossible to avoid losing both health and spirits in such -an atmosphere. She was very courageous, and she struggled -resolutely against depression and _ennui_, a word of which -she for the first time began to understand the meaning. She wrote -long letters to the curé, and his answers, containing every scrap -of village news, were eagerly devoured, as well as some beautiful -thoughts on higher themes which he never failed to give her. She -pulled down the long disused books in her uncle's library, and, -guided by a list the curé had given her--for in the days of exile -he had attained a good knowledge of English literature--she read -a good deal. She practised on the old, long-disused piano in the -drawing-room, much to Mrs. Connell's delight. She tried to teach -herself Italian; and, as visiting the poor was strictly forbidden -by her uncle, she spent some of her own money in buying -materials, and made clothes for them. Then, in the Square -Gardens, she made friends with the children who with their -nurse-maids overspread the place. She soon became their friend, -favorite, and slave, was alternately a horse for Master Walter -and a lady in waiting for Miss Beatrice, or a perpetual fountain -of story-telling to the whole tribe. Society she saw literally -none; one guest only ever sat at Mr. Morton's table, and his -appearance Aimée soon learnt to dread rather than desire. -{164} -Mr. Hulme was Mr. Morton's partner, a little wiry man with sharp -ferret eyes, and his harsh cynical conversation was far worse to -Aimée than her uncle's silence. He took little notice of her; but -it was deeply painful to the poor girl to have all that she held -most sacred treated as a fit subject for scorn and ridicule, to -hear honor and faith and nobility and truth scoffed at as -impossibilities. Many natures might have been warped by hearing -such sentiments; but Aimée's childlike faith and innocence were a -secure shield, and not one of Mr. Hulme's coarse remarks ever -clung to her memory. - - - - Chapter IV. - -Every now and again Aimée understood that _she_, though not -directly named, formed the subject of conversation between the -two partners. She was in some way connected with the return of -"Robert," though who Robert was, or where he was coming from, she -had not the slightest conception, and she felt too weary at heart -to indulge much curiosity. Christmas came, and poor Aimée's heart -was sore indeed. At such a period the happiest family has some -sad memories--there are some vacant places at the board, some -voices whose tone we listen for in vain; but with Aimée what a -change since last year! She could not but think of the midnight -Mass, the gathering of the villagers, the sky radiant with stars, -her mother's kiss, the curé's blessing; how, later in the day, -she had waited on the poor and gladdened many a heart, and how -she had trimmed the church's arches with holly, and how she had -dressed the _crèche_. Now there were no such delights for -her; still she drove back her tears. She thought of her mother's -Christmas in heaven, really singing the angelic song. And in the -dingy London chapel a few holly-berries were glistening, and upon -the altar was the same Lord, the same Friend and Comforter; and -Aimée, as she walked home through the streets, when a fog was -beginning to turn to rain, and when every object looked a dirty -brown color, felt in her heart that she possessed the greatest -blessing the festival could bring--_peace of heart_. - -She dreaded the dinner because she feared Mr. Hulme would be -present; but on entering the drawing-room she found, to her -surprise, a gentleman whom she had never seen before. He was -lying back in one of the easy-chairs, a newspaper in his hand, as -if quite at home. On her entrance he sprang to his feet, and -Aimée saw he was a young man about five-and-twenty, with a fair, -open countenance beaming with good humor and cheerfulness. - -"Miss Morton, I presume. Allow me to introduce myself, as there -is no one at hand to perform the ceremony. I am Robert Claydon, -at your service, nephew to the redoubtable Mr. Hulme. I am not -vain enough to suppose he has talked of me in my absence." - -"I have heard him speak of some one called Robert," said Aimée, -smiling. - -"I have been in Holland these three months," he replied, "on -business of the firm, and only returned last night." - -The entrance of Mr. Morton and Mr. Hulme put a stop to the -conversation; but Aimée soon found that dinner was a very -different matter in presence of the new guest. - -{165} - -Mr. Hulme was in the highest good humor, Mr. Morton less icy than -usual, while Robert's flow of spirits seemed inexhaustible. All -the little incidents of an ordinary journey from Hamburg to -London were told in such a manner as to make them amusing; and -when Aimée went to bed that night, she felt as if a ray of -sunshine had suddenly lightened her life. Sunshine, indeed, was -the word that could best express the effect produced by Robert -Claydon's presence. There was sunshine in his laughing blue eyes, -in his merry smile, in his joyous voice. Having learned the -secret of personal happiness, his one desire was to make others -happy, and morose indeed were the natures he did not gladden; and -Aimée soon found that he was not only bright and genial, but -noble in character and heart. - -Mr. Hulme had long intended to make Robert his heir, and since -the arrival of Aimée, the partners had formed the scheme of -marrying her to Robert, and thus keeping the property of the firm -intact. Her wishes in the matter the old men little thought of, -nor were Robert's much considered, except that they each knew too -well Robert would not be dictated to in so important a matter as -the choice of a wife. - -It was, however, not long after his return to England that the -"firm" intimated the purport of their august will to Robert. - -"The course of true love never did run smooth," was his smiling -answer. "This little Aimée is, I believe, the very ideal I have -imagined to myself for a wife, and by all laws of romance, you, -our respected uncles, ought to forbid the match, or cut us off -with a shilling, instead of actually urging us on; but now, -remember," added he, "a fair field, or I am off the bargain. No -using of commands to the poor little maiden. I will win her on my -own merits and after my own fashion, or not at all." And so the -weeks passed on, and Robert began seriously to doubt whether he -had really made progress. Aimée was always pleased to see him; -she had lost all shyness and embarrassment in his presence. There -is no self-possession so perfect as that given by simplicity, and -Aimée, who rarely thought about herself, was always at her ease. -She trusted Robert implicitly, and had learned to tell him about -her home, her former pursuits, and even of her darling mother. -She never tried to analyze her feelings; she only knew that her -whole life was changed since that Christmas-day by the constant -intercourse with this new friend; and Robert, whose whole heart -was given to her, feared that she only regarded him with sisterly -affection, and he feared to speak the words which might, instead -of crowning his hopes, banish him from her side. - -One evening in the early spring, Aimée was sitting at the piano -trying some new music Robert had given her. Robert was not far -off, and Mr. Hulme and Mr. Morton were lingering, according to -their custom, in the dining-room. A servant entered with letters. - -"Are there any for me?" said Aimée, turning round eagerly. "The -French letters often come by this post, and it is so long since I -heard from St. Victor." - -"Yes," said Robert, bringing the letter to her, "here it is, -post-mark, foreign stamp, and all." - -"But not his handwriting?" said Aimée in a surprised tone, and -she tore the letter open. A sudden paleness overspread her face, -and the letter fell from her hands, and she looked up into -Robert's face with an expression of mute agony. - -{166} - -"My poor child!" said Robert, in a tone so gentle, so full of -sympathy, that Aimée broke down. - -"He is gone!" she sobbed out; "my last, my only friend." - -"Nay, not so," cried Robert; "I would give my life for you, my -Aimée--my love--my love! O darling! _can_ you care for me; -can you give me your heart for mine?" - -She gave one look only from her innocent eyes, still full of -tears, but that one glance sufficed; it removed all doubt from -Robert's mind. He felt that he was indeed beloved with a woman's -first and ardent attachment; and gathering her into his arms, he -bade her weep out her sorrows on his breast, henceforth to be her -refuge. Henceforth their joys and their sorrows were to be in -common. After a time they read the letter together. It was from -the doctor of St. Victor, and told how the old curé had died -suddenly while kneeling before the altar in silent prayer--a -frequent custom of his throughout the day. He had fallen -sideways, his head resting on the altar-step, a smile of -childlike sweetness on his lips, his rosary twined about his -hands, his breviary by his side--a soldier with his armor on, he -had been called by his Master to join the church triumphant. For -such a loss there could be no bitterness, and Aimée's sorrow was -calm and gentle. And round her life now there hung a halo such as -had never brightened it before. She had been happy with her -mother, and in her village, with the springtide joy of childhood -and early youth; but now the rich, full summer of her life was -come. True it was, no voice, save poor Mrs. Connell's, wished her -joy. She had no mother or sister or even friend to tell out the -many new thoughts that her position brought to her mind; but, to -make up for this, she found she had won a heart such as rarely -falls to the lot of mortal. - -To the lonely girl Robert was literally all--mother, and brother, -and lover in one. Her happiness, not his own gratification, was -the pervading thought of his life. She was not only loved, but -watched over tenderly and cared for with exceeding -thoughtfulness. There was, of course, nothing to wait for; and as -soon as the settlements were drawn up, Easter would have come, -and then the marriage would take place. Knowing Aimée's love for -the country, Robert took a cottage in one of the pretty villages -that surround London, and there, as he planned, they could garden -together in the summer evenings and sometimes take a row upon the -Thames. - -Meanwhile, Robert took Aimée away as much as possible from the -gloomy atmosphere of Russell Square. They went together to the -Parks and to Kensington Gardens, where the trees were fast -beginning to put on their first, fresh green; and they went -together to the different Catholic churches, for the beautiful -services which abound in such variety during Lent; and during -their walks to and fro Aimée learned more and more of the -nobility of the mind that was hereafter to guide and govern her -own. They were no ordinary lovers, these two; their affection was -too pure, too deep, too _real_ to need much outward -demonstration, or many expressions of its warmth. They knew each -possessed the other's heart, and that was enough. Their -conversation often ran on grave subjects; and often, leaving the -things of earth, they mounted to the thoughts of a higher and -better life--and Aimée found, to her astonishment, that the young -merchant, active in business, the laughing, merry Robert in -society, was in reality leading in secret a life of strict -Christian holiness, and that the secret of the perpetual sunshine -of his nature proceeded from his having found out where alone the -heart of man can find it. -{167} -Deep as was his love for her, Aimée knew it was second only to -his love for his Creator; and at the call of duty he would not -hesitate to sacrifice the dearest hopes of his life. Here, she -felt, she could not follow him; her love for him very nearly -approached idolatry. The thought was painful, and she banished it -from her mind, and gave herself up to the full enjoyment of her -first perfect dream of bliss. - -It was a late Easter, and the feast came in a glorious burst of -spring, Only a brief ten days now intervened between Aimée's -marriage-day. Already the simple bridal attire was ready; "for," -as Mrs. Connell observed, "there was nothing like being in time;" -and the orange-flowers and the veil were already in the good -housekeeper's charge, and she looked forward with no little -pleasure to the novel sight of a wedding from her master's gloomy -abode. Robert wished Aimée to see the house he had taken for -their future home; and early in Easter week Mrs. Connell -accompanied them thither, to give her sage advice as to the -finishing touches of furniture and house-linen. It really was a -little gem of a house, surrounded with fairy-like gardens, with -tall trees shading it on one side, and the silver Thames shining -in the foreground; and as Aimée stood, silent with delight, -before the open French window of her drawing-room, Robert showed -her a little steeple peeping through the trees, and told her the -pretty new Catholic church was not five minutes' walk from their -abode. "And this tiny room, dearest," said he, opening a -miniature window adjoining the drawing-room, "I thought we would -make into a little oratory, and hang up those pictures and -crucifix which belonged to your dead mother." - -Aimée's head fell on his shoulder. "Robert, I feel as if it were -much _too bright_ for earth. The curé always seemed to be -trying to prepare me for a life of suffering, for a sad future, -for a heavy cross. Long before mamma's death, he used to speak so -much in the confessional of the love of suffering, of -_enduring_ life--and I always believed he had some strange -insight into the future. But where is the suffering in my lot -now, Robert, I ask myself sometimes, _where is the cross?_" - -"It will come, my dear one," answered he with his bright smile; -"never fear, God gives us sunshine sometimes, and we must be -ready for the clouds when they come, but we need not be looking -out for them. We may have some great trials together--who knows? -But now come and look at the way I am going to lay out my -garden." Aimée followed him without answering, but in her heart -there swelled the thought that, _with him_, no trial could -be really great. - -On returning to town, Robert took leave of Aimée at the station -and put her and Mrs. Connell into a car, and promised to return -to Russell Square for dinner. As the car rolled through the -streets, now bright and cheerful in the sunlight, Aimée thought -of her first journey through them six months before, and how her -life, then so sad, had so strangely brightened; and it was with a -radiant face that she entered the gloomy portal of her uncle's -house. - -The footman stopped Mrs. Connell as she followed her young -mistress. "My master has come home," he said, "and asked for you, -and precious cross he was because you wasn't in; he seems ill -like, for he sent for a cup of tea." - -{168} - -"Master at home! a cup of tea!" ejaculated Mrs. Connell in -dismay, and she hastened to the study to find Mr. Morton -shivering over the fire, and so testy and irritable it was -difficult to know what to do for him. He was evidently ill, but -would not hear of sending for a doctor. "Nonsense, he was never -ill; he should dine as usual," he exclaimed sharply; but when -dinner-time came, he was unable to partake of it, and his illness -was so evidently gaining on him that he yielded to Robert's -persuasion, and Dr. Bruce was summoned. The doctor ordered his -patient to bed, looked serious, and promised to come again in the -morning. By that time Mr. Morton was delirious, and it was with -no surprise that the household learnt the illness was a low -typhus fever. A nurse was sent for to assist Mrs. Connell. Aimée -was forbidden to approach the bedroom, and the wedding was -postponed. - - - - Chapter V. - - -Robert's first wish had been to send Aimée away, but she shrank -from the idea, and as Dr. Bruce considered the risk of infection -had already been run, he did not press the point. He was careful -to take her out as much as possible into the open air, and to -prevent the silence and gloom of the house from depressing her. -Mr. Morton's life was in the utmost danger, and therefore, do -what they would, they could not be so cheerful as before. -Hitherto the lovers had, by a tacit consent, avoided the mention -of Aimée's uncle; for the six months that had elapsed since she -had entered his doors had made no difference apparently in Mr. -Morton's feelings toward her. He was as icy as ever; and when her -engagement was announced, he never wished her joy or seemed glad -of it for her sake. Cold and hard he naturally was, but Aimée -could not but feel that he had an actual dislike to her; for he -would smile now and then at Mr. Hulme's jokes, and his manner to -Robert often verged on cordiality. With her only he was -invariably silent, stern, and freezing; and poor Aimée's heart, -so full of affection, so ready to be grateful for the little he -did for her, felt deeply pained. But now Robert and she spoke -anxiously of that soul which was hanging in the balance between -life and death. He had lived without God, in open defiance of his -laws, in avowed disbelief of the very existence of his Maker, and -now was he, without an hour's consciousness, without any space -for repentance, to be hurried into the presence of his Judge? -They shrank in horror from the thought; and many were their -prayers, many were the Masses offered up that God in his mercy -would not cut off this man in his sins. Their prayers were -granted; he did not die, and after three weeks of intense -anxiety, the crisis passed, and he began to mend. Mental -improvement was not to be perceived with returning health. No -expression of gratitude for having escaped death crossed his -lips--apparently the shadow of death had not terrified him--he -rose up from his sick-bed as hard, as cynical, as icy as before. -And Aimée's fond hope that at last he would thaw to her was -disappointed. As soon as Mr. Morton could leave his room, Dr. -Bruce prescribed change of air; and it was arranged that Robert -and Aimée should accompany him. Mrs. Connell was so thoroughly -used up with nursing that she was to be sent to take a holiday -among her friends in Ireland. - -{169} - -It was hard work to persuade Mr. Morton to go at all, still -harder to find a place to suit him; he moved from spot to spot, -till at last, to his companions' surprise, he seemed to take a -fancy for a wild spot on the North Devon coast, and there settled -down for some weeks. It was a most out-of-the-way spot, and the -only place in which they could reside was a homely village inn. -It pleased him, however, and day by day he rapidly regained his -strength. Robert and Aimée were well contented; the beauty and -quiet of the place were delightful, and not a mile from it was a -Catholic church, which happened to be served by a priest who had -known Robert in his boyhood. Great was Aimée's pleasure in -listening to their laughing reminiscences of bygone years, and -greater still was her happiness when she chanced to be left alone -with Father Dunne, and he spoke of Robert, of his innocent -childhood, his holy life, the bright example he set in his -position, and assured her that few women had won such a prize as -she had for life. Then Aimée's heart swelled with joy and pride. -On one lovely day in June, Aimée was specially happy; for her -uncle's improvement was so marked, Robert had been asking her to -fix an early day in July for their wedding. Mr. Hulme and Mrs. -Connell could join them, and they could be married at this little -church, which had become dear to them, and Father Dunne could -pronounce the nuptial benediction. Aimée greatly preferred this -to being married in London, and her heart was very light. That -morning she had knelt by Robert's side at communion. She could -not help observing the rapt, almost celestial expression of his -face afterward. It was the Feast of the Sacred Heart, and Father -Dunne had Benediction early in the afternoon. - -As they walked to church together, their conversation turned on -religious subjects, and Robert spoke in a more unreserved way -than he had ever done before. He spoke of Heaven, the rest it -would be after earth's toils, of the sweetness of sacrifice, of -the joy of God's service. Aimée was silent. He looked down into -her face. - -"Well," he said, smiling, "is it not true?" - -"O Robert!" she cried, "your love is heaven to me now! Is not, -oh! is not mine so to you?" - -"No, my Aimée," he answered, gravely yet sweetly; "my heart's -darling, God first, then you." - -"I cannot!" she answered, in a stifled voice. - -"You will soon, darling, never fear. I prayed this morning that -our love might be sanctified, might draw us closer to God--and I -feel it will be so. Pray with me for it at Benediction." - -So they went and knelt before the altar, and their Lord blessed -them as they bent before him. Passing out of church, Father Dunne -joined them, and remarked on the beauty of the evening. - -"We shall go with my uncle on the cliff," said Aimée, "and watch -the coast." - -"And perhaps I shall meet you there," answered the priest, "for I -have a sick call from which I can return in that direction." So -saying, he turned into another road. - -Mr. Morton was ready when they returned to the inn, and the three -passed up on the cliff and wandered on far beyond their usual -distance. They came to a part where the cliff was one sheer sheet -of rock descending to the beach, save one large crag which jutted -out, and on one side obscured the view. -{170} -Aimée had a great horror of looking down any steep place, and -shrank back from the cliff, while Mr. Morton, who despised her -weakness, always chose to walk at the very edge. - -"See here, little one," said Robert, "here is a safe place for -you." An iron stanchion had been thrust into the ground, and a -thick rope was carelessly coiled round it. "It must be used for -throwing signals to the boats below," said Robert, "but you can -lean against it, Aimée." - -"I think I shall step on that crag, Robert," said Mr. Morton, "if -you will lend me an arm. I want to catch the whole view at once." - -"O uncle!" said Aimée, in a tone of terror. - -"Do you think it is very prudent, sir?" remarked Robert. "It is -none too wide to stand on." - -"Oh! very well," said Mr. Morton testily, "if you are afraid, I -shall go by myself." Robert's merry laugh was the only answer, -and, giving his arm to Mr. Morton, they both descended. - -Aimée hid her face, sick with terror. She heard their voices for -a minute, then, O horror! what was that? A crash, a rush, a -sudden shout of pain! She rushed to the edge to see the crag -detach itself from the rock, and the two figures falling. She saw -both clutching for some support--she saw both catch hold of -different bits of rock jutting out--she knew, for her senses were -sharpened by fear, that they could not long sustain their weight. -She thought of the rope, rushed for it, uncoiled it, and ran -back. All was the work of one moment. An unnatural activity -seemed to possess her. She was like one in a dream. She saw the -rope would not reach both; she must choose between them; and -Another could see her! But on the still evening air, with her -ears quickened unnaturally, she heard oaths from one; from the -other, "Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit." - -Aimée threw the rope to Mr. Morton, and saw him catch it. The -next instant she heard another crash--a dull _thud_, as of -something falling--and nature could bear no more. Aimée fell on -the ground insensible just as Father Dunne, and some laborers -alarmed by the shout in the distance, came running to the spot. - -When Aimée woke to consciousness, she was in her own bed at the -inn. Her first thought was, that she had been dreaming; but she -started back, the landlady was walking by her, and now came -forward, trying to put on an appearance of composure. - -"My uncle?" said Aimée. - -"Lies in bed, miss, and going on well," answered the good woman -hurriedly. - -Aimée gave one searching look into Mrs. Barton's face, and sank -back on her pillow. In another moment the door opened, Mrs. -Barton disappeared, and Father Dunne stood by her side. The -silent look at him was all she gave. - -"Yes, my child," he said, "your sacrifice has been accepted, and -Robert is with those who follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth." -And then, sitting down beside her, the priest drew out the truth -which, by a sudden instinct, he had all but guessed. No one but -he ever knew it; it was generally believed that Robert had failed -to catch the rope when thrown to him--he had fallen on the beach, -and was dashed to pieces. Aimée could not look upon his form or -kiss for the last time the pale, cold face. He had passed in one -brief instant from her sight for aye. In the heat of noonday her -sun had gone down. - -{171} - -From this fresh shock to his constitution Mr. Morton could not -rally; he was fearfully shaken and bruised, but he lingered many -weeks, and Aimée waited on him with a daughter's care. And at -last the stern heart was softened, and Mr. Morton implored mercy -from the God he had so long offended. He died a sincere penitent; -and the grief for Robert's death caused a salutary change in Mr. -Hulme also. Aimée had now become a great heiress, but money -cannot heal a broken heart. She would fain have remained in the -little village where the tragedy of her life had been worked out, -and devote herself to the poor; but Father Dunne would not allow -it, and to him she now looked for guidance and help. He made her -go to Italy and Rome in company with some quiet friends of his -own for two years; and time and the sight of the woes of others -gradually softened Aimée's grief. And by degrees a great peace -stole over her spirit; a love deeper than hers for Robert took -possession of her heart; and the hour came when she acknowledged -that in sacrifice lay much sweetness. She did not live many -years; she distributed her large fortune among various good -works. A fair church replaces the humble building in which Robert -and she for the last time prayed together, and a convent stands -near the spot where he breathed out his last sigh to God. And -when her work was done, death came to Aimée; and, with a smile on -her lips, and joy in her eyes, she went to meet again those -fondly loved, so strangely lost on earth. - --------- - - Sayings Of The Fathers Of The Desert. - - -Abbot Pambo once asked Abbot Antony what he should do. The -venerable man replied: Do not rely too much upon your own -sanctity; never have useless regrets for what has passed, and -always be watchful over your tongue and your appetite. - - -Saint Gregory used to say: God requires these three things of -every man who has been baptized; strong and living faith, -moderation in speech, and chastity of body. - - -Abbot Joseph the Theban said: There are three classes of men who -are pleasing in the sight of the Lord. The first are those who, -though weak, accept temptations with a thankful heart. The second -are those who perform all their actions before God with purity of -heart and without human motives. The third are those who subject -themselves to the commands of their spiritual Father and entirely -renounce their own will. - -{172} - -Abbot Cassian narrates of Abbot John that, when he was on his -deathbed and preparing to depart with joyful soul, his brethren -stood around him and earnestly besought that he would leave them -as an heritage a compendium, as it were, of sanctity, by means of -which they might rise to that perfection which is in Christ. Then -he with sighs replied: I have never done my own will, nor have I -ever taught any one anything which I have not previously done -myself. - - -Abbot Pastor said: To be watchful, to examine one's self, to be -discreet, are the three great duties of the soul. - - -They tell of Abbot Pambo that, when about to die, he said to -those holy men who stood near: From the time when I first came to -this place and built my cell and dwelt therein, I do not remember -to have eaten bread that I did not gain by the labor of my hands, -nor have I ever repented of any thing that I have said up to this -very hour. And thus I go to the Lord, I who have not even begun -to serve God. - - -Abbot Sisois said: Be abject and cast pleasures away; be free and -secure from the cares of the world, and you shall have rest. - - - -A brother once asked a father how one may acquire a fear of the -Lord. And he replied: If a man practise humility and poverty, and -judge not another, he shall surely fear the Lord. - - -A certain father used to say: If thou hate one who speaks ill of -thee, speak ill of no one; if thou hate him who calumniates thee, -do not calumniate anyone; if thou hate him who injures thee or -takes away what is thine, or does any thing of a like nature, do -none of these things to any one. He who can observe this rule -shall be saved. - --------- - - All Souls' Day. - - 1866. - - - On every cross or slab, a wreath--on some, - Two, three, or more--of radiant autumn leaves, - Mingled with gold and white chrysanthemum; - Even the nameless, unmarked grave receives - Some pledge from mortal love - Unto peace-parted souls, we trust, with God above. - - The choral chaunt is hushed, the Mass is said: - Noon, but already the last pilgrim gone: - Brief visits pay the living to the dead, - But once a year we meet o'er those we mourn. - I wait unwatched, alone, - To muse o'er some once loved, o'er many more unknown. - -{173} - - That cross of marble, with its sculptured base, - Guards the blest ashes of a friend whose form - Was half my boyhood; his arch, laughing face-- - The last you'd take to front a coming storm, - Or dare what none else durst: - Read how he fell, of all the best and bravest, first! - - Another pastor near him lies asleep, - Fresh wreaths, love-woven, mark the newer sod; - Each lettered white cross bids me pause to weep - Some lost companion or some man of God. - Beneath this sacred ground, - More friends I number than in all the world around. - - There, side by side, far from the forfeit home - For which they vainly bled, three soldiers rest, - In sight of the round peak, whose bannered dome - Crowns the defiles wherein the fiery crest - Of a dead nation paled - Before the heights, where erst the great Virginian failed. - - Westward, a little higher up the steep, - Rests a young mother--on her cross, a bar - Of golden music: since she fell asleep - The world she left has somehow seemed ajar; - Those patient, peaceful eyes, - With which she watched the world, diffused sweet harmonies. - - For she was pure--pure as the snows of Yule - That hailed her birth: pure as the autumnal snow - That flecked her coffin: she was beautiful, - Heroic, gentle: none could ever know - That face and then forget: - Though vanished years ago, her smile seems living yet. - - And near her, happy in that nearness, lies - The world-worn consul by his best-loved child-- - The first rest of a life of sacrifice: - The native stars, that on his labors smiled - So rarely, o'er the wave - Beckoned him to the peace of home--and of the grave. - - Here, too, a relic of primeval ways - And statelier manners, mingled with the grace - Of Israel: in the evening of her days, - Baptized at fourscore--strongest of her race, - Yet twice a child--that rain - Supernal leaving all those years without a stain. - -{174} - - And thou, young soldier, teach me how to turn - From earth to heaven, as in the solemn hour - Thy soul was turned. Ah! well for thee to learn - So soon that festal board and bridal flower - May foil the out-stretched hand: - That life's best conquest is the holy afterland. - - Holding the very summit of the slope, - A pointed chapel, girt with evergreen - And frailer summer foliage--still as hope-- - Watches the east for morning's earliest sheen: - Beneath it slumbers one - For whom the tears of unextinguished grief still run. - - A twelve-month mourned, yet deeper now the loss - Than when first fell the slowly sudden doom, - And on her pale breast lay the unmoving cross: - Lone tenant of that solitary tomb, - Love's daily widowed prayer - Still craves reunion in thy chambered sepulchre. - - The sunset shadow of this chapel falls - Upon a classmate's grave: a rare delight - Laughed in his youth: but, one by one, the halls - Of life were darkened, till, amid the night, - A single star remained-- - Bright herald of the paradise by tears regained. - - High in the bending trees the north wind sings, - The shining chestnut to my feet is rolled - The shivering mountains, bare as bankrupt kings, - Sit beggared of their purple and their gold: - The naked plain below - Sighs to the clouds, impatient of its robe of snow. - - Death is in all things: yet how small it seems, - God's chosen acre on this mountain-side: - A speck, a mote: while yonder cornland gleams - With hoarded plenty, stretching far and wide. - A hundred acres there - Content not one: one acre serves a thousand here. - - Ah! we forget them in our changing lot-- - Forget the past in present weal or woe; - But yet, perchance, more angels guard this spot - Than wander in the living fields below: - And, as I pass the gate, - The world without seems strangely void and desolate. - --------- - -{175} - - - The Function of the Subjective in Religion. [Footnote 25] - - [Footnote 25: This Paper was read before the Academia of the - Catholic Religion, in London, June 11, 1867, by Very Rev. W. - H. Anderdon, D.D., M.A. Oxon.] - -Any one not a Catholic, but fairly acquainted with the church's -past and present, if he had to define by a term her prevailing -character, would use some such word as _unchangeable_. He -might use it with admiration, as historians have done; or with -vexation and anger, as controversialists do. He might regard it -as a quality that raised the church above, or kept it behind the -age; made it venerable and noble, or deprived it of all -progressive and free spirit. But, with evil report or good -report, and in whatever contrast with the communions around it, -which rise and fall, are modified and melt away, he would confess -the church to be unchangeable. - -The Catholic accepts this statement, and completes it by adding -the cause of the church's preternatural sameness. He calls it -"the pillar and ground of the truth;" the perpetual home and -impregnable fortress of the divine revelation. The -characteristics of the one faith, he says, follow those of the -one Lord, as the shadow attends the substance which projects it. -The mystical spouse is immutable in faith and morality, because -with her divine Lord there is "no change nor shadow of -vicissitude." The passage of centuries, phases of human society, -rise, progress, and dissolution of theories and religious -opinions leave her where they found her; because "Jesus Christ is -yesterday and to-day, and the same forever." "_Tempus non -occurrit Ecclesiae_;" because He is "Alpha and Omega, the -beginning and the end," "who inhabiteth eternity." - -This is but to say that religion is essentially objective. -Religion, if true, is divine; if divine, above the recipient; if -above him, authoritative; if authoritative, over him, -uninfluenced by him. It is the mould and matrix in which he is to -be cast and receive shape; not the material on which his mind is -to work by process of individual judgment. This objective -character enters so completely into the idea of revelation, that -the wonder is, how the term "private judgment" should have found -place in the language of professing Christians. When did it -arise? Who was its author? Was it pre-Lutheran? May we not rather -say, it was pre-Adamite? He who led our parents astray in -Paradise, by a suggestion of private judgment, had already -inaugurated what he has since taught men to call the "right" of -exercising it, when he revolted against the foresight given to -him of his Maker's future incarnation. And the apostle, more -closely to our point, condemns all subjective religious opinions -when he says, "If thou judge the law, thou art not a doer of the -law, but a judge." To judge implies superiority of intelligence, -better means of knowing, and the capacity of a teacher: to learn -is the acknowledgment of inferiority, and the submission of -desiring to receive. But if revelation could be modified by the -mind of the receiver, that is, if faith could be subjective, the -disciple would be exalted into a critic, and private judgment -would occupy the position of faith. The "doer of the law" and the -"judge" would change places. This breaks up the whole tribunal, -and implies a revolt against the primary authority of revelation. - -{176} - -Hence, nothing is more common with us than to say, that the -revelation which comes from God, and is proposed by the church, -admits of no criticism short of absolute rejection. To one, -indeed, who has never yet received this full revelation, to -criticise is a necessary act, and lies on the way toward -accepting. The case of the Bereans is here in point, and of those -Athenians who believed when St. Paul preached on Mars' Hill. -Dionysius the Areopagite and Damaris criticised equally with the -Epicureans and Stoics, to show the apostle was a "babbler;" -though with a different result. But to one who has inherited the -faith, or has been brought by private judgment, guided by the -notes of the church, which are _preambula fidei_, up to the -threshold, and then by an act of supernatural belief has passed -within, every after-criticism means rejection. True religion must -ever refuse to be treated by its disciples as opinion. If faith, -it is not opinion; if it were opinion, it would cease to be -faith. The choice as to revelation is a simple alternative: -accept the whole and believe; reject the whole and disbelieve. -_Ou Catholique, ou Déiste_, as Fénélon said long ago. - -No one, then, can retain his Catholic sense, and speak of -accommodating faith, or subjective religion. We have lately heard -one voice from out of doors uttering incoherent words about a -"maximum" and a "minimum," which are supposed to have some -undefined point of junction and cohesion. [Footnote 26] But such -invitations and embassies of peace sound to us like the uncouth -attempts of the Thracian ambassador, in the ancient comedy, to -explain in something like Greek a message into which his native -tongue largely enters. It is hard to make such a foreign dialect -intelligible to those who are accustomed to the pure Attic of the -church's voice. - - [Footnote 26: Dr. Pusey lately, in a letter to one of the - public newspapers, reported a conversation which he had held - with a foreign layman, who expressed his opinion that the - Anglican _maximum_ and the Catholic _minimum_ might - be found to coincide sufficiently to form the basis of some - kind of union. In his _Eirenicon_, also, pp. 17, 18, he - quotes some words from Du Pin, Dr. Doyle, an another, in - proof of what he calls "the large-hearted statements of Roman - Catholics of other days."] - -So far we have advanced by negation. There can be nothing -subjective in a revelation propounded by omniscience, and through -an infallible organ. To suppose criticism or modification of -dogma in the mind of the recipient, is like supposing motion -during a process of photography, or of crystallization. It -implies free agency indeed; but it destroys the truth and -accuracy of the whole process. "Be still, and see that I am God." -In this stillness, which is passiveness in one sense, and this -intuitive gaze upon truths revealed, consists the high -prerogative of faith. This forms its noble attribute, and lifts -it to a sovereignty over all other acts of the human -intelligence. - -On the other hand, what place is to be found in true religion for -the _subjective_ principle? In what department does or can -the Catholic system adapt itself to the manifold diversities -between men, enter into their idiosyncrasies, and speak to them -individually? Can it become to each of us the personal and -intimate thing, which may converse with us as a friend while we -submit to it as an authoritative guide? Does it take account of -me, with my turn of character and peculiar needs, while it -promulgates canons and definitions for my acceptance, in common -with the two hundred millions who own its sway? Granted that -Catholicity is objective in its essence, is it subjective in any -of its qualities or manifestations? - -{177} - -To see the breadth of this question, it should be viewed in -connection with the acknowledged needs of human nature. The first -requisite to a soul is truth; and it may be said, its first act -is an act of desire after truth, even abstract. But as primary, -too, is man's need of some one above himself to inspire a -reverential and a personal love. In order to love, indeed, he -must first know; for neither will nor affections can go forth -toward the utterly unknown. Still, in religious truth, love is -the perfection of knowledge. "The end of the commandment is -charity, from a pure heart, and a good conscience, and an -unfeigned faith." We are created, not like the heavenly bodies, -to move by unerring laws; nor like plants, to receive form and -tincture undistinguishably, specimen from specimen; nor like the -inferior orders of animal life, that build, migrate, seek their -prey, by an instinct inherited and invariable. Man is a creature -of idiosyncrasies. His thoughts, tastes, and bent, his mode of -apprehending truths recognized and believed, assimilating them -into himself, and developing them in action, constitute each -individual a being diverse, in all that _can_ be subjective, -from his brother and nearest friend. In all that can be -subjective: for the very turn of these remarks will show that I -would carefully guard myself within the limits of that -expression. Now, the true religion appeals to man as man; and is -herein distinguished from every other, which addresses a side or -a section only of the human character and needs. The spirit of -true religion is neither the pseudo-enthusiasm of the -non-conformist, nor the surface-uniformity of the establishment, -nor the false mysticism of the Society of Friends. Her appeal, -like herself, is Catholic: to the four quarters of the globe, to -the race that peoples earth and occupies ages, and for whom -Christ died. - -While, therefore, religion exacts the unquestioning assent of -all, whatever their antecedent systems, modes of thought, or -training, we might expect even beforehand that she would come -with some adaptive power that would appeal to each. Objective to -the intelligence and faith, we are permitted to desire that she -should also manifest herself as subjective to the spiritual -affections. For her mission is neither to reduce the individual -to a machine nor to fuse her multitudes into one uniform, -undistinguishable mass. She claims their unreserved and interior -assent to _dogma_; for she is the embassadress of the Most -High, sent into all the world, to preach the gospel to every -creature. "There are no speeches nor languages" where that voice -is not heard: nor any where it falters or gives an uncertain -sound. But she wins the objects of her mission, meanwhile, one by -one, to _devotion_, by adapting herself to the characters -and specialties of her millions and races. The church knows how -to modulate her authoritative tone, till it sinks into the -whisper of a mother teaching her child to lisp its first prayer. - -We seem now to have arrived at the distinction of which we are in -search. It is surely no play of words nor mere subtlety to say -that true religion must possess both the characteristics we have -named: it must be objective and subjective together. Man, let us -repeat, finds in himself a twofold desire to know and to love. -His great desire after truth was the first and prevailing -temptation under which he fell: "You shall be as gods, knowing -good and evil." -{178} -Having in his fall grasped at the shadow and let go the -substance, he lost his perception of the true light and his hold -upon the true love. Ignorance and concupiscence came in together. -But he retained his yearning after the two-fold inheritance he -had thus forfeited: an attraction to truth and a need of love. -Hence the various and contradictory systems of mythology which -overran the heathen world, under their double aspect (if we may -so use the terms) of doctrine and devotion. Out of the depths of -their debasement, and amid all their extravagance, they witnessed -to the agonized desire after truth in which, says the apostle, -the whole creation groaned and travailed in pain together. - -Now, what was lost in the first Adam has been abundantly restored -in the second. The "grace and truth" which "came by Jesus Christ" -is the divine remedy for this twofold loss by the original fall: -it restores light to man, the light of revelation; and love, the -supernatural love of Divine Goodness. It is "faith that worketh -by charity." And let us observe, between light and love there is -an obvious difference: light may be described as objective, love -as subjective; light is universal, love is personal; light is -received upon the eye, whereas love springs up in the heart; and -while light is diffused indiscriminately, love varies with the -individual. In the future perfection of the glorified soul, light -and love will be commensurate. "When he shall appear," says the -apostle, "we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is." -Here, in pilgrimage and imperfection, the members of the church -militant possess three gifts in unequal degrees. Light is -perpetually outstripping love, and we know more than we practise. -Still, the efforts of the church are ever exerted to preserve to -her children each of these great gifts, light and love; to -perpetuate and extend the one, to heighten and intensify the -other. She is "the light of the world." By her creeds, canons, -definitions of doctrine, by her schools of theology, her -doctorate and censorship, by the vigilance of the sacred office, -by the perpetual exercise of that instinct of truth which is her -attribute and inheritance, she preserves, whole and undefiled, -"the faith once delivered to the saints." Her multiplied prayers, -each enriched with its special indulgence, various, yet blending -in one harmony and one whole like the chords of a lute or the -flowers in a parterre, provide abundantly not for the mere and -absolute needs of her children's souls, but, moreover, for what -may be called their religious tastes and special turn of -devotion. For example, the faithful laity are invited, if they -have an attraction for it, to unite with her clergy and religious -in reciting the canonical hours, which form her chief prayer. -This is their "common prayer-book," if you will; but common only -to those who prefer to communicate in it. To others of a -different attraction, there is still supply for the demand. - -We need only transport ourselves into the heart of some great -Catholic city, to see with what unrestrained variety our brethren -of the one communion unite in prayer. Let us go to Rome, "the -mother of us all," the heart and centre of Christendom. In that -great seat and organ of life, of vital functions and warmth, -whose pulsations thrill to the extremities of the mystical body, -what is practically going on? what meets the eye and ear? You -pass under the walls of some monastic choir, from which the deep -voices of a score of monks or the slenderer tones of cloistered -nuns arrest you. -{179} -They have been trained, not by art, but simply by long practice -of united prayer, to recite the divine office, as if theirs were -not several voices blending, nor several intelligences and souls -woven, in a devotion, but, like the early church, "one heart and -one soul." You enter; it is not in the retrochoir alone, nor -behind the grate, that the work of prayer and praise is going on. -The church is more or less filled for vespers; it is a feastday; -and a certain proportion, with their vesper-books in the ancient -language or in their own familiar tongue, follow the words. A -secular priest has turned in at the open door, on his way to some -avocation, and is whispering another portion of his breviary. -Near him kneels a child saying the penance for its last -confession, or an old woman with her beads. Others examine their -consciences and make their acts of contrition, for the -confessionals will be occupied when vespers are over. Throughout -the nave move three or four, quietly following the stations of -the cross. On this side is an altar to the sacred heart; a member -of the confraternity kneels before it: he is saying some of the -prayers indulgenced for that devotion. A childless mother with -slow steps passes on to pray for her dead child at the altar for -the souls in purgatory. She does not distract others there, who -are praying for their parents, or for the poor souls in general, -or the most abandoned, the most rich in merits, or the nearest to -its release. Her next neighbor offers up her own sick child to an -image of the Mother of Compassion. You make way for a small -tradesman leaving the church for his evening meal; he will then -hasten to take his hours of night-watching and prayer in some -closed sanctuary, before the Most Holy, exposed day and night for -the _Quarant' ore_. By his side, sharing his night-watch, -will kneel a nobleman of ancestral name, whose family has -furnished popes to the Christian world. These two men are members -together of the association for perpetually adoring the Blessed -Sacrament; and they meet there before the Supreme, in the true -"liberty, equality, fraternity" which the world aims at and the -church alone produces. What is that sound of hymns coming down -the street? A procession headed by a cardinal bearing a large and -rude cross: he is followed by the brothers of another distinct -confraternity, "the lovers of Jesus and Mary," and a miscellany -of devout people. They are on their way to the Colosseum, where -they, too, will make the stations of the cross, and chant their -hearty and almost passionate strophes of contrition in the old -consecrated amphitheatre. All is movement, all is affectionate -liberty, warmth, and ease. You turn into any church that occurs, -and transport your chair from part to part of the building; for -you are free of the whole by the birthright of your baptism into -the one body. Go from this altar to that; range, as it were, up -and down the creed, now in meditation, now in vocal prayer, now -alone with God, now cheered on and animated by the presence of -those who pray with you. Now it is _latria_, now -_hyperdulia_; now again _dulia_, then back again to -_latria_; then contemplation, then any of the former -resumed. Your guardian angel is at your side; you recognize it -and address him. Your patron saint, the patrons of your friends -for whom you are anxious, St. Peter, St. Joseph, our Lady; and -the Divine Guest in the tabernacle; all are there, each (if I may -say it) awaiting you in turn. -{180} -Whatever the feeling of the moment, or your bent of character, or -special needs, there is your yearning met, and your soul's food -and remedy supplied. "Thou didst feed thy people with the food of -angels, and gavest them bread from heaven, prepared without -labor; having in it all that is delicious, and _the sweetness -of every taste_. For thy sustenance showed thy sweetness to -thy children, and, serving every man's will, it was turned to -what every man liked." [Footnote 27] And this unity in variety, -this elasticity and freedom, change, and appropriation, and -trustful individuality, is it or is it not the [Greek text] -which the apostle recommends? - - [Footnote 27: Wisd. xvi. 20, 21.] - -Rising, again, from the manifold devotions pursued by the -faithful for themselves to that in which the priest stands for -them all in the most holy place, the central devotion round which -all others revolve, the adorable sacrifice of Mass, we see the -same unity in the same variety. There is still a subjective -action of the individual heart, grounded on an objective dogma -embraced by all. Faith and love are coincident; we adore in our -own way what is independent of our adoration, though presented to -it. The words I am about to quote are put in the lips of one who -is defending the faith, newly found by him, against the objection -of some of his former friends that the Mass is a formal, -unreasonable service. - -"To me," he answers, "nothing is so consoling, so piercing, so -thrilling, so overcoming, as the Mass, said as it is among us. I -could attend Masses for ever and not be tired. It is not a mere -form of words--it is a great action, the greatest action that can -be on earth. It is not the invocation merely, but, if I dare use -the word, the evocation of the Eternal. He becomes present on the -altar in flesh and blood, before whom angels bow and devils -tremble. This is that awful event which is the scope and the -interpretation of every part of the solemnity. Words are -necessary, but as means, not as ends. They are not mere addresses -to the throne of grace; they are instruments of what is far -higher, of consecration, of sacrifice. They hurry on, as if -impatient to fulfil their mission. Quickly they go: the whole is -quick; for they are parts of one integral action. Quickly they -go; for they are awful words of sacrifice: they are a work too -great to delay upon. Quickly they pass; because, as the lightning -which shineth from one part of the heaven to the other, so is the -coming of the Son of Man. ... As Moses on the mountain, so we too -'make haste and bow our heads to the earth, and adore.' So we, -all around, each in his place, look out for the great advent, -'waiting for the moving of the water.' Each in his place, with -his own heart, with his own wants, with his own thoughts, with -his own intention, with his own prayers, separate but concordant, -watching what is going on, watching its progress, uniting in its -consummation; not painfully and hopelessly following a hard form -of prayer from beginning to end, but, like a concert of musical -instruments, each different, but concurring in a sweet harmony, -we take our part with God's priest, supporting him, and yet -guided by him. There are little children there, and old men, and -simple laborers, and students in seminaries, priests preparing -for Mass, priests making their thanksgiving; there are innocent -maidens, and there are penitent sinners; but out of these many -minds rises one eucharistic hymn, and the great action is the -measure and the scope of it." [Footnote 28] - - [Footnote 28: Newman's _Loss and Gain_, pp. 265-7.] - -{181} - -This union of a changeless creed with an adaptive devotional -system, of dogmatic authority with elasticity and play, and of -unquestioning submission with the freest choice, has one obvious -consequence. It renders the church unintelligible to the world, -and to all professors of the world's many religions. A casual -observer, looking on the Catholic system from without its pale, -is at a loss to reconcile attributes which to him appear -inconsistent. Why, he asks, should the church be so unswerving -under one aspect, yet so pliant under another? If she will not -yield one jot or tittle of doctrine, why allow so large an -oscillation in forms of devotion? or, if she aims at -accommodating and condescending in the latter, why remain -inflexible in the former? He would perhaps add: The Catholic -system has advantages over others in virtue of this her spirit of -adaptation, so far as it reaches. But it is partial! The same -economy and consultation for individual minds should extend into -the sphere of its dogma; then the character of the church would -be consistent, its response to the demands of the age would be -satisfactory, and its triumph might be complete. - -We are here only concerned with one side of this supposed -theorist's difficulty. The answer is surely as follows: - - 1. On one hand, the church is objective, or what he would call - unaccommodating in her teaching, because she is the guardian - and depository of supernatural truth. All truth is objective, - because it is the reflection of the mind of God, and the - subject-matter of his revelation. Hence, in spite of the - infidel's sarcasm that between Homoousion and Homoiousion there - is but an iota, and an iota (he adds) that divides the - Christian world, the church will neither add to nor take from - the "form of sound words" committed to her by that one small - letter. That jot, that tittle stands against the return and - salvation of countless souls till they shall themselves erase - it; for the question involved is nothing less than the fulness - of the truth and revelation of God. Human statements in - religion aim at a compromise; the church, like Job under trial, - "still continues in her simplicity." They would avoid extremes; - she is zealous for the full and explicit enunciation of the - whole deposit of faith. Whatever portions of dogmatic teaching - can still be retained, apart from the faith, are in constant - process of disintegration and fusion: _diminutae sunt - veritates a filiis hominum._ But, on the other hand, if - there can be degrees and measures where all is essential truth, - the church may be said to become more dogmatic, and so, if - possible, more objective, as her life proceeds. This, it is - plain, is a simple result from her office of perpetual teacher; - it is the fulfilment of the primary commission, "[Greek text]." - She must expand her teachings to the needs of the day, and meet - emergent heresies by fresh definitions. Hence, to take some - salient points history presents to us, the objectivity of - _Homoousion_ against Arius, of _Theotokos_ against - Nestorius, of _Filioque_ against the heresies of the East, - of _Transubstantiation_ against Luther and others, of the - _Immaculate Conception_ in our own day. - -{182} - - 2. All this being so, and being one great ground of objection - against the church, why is her system so _subjective_, all - the while, in other departments? She seems to men to err as - much on the other side by overcondescension and adaptation. We - need not linger over such charges as that of Macaulay, who, - following perhaps in the steps of the _Provincial - Letters_, accuses certain theologians of accommodating even - the moral law to retain men within the Catholic unity; as - thinking, unless I misquote him, "that, if a man must needs be - a libertine, that was no reason for his being a heretic - besides." An impression less hurtful certainly, and less - gratuitous, though equally false, pervades much that we find in - other non-Catholic writers. The church seems to them to lay - herself out in her devotional functions, to captivate the - senses and the imagination. We might adduce a _catena_ of - passages to prove this impression of theirs, from - controversialists assuming the fact and reasoning upon it, down - to tourists recording their personal experiences of the - Continent. A leading article in a prominent journal on some - recent celebrations at Boulogne, and, with a deeper personal - impression, the descriptions of newspaper correspondents on the - late centenary and canonizations in Rome, contribute their - quota to swell this great tradition or popular belief. The - church, according to such theorists, is wide enough to - compensate for the inflexibility of her dogma by pliancy, - adaptation, and attractiveness in all besides. Like the old - Roman tyrants, they would say, whose home and whose spirit she - has inherited, she is prodigal to her subjects of the _Panem - et Circenses_, that take off their attention from the - thraldom in which they are held. There is a story of - Bolingbroke being present at high Mass in the Chapel Royal, in - Paris. Struck with the majesty of the function, he turns to a - friend and whispers, "If I were king of France, I would allow - no one to perform this but myself." The anecdote is no unfair - sample of the popular impression made by Catholic ceremonies on - those who misunderstand them, because they disbelieve the - truths which they clothe. They are taken to be the result of a - design and deliberation to arrest the imaginative faculty, and - thus to maintain supremacy over the will. That the will owns - the church's supremacy is a patent fact; the supposed captivity - of the imagination through eye and ear is, to such thinkers, - one chief _rationale_ of it. She leads captive, they say, - the intellect of her votaries, but she has the art to gild - their chains by the richness and beauty of her ceremonial. - -To consider this assertion for a moment. May we not advance the -direct contrary? May it not be said that, if, apart from -experience, we were to speculate on the probable ceremonies with -which the church would surround the adorable sacrifice, and the -solemn administration of her sacraments, our anticipations would -outrun what she actually has decreed? Let us instance the -ceremonies of the Mass. What is here that does more than -_carry_, so to say, the great mystery round which they -cluster? Give it as a problem to a political theorist, to a -Bolingbroke, or to a minister of public worship, to invent and -combine certain ceremonies, in order to express the highest act -of a nation's worship. The function is to be one that shall -symbolize such a belief as the Catholic belief in the adorable -sacrifice. I think it may safely be said, the result produced -would be something of more outward show, more complicated, and -more arresting to the eye and the imagination, than is seen in -the ceremonies of solemn high Mass. - -{183} - -To meet more broadly the assertion that the devotional system of -the church is unduly subjective, that is, overpliant to the -varieties of her children. She condescends, she adapts herself, -she seems to mere spectators to be one great economy. We accept -the charge, not in their sense. Why should the church not be so? -The changelessness of the faith being first secured, her problem -then is, the greatest devotion of the greatest number. "I am made -all things to all men, that I might by all means save some." This -is her mission: to attract souls, to win them, and to save them. -She would not attract them, were she not beautiful; nor gather -them in, were she not all-sided; nor save the mass of them, were -she not elastic. There is no stiffness about the church, or she -would not work with breadth and freedom. It is St. Peter's net, -and is drawn, as the prophet says, "with cords of Adam." She is -not antiquarian, or she would only affect the mind of each age as -a venerable record or curious relic of the past. The church is -not primitive, mediaeval, or modern; not Celtic, Teutonic, -southern, classical, barbarian, Scythian, bond, or free, in any -exclusive sense. She is simply Catholic; that one title -interprets all. And being the church of the "great multitude -which no man can number, of all nations, and languages, and -peoples, and tongues," she authorizes their popular devotions by -sanction and permission. - -When we grant or assert that the church in her devotional aspect -is adaptive, elastic, or (to return to our term) subjective, what -is this but to say that she has _life_? Life as distinct -from machinery, stereotype, or routine. It is saying that she has -a living intelligence, spiritual instinct, a faculty to -discriminate between essentials and non-essentials in her -worship, and a versatility and a resource to apply, to modify, to -expand the non-sacramental and therefore accidental channels of -grace to her children. Because she is thus alive with the -indwelling life of the Paraclete who abides with her for ever, -and thus animated with a supernatural wisdom and maternal -charity, she is prompt to seize occasions, and to extemporize -combinations _to the greater glory of God_. Hers is an ever -quick and energizing power, exerted over man as man, and over all -men indifferently. In the inspired words of the wise man: "Being -but one, she can do all things; and remaining in herself the -same, she reneweth all things, and through nations conveyeth -herself into holy souls." Wisd. vii. 27. What the philosopher -claimed as being man, she claims as being the church of men: -_Nihil humanum a me alienum puto._ She raises no question on -the form of government or previous training, any more than on the -clime or color of the "Trojans or Tyrians" within her realm. She -translates her prayers, and imparts her indulgences in as many -tongues as were found in Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost. In -the political sphere she will bless the banners and chant a _Te -Deum_ on the triumphs of every righteous cause, whether the -tricolor and stripes of a republic or the blazonings of an -ancient monarchy. And so in her devotional element, finding more -stability of character in some provinces of her kingdom, more -versatility and impulse in others, some of her children more -given to contemplation, some to a larger amount of vocal prayer, -she accepts these differing conditions without disturbance or -hesitation. Wise householder and faithful stewardess, as the -gospel declares her to be, the church brings out from her -treasury things new and old. -{184} -She adopts and sanctions every new devotion that has been -inspired into her saints: the rosary of St. Dominic, the scapular -of St. Simon Stock, the discipline of St. Peter Damian, the -meditations of St. Benedict, the spiritual exercises of St. -Ignatius and his systematized methods of prayer. Nothing is a -dangerous novelty, while she has inerrancy of judgment. No -dubious expression or practice can spread, or even live, while in -her hand is the sword of the Spirit, [Greek text]. No fervor can -lead to ill-regulated enthusiasm while she exercises the twofold -office, to animate and to control. - -In direct contrast with this divine adjustment and harmony stand -the arrangements of that communion in the midst of us which has -so long claimed the title of a church. England, as represented by -her rulers, three hundred years ago, breaking from the centre of -unity, and disowning every link with St. Peter's chair, isolated -thenceforward and self-contained, had before her a three-fold -task. She was to extemporize at once doctrine, discipline, and -devotion. The process was in many ways remarkable. But its chief -feature for our present purpose is one especial travesty and -reversal of the due order of things which was then exhibited. -While doctrine, by the necessity of the case, became subjective, -the formularies or "common prayer" were stereotyped or frozen -into a form that was well named _uniformity_, and might in a -kind of perverse sense be called objective. The Anglican -communion is the reed where the Catholic Church is the oak; but -_en revanche_, she is stiff and wooden where the church is -pliant and tender. She has bent to every breath of doctrine: -then, as if in tribute to the principle of stability, has bound -down her children to pray, at least, by rule. She does not pipe -to them that they may dance, and mourn to them that they may -lament. There is no modulation in her pastoral reed; no change of -expression in her fixed uniformity of demeanor. An exception must -here be made for the ritualist exhibitions of these later years; -but it is an exception which proves the rule. Ritualism is a -protest against the cold negations of the Establishment. It is in -turn protested against with more energy by the indignant good -sense of the country, and, so far as they venture, by the -country's bishops. The clergy appear in colored stoles, and are -met by a mandate to "take off those ribbons." Decorations must be -removed from the communion-table before consecration of the -church can take place. Each opening flower is nipped by the -breath of episcopal authority, - - "'Et mox - Bruma recurrit iners." - -Not to speak, then, of ritualism, but of the genuine spirit of -the establishment. This holds the even tenor of its way, -undisturbed by signs and seasons, and days and years. The -established church does not quench her tapers on Good Friday -because she does not light them on Easter morning; has no rubric -for stripping her altars, and gives no encouragement for their -decoration. She sprinkles no ashes on Ash-Wednesday, sings no -alleluias for the Resurrection, lights no candles, says no Mass -on Candelmas. Like something learned by rote and spoken by a -machine, her ministers address their flocks in the self-same -language, whether the morning usher in the annual solemn fast or -the queen of festivals. Their form most truly styles itself, "The -Order for Morning and Evening Prayer, daily to be said and used -throughout the year." -{185} -This is the objectivity of the established church, as "authorized -by act of Parliament, holden in the fifth and sixth years of our -said late sovereign lord, King Edward the Sixth, ... with the -alterations and additions therein added and appointed by this -statute," "_Primo Elizabethae._" - -Nor was this stereotyped, unelastic method optional with them. It -was a necessity of the position of the establishment from its -beginning. Having torn down the altar and set up the -reading-desk, abolished the daily sacrifice, and made the lion -and unicorn stand in the holy place, converted the priest into a -minister, and succeeded, under the hydraulic pressure of royal -mandates, in forcing two sets of doctrines to coexist within the -space of one communion, the framers of the new order of things -had, as a chief part of it, to invent a form of prayer. This form -must be comprehensive as to doctrine, uniform as to expression; -subjective in the first, quasi-objective in the latter. It was to -provide for Catholics in heart who had not fortitude for -martyrdom, and for honest sacramentarians kneeling with them at -the same communion-rail. After several alterations, therefore, in -which the presence of the Most High was affirmed or denied, and, -as far as man could affect it, was restored or taken away, as now -a higher, now a lower school prevailed, the new religion welded -together two forms of administration--the Catholic and the -Zwinglian--and simply left the choice of doctrine to the -receiver. It was a process that brings to mind the ancient -punishment of chaining the living prisoner to the corpse of his -dead comrade; and the language ever since of those in the -Anglican communion who have aspired after something nearer to God -than a memorial rite has been: "Unhappy man that I am, who shall -deliver me from the body of this death?" - -Want of space prevents our drawing out a contrast which here -naturally presents itself. It would be, on one side, the solemn -and heart-stirring functions of the church during her round of -fast and festival: the day that ushers in her Lent, the -_Gloria_ hushed, organ and alleluias silent, the wailing -_Tenebrae_, the strange, disjointed Mass of the -pre-sanctified on Good Friday, which is Calvary, with the rocks -rent and the sun hidden; then the burst of Easter morning, when -all is light and triumph; or again, the three Masses of -Christmas, symbols of our Lord's triple nativity. These, and much -that might be added, would form an epitome of _Durandus_, -and writers who have followed him, on the symbolism of the -church's functions. What would appear on the other side? Silence -is perhaps its best description, lest a thing in its own nature -so fearful to contemplate as man's attempts to create in -opposition to his Creator should present too forcibly its -ludicrous aspect. It does not appear to have been very -attractive, even in its cradle, to judge from the act, which sets -forth that "all and every person and persons ... shall diligently -and faithfully ... endeavor themselves to resort to their parish -church, ... where common prayer and such service shall be used, -... and then and there to abide orderly and soberly during the -time of common prayer, preachings, or other service of God there -to be used and ministered, upon pain of punishment by the -censures of the church, and also upon pain that every person so -offending shall forfeit for every such offence twelve pence, to -be levied by the church-wardens of the parish where such offence -shall be done, ... of the goods, lands, and tenements of such -offender, by way of distress." - -{186} - -No wonder they who love the established church should fix their -special admiration on the feature of her simplicity. The act of -uniformity enforced by Procrustes was as simple a process, and -with as simple a result. In both cases, it was a cutting down, -paring away, shortening, disjointing, dislocating. Only, as they -who decreed the form and measurements of the new religion, unlike -Procrustes, had to reconstruct as well as simply to wrench and -amputate, they added that other process to their labor; and under -difficulties which have excited the compassion of their disciples -in all later time for a system of theology and theological -devotion is as complex and delicate, to say the least, as the -human frame: you cannot give back the sinews and organs you have -removed, nor restore action to the joints you have sundered. We -have lived to see the result of such simplifying as went on in -the sixteenth century. After a career which has given time for -irreconcilable schools to exhibit their full divergence, the -communion so arranged seems likely to fall to pieces on the very -question of ritualism. "We never, sir," says a popular clerical -writer to the _Times_ newspaper, "we never shall have peace -again in the church until some plain order of conducting the -service is made more or less imperative, confused rubrics relaid -down in clear language, and some court established, easy of -access, cheap, and speedy in process, by which it may be -adjudged, as well in the case of clergy as of bishops, whether -the parties accused of false teaching or false practice are -guilty according to a rational, legal interpretation of our -formularies in the spirit in which for three centuries they have -been conducted." [Footnote 29] - - [Footnote 29: "S.G.O." in the London _Times_, June 10, 1867.] - -The simplicity of the church of England has steered too precise a -mean between the symbolism and suggestive ceremonies of the -church that believes, and the absence of all form on the part of -those who do not. Her preamble, "of ceremonies, why some be -abolished and some retained," like other compromises, aims at -pleasing everybody and ends in pleasing no one. With one party, -as Milton says in an expressive line, - - "New Presbyter is but old priest writ large." - -With the other, the minister must be a priest, the communion, -Mass, and the Catholic service restored. This comes of inventing -a religion in a hurry, patching up a provisional government by -rebels who have disowned a time-honored throne. This comes of -arraying one's self in the shreds of what one's self has rent -from the seamless garment. So much for aiming at what a prelate -of that communion has recently called "a satisfying amount of -ritual," which is to clothe no idea, stand for nothing beyond -itself, and soothe the senses without appealing to the faith. So -much for the arrogance of deciding that the "godly and decent -order of the ancient fathers had been altered, broken, and -neglected, by planting in uncertain stories and legends, with a -multitude of responds, verses, vain repetitions, commemorations, -and synodals;" not to speak of the "hardness of the rules called -the _Pie_, and the manifold changings of the service." - -We shall wait to see the result of that "satisfying amount of -ritual" in which it is proposed to invest a service purely -Protestant; whereabout on the scale the satisfaction is to be -placed, and so, whom it is intended to satisfy. One ritual system -alone has a gift from heaven to answer and fulfil the yearnings -of the soul. -{187} -One act of uniformity alone is worthy of a thought to the -worshipper. The creed rehearses it: "I profess that there are -truly and properly seven sacraments of the new law instituted by -our Lord, and necessary for the salvation of mankind." Then, "I -also receive and admit the received and approved ceremonies of -the Catholic Church in the solemn administration of the aforesaid -sacraments." It is to express the invisible, and to fence round -what is all sacred, and to respond by the tribute of man to the -gift of God, that the church has ordained these details of beauty -and solemnity. It is essentially as an homage and a reverence to -her Lord. This does not contradict what has been said above -either of the variety or of the adaptive character of Catholic -devotions. For we are here speaking not of devotions as voices of -human expression toward God, but of sacraments, the channels of -his communications with man. - -Let me now only mention two other chief instances of the -subjectivity of the church's dealings with her children. The -whole theory, then, of intentions in prayer is a proof of the -adaptive character of Catholic devotion. The _Pater, Ave, -Gloria, Credo, the Veni Creator, Miserere, Memorare_, these -are, as it were, so many notes in the church's scale. Let me here -adopt, though I should also modify, the words of a great writer -on a kindred subject. They apply, partly at least, to that on -which our thoughts are turned: - - "There are seven notes in the scale; make them thirteen, yet - what a slender outfit for so vast an enterprise! What science - brings so much out of so little? Out of what poor elements does - some great master in it create his new world! Shall we say that - all this exuberant inventiveness is a mere ingenuity or trick - of art, like some game or fashion of the day, without reality, - without meaning? We may do so; and then, perhaps, we shall also - account the science of theology to be a matter of words; yet, - as there is a divinity in the theology of the church which - those who feel cannot communicate, so is there also in the - wonderful creation of sublimity and beauty of which I am - speaking. ... Is it possible that that inexhaustible evolution - and disposition of notes, so rich yet so simple, so intricate - yet so regulated, so various yet so majestic, should be a mere - sound, which is gone and perishes? Can it be that those - mysterious stirrings of heart, and keen emotions, and strange - yearnings after we know not what, and awful impressions from we - know not whence, should be wrought in us by what is - unsubstantial, and comes and goes, and begins and ends in - itself? ... No; they have escaped from some higher sphere; ... - they are echoes from our home; they are the voice of angels, or - the _Magnificat_ of saints, or the living laws of divine - governance, or the divine attributes; something are they - besides themselves, which we cannot compass, which we cannot - utter." [Footnote 30] - - [Footnote 30: Newman's _Sermons before the University of - Oxford_. 2d edition, pp. 349, 350.] - -The beauty of this extract, from perhaps one of the greatest -passages of its eminent author, may be my apology for its length. -What Dr. Newman here says of the evolution of musical harmony -from simple elements may be applied to the vast fabric of -intentions, reaching to no less than three worlds, the church -militant, triumphant, and purifying, which we are taught to build -out of such few brief prayers as a child might utter. - -{188} - -Once more: the variety of the religious orders, congregations, -institutes, existing in the church, and marked by her approval, -afford a further proof of her adaptation to the various needs and -characters of men. The system which recognizes the sanctity of -marriage by elevating it to the rank of a sacrament proclaims -also the superiority of the "best part" chosen by Mary, "which -shall not be taken from her;" and, within this first great -principle of classification among the church's children, -separating between the secular and the religious life, and -strictly subjective in the sense in which the word has here been -used, we find an almost endless diversity of what are technically -called "religions." The cloistered and the uncloistered; and -among the former, the eremitic and the conventual, with their -subdivisions; among the latter, a devotion special and -concentrated upon every malady to which man is heir. Brothers of -the hospitals, brothers of Christian doctrine, communities -devoted to the leper, the lunatic, the ordinary sick, the -hopelessly diseased, the poor as such, the young, the orphan, the -ignorant, the upper classes, the middle rank, the homeless -pauper, the pilgrim, the penitent, the convict, the galley-slave, -the felon condemned to die. - -This very glory of the King's daughter, her beauty in the variety -with which she is surrounded, the subjective provisions she makes -for each of her children called to religion, has been made by -writers of more than common shallowness an argument against her -unity. It is difficult to treat with gravity a distortion of the -truth so perverse. "Look," says a platform orator--"look at the -divisions of the Church of Rome. She taunts us with our -dissensions. It is true, we have our high church, and our low, -and our broad; there are those amongst us who hold the -sacramental principle, and those who deny it. But Rome, too, has -her divisions, as deep and as fundamental. Has she not her -Franciscans and her Dominicans, her Benedictines and her -Seculars, her Jesuits, and I know not who besides? Have not her -religious orders and her secular canons, in times past, carved -grotesque caricatures of each other in the gargoyles and -_misereres_ of their respective churches? And yet, with her -characteristic effrontery, she dares to tell us that she is one!" - -It was well answered. You might with equal reason argue that an -army was not one, not one in its operations and campaign, nor -moving at the nod of one commander, because it had its several -branches and "arms" of the service; its light horse, troops of -the line, skirmishers, cavalry for the charge, heavy artillery. -Rather, the essential unity of the whole is all the more -demonstrated by the distinct lines and modes of operation -belonging to each department. Herodotus is at much pains to -detail the different nationalities and customs of warfare in the -army of Xerxes before he proceeds to narrate their combined -descent upon Greece. And to return to our thesis: the objective -unity of the religious orders throughout the church's long life, -in all that ever concerned her faith and essential teaching, has -been enhanced, made conspicuous, and shown to be supernatural, by -their acknowledged subjective diversity in much beside. - -But we are not here in need of a Catholic apologist. A vivid and -popular writer, if not of history, yet of widely accepted -historical romance, had the intelligence to perceive this very -characteristic of the church. -{189} -He has thrown no little power into developing the truth, that the -Catholic system is thus universally subjective, has a place for -every one, rejects none of earth's children, and can retain them, -find them employment, and communicate to them happiness, within -the ample breadth of her unity. - -He describes the merely local characters of the Church of -England, and her consequent inability to make way in foreign -missions. He has a fling at what he calls the polity of the -Church of Rome as the very masterpiece of human wisdom. It is, he -says, a system of tactics to be regarded with reluctant -admiration. Then more particularly: "She thoroughly understands, -what no other church has ever understood, how to deal with -enthusiasts. In some sects, particularly in infant sects, -enthusiasm is suffered to be rampant. In other sects, -particularly in sects long established and richly endowed, it is -regarded with aversion. The Catholic Church neither submits to -enthusiasm nor proscribes it, but uses it. She considers it as a -great moving force, which in itself, like the muscular powers of -a fine horse, is neither good nor evil, but which may be so -directed as to produce great good or great evil, and she assumes -the direction to herself. ... She knows that, where religious -feelings have obtained the complete empire of the mind, they -impart a strange energy, that they raise man above the dominion -of pain and pleasure, that obloquy becomes glory. She knows that -a person in this state of enthusiasm is no object of contempt. He -may be vulgar, ignorant, visionary, extravagant; but he will do -and suffer things which it is for her interest that somebody -should do and suffer. She accordingly enlists him in her service, -assigns to him some forlorn hope, and sends him forth with her -benedictions and her applause." - -Then, after showing how the Anglican system expels from itself -the enthusiasm it can neither wield nor control, he proceeds to -draw his contrast: - - "Far different is the policy of Rome. The ignorant enthusiast - whom the Anglican Church makes an enemy, and, whatever the - polite and learned may think, a most dangerous enemy, the - Catholic Church makes a champion. She bids him nurse his beard, - covers him with a gown and hood of coarse, dark stuff, ties a - rope round his waist, and sends him forth to teach in her name. - He costs her nothing. He takes not a ducat away from the - resources of her beneficed clergy. He lives by the alms of - those who respect his spiritual character and are grateful for - his instructions. He preaches not exactly in the style of - Massillon, but in a way which moves the passions of uneducated - hearers; and all his influence is employed to strengthen the - church of which he is a minister. To that church he becomes as - strongly attached as any of the cardinals whose scarlet - carriages and liveries crowd the entrance of the palace on the - Quirinal. In this way the Church of Rome unites in herself all - the strength of establishment, and all the strength of dissent. - With the utmost pomp of a dominant hierarchy above, she has all - the energy of the voluntary system below. It would be easy to - mention very recent instances in which the hearts of hundreds - of thousands, estranged from her by the selfishness, sloth, and - cowardice of the beneficed clergy, have been brought back by - the zeal of the begging friars. At Rome the Countess of - Huntingdon would have a place in the calendar as St. Sabina, - and Mrs. Fry would be foundress and first superior of the - blessed order of Sisters of the Gaols. -{190} - Place Ignatius Loyola at Oxford: he is certain to become the - head of a formidable secession. Place John Wesley at Rome: he - is certain to be the first general of a new society devoted to - the interests and honor of the church. Place Johanna Southcote - at Rome: she founds an order of barefooted Carmelites, every - one of whom is ready to suffer martyrdom for the church; a - solemn service is consecrated to her memory; and her statue, - placed over the holy water, strikes the eye of every stranger - who enters St. Peter's." - -Such thoughts as I have endeavored to suggest will not be vain, -if they lead us to recognize the attributes and credentials of -the church in her mission to the world, not less in the -comparison of part with part among her manifestations, than in -the harmony of the whole. She is as divine, as Catholic, as -faithful to her trust, and as unerring in her functions, in the -subjective character of her devotions, as in the objectivity of -her teaching. Nothing surely can be more attractive to the -imagination, more winning to the heart, or more persuasive to the -will than the condescension and personal care of that which is -all the while lofty in its attributes and authoritative in its -claims and power. The church is a mother while she is a queen, -and we her children no less than her subjects and disciples. She -teaches us to pray while she commands us to believe; and gives a -personal experience of her science in the one, while affording -abundant proof of her embassy and her inerrancy in the other. -Thus, while I am enlightened by her truth, I am fostered by her -charity. The need of which I am conscious in myself, _das -Ich_, for something on which to feed the faculty within me for -supernatural love and personal devotion, is as completely met and -fulfilled as any craving for a truth above myself, _das nicht -Ich_, which comes down to me from heaven that it may raise me -thither. "Descendit" says St. Augustine, "_misericordia, ut -ascendat miseria._" - --------- - - Imogen. - - - She was all compact of beauty, - Like the sunlight and the flowers; - One of those radiant beings - That prove this world of ours - Not utterly forsaken - By the angel host of God, - Since now and then its valleys - By their holy feet are trod. - If her hair was black and glossy - Or golden-hued and bright, - Or if her eyes were azure, - Or dark and deep as night, - I know not--this truth only - Do I know or care to know; - Never a lovelier maiden - Blest this weary world below. - In the castle ruled her father, - And his lands stretched miles away - _Mine_ toiled down in the hamlet - For his daily bread each day; - Too far apart were we. - Too high wert thou for me, - O Lady Imogen! - -{191} - - When the meadow was all golden - With the cowslips' May-day bells, - And the sweet breath of the primrose - Came up from fragrant dells; - When the blackbird and the throstle - Whistled cheerly in the morn, - And the skylark, quivering upward, - Rose singing from the corn; - Then when the blessed spring-time - Filled with beauty all the earth, - From her father's lordly castle - Would this maiden wander forth, - Where the violets were blooming - In unfrequented dells; - O'er the mead where zephyrs pilfered - Fragrance from the cowslips' bells. - Wheresoever beauty lingered, - There this radiant maiden strayed, - And beauty by her presence - More beautiful was made; - The sunshine looked more golden - As it gleamed around her head; - And the grass more green and living - Rose up beneath her tread; - And the flowers more bright and fragrant - To greet her coming grew; - And mad with love and music - The birds about her flew. - Oh! she was the loveliest maiden - That ever eye did see; - She was sunshine, she was music, - She was all the world to me. - But she never knew the passion - That set my soul aflame; - That hid me by the hedge-row - To watch whene'er she came, - To see her glorious beauty, - Like a star from heaven, go by. - Oh! to see her but one moment - God knows that I would die, - O peerless Imogen! - -{192} - - They bore her to the abbey - With the pomp of princely woe, - With steeds and hearse and snowy pall, - And white plumes drooping low: - And high, proud heads were bending - In her funereal train, - And princely eyes were weeping - Heavy tears like summer rain. - I far off followed slowly, - No tears were in mine eye; - 'Twas not for one so lowly - To weep for one so high; - But, oh! since she hath vanished, - With her have seemed to go - All the beauty, all the music, - Of this weary world below! - Dead, dead, and buried, Imogen! - - E. Young. - --------- - - The Jesuits In North America. [Footnote 31] - - [Footnote 31: - _The Jesuits in North America, in the Seventeenth - Century_. - By Francis Parkman. Boston: - Little, Brown & Co. 1867. - - _History and General Description of New France_, - By the Rev. P. F. X. de Charlevoix, S.J. - Translated with notes, by John Gilmary - Shea. In six vols. Vols. i. and ii. - New York: John Gilmary Shea. 1866 - - _History of the Catholic Missions among - the Indian Tribes of the United States_ - By John Gilmary Shea. - New York: Edward Dunigan & Brother. 1855.] - -The illustrious Society of Jesus, which has sanctified by its -martyrs every corner of the earth, has reaped more glory probably -in North America than any other missionary order, though it was -not the first to enter the field. The Franciscans, the -Dominicans, and other devoted soldiers of the cross who followed -in the footsteps of the Spanish adventurers in the south, -established flourishing missions, some of which have lasted to -this day. They labored with a zeal and singleness of purpose -which could not be surpassed, and a large proportion of them gave -up their lives for the faith; but unfortunately the crimes of -their countrymen have been permitted, by the prejudice of modern -writers, to tarnish the renown of these heroic preachers, and the -cruelties of a Cortez are better remembered than the virtues of -the Spanish Dominicans. The Jesuits in the northern parts of the -continent have received more justice in history. About their -character and achievements there is only one voice. Oppression -and outrage have fortunately kept away from their path. -{193} -It was, moreover, their practice to live almost wholly aloof from -their own countrymen, and to compose their Christian settlements -entirely of Indian converts. They may not have surpassed their -brethren of other orders in devotedness or in perseverance; but -they have a renown in modern Protestant literature which has no -equal except in the glorious record of the early Christian -persecutions. - -When the Jesuits first came to Canada, the Franciscans had been -before them, but there was little trace left of the Christianity -which they had planted. The capture of Quebec by the English, in -1629, almost wholly obliterated the mission, and it was not until -the colony was restored to France, in 1632, that the history of -missionary enterprise in that part of America really begins. One -of the first steps of the French government then was to secure a -body of priests, to labor in their recovered possessions. The -work was offered to the Capuchins, but they declined it. It was -then given to the Jesuits, and on the 18th of April, 1632, two -priests, Le Jeune and De Nouë, with a lay-brother named Gilbert, -set sail from Havre for Quebec. It was but a cheerless home in -which, after a three months' tempestuous voyage, they set about -installing themselves. Their predecessors had left on the -outskirts of the settlement two wretched wooden buildings, -thatched with long grass and plastered with mud. One of them had -been half-burned by the English, and was still in ruins. Here the -three missionaries fixed their home, and prepared for the -reception of the brethren who were soon to follow them. One of -the buildings was converted into a store-house, stable, -work-shop, and bakery. The other contained four principal rooms. -One was fitted up as a rude chapel, one as a refectory, one as a -kitchen, and the fourth as a sleeping-room for workmen. Four -small rooms, the largest eight feet square, opened off the -refectory, and here, when the rest of the little band arrived, -six priests were lodged, while two lay-brothers found shelter in -the garret. The whole establishment was surrounded by a palisade. -About the end of May, Champlain arrived, to resume the command of -Quebec, and with him came four more Jesuits--Brébeuf, Masse, -Daniel, and Davost. The superior of the little community was -Father Le Jeune. Of the others, Masse, whom by reason of his -useful qualities they nicknamed "Le Père Utile," had been in -America before. His special duty was to take care of the pigs and -cows, upon which the missionaries relied for a great part of -their sustenance. De Nouë had charge of the eight or ten laborers -employed about the "residence." All the fathers, in the intervals -of leisure left from their duties of preaching, saying mass and -vespers, hearing confessions at the fort of Quebec, catechising a -few Indians, and striving to master the enormous difficulties of -the Algonquin and Huron languages, worked with the men, spade in -hand. - -To learn the language was at first the greatest of all their -troubles. There were French interpreters in the colony, fur -traders who had spent years among the tribes, and were almost as -savage as the Indians themselves. But these men were no friends -to the Jesuits, and one and all refused their assistance. Father -Le Jeune gives an amusing description of his perplexity, as he -sat with an Indian child on one side, and a little negro boy left -by the English on the other, neither of the three able to -understand the language of the others. -{194} -Convinced that there was little to be taught and little to be -learned in that way, he set off one morning to visit a band of -Indians who were fishing on the St. Lawrence. He found their bark -lodges set up by the brink of the river, and a boy led him into -the hut of an old squaw, his grandmother, who hastened to give -him four smoked eels on a piece of birch bark. There were several -other women in the lodge, and while they showed him how to roast -his eels on a forked stick, or squatted around the fire, eating -their rude meal, and using their dogs as napkins, the good father -made strenuous attempts to talk a little broken Algonquin, eking -out his defect of words with such pantomime as he could invent. -All, however, was in vain. If he trusted to what he could pick up -from straggling fishing parties, it might be years before he -could fairly begin to preach the gospel to these poor tribes of -the wilderness. In his difficulty he had recourse to the saints. -It was not long before what he deemed the direct interposition of -Providence came to his aid. Several years before an Indian who -had been converted by the Recollects, and baptized by the name of -Pierre, had been taken to France and partially educated. He had -lately returned to Canada, and not only relapsed into his old -savage way of life, but apostatized from the faith. Nothing was -left of his French education save a few French vices and a -knowledge of the French language. He often came to the fort -begging drink and tobacco, but he shunned the Jesuits, of whose -rigid virtue he stood in horror. But one day, about this time, -Pierre incurred the displeasure of the French commandant, and the -fort was closed against him. Repulsed by a young squaw whom he -wanted to make his wife, and unfitted by his French education for -the hard and precarious life of a hunter, he went to the priests -for food and shelter. Le Jeune hailed him as a gift from heaven -in answer to his prayers. He installed the poor wretch in the -mission-house, begged for him at the fort a suit of cast-off -clothes, and set zealously to work to learn from him the -mysteries of the Algonquin language. "How thankful I am," wrote -Le Jeune, "to those who gave me tobacco last year! At every -difficulty I give my master a piece of it to make him more -attentive." - -The terribly severe winter was passed in studies such as these, -in practising with snow-shoes, and teaching Indian children. -Bands of savages often encamped near the mission-house in the -course of their hunting journeys, and Le Jeune, whenever they -appeared, would take his stand at the door and ring a bell. The -children would gather round him, and leading them into the -refectory, which also served as a school-room, he would teach -them the Pater, Ave, and Credo, with an Indian prayer which he -had composed with the assistance of Pierre, show them how to make -the sign of the cross, and explain portions of the catechism. The -exercises closed with the singing of the Lord's prayer in -Algonquin rhymes, and after that each pupil was rewarded with a -porringer of peas. As spring approached, Pierre began to bethink -himself of the fasting and prayers of Lent, and ran off one day -to a party of Englishmen, at Tadoussac, where he drowned in -liquor the small remnant of his Christianity. Then he joined his -two brothers, one a famous hunter named Mestigoit, the other the -most noted sorcerer or "medicine-man" of the tribe. - -{195} - -The next autumn Father Le Jeune was invited by the Indians to -join a hunting party, in which these three brothers were -included; not that they valued the good missionary's company, but -they were shrewd enough to suspect that, if he went with them, he -would be well supplied with provisions. Father de Nouë had gone -on a similar expedition in the winter, and returned nearly dead; -but Le Jeune resolved to risk it, and in the latter part of -October, with twenty Indians, embarked in canoes on the St. -Lawrence. Landing after a while, and being joined by two other -bands, they spent five months trudging through the trackless and -snow-covered wilderness; sleeping by night in the stifling huts -which they made by digging holes in the snow and building over -them a covering of poles and birch bark; hunting by day the -beaver, the moose, and the caribou; often half-starved when game -failed, and holding the most disgusting orgies of gluttony when -it was plenty. Somebody had unfortunately put among the priest's -stores a small keg of wine. Pierre stole it and got drunk, and -when Mestigoit had sobered him by a liberal application of -scalding water, which took all the skin off his face and breast, -the apostate (as Le Jeune always calls him) vowed to revenge -himself by killing the missionary whose strong drink had brought -him into trouble. The poor father fled to the woods until -Pierre's frenzy had passed away, and there, he says, "though my -bed had not been made up since the creation of the world, it was -not hard enough to prevent me from sleeping." We have no space to -follow the narrative of this hard winter. The days were spent in -hunger and exhausting toil, the nights in frightful discomfort. -The huts, in a space some thirteen feet square, were made to -accommodate nineteen savages, men, women, and children, not to -speak of a number of wild and hungry dogs. A fire of pine-knots -in the centre filled the place with a blinding, acrid smoke, and -at times they could breathe only by lying flat on their faces -with their mouths to the cold ground. In this horrible den, the -dogs fought for his food, and the savages, instigated by the -sorcerer, loaded him with insults and shocked his ears with their -filthy conversation. The sorcerer, whose pretensions he -ridiculed, and whose influence he lost no opportunity of -undermining, hated him with an especially malignant animosity. -Under pretence of teaching him Algonquin, he palmed off upon the -priest the foulest words in the Indian language, so that poor -Father Le Jeune's attempts to explain the mysteries of the faith -were often interrupted by shouts of laughter. On Christmas day -there had been a great scarcity of game, and the party were in -danger of famishing. The incantations of the medicine man had -failed. In despair the savages came to Le Jeune, and begged him -to try his God. The sorcerer showed some gleam of faith. Even -Pierre gave signs of repentance. The missionary was filled with -hope. He wrote out two prayers in Algonquin. He hung against the -side of the hut a crucifix and a reliquary, and bade the Indians -kneel before them and repeat the prayers, promising to renounce -their superstitions and obey Christ if he would save them from -perishing of hunger. Then he dismissed the hunters with his -blessing. At night they came back successful. A feast was -ordered. In the midst of the repast, Le Jeune arose to remind -them of their promise; but Pierre, who had killed nothing, was -sulky and incredulous. He said, with a laugh, that it was not the -crucifix and prayers which had brought them luck. -{196} -The sorcerer cried out to the missionary, "Hold your tongue! you -have no sense!" And the multitude, whose good disposition had -vanished with their hunger, took their cue from him, as usual. - -All this was discouraging enough, nor was it the worst; and when -Father Le Jeune, at three o'clock one April morning, knocked at -the door of his humble mission-house, and was received in the -arms of his brother apostles, it was with the melancholy -reflection that his painful and perilous journey had been, except -as a tour of observation, little more than a failure. An absolute -failure, however, it certainly was not. Careful reconnoissances -must always precede great campaigns. It was only by pushing out -into the heart of the pagan realm which they had come to conquer, -that the soldiers of Christ could determine where they might best -make their main assault and in what quarter a victory ensured the -most glorious results. The missionaries were but a handful; the -field before them was immense; they could only cultivate such -portions of it as promised the richest harvest. They had now -learned that the Algonquins were comparatively few in number, and -of little influence or importance among the North American -tribes. Wandering to and fro as they did from year's end to -year's end, it was impossible to establish among them the sort of -Christian settlements or missions which the Jesuits proposed -founding as centres from which the light of truth might radiate -through the wilderness. But further westward, on the shores of -the great lakes, dwelt numerous stationary tribes, among whom -strongholds of the faith might be erected. The conversion of any -considerable part of these people would affect many kindred -tribes, and so it might be possible to found in the heart of the -forest a great Christian empire. As the first basis for their -operations, they chose the Hurons, on the lake which bears their -name. These people, they learned, had populous villages, knew how -to till the ground, and carried on some trade with neighboring -nations. Their ferocity exceeded that of the Algonquins. A -prisoner who bore the torture bravely was cooked and eaten, that -his captors might increase their own courage; and the -missionaries spoke of the Huron country as the chief fortress and -donjon-keep of the demon, "_une des principales forteresses et -comme un donjon des démons_." The distance to be traversed, by -the only route it was possible to follow, was about nine hundred -miles. The way was dangerous and painful. The goal to be reached -was possibly martyrdom--certainly continuous suffering of body -and mind. Three missionaries, Brébeuf, Daniel, and Davost, -offered themselves for the enterprise. Le Jeune's duties as -superior obliged him to confine his labors to the neighboring -Algonquins. It was not easy, however, for the little band of -apostles to carry their heroic purpose into execution. Every year -a company of several hundred Hurons used to visit Quebec, to -barter their furs and tobacco for kettles, hatchets, knives, -cloth, beads, and other commodities. It was resolved that the -priests should return with them when they made their next annual -journey. The Hurons came in July, 1633, six or seven hundred of -them, with a hundred and forty canoes. They staid four days, -trading, gambling, feasting, and holding a council with the -French officers at the fort. Champlain introduced the three -missionaries, and commended them to the care and friendship of -the Indians. -{197} -They were received at first with acclamations of delight, and the -chiefs of different villages disputed for the honor of -entertaining them. But before the hour of departure came, they -changed their minds. The Indians went away and the priests -returned to the mission-house. Here they spent a year studying -the Huron language. At the end of a twelvemonth, the Indians came -again. A second time they were besought to take the Jesuits back -with them. They consented, wavered, refused, hesitated, the -missionaries begging to be received, as if the hardships they -would have to suffer were the greatest of privileges. At last -Father Brébeuf made a vow to St. Joseph. At once, he says, the -Indians became tractable, and the whole party embarked in the -frail canoes for the shores of Lake Huron. Their route was up the -Ottawa river, through Lake Nipissing, down French river, and -along the shores of the great Georgian Bay of Lake Huron. The -voyage occupied thirty days. The three missionaries were in -separate canoes, barefoot, lest their shoes should injure the -vessel, toiling laboriously at the paddle, wading often through -the rapids and pushing or pulling up their barks, and doing their -share of the burden of transportation at the long and frequent -portages. They had no food but a little corn crushed between two -stones and moistened with water. The Indians treated them with -great harshness, stole or threw away a part of their baggage, -including most of their books and writing materials, and finally -deserted Father Daniel and Father Davost on the way. When Brébeuf -reached the end of the voyage, on the shores of Georgian Bay, his -Indian companions threw his baggage on the ground, left him to -his own resources, and trudged off to their villages, some twenty -miles distant. Brébeuf, however, was not disheartened. He threw -himself upon his knees and thanked God who had preserved him so -far. Then he proceeded to examine the country. He knew the spot -well, for before the suspension of the Canada missions which -followed the capture of Quebec, he had passed three years among -the Hurons of this region, at an Indian town which had since been -burned. Hiding his baggage and the sacred vessels in the woods, -he set off in search of the new town, which he knew had been -built a few miles from the site of the old one. It was evening -when he reached it. A crowd who recognized his tall, soldier-like -figure and black robes ran out to meet him, shouting for joy at -his return. They took him to the lodge of one Awandoay, the -richest and most hospitable of the Hurons. After many days his -two lost brethren rejoined him. Daniel had been picked up by -another party of Indians. Davost had been left among the -Algonquins on Allumette Island, and now appeared half-dead with -famine and fatigue. With them came four French laymen from -Quebec. Awandoay received them all, and as soon as they had -determined to make this village, which the natives called -Ihonatiria, the headquarters of their mission, all the -inhabitants of the place, as well as the people of the -neighboring town of Wenrio, fell to and built them a house. It -was a structure of sapling poles and sheets of bark, thirty-six -feet long, and about twenty feet wide, built after the Huron -fashion; but the priests, with the aid of their tools, made -several improvements of the interior, which were to the savages a -never-failing source of wonder and admiration. They divided their -dwelling into three rooms. The first was a store-house; the -second, a sleeping chamber, kitchen, workshop, refectory, and -school-room, all in one; the third was the chapel. - -{198} - -Thus the Huron mission, which had been founded several years -previously, and broken up before it was thoroughly established, -was opened anew. Other priests soon came out from France to join -it. Garnier, Chaumonot, Chabanel, and the illustrious martyr -Isaac Jogues were among the Jesuits who gathered around this -lodge in the wilderness in the course of the next few years. In -the summer-time, when most of the Indians were away on their -hunting or trading excursions, and the villages were quiet, the -missionaries renewed their strength for labor and suffering by -the exercise of the annual retreat according to the instructions -of St. Ignatius. It was in winter that their hardships were the -greatest. By day they trudged long, weary miles through the snow -and wet to visit neighboring villages; by night their short rest -was disturbed and their ears shocked by the horrible orgies, -incantations, and superstitious rites in which the Hurons used to -pass their winter leisure. There were the hideous ceremonies by -which their sorcerers pretended to cure the sick; the licentious -practices by which they sought to propitiate the demons of -pestilence and famine; sometimes the awful tortures of captives -taken in war, and their agonizing deaths, in which the good -fathers, though every nerve shuddered with horror at the dreadful -sight, sometimes found consolation in making a convert of the -dying wretch, and washing out his sins at the last moment in the -saving waters of baptism. At every opportunity they collected the -children of the village at their house; and Brébeuf, vested in -surplice and cap, led them in chanting the _Pater Noster_, -translated into Indian rhymes, taught them the Hail Mary, the -Creed, and the Commandments, taught them to make the sign of the -cross, and gave a few simple instructions. A present of two or -three beads, or raisins, or prunes sent them away happy and -ensured their coming again. Once in a while the adults were -induced to listen to instruction, and invited to discuss the -principal points of religious doctrine. They grunted "Good" or -"That is true" at every proposition, but for a long, long time -very few were willing to embrace the faith to which they gave so -ready an assent. Like the fishes who listened to St. Anthony's -sermon, - - "Much delighted were they, - But preferred the old way." - -Still, they were ready enough to visit the hut of the -missionaries, and examine their marvels of ingenuity and skill, -the fame of which had gone abroad throughout the whole Huron -nation. They would sit on the ground by the hour, watching the -clock and waiting for it to strike. They thought it was alive, -and dignified it with the title of "Captain." "What does the -Captain say?" they would often ask. - -"When he strikes twelve times," the Jesuits answered, "he says, -'Hang on the kettle;' and when he strikes four times he says, -'Get up and go home.'" - -So at noon visitors were never wanting to share the Captain's -hospitality; but at the stroke of four they all departed, and the -missionaries gathered round the fire and discussed the -intricacies of the Huron language. Among the other wonders of the -lodge there was a hand-mill which the savages were never tired of -turning. A magnet proved a great puzzle to them; and there was a -magnifying-glass which transformed a flea into a frightful -monster, and, we may suppose, filled them with alarm. -{199} -They conceived an overpowering respect for the wisdom and -supernatural powers of the black-gowns, and had for them also, -upon the whole, a genuine good will; but there were moments when -their influence, and even their safety, were endangered by the -violence of the Indian superstitions. Once in a season of drought -a "rain-maker" persuaded the Hurons that the red color of the -cross which stood before the Jesuits' dwelling frightened away -the bird of thunder. It was about to be cut down. The priests -begged them to paint it white, and see if the thunder would come. -It was done, but rain still kept aloof. - -"Your spirits cannot help you," said the fathers; "ask the aid of -him who made the world, and perhaps he will hear your prayers." - -The Indians were induced to promise obedience to the true God. -Nine masses were offered in honor of St. Joseph, and every day -there were solemn processions and prayers. In a few days there -were heavy falls of rain, and the Hurons conceived an exalted -idea of the power of French "medicine." But alas for their -promises! They were soon forgotten. - -In the autumn and winter of 1636, the Huron towns were swept by a -contagious fever, accompanied by the small-pox. Three of the -Jesuits--Jogues, Garnier, and Chatelain--were seized with the -fever, but the protection of Providence raised them up for the -relief of their poor red-skinned brethren. In the depth of winter -the missionaries went from village to village, visiting every -hut, tending the sick, bringing them such few delicacies as their -scanty stores afforded, and pressing their religious instructions -at every available occasion. But it was hard to make an -impression on the stolid hearts of the savages. They comprehended -the pains and fires of hell, but they could not understand the -happiness of heaven. They had no wish to go after death to a -place where there would be neither war nor hunting, and where, -they feared, the French would give them nothing to eat. Nor, when -the Huron had at last been persuaded that heaven was good for -Indians as well as Frenchmen, was it easy to produce in him the -proper dispositions for baptism. He felt no contrition, for he -believed that he had never committed sin. "Why did you baptize -that Iroquois?" asked a dying neophyte; "he will get to heaven -before us, and when he sees us coming he will drive us out." This -was disheartening; but once for a few days there was a gleam of -consolation. The whole village of Ossossané resolved to embrace -the faith of the black-robes, to give up their superstitions, and -to reform their manners. One of their principal sorcerers -proclaimed in a loud voice, through the streets of the town, that -the God of the French was henceforth their Master. Nine days -afterward a noted sorcerer came to Ossossané, and the Indians -held a grand medicine feast, hoping to secure the aid of God and -the devil at once. The superstitious rites were all renewed; the -nights grew hideous with yells of incantation, and magic figures -to drive away the demon of pestilence were put up on every house. -The danger to the missionaries now became imminent. When they -left their hut in the morning, it was with a well-grounded doubt -whether they should ever return. The sacrament of baptism, which -it was a part of their daily labor to administer to dying -children, came to be looked upon as a pestiferous charm. -{200} -They could only give it by stealth, sometimes letting fall a drop -from a spoonful of sugared water, with which they pretended to -cool the patient's parched lips, or else touching the skin with a -moist finger or the corner of a wet handkerchief. The mysterious -black-robed magicians were now regarded as the cause of the -pestilence; and had it not been for the awe in which they were -held by the savages, their lives would quickly have been at an -end. As it was, they were everywhere repulsed and insulted. -Children pelted them from behind huts, friends looked at them -askance, and the more violent of their enemies clamored for their -death. The picture of the last judgment which hung in their -chapel was taken to be a charm of direful power. The litanies -which they chanted together were incantations pregnant with -plague and famine. The clock was a malignant demon, and the poor -"Captain" had to be stopped. In August, 1637, a great council of -the Hurons, including deputations from four nations, was held to -deliberate upon the affairs of the confederation. The chief, -whose office it was to preside over the feast of the dead, arose, -and in a set speech accused the Jesuits of being the cause of the -calamities that afflicted them. One accuser followed another, -Brébeuf replying to their charges with ingenuity and boldness. -The debate continued through the night. Many of the Indians fell -asleep, and others went away. One old chief as he passed out said -to Brébeuf, "If some young man should split your head open, we -should have nothing to say." "What sort of men are these?" cried -out another impatiently, as the Jesuit went on with his harangue; -"they are always saying the same thing, and repeating the same -words a hundred times." Another council was called to pronounce -the sentence of death. The priests appeared before it with such -unflinching courage that their judges, struck with admiration, -deferred the decree. Still it seemed as if their fate could not -be long deferred. They wrote a farewell letter to their superior, -Father Le Jeune, and committed to the care of an Indian convert -the most precious properties of the mission, the sacred furniture -of the altar, and the vocabulary which they had compiled of the -Huron language. Then they gave a parting feast, after the Indian -custom of those who were about to die. The intrepidity manifested -by this proceeding was not without its effect. The animosity of -the savages became less intense, and though the persecution -continued, and the lives of individual members of the little band -were more than once attempted, the project of a massacre was for -the present abandoned. - -By the end of the year 1638, the mission had seven priests who -spoke Huron, and three more who were learning it. There were -about sixty converts, and at Ossossané a commodious chapel of -wood had been built by the labor of artisans sent for the purpose -from Quebec. The original intention of the Jesuits was to form -permanent missions in each of the principal Huron towns. This, -however, proved impracticable, and a spot was chosen on the -little river Wye, near Matchedash Bay of Lake Huron, for a great -central station, to which they gave the name of Sainte Marie. The -Huron towns were now apportioned into districts, and a certain -number of priests assigned to each. Father Garnier and Father -Jogues made an ineffectual attempt to establish a mission among -the Tobacco nation, two days' journey to the south-west. -{201} -But their evil reputation had preceded them. The children cried -out, when they saw them approach, that famine and pest were -coming. Every door was closed against them; and when in despair -they left the town, a band of young braves followed them, hatchet -in hand, to put them to death. Under cover of the darkness they -made their escape, and Father Jogues, with Father Raymbault, -afterward passed around the northern shore of Lake Huron, and -preached the faith among the Ojibwas, as far as Sault Sainte -Marie, at the outlet of Lake Superior. In the mean time Brébeuf -and Chaumonot went on a mission to the powerful and ferocious -Neutral nation which inhabited the country between lakes Erie and -Ontario, on both sides of the Niagara river. They visited -eighteen of the Neutral towns. In all they were received with a -storm of insults, blows, and maledictions. The Hurons had been -afraid to kill them, dreading the vengeance of the French at -Quebec; but they had sent secret emissaries to incite the -Neutrals against them, and had promised nine French hatchets to -the tribe which should be their executioners. Brébeuf was the -object of their special hatred. This glorious man, whom Parkman -calls the truest hero and the greatest martyr of the Huron -mission, was feared with an intensity which none of his -companions inspired. But in the midst of his persecutions God -consoled him with heavenly favors. Celestial visions comforted -him in his toilsome journeys through the forest. He saw the image -of a vast and gorgeous palace, and a voice assured him that such -was to be the reward of those who dwell in hovels for the cause -of God. Angels appeared to him, and more than once the Blessed -Virgin and his dear patron, St. Joseph, were revealed to his -sight. Now, when the Neutral nation shut him out of their lodges, -half famished and nearly frozen, the apparition of a great -cross--"large enough," he said to his brethren, "to crucify us -all"--came slowly up from the country of the Iroquois. It seems -like a warning of the glorious fate which awaited him, and to -those heroic souls who longed for martyrdom as the bright crown -of their labor, we cannot doubt that it was also a sweet -consolation. - -The day of persecution, however, was only dawning. The sufferings -of the past few years were as nothing in comparison with the -torments that were to follow. In the summer of 1642, the mission -had been reduced to great destitution, and Father Jogues was sent -to Quebec to obtain clothing, writing materials, wine for the -altar, and other necessary stores. He returned with the annual -fleet of Huron canoes, having with him two young French laymen, -René Goupil and Guillaume Couture, who had attached themselves -without pay to the mission, and a few Indian converts. They were -passing the Lake of St. Peter, in the St. Lawrence river, when -they were suddenly attacked by a war-party of Mohawks. The -greater part of the Hurons leaped ashore and took to the woods. -The French and their converts made fight for a while, but were -soon overpowered. Father Jogues sprang into a clump of bulrushes -and might have escaped, but, seeing Goupil in the hands of the -savages, he came forward, resolved to share his fate. Couture, -too, got away, but came back to join his companions. In his -excitement he shot dead one of a band of Mohawks who sprang upon -him. The others rushed upon him, tore away his finger-nails with -their teeth, gnawed at his fingers like wild beasts, and thrust a -sword through one of his hands. -{202} -The Jesuit threw his arms about his friend's neck, but the -Indians dragged him away, beat him till he was senseless, and -when he revived lacerated his fingers as they had done those of -Couture. Goupil was then treated in the same manner. They set off -with their prisoners for the Mohawk towns, rowing across Lake -Champlain and Lake George. Thirteen days of horrible suffering -were passed on the journey. At last they reached a palisaded -village, built upon a hill on the banks of the Mohawk river. At -the entrance the prisoners were forced to run the gauntlet. Then -they were placed on a high platform, disfigured, livid, and -streaming with blood, and the crowd proceeded to "caress" them. A -Christian Algonquin woman, a prisoner among them, was compelled -to cut off the priest's left thumb with a clam-shell. Goupil was -mutilated in the same manner. The torture lasted all day. At -night the captives were stretched on their backs with limbs -extended, and their wrists and ankles fastened to stakes. The -children now amused themselves by placing live coals on their -naked bodies. For three days more they were exposed on the -scaffold; then they were led to two other Mohawk towns in turn, -and at each the tortures were repeated. Once some Huron prisoners -were placed on the same platform with them, and Father Jogues -found an opportunity to convert them in the midst of the torture, -and to baptize them with a few rain-drops from an ear of corn -that had been thrown to him for food. Couture, having won the -respect of the savages by his intrepid bearing, was adopted into -one of their families, and gained in time great influence over -them. Goupil was one day detected making the sign of the cross on -the forehead of a child, and for this was killed by a blow from a -hatchet, falling at the feet of Father Jogues, who gave him -absolution before he expired. The priest himself, warned every -hour that his death was near, and hated by his captors, who -thought he brought bad luck to their hunting parties, was dragged -around from place to place, now following the hunters through the -forest, now laboring in the villages to convert the old men and -squaws, or baptize dying children. He brought firewood for his -masters, did their bidding without a murmur, was silent under -their abuse; but, when they reviled his faith, he rose with a -majestic air, and rebuked them as one having authority. - -He had been nearly a year in slavery when the Indians took him -with them on a trading visit to the Dutch at Fort Orange, -(Albany.) We can imagine how his heart must have beat at the -sight of a white face after his long banishment but he had no -thought of turning back after his hand had once been put to the -plough, and no plans of escape entered his mind. While here, -however, he learned that the Indians of the village had at last -resolved to kill him as soon as he returned. He had found means -to warn the French at Three Rivers of intended treachery on the -part of some Mohawk visitors, and the savages had determined to -be revenged. To trust himself longer in their hands would not be -heroism, but foolhardiness. A Dutch settler named Van Curler -offered him a passage, in a little vessel then lying in the -Hudson, either to Bordeaux or Rochelle. The Jesuit spent a night -in prayer, and then resolved to accept the proposal. With the -assistance of his Dutch friends, and after several narrow escapes -from detection, he got away from his savage masters by night, -rowed to the vessel in a boat which the settlers left for his use -on the shore, and was kindly received by the sailors and stowed -away in the hold. -{203} -There he remained half-stifled for two days and a half, while the -enraged Mohawks ransacked the settlement and searched the vessel. -For better security until the day of sailing, he was then -concealed in the garret of a house on shore, where his host stole -the provisions that the kind-hearted Dutchmen sent for his use. -The Dutch dominie, Megapolensis, visited him here, and did all he -could for his comfort. At last, an order came from Manhattan that -he should be sent down to the Director-General Kieft, who -exchanged his squalid Indian dress for a suit of Dutch cloth, and -gave him passage in a small vessel to Falmouth. After various -adventures, having fallen into the hands of robbers in the -English port, and made his way to France in a coal-vessel, he -presented himself, on the morning of the 5th of January, 1644, -clad in tatters, at the door of the Jesuit college in Rennes. He -asked for the father rector, but was told that he was busy and -could not be seen. "Tell him, if you please," said Father Jogues, -"that a man from Canada would speak a few words with him." The -Canada mission was an object of deep interest at this time all -through the society, and the father rector, though he was about -vesting for mass, ordered the man to be admitted. He asked many -questions about the affairs of Canada, and at last inquired if -the stranger knew Father Jogues. - -"I know him very well," was the reply. - -"The Iroquois have taken him," continued the reverend Superior. -"Is he dead?" - -"No," answered the missionary, "he is alive and at liberty. I am -he." Then he fell on his knees and asked the rector's blessing. - -His arrival was celebrated, as we might well suppose, with great -rejoicing. He was summoned to Paris, where the queen kissed his -mutilated hands and the whole court strove to honor him. The -blandishments of the great, however, gave no pleasure to this -scarred veteran of Christ's army. He longed to be again in the -field, and in two or three months he sailed once more for Canada. - -In the mean time the missions had fared ill. Violent warfare -raged between the Iroquois confederation (of which the Mohawks -formed a part) and the Hurons and Algonquins. In one respect and -for a short time this was of some benefit to the faith, for the -Algonquins, threatened with destruction by their more powerful -enemies, became docile, and listened more readily to the -exhortations of the French priests. Yet they were rapidly -approaching extermination. Whole villages were destroyed in the -periodical incursions of the Iroquois. The neophytes were -massacred. The missionaries were intercepted on their journeys. -Father Joseph Bressani was captured on his way to the Huron -country in the spring of 1644. One of his Indian companions was -roasted and eaten before his eyes. The father himself was beaten -with sticks until he was covered with blood. His hands were -fearfully mutilated. His fingers were slit; one day a nail would -be burned off; the next, a joint. He was made to walk on hot -cinders. He was given up to the children to be tortured. He was -hanged by the feet with chains. He was tied to the ground, and -food was placed upon his naked body that the dogs might lacerate -him as they ate. Ten weeks afterward he wrote to the -father-general at Rome: "I do not know if your paternity will -recognize the handwriting of one whom you once knew very well. -{204} -The letter is soiled and ill-written; because the writer has only -one finger of his right hand left entire, and cannot prevent the -blood from his wounds, which are still open, from staining the -paper. His ink is gunpowder mixed with water, and his table is -the earth." He survived and was carried to Fort Orange, where the -Dutch ransomed him and sent him back to France. The next spring -he too returned and succeeded in reaching the Hurons. Father de -Nouë, whom we have mentioned as one of the first companions of Le -Jeune, perished in the snow in February, 1646, on the way from -Quebec to a French port at the mouth of the river Richelieu, -where he was to hear confessions. A peace had indeed been -concluded with the Mohawks just before Jogues' return, but a -peace with them could be no better than a precarious truce. -Couture, who had been with Father Jogues in his captivity, and -become a person of consideration with the tribe, had rendered -good service in the negotiation, and would continue to serve his -countrymen to the utmost of his power; yet it was felt that to -keep the Indians to their engagements an agent of still higher -personal character was required, and Father Jogues was assigned -to the duty. "I shall go," he wrote to a friend, "but I shall not -return." - -His mission was partly political, but mainly, of course, -religious. By the advice of an Algonquin convert, he exchanged -his cassock for a civilian's doublet, not wishing to irritate the -savages by a premature declaration of his heavenly message. He -held a council with the head men of the Mohawks, presented the -gifts of the Canadian government, and then set about founding a -new mission, to be called the Mission of the Martyrs. There were -three principal clans among the Mohawks--those of the Bear, the -Tortoise, and the Wolf. The first were bitter foes of the French, -and eager for war; the others stood out resolutely for peace. -Many were the fierce debates around their council-fires whether -the missionary should be killed or not. At last, one day, a band -of warriors of the Bear clan met the priest and a young lay -companion of his, named Lalande, in the woods, stripped them, and -led them in triumph to the town. There they were beaten with -sticks, and strips of flesh were cut from Father Jogues' back and -arms. In the evening, the priest was sitting in one of the -lodges, when an Indian entered and invited him to a feast. To -refuse would have been an insult. He arose and followed the -messenger to the cabin of the chief of the Bears. As he bent his -head to enter, a savage, concealed within, clove his skull with a -hatchet, the weapon cutting through the arm of an Indian who -tried to avert the blow. The martyr sank at the feet of his -murderer. His head was instantly cut off, and stuck upon the -palisade which enclosed the town, and his body was thrown into -the river. The next day Lalande was killed, and his remains -received the same treatment. - - -The murder of Father Jogues was the signal for a reopening of the -war with the colonists and their allies, and among the first -victims were the Algonquin converts. We have no space to relate -the story of the surprise of their villages, the shocking torture -of the captives, or the massacre of the children, the old, and -the infirm. But some of the prisoners escaped, and the adventures -of one of them were so interesting that we cannot resist the -temptation to copy them from the animated narrative of Parkman. -{205} -This was an Algonquin woman named Marie, whose husband had been -burned with other captives. One night, while the savages were -dancing and shrieking round the flames in which one of her -countrymen was being consumed, she stole away into the forest. -The ground was covered with snow, so, lest her footsteps should -betray her, she retraced the beaten path in which the Indians had -already travelled until she came near a village of the Onondagas. -There she hid herself in a thicket, and at night crept forth to -grope in the snow for a few grains of corn left from the last -year's harvest. She saw many Indians from her lurking-place, and -once a tall savage with an axe came directly toward her, but she -murmured a prayer and he turned away. Certain of death if -discovered, and disheartened at the prospect of the long and -terrible journey through the frozen wilderness to Canada, she -tried to commit suicide by hanging herself with her girdle, but -it broke twice, and she plucked up heart. With no clothing but a -thin tunic, she travelled on, directing her course by the sun, -and living upon roots and the inner bark of trees, and now and -then catching tortoises in the brooks. At night she kindled a -fire by the friction of two sticks in some deep nook of the -forest, warmed herself, cooked her food, if she had any, and said -her rosary. Once she discovered a party of Iroquois warriors, but -she lay concealed and they passed without observing her. -Following their trail, she found their bark canoe by the bank of -a river. It was too large for her to manage alone, but with a -hatchet which she had picked up in a deserted camp she reduced it -to a convenient size, and floated down the stream to the St. -Lawrence. Her journey was now much easier. There were eggs of -wild fowl to be found along the shore, and fish in the river, -which she speared with a sharp pole. She even killed deer by -driving them into the water, chasing them in her canoe, and -striking them on the head with her hatchet. At the end of two -months she reached Montreal, after hardships which no woman but -an Indian could have supported. - -The central mission of Sainte Marie was meanwhile in the flush of -prosperity. The buildings included a church, a kitchen, a -refectory, large rooms for spiritual instruction and the -exercises of retreat, and lodgings for at least sixty persons. -Around these principal houses ran a fortified line of palisades -and masonry, outside which was a hospital and a large bark hut -for the reception of wandering Indians. Here every alternate week -the converts from all the Huron villages gathered in immense -crowds to attend divine service, celebrated with all the pomp -which the resources of the mission allowed, and to partake for -three days of the bounteous hospitality of the good fathers. In -times of pestilence and famine they flocked hither for relief, -and at one time, in a year of scarcity, as many as three thousand -received food and shelter at Sainte Marie. Hither, also, two or -three times every year, the Jesuits--now twenty-two in number, -including four lay-brothers--came together from their outlying -missions, to refresh their souls by mutual counsel, and gather -strength in prayer and meditation for the work of the next twelve -months. To assist in the manual labor of the establishment there -were seven hired men and four boys, and as a defence against the -dreaded Iroquois the commandant of Quebec had sent them a guard -of eight soldiers. -{206} -They received also much valuable help from the _donnés_, or -"given men"--French laymen, who from pure zeal devoted themselves -to the service of the mission, travelling with the fathers on -their dangerous journeys, and sometimes sharing--like Goupil, -called "the good Réné"--in the glories of their martyrdom. These -pious men--"seculars in garb," Father Gamier called them, "but -religious in heart"--received no pay except a bare maintenance. -There were eleven smaller missions dependent upon Sainte Marie, -eight among the Hurons and three among the Algonquins. At several -of them there was a church where every morning a bell summoned -the dusky converts to Mass, and every evening they met again for -prayer. Despite the enormous difficulties of transportation -through that tangled wilderness, the fathers had found means to -carry with them from place to place large colored pictures, gay -draperies, and many a showy ornament for the altar or the walls, -which they well knew would invest their rude chapels with an -almost irresistible attraction for the savage mind. In many -villages the Christians, by the year 1649, outnumbered the -pagans. Sundays and feast-days were almost wholly devoted to -religious exercises; and if the Indians had not wholly abandoned -their barbarous and cruel practices, it is certain that the -ferocity even of those who refused to become Christians was -sensibly tamed. - -But the season of good fortune which followed the martyrdom of -Goupil and Jogues was destined to be but short. The increasing -hostility of the Iroquois was to be the destruction at once of -the Huron nation and of the high hopes which had been built upon -that people. Yet it may be questioned whether the Jesuits would -have long been left at peace even had these terrible foes kept -within the range of their own villages. Even among the Hurons the -murmurs of suspicion and dislike had begun to be heard again. The -French ceremony of "prayer," said the savages, had blighted the -crops, and the mystic rites of the priests had brought famine and -desolation upon the nation. There was even a story, widely -believed in the Huron lodges, that an Indian girl, baptized -before her death, had been to the French heaven, and, after -suffering horrible torments there from the pale faces, had made -her escape back to earth to deter her countrymen from rushing to -the same fate. A young Frenchman in the service of the mission -had been treacherously murdered; and though the missionaries by a -wise show of resolution had compelled the nation to make -satisfaction for the outrage by the ceremonious offering of -numerous strings of wampum, and had thus restored their waning -influence, it was clear that their position at the best was -extremely precarious, and that persecution, if it came not from -abroad, would pretty surely be commenced at home. The -catastrophe, therefore, when it came, found the priests not -unprepared. For years they had carried their lives in their -hands, ready to cast them down at any moment. For years they had -walked through the valley of the shadow of death, and in the -midst of the dark river and in the bitter waters they knew that -the almighty Arm was stretched forth to hold them up. - -The final act opened at the village of Teanaustayé, or St. -Joseph, on the south-eastern frontier of the Huron country. -{207} -On the 4th of July, 1648, Father Daniel, fresh from his annual -retreat at Sainte Marie, had just finished Mass, and his -congregation were still kneeling in the church, when the Iroquois -burst upon the town and attacked the palisade which surrounded -it. The priest, after rallying the warriors to defend their -homes, ran from house to house urging unbelievers to repent. A -panic-stricken crowd fell at his knees and declared themselves -Christians, and he baptized them with water sprinkled from a wet -handkerchief, for there was no time to do more. When the palisade -was broken down, he showed his flock how to escape at the other -end of the town. "I will stay here," said he. "We shall meet -again in heaven." He would not fly while there was a soul to be -saved in the village. In his priestly vestments he went out to -the church-door to meet the Iroquois. For a moment they paused in -amazement. Then, pierced with scores of arrows and a musket-ball -through the heart, he fell, gasping the name of Jesus. The -savages hacked his lifeless body, bathed their faces in his blood -to make them brave, and consumed in one great conflagration the -village, the church, and the sacred remains. - -The following March the missions of St. Louis and St. Ignace were -burned by the same terrible enemy. At the latter were two of the -Jesuits; Brébeuf, sturdy offspring of a warrior race, with all -the soldierly characteristics of his Norman ancestors; and -Lalemant, delicate in body and in spirit, yet in the glorious -cause no whit less courageous and resolute than his stronger -companion. They were seized by their captors, and Brébeuf was -bound to a stake, and, as he ceased not to exhort and encourage -the convert prisoners, the Iroquois scorched him from head to -foot to silence him. That failing, they cut away his lower lip, -and thrust a red-hot iron down his throat, yet still he held -himself erect without uttering a groan. Lalemant, led out to be -burned, with strips of bark smeared with pitch tied about his -naked body, broke loose from his guards and cast himself at the -hero's feet, crying out in a broken voice: "We are made a -spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men." He was -immediately seized and made fast to a post, and as the flames -enveloped him he threw up his arms to heaven with a shriek of -agony. Brébeuf, with a collar of red-hot hatchets round his neck -and with his hands and nose cut off, had to witness the tortures -of his friend and could not even utter a word of comfort. An -apostate Indian in the crowd cried out, "Baptize them! baptize -them!" Instantly kettles were placed upon the fire, the priests' -scalps were torn away, and scalding water was poured slowly over -their bleeding heads. Brébeuf's feet were next cut off, strips of -flesh were sliced from his limbs and eaten before his eyes, and -at last, when life was nearly extinct, the savages laid open his -breast, tore out his heart and devoured it, and thronged around -the mangled corpse to drink the blood of so magnificent and -indomitable a hero. His torments had lasted four hours. Father -Lalemant, though a man of extreme feebleness of constitution, -survived the torture seventeen hours, writhing through the night -in the most excruciating sufferings, until an Iroquois, surfeited -with the long entertainment, killed him with a hatchet. - - -This massacre was the death-knell of the Huron mission--of the -mission, that is to say, in the form and extent in which the -society had originally designed it. -{208} -Other villages were burned; two other missionaries, Gamier and -Chabanel, were martyred; the entire establishment was withdrawn -from Sainte Marie; and the miserable remnant of the Hurons was -scattered far and wide. A portion of them, after a winter of -starvation, embarked with the surviving missionaries for Quebec, -and near that city founded a settlement, in which the Christian -faith was preserved and is cherished to this day. Others -voluntarily abandoned their nationality and were adopted into the -Seneca tribe of the Iroquois, where eighteen years afterward many -of them were found to be still good Catholics. - - -The story which we have briefly traced in its most striking -outlines is but one chapter in the long history of the labors, -the sufferings, and the glorious achievements of the Jesuits in -North America. We would gladly have followed them further in -their journeys through the wilderness, traced them with a Huron -remnant in the far west, and lingered for a while about their -headquarters at Quebec watching the growth of the central -establishment which sent forth its apostles to the great lakes on -the one hand, and through the forests of Maine to the sea-coast -on the other. But we must bring our story to a close. The record -of their work has been well preserved in the three books whose -titles we have placed at the head of this article. The history by -Mr. John G. Shea, to whom Catholics in general and American -Catholics especially are under the deepest obligations for his -careful and successful researches, is the fullest and, we doubt -not, the most correct. The narrative of Mr. Parkman, which we -have followed closely, giving in some parts of our article merely -an abstract of what he has told in picturesque detail, is written -in a charming style, and is valuable as testimony to the exalted -character of the missionaries from one who has no sympathy with -their faith and is unable to appreciate their piety. - -The Iroquois, in destroying the Huron nation, and with it the -Algonquins, to whom the Hurons had hitherto served as a bulwark, -had destroyed the Jesuit scheme of a Christian Indian empire; but -the labor of the missionaries had not been in vain. The seed -which they had planted was not allowed to die. The exiles carried -the sacred deposit of faith with them in their wanderings, as the -Israelites in the wilderness bore the ark of the covenant. Years -afterward, when Father Grelon, one of those who escaped from the -Iroquois massacre, was travelling in the heart of Tartary, he met -a Huron woman who had learned the truth from him in the little -chapel at Sainte Marie, and after the final catastrophe had been -sold from tribe to tribe until she reached the interior of Asia. -She knelt at his feet, and in her native tongue, which she had -not spoken nor the priest heard for years, she made her -confession. Nor was it only in the fidelity of individuals that -the missionaries reaped their harvest. When, after the ruin of -their enterprise on the shores of the Georgian Bay, they sent -their undaunted preachers among that terrible people who had -wrought such havoc, how can we doubt that the blood of Brébeuf -and his brethren was permitted to fructify their labors, and that -the saintly men who gave their sufferings for the poor savage -during so many years pleaded and prevailed in the same great -cause after they had entered into their reward? - ------- - -{209} - - - Translated from Le Correspondant. - - Learned Women and Studious Women. - - By Monseigneur Dupanloup. - - (Concluded.) - - - VII. - - - Advantages of Intellectual Labor. - -I do not recommend self-culture merely for the personal -satisfaction of women, or in order that they may have mental -gratification. Study is evidently useful and important for the -accomplishment of important duties. Is it not a convenience, in -se a teacher or governess, for one's daughters to understand what -is called _le fond du métier_ better than they do, so that -one may superintend and direct them, and even if necessary, -supply their place? Should a mother give her children life and -then leave the duties of maternity in the hands of mercenaries, -no matter how conscientious and devoted they may be? - -But it is in relation to sons that maternal ignorance has the -most fatal results. Not only is a wife not consulted about her -boys, but, if she makes any objection to an irreligious school, -the husband answers: "I wish my son to have a career. I shall -place him where he will be prepared for it. You do not know even -the names of the sciences he must acquire--leave the direction of -his education to me." And when the little individual leaves -school, puffed up with conceit rather than with knowledge, and -the mother's Christian heart shows her the sophistry with which -her son's mind has been filled, she must keep silence for want of -one single fact, one precise _datum_ in her memory to oppose -to perilous errors. - -Often a father, engaged in some especial career, loses sight of -the literary or artistic movement which interests his son in -early manhood. Then is the time when an intelligent, -well-informed mother could initiate him in pursuits which she has -loved and cultivated all her life. She could point out to him -good authors and books worth reading, read with him, teach him to -reject dangerous writers and bad books, and stimulate his taste -for study, by directing it to noble objects. - -Surely a mother is bound to cherish the body and the soul of her -child. Indeed, her place may be more easily filled with respect -to the details of physical education, than to those of -intellectual and moral training. Many persons can assist her in -the former; with regard to the latter, she often stands alone, -and sometimes surrounded by obstacles. - -To follow a young man's mental development and course of study, -to watch over him and guide him with the authority belonging to a -rectitude of judgment which carries conviction along with it, and -to an enlightened understanding which unites with goodness in -inspiring admiration and confidence--all this presupposes a rare -combination of mental qualities. -{210} -How many mothers there are who lose their hold upon a son's soul -because they have not borne, nursed, reared, and nourished his -understanding as well as his physical being. To be a mother, a -mother in all the elevation, extent, and depth of that great -name! This aim alone justifies a woman's noblest efforts to -acquire the highest intellectual culture. - -But if you agree to favor the men development of women, for the -sake even of domestic usefulness, accept this development in its -completeness; do not impose upon it arbitrary limits. There are -minds that cannot unfold in mutilation or inaction, which need -expansion, as St. Augustine says, to become strong. - -A woman who, from a sentiment for art or literature, has -developed talent, does not lose, by becoming skilful, the -advantages that mediocre faculties would have given her. We may -feel sure that gifts of this nature answer to duties, and find -themselves in harmony with the providential destiny of their -possessors. - -I do not believe, with M. de Maistre, that science in petticoats, -as he calls it, or talent of any description whatsoever, makes a -woman less excellent as a wife or mother. - -Study renders a wife worthy of her husband if he is intelligent. -Union can hardly be preserved in a household unless community of -intellect completes that of affection. As a woman loses her -youthful charms, the worth of her mind must increase in her -husband's eyes, and esteem perpetuate affection. By that time the -husband, if he has ability, is entering upon the period of his -greatest activity, while too often the wife, brought up in the -severest principles and in habits of empty occupations, bores him -with her mechanical piety, her music, and her worsted work. A -crowd of engrossing duties gain ever stronger possession of the -husband, forming a circle which the unoccupied wife cannot -penetrate, and thus is brought about between them what one may -call a _mental separation_. - -On the other hand, a studious woman shares her husband's -preoccupation, and sustains him in his labors and struggles. She -follows her husband and precedes her son, occupying in the home -circle a lofty position that makes her an aid and adviser to its -master. She feels that he is proud of her, and needs her, but -this does not make her presumptuous. She leans securely on her -happiness, feeling confident that nothing can shake a union -formed upon a principle of perfect community of two souls and two -intelligences, feeling sure that her love will last as long as -the souls it unites. To a woman who is superior to her husband, -study gives an intellectual aliment without which she would feel -rebellious, and in such a household there may be great happiness -and tranquillity. Even in the case of a husband who is unworthy -of his wife, he is forced to respect her for the superiority of -her intellect. The standing which she earns for herself in the -world by her talent and virtue, wins his regard, and she at least -holds the honor of her family in her own hands. - -Woman, in becoming Christian, has become man's companion, -_socia_, and moreover an aid, assistant, support, and -adviser, _adjutorium_. Religion, while elevating her soul -and heart, has also rendered her mind capable of comprehending, -sometimes of equalling, but most especially of assisting the -intelligence of man. While leaving her physically weak, God has -implanted in her the germs of every greatness and every moral -power. -{211} -There has never been a noble work in which women have not -assisted; as the teachers of men, as their inspirers, and often -as the companions of their labor, the world has seen women devote -intellect and life to those whom they loved, dwelling on a level -with thoughts which, being confided first to them, had drawn a -swift and strong development from the double influence. Woman -owes to education the union of her intellectual life to that of -man. She has worked for him, she has worked like him for God, and -man has drawn a subtile growth from the frail creature entrusted -to his protection. - -I know nothing more generous than an intimacy that does not stop -at a conjugal union of interests or even of affections, but -passes on to the domain of thought. I have seen such unions. I -know too more than one father, who, notwithstanding his rare -intelligence, must have left the work of a lifetime unfinished -but for the aid of a mind placed at the service of his age and -infirmity by filial devotion. - -I believe that a woman's acquirements help her to fulfil great -duties toward her husband, and I know many men (no offence to M. -de Maistre) who could get along better with a _savante_ than -with a coquette. - -So far I have spoken of domestic life. Let us now examine the -question with regard to society, taking the following theses to -argue. - -I maintain that, if the world were more indulgent and refrained -from launching stupid anathemas at studious women, those who have -such tastes would indulge them without fancying themselves to be -extraordinary persons; and that they would infuse a certain life -into society, even if their number were limited. Perhaps the -standard of conversation, occupations, and ideas would rise, and -elevated subjects inspire more interest. Who would complain of -such a change? - -Instead of ending their education on a certain fixed day, and -throwing themselves heart and soul into society, young women -would preserve the habits of intellectual training; they would -carry on and complete for themselves, their husband and their -children the education already commenced; some cultivating art, -others writing or studying, others reading. Thus they would -become acquainted with the interests of religion and society; -with opinions and books and ideas in general circulation. Would -they not exercise a new and salutary influence at home and in the -world? - -But it is especially in the provinces that such aspirations are -severely criticised. Those women have small liberty to learn, and -still less to make use of their acquirements. The most tolerant -say, "Study on condition that you conceal what you learn. Your -whole inner life claims expansion and sympathy? Never mind that!" - -But if you forbid women to write or speak of the things that -interest them, how can you suppose they will have the courage to -work for the acquirement of knowledge that is to be buried for -ever in their own minds? - -And I repeat, if the standard of conversation could be raised a -little, drawn out of the monotonous circle in which it moves, -where would be the harm? Instead of seeking in society a sterile -distraction, and often finding _ennui_, if some intercourse -of mind at least, if not of heart and soul, could be established, -replacing town-gossip and dissertations on the fashions by -interesting and instructive conversations from which one could -derive the advantage that always results from effort made in -common to arrive at an appreciation of the beautiful, and of -noble ideas and interests, would not the change betoken genuine -progress? - -{212} - -This is to be found in some _salons_. There are homes where -young girls are not excluded from general conversation. They are -not, as elsewhere, banished to a corner of the drawing-room to -enjoy the privilege and habit of discussing together every sort -of nonsense, but are allowed to listen to anything that interests -them, and even to talk agreeably without being thought -conspicuous. This was the habit at M.----'s, where his two -daughters joined the most serious _réunions_, mingling in -very interesting conversations, or at least listening, and all -quite naturally, without pretension or pedantry. Those two young -girls have become very superior women. How many, on the other -hand, suffer from _ennui_ or become deteriorated, because -their active minds receive no nourishment! - -Is it then so difficult to prove that the intellectual -development of women through literature and the fine arts, far -from introducing a foreign element into their lives, or creating -necessities and interfering with duty, is, on the contrary, a -source of daily advantage to domestic life and to society? - -In the domestic circle, whose moral atmosphere they create as it -were, elevating or debasing by their influence, sentiments, -occupations, and ideas; and in society, where a well-directed -employment of their talents and cultivation would substitute -solidity for the hollow frivolity of the reunions of the present -day. "For three years I have seen society in the provinces," -writes to me a young woman. "It differs little from that of other -(provincial) places, I suppose. Ah me! sometimes at the end of -the day I sum up six or seven hours spent, with or against my -will, in gossip about my neighbors that, while compromising -charity, has exhausted the mind and narrowed the already narrow -horizon." - -Is there no middle course for women between the folly of -dangerous and frivolous amusements, such as balls and theatres, -and the insupportable bore of parties where long evening hours -are spent in the smallest of small talk? Efforts in a different -direction meet with success. Last winter, an intelligent and -religious woman, who likes society but does not dance, tried the -experiment in a provincial town. She conceived the idea of having -really good music in her drawing-room. Quartettes of Mozart and -Beethoven were played. The admiration aroused by these -_chef-d'oeuvres_ naturally lifted the mind above the level -of those common preoccupations that find their echo in society. -Conversation felt the influence; every one was delighted, and -brought away something from these _soirées_, where the sense -of beauty, while reasserting itself, awoke good thoughts and -strengthened noble sentiments. - -I think that, if women took thus the initiative, giving an upward -direction to that craving for recreation which we seek to satisfy -in society; if men found other ways of pleasing women, more -acceptable than insipidity and frivolity; perhaps worthless young -men would feel themselves less masters of the world, and clubs -would be less generally the refuge of gentlemen who find -themselves bored in drawing-rooms. - -If we could conquer the terrible prejudice that forbids a woman -to be well educated, to talk of or even appear interested in -serious things, there would be a goodly number who would take a -nobler aim and find pleasure in something better than dress. -Then, an intelligent woman would be no greater exception than one -who plays on the piano, and would not have those temptations to -pride, which are said to assail her in her position of -phenomenon. - -{213} - -We cannot destroy the world, but we can ameliorate it, by giving -it other attractions than those of idle or intoxicating pleasure. -Would not intellectual progress pave the way for moral progress? -I know _salons_ where, thanks to the dignity and -intelligence of the thoughtful, amiable hostess, great events, -noble ideas, and good works ever find an echo; where solid -conversation stimulates ardor for study, by opening broader -intellectual horizons, and where pure artistic emotions develop a -love of the beautiful. If a little more artistic and intellectual -life were introduced into Christian society, one would not feel -obliged to go to the theatre to catch a few _reflets_, as I -have heard said, even in families where religion was in other -respects quite faithfully practised. - -No doubt--and here I sum up the whole matter under discussion--no -doubt, intellectual culture may present three perils, but perils -easily guarded against. - -1st. A neglect of practical duties. This danger must be met by -fortifying practical education, by giving young girls habits of -order and of regularity, which double time and assign a place in -life to every duty; and above all, habits of practical and solid -piety, which means nothing else than a courageous fulfilment of -duty. - -2d. An exaltation of imagination, leading one to crave -intellectual enjoyments that cannot always be granted. - -Here again piety alone can preserve equilibrium. The important -point is, to make education respond to the gifts of God without -overloading or smothering them, for they usually bring with them -counterbalancing perils. Excessive culture is dangerous, -insufficient culture perhaps more so. - -3d. Pride. This must be prevented by good sense cultivated in a -Christian manner. It is to be remarked that, if mental culture, -like personal charms, can excite pride, study has at least a -counterpoise. It gives an enlightened seriousness to the mind, -while successes due to beauty and dress cannot but be frivolous -and mischievous. - -Pride, I acknowledge, affords a specious plea for the maintenance -of systems restricting feminine education. We would preserve to -them that modesty which is said to be their brightest ornament. I -agree that modesty is not only a virtue, but a great charm; but I -am by no means sure that _ignorance is its best guardian_. -Nay, taken in a certain sense, it is a pagan virtue, that is to -say, a false or very imperfect quality. Give to a woman, as you -would to a man, all the knowledge, capacity, development of which -she is susceptible; give her at the same time Christian humility, -and she will be adorned with a modest simplicity, truer and more -charming than that of the poor Hindoo woman who believes herself -to be an animal, rather superior to the creatures in her -poultry-yard, but very inferior in nature to her husband. This -enlightened humility is a genuine virtue, the mother of many -other virtues, the inspirer of a high degree of perfection. For -humility does not prevent our recognizing the progress we have -made. By opening our eyes to the merits of others, it shows us -our own defects; and if we were to attain the summit of human -ability, it would hold up an ideal superiority that should -stimulate effort without arousing either pride or discouragement. - -{214} - -We may be sure that a cultivated mind is of all others the best -fitted to a comprehension of duty. It is intelligent humilty, -that is to say, true modesty, which preserves us from pedantry. - -Vanity! That is the great danger, it is said. But the reputation -that a woman acquires by literary or artistic talent is not the -rock most to be dreaded. I say again that self-conscious beauty -and worldly triumphs fill the heart with a vanity that has no -corrective in the cause that produced it. - -Study and art, by elevating the soul, serve as a counterpoise to -the sentiments of vanity they may excite. I see no such safeguard -in successes won by advantages of another sort. - -All is summed up in saying that great gifts bring with them a -danger against which the mind must be fortified in advance by -education. Education must adapt itself to different natures: it -must, while developing the germs planted by God, direct this -development with firmness, averting perils and avoiding mistakes. -It must make the moral development keep pace with the mental; -preserving equilibrium between the ideal and the practical life, -which interfere with each other less than is supposed, and -accordance of which alone constitutes the dignity of existence. - -I confess that education is a more difficult and critical affair -when applied to a richly endowed nature; but it is also more -beautiful and consoling. - - - VIII. - - The Third Stage. - -I crave pardon of the ladies of the so-called _grand monde_ -for a truth, a painful truth intended solely for them. - -It is in the fashionable world that studious women are rarely -found, and that they are obliged to hide their worth. Strange -tyranny of fortune! It gives women leisure, and deprives them of -the right to use it for the development of intellect. It is to -you, fashionable women, that industry must be preached. Women -less wealthy do not generally need the exhortation. In modest -careers, where toil is the necessary condition of domestic -well-being, cultivated women are numerous. It is in the homes of -artists, scholars, physicians, lawyers, judges, professors, that -we most frequently find clever and studious women, conversant -with matters of art, possessed of real talent, highly educated, -but nicknamed by no one _femmes savantes_, because they are -the pride and treasure of home, and ensure by their intelligence, -domestic ease and comfort, nay, even a certain delicate luxury -that has nothing to do with riches, and can be purchased only by -feminine taste. The furniture is pretty in form, and gracefully -arranged; engravings recall favorite works of art, and reveal the -tastes and preferences of the household. Flowers, pictures, -books, music, and pretty work, all show the home to be one much -lived in, seldom left, where happiness is to be found. These are -not empty and magnificent establishments whose masters are always -absent, pursuing pleasure with a feverish activity, and flying -from the ennui of their _home_ except when the excitement of -refurnishing it attracts them, only to be driven away again when -the gilded ottomans are all in place. In these _modest_ -lodgings on the third story the mother is surrounded by her -children. She brings them up herself. Thank God! she must do so, -and great is her reward. She reigns over her children, and they -understand her merits and sacrifices, and love their mother -tenderly. They soon know the blessing of being born in a rank of -life where mothers cannot afford to pay servants, governesses, -and tutors to usurp their place. -{215} -What a difference there is between the two systems of education! -The sons rank first at college and at school; the daughters -receive superior educations that I would gladly propose as a -model to fashionable young ladies. They wish to equal the mother -who studies with them, directing and following their work with -sympathizing interest. The law of labor weighs more stringently -upon a mother than upon any other creature; the soul of her -children is the field that she must till by the sweat of her -brow; no other persons have received graces to enable them to -take her place, and if the most complete educations are to be -found in modest households such as I have described, it is owing -to maternal industry. How many young people acquire a coarse -taste for horses and dogs from the mercenaries who educate them! -A mother, in teaching her children, inculcates other tastes and -ambitions. Sometimes anxiety takes possession of her soul as she -asks herself whether she can arm their consciences with faith and -honor sufficient to give them courage to bear in their turn a -retired life and never consent to win fortune by a base action. -Then she redoubles her care of their education, knowing it is to -be their only dower, and becomes ever more attentive, virtuous, -courageous, in order to transmit to them her own admirable -dignity of soul, and merit for them this heavenly favor. - -And children who see their mother work, are secretly anxious to -comfort and reward her. A desire to do good is more vivid in -these abodes of modest happiness than elsewhere, and the joy of -duty fulfilled makes each one contented with his lot and at peace -with God. The whole day is one of activity; the father is at -work, the mother attends to her household duties or takes the -children to school or to catechism; and when evening comes, every -one is tired with the day's work and glad to stay at home. Then -comes the time for repose, children's games, talking, reading, -music, intimacy, and gayety; and the day closes peaceably without -that worldly bustle and excitement which put to a severe test the -virtue of even the most Christian women. - -A mother, thus occupied, never thinks of devoting herself to -matters connected with her personal interests. She has not the -time. Her girlhood, her early womanhood were spent in study. Now -she is given up to the service of others. But this disinterested -devotion, at once toil and sacrifice, is more elevating to both -soul and understanding than any other employment could be. No -danger of vanity or pedantry for her! and yet the instruction of -her children is a great work. One marvels at the physical power -that maternal love can give to a mother bent on carrying out her -duties completely. Never wonder to find her capable, elevated, -active, intelligent, indifferent to idle trifling and worldly -coquetry. - -In these modest households again, I find model servants. It is a -saying, nowadays, that there are no good domestics to be had. -People talk of the servants in old times. Read Molière and the -police regulations of the days of Louis XIV., and you will find -that the _grands seigneurs_ had worse attendants than we -have now. Old-fashioned servants have no more disappeared than -old-fashioned virtues. The virtues reign in simple, industrious -homes, and there too we must look for devoted domestics. Do not -expect hard work in the abodes of magnificent idleness. The -servants of the unoccupied soon become unoccupied themselves; -instinctively they imitate from a distance their master's -example, catch the tone of the establishment, and assume -irreproachable manners and lazy habits. -{216} -A servant knows very well when he is assisting in an ostentatious -parade. He is quick to abuse opportunities, and needs often, in -order to avenge himself for the inferiority of his position, -merely imitate his master, even with no intention of ridiculing -him. But a devoted and courageous woman who is the first to take -hold of work, transforms the souls of her domestics and raises -their service to the dignity of devotion. Of course, the -etiquette and perfect discipline that one admires in some -establishments are not to be found here. No! Good servants who -are not held in immeasurable distance from their masters, assume -another sort of livery, the livery of the virtues they see and -study closely. They breathe a healthy, strengthening air, and in -this atmosphere of industry, honesty, and confidence both masters -and servants are happy. Ah! I could mention splendid mansions -that are inhabited by _ennui_, (not to speak of discord,) -and I could tell of the happiness and dignity I have often -witnessed in the third story. - -But in justice it must be added that I have not always met these -virtues in the third story, nor _ennui_ and idleness in -grand establishments. There, too, when industry reigns, I have -seen great virtues. It must be said that all depends upon -education and habits. - - - IX. - - Bad Habits and Prejudices. - -But does education as it is bestowed to-day often accomplish -great things? I answer regretfully, No; too often the education -of the present day offers no such advantages. It cannot resist -worldly dissipation or the idle mockery lavished by empty -ignorance on studious women. Connected study and attentive -reflection are most of all wanting in the training of girls and -the mode of life adopted by young women. - -As Ozanam has said, a treatise upon instruction for girls and -young women is still to be written. The subject is in no respect -rightly understood; no durable fruit has yet appeared. - -I know young girls whose education in music and drawing had cost -twenty or thirty francs a lesson, cease cultivating these -expensive talents on the first day of freedom. - -I take a single instance. Most young ladies for seven or eight -years of their lives spend two and sometimes three and four hours -a day at the piano. But this study to which so much time is -given, and which opens glorious horizons to mind and soul, -generally ends in one of those _soulless talents_ spoken of -by Topffer, which borrow life from vanity only, talents useless -for any practical purpose, taking no root in the mind, and seldom -destined to survive the wedding-day. - -This charming author, rising up in indignation against the use -made in educating young people in the fine arts and of what are -popularly termed _talents d'agrément_, exclaims: "How much I -have seen of these charming talents and how little of their -charm! Young girls are interested in nothing, understand little, -feel not at all. I believe, however, that they might seek in -artistic pursuits, instead of mere amusing recreation, exercise -for the mind, expansion for the heart, development for the -imagination, and find in these faculties which are usually -destroyed or left idle by feminine occupations, a perfection that -would, as it were, clothe and adorn the soul." - -{217} - -But, as matters stand, music is a study, more or less mechanical, -that never reaches the soul, and seldom arrives at the commonest -comprehension of art. How many girls who pass their days at the -piano have neither sense nor appreciation of what they are doing! -"We had music," says P. Gratry, "a brilliant tinkling that did -not even rest one's nerves." Teachers are eager to impart a -facile execution, but there are few who seek to form a good -style, to make their pupils understand and appreciate composers, -or grasp the chain of musical ideas. - -People play on the piano without any comprehension of what they -are expressing; as one might recite poems by heart in a language -that one did not understand. In Germany, where music claims a -large share in the education of girls, it is treated more -seriously. Through the study of harmony they rise from mechanism -to art. - -Drawing is often equally misused. I have seen persons who drew -with exactitude and even with facility, and yet could not -distinguish good pictures from bad, or remember whether Raphael -was the master or the pupil of Perugino. Even talent had not -developed in them a sense of beauty. - -The world leaves the domain of music free to young girls on -condition that they shall derive no spiritual elevation from it -and merely waste a great deal of time. As to the plastic arts, -even a taste for painting arouses criticism, and M. de Maistre -shudders to see his daughter painting in oil. In one word, the -arts must be restricted to accomplishments, and sumptuary laws -even more severe enforced with regard to literary pursuits. - -Excepting in music and drawing a girl's education must be -finished at a certain age. "Ever since my eighteenth year," -writes a young friend, to whom I had recommended study, "if I -expressed a wish to study, I have been asked if my education was -not finished." Finish one's education! that means throwing aside -books, writing, embroidery, and accomplishments if one has any. - -But, we are told, young ladies learn a great variety of things -during the time of education. Quite true, and the very subject of -my complaint. They are not destined to pass examination for a -bachelor's degree, and their whole training tends to give them -general notions as shallow as they are widely diffused. Nothing -serious, nothing grave, nothing profound--a little of every -thing. In the words of an intelligent minister, "Who does not -know that what we gain in surface we lose in depth!" - -Beyond dispute the plan is comprehensive. I see many young girls -who, in addition to common studies, geography, history, rhetoric, -begin to learn one or two languages, play on the piano, take -singing lessons, draw and paint, and learn to do all sorts of -fancy work, as they succeed each other in the caprice of fashion -polychromania, leather flowers, etc., etc. Of course, a life of -efforts so scattered and diffused, can lead to no good result; -and I have heard wise instructors sigh over the obligation -imposed upon them of fulfilling such programmes. A little of -everything is studied and nothing properly learned; not one -talent or faculty developed, not one earnest taste acquired for -anything whatsoever. Such half talents and superficial tastes -achieve nothing. - -{218} - -If there be a danger in the study of art and literature, it is to -be found in stopping precisely at the point indicated by M. de -Maistre; at general notions, not solid acquirements; -accomplishments, not earnest talents; a lack of something to -elevate the soul and nourish the mind. Such smattering helps one -to make a momentary show, but not to accomplish anything or to be -any one. It indicates that nothing more will be acquired from the -moment of leaving the convent. - -Precisely the contrary is needed if one would train earnest and -assiduous women who may one day prove useful to their husbands -and children. - -It is difficult to explain why indulgence is shown or exception -taken by men of the world. They approve, and very properly, of a -girl's speaking two or three living languages. But if, in -accordance with Fénélon's advice, you learn a little Latin, hide -it as a sin, or be accounted a blue-stocking. You will hardly -obtain pardon for a taste for solid reading or historical -studies. I have heard of a young woman who drew upon herself that -sort of admiration that implies blame, from intelligent people, -because she was said to read _Le Correspondent_. The same -persons, on learning that she reserved the morning hours for -study, testified immense astonishment and treated her as a -_savante_. - -What may be called study--making abstracts or taking notes of -what one has read--is not considered proper for women, especially -in country towns. Reading is hardly permissible and only within -restricted limits. A lady of my acquaintance incurred general -censure because, during the first year of her married life, she -did not receive or make visits before four o'clock, that she -might reserve a few hours for study, in accordance, moreover, -with her husband's wishes. - -Young girls should regard the close of their first studies as the -commencement of a life-long work. Young women should, in the very -beginning of married life, establish study as one of the duties -of existence. Later, they are engrossed with the education of -their children, and can no longer work to please themselves. But -even then, the precious habit will cling to them as an -inestimable consolation to be enjoyed in every leisure hour. -Above all, it remains to fill the void that becomes so irksome -when children escape from the mother's guidance, and she once -more has freedom and leisure without youth, its joys or its -energy. - -Labor is a faithful friend that adapts itself to the age and -disposition of every being who takes it as a companion for life. - -That women may learn to value habits of industry, it is incumbent -on us to convince young girls that their education does not end -at eighteen, and that their first ball-dress has not, like a -bachelor's degree, the virtue of giving to learning its perfect -consummation. At that age they have barely information enough to -enable them to study alone. Leading-strings are no longer needed -in their education, and that is all. They are simply capable of -continuing their studies, and of enjoying the pleasure of -individual exertion. If a girl could be made to believe this, a -serious and earnest future would be secured to her. But the -present custom demands that she should study French and history -until she is fifteen, and from fifteen to eighteen, piano-playing -and drawing. Then comes a pink dress, the crowning glory of her -education, the great day so often dreamed of. She goes into -society and marries, determined to leave work behind her in -accordance with universal practice. -{219} -This is one of the joys of marriage--to do nothing--and so she -wastes a period most precious in a woman's life, a period when -she has leisure, and that flame that youth and happiness alone -can kindle; expansion of soul, the illumined eyes of the heart, -_illuminates oculos cordis_, as St. Paul says, giving to -toil facility, impetus, horizon, power. But so it is; all must be -lost, squandered, sunk in those early years, even happiness! -Study would have a secret power to draw this young creature from -the whirl of life, and give her the calmness and recollection she -so much needs, if merely to enjoy her blessings; but no, -everything must be frittered away and destroyed. - -Then follow years when the excitement of youth dies out, a void -is left, beauty vanishes, _ennui_ comes to take possession, -and there is nothing to dispute its sway. The children are in the -midst of their education, and need no looking after. A mother who -knows not the value of industry, is ever ready to excuse idleness -in her children, and notwithstanding this indulgence, her sons -think very little of their mother when they grow up, and soon -regard her as beneath them. - - - - X. - - Practice. - -But to come to practical results, what are the faculties to be -cultivated in women? The same as in men? Must they study the -exact sciences, politics, the secret of government, military art? -Are they to emulate Judith, Joan of Arc, Jeanne Hachette, -Hormengarde, foundress and regent of the second kingdom of -Burgundy, Marguerite d'Albon, Isabella of Castile, Maria Theresa? - -Certainly not. Women are to be enumerated who could be and have -been all this. Providence creates these extraordinary beings. But -though we recognize occasional vocations of genius, courage, and -virtue, it would be folly to educate women for careers so -exceptional. - -Women are physically weak, but their intelligence must not be -undervalued. They often have a great deal of mind and always a -fund of good sense, demanding nothing but use. Why wonder at all -I have implied? They acquire with remarkable ease. Who can fail -to recognize the keenness and delicacy of sensibility bestowed on -them by heaven, or the natural bent with which their souls turn -to the vivifying rays of beauty? - -I do not agree with a lady who wrote to me: "We skim over things -and seem to know them; we open a book, run through a few pages, -and are prepared to discuss it, to give praise or blame, -recommendation or warning." I do not grant this. But beyond -dispute, they have great facility for everything. It costs them -little to assimilate to themselves required information, to make -something out of nothing, and a great deal out of scant material. -God, not destining them to long and abstract studies, has endowed -them with marvellous perspicacity and intuition. They rarely -speak of business because it fatigues and bores them; yet if -circumstances demand their participation, how useful and sensible -they almost invariably prove themselves! Generally, the -restoration of family property is due to them; when left widows, -they rebuild the fortunes of their children. - -It is to be understood that in this vindication, as it were, of -woman's right to intellectual culture, I give to study only its -due share in the occupations of life. Clearly, household cares -and home duties have a superior claim; husband, children, -domestics, must be the first interest of a woman who understands -the hierarchy of her duties. -{220} -My advice, if it must be precisely defined, would be, that she -reserve at least two hours--if possible, three hours--of each -day, for life, for intellectual culture. - -So long as women content themselves with reading, looking, and -listening, no great opposition is made, and men willingly grant -them a place among their auditors. But if the profound emotions -of the interior life seek a fuller development; if they seek in -the absorption of pursuits answering to their spiritual -aspirations an echo that the soul misses in the external world, -then society rises up in judgment. - -Some women are born artists, that is to say, they are possessed -by a craving to give form to thought, to a feeling for beauty -which penetrates them, and that too under conditions suitable for -the development of this side of their nature. But it is precisely -this exercise of the creative faculty which is denied them, and -which I wonder to see withheld, since the gift comes from God -himself. - -Vainly does M. de Maistre maintain that "women have never -produced a masterpiece, and that in wishing to emulate men, they -become apes." Vainly does he add with unbecoming impertinence, "I -have always thought them incomparably handsomer, more attractive, -and more useful than apes. I only say and repeat, that women who -would make men of themselves are nothing but apes." Or again, "A -woman's _chef d'oeuvre_ in science is to understand the -works of men." - -But soon M. de Maistre contradicts and refutes himself: "We must -exaggerate nothing," he says, "belles lettres, moralists, great -orators, etc., suffice to give women all the culture they need." - -A little later, he congratulates himself on having a daughter, -who reads and appreciates St. Augustine, and who "passionately -loves beauty of every kind; recites equally well Racine and -Tasso; draws, plays, sings very prettily; and, as in her voice -there are low chords that pass beyond the feminine range of tone, -so are there in her character certain grave fundamental -qualities, that belong especially to our sex, and which dominate -the rest of her nature." - -This is enough; my discussion with M. de Maistre is ended. We -entertain, in fact, the same views, and I now address myself -merely to worldly prejudice. - -We have then, even in M. de Maistre's estimation, as studies -possible for women: - -1st. Belles lettres, literature both light and serious, a wide -field and one as attractive as it is extensive. The range of -history alone is immense. There is a philosophy, too, which the -feminine mind is fully capable of grasping, and whose essential -ideas are necessary to fix its natural mobility and insure to it -correctness of thought. Teach a woman to reason justly, and -consequently to give precedence to duty in all things, and you -have secured the essential part of education as it is needed in -every class and condition of life. - -2d. The arts--so admirably suited to their imagination, to the -delicate grace of their nature. And here I must remark that we -unhesitatingly leave open to female competition the most perilous -of the fine arts, the one least compatible with their duties and -vocation, while shutting them out from the pure and lofty regions -of the intellect. Many detractors of women, who cultivate or -criticise art, would on no account suppress public singers or -actresses. - -{221} - -But, you will tell me, that it is precisely because female -_artistes_ are more or less degraded that virtuous women -should not become _artistes_. I think as you do, and more -strongly than you, yet I cannot help seeing that you recognize -the fact of women's capacity to rise in art, since a few among -them have received the gift of inspiration. If they have received -this gift, it must be used; honestly and nobly of course, but -used. The fact you advance brings its own application. - -3d. If a woman can express the beautiful, she can do so through -all the languages of the beautiful. Art is identical in -principle, whatever be the mode of its expression. Painting, -music, poetry, eloquence, the expression of beauty through an -exquisite style, or through the accent of an inspired voice, is -always beauty bound within the limits of a sensible form to -render it perceptible to the soul through the medium of the -senses. Each one must clothe it in a form not self-chosen. If you -open to woman the most dangerous and frivolous of all the arts, -why close to her the others? Because she sinks with the art that -ministers to your pleasure, is it impossible for her to rise with -noble, true, serious art? If a woman can be a _cantatrice_, -she can be a musician in the elevated sense of the word, a writer -or a painter. - -Many men affirm authoritatively that women cannot and should not -write. It is surprising that a question so easily settled for -some persons should be so often discussed. Equal pains have not -been taken to prove that women cannot be generals or ministers, -yet I am not aware that the example of female warriors has been -often claimed by their peers. - -The present day is an ill chosen time to contest women's right to -authorship, when the three works most generally read are _Le -Récit d'une Soeur_, the writings of Eugénie de Guérin, and -Madame Swetchine's Letters. - -In becoming writers women do not infringe on the rights of men. -"They do not seek to emulate man;" and when all is said, what is -it, that M. de Maistre calls "emulating man"? Is it desiring to -do all that he does? Of course not. Certain pursuits exclusively -belong to him, and are not to be cultivated by women. But if -there are points of separation, there is also a common domain -where all souls may work together. The most natural is that of -art and literature. Even here it may be that woman's field is -more restricted than that of man; but she will find her place, -and perhaps a place that men could not so well fill. - -There are differences between the masculine and the feminine -intellect; and it is on this fact that M. de Maistre founds his -assertion that because one sex can write the other cannot. We may -found upon it a different conclusion, that, bringing another kind -of genius into intellectual regions, women will cultivate them -after a fashion of their own, adapting their talents in -preference to more delicate subjects. In a concert all dissimilar -voices must be moulded together: why should not women bear their -part in the great harmony of human thought expressed through art? -There are notes they only can reach. Silvio Pellico says -something similar when, after vainly trying to give women a -pendent to the _Treatise on the Duties of Men_, he exclaims! -"Only a woman could write such a book." In a woman's writing -there is always a certain touch that reveals her sex. A female -author must ever remain a woman. Thus may we reassure the -susceptibilities of M. de Maistre and quiet our own fears as to -the result of wishing to emulate man. - -{222} - -"Woman is a weak creature, ignorant, timid, and indolent," says -Mme. de ----; "possessed of violent passions and petty ideas, a -being full of inconsistency and caprice. ... Capable of -displaying charming defects every day of her life; a treasure of -cruelty and of hope." Then mourning over the almost complete -disappearance of this type, she seeks an explanation of the fact: -"Women have lost in attractions what they have gained in virtues. -... Woman was not made to share men's toils, but to afford them -recreation." And, finally, summing up in one word the errors that -have ruined her sex, she exclaims indignantly, "Woman has aspired -to be the companion of man." - -Thus, to be a companion instead of a plaything, a Christian -rather than a pagan, a being to be respected, trusted, relied -upon, rather than one who holds you by a passing attraction, -amusing you by her frivolity, and distracting you from graver -thoughts--this is a culpable mistake of judgment, and moreover, -it is a woman who dares to bring forward such a doctrine. - -4th. In my first letters I gave it as my opinion that, in a -measure, a woman could occupy herself with sciences, and even -with agriculture. The latter assertion provoked some surprise. -Let me answer them by a few fragments of a letter written to me -upon the subject, by a very sensible and distinguished woman: - - "How wisely, monseigneur, you have advised women to interest - themselves in business matters and other serious subjects, even - studying agriculture. My own observation confirms your opinion. - At present, while my son is in the service, and I am separated - from all my family, living in the country, and almost always in - _tête-à-tête_, what would become of me if my mother had - not given me the habit, from childhood, of interesting myself - in every thing about me? Agriculture, with its obstacles and - its progress, affords an inexhaustible source of conversation - with one's husband, with cures, village notaries, farmers, - country neighbors, and _petits bourgeois_. It is a less - inflammatory subject than politics, and one that adapts itself - to every understanding. My husband does not disdain to discuss - crops and manuring with me--I have my own theories upon - drainage, beets, [Footnote 32] and cabbages, [Footnote 33] and - he finds me very progressive in my ideas, perhaps too much so; - he, however, never builds a stable without consulting me, and - before a lease is signed, I must hear it read several times. I - believe it to be very important to themselves and to their - children that women should understand business, the investment - of funds, the management of property. They should not - _decide_, but listen and advise. Husbands, generally, ask - nothing better than to talk openly of these things, because - such subjects interest them more than any others; but usually - no one listens. When a man meets with yawning inattention, all - is over; he has recourse to silence, adopts the habit of - managing everything for himself, of following his own bent. In - the beginning, a young husband is full of confiding openness; - later, he becomes more suspicious of control which wounds him - in proportion as it is needed. Capacity and earnestness are - indispensable to a woman." - - [Footnote 32: La bette rave, the kind of beet from which - sugar is made, and therefore an important subject to theorize - upon. Berthollet is said to have lost his place by failing to - answer satisfactorily a question suddenly put to him by - Napoleon, concerning la bette rave.] - - [Footnote 33: Colza, a cabbage used for making oil, and a - topic almost as engrossing as beets.] - -{223} - -I ask that women should be allowed to cultivate any art or -science they may choose, and even aim at some eminence in its -acquirement, without being annoyed in their honorable pursuit by -the terrible anathema which the world launches against (for once -we will use the coarse expression) _blue-stockings_. -[Footnote 34] If there are women who, while attending thoroughly -and seriously to their household affairs, rise above material -life by a love and appreciation of the beautiful, seeking therein -a delicate pleasure and pure emotions, enjoying the cultivation -of the soul, and listening attentively to the claims of truth and -goodness, it is a shame to cast reproach upon them. - - [Footnote 34: In the language of unreflecting persons who - instinctively love to attack every thing elevated, perhaps in - order to drag others down to their own level, the word - "blue-stocking" signifies a woman who reads, and greatest of - all offences converses.] - -5th. Above all things should rank the earnest study of religion. -I dwelt long upon this subject in my "Letters to Men and Women of -the World;" I will therefore simply say that it is above all in -the higher classes, where fortune authorizes a free use of the -luxury of education, that religious instruction should be pushed -as far as the individual capacity of man and women allows; -doctrine, proofs of religion, explanation of ceremonies, church -history, selected works of the fathers, great pulpit orators, -lives of the saints, etc., etc. all this I have explained and -taught in detail. In a course of education there should be an -appropriate progressive study of all that concerns religion. -Religious facts are so intimately connected with those of modern -history, that one can sometimes have a true idea of the latter -only by becoming acquainted with the former. - -The objection of want of time, the grand objection so often -brought forward, remains to be examined. Have women the time to -devote to intellectual pursuits? Let us be honest and confess -that there are two obstacles to the leisure required: talking and -dress. - -Yes, the great misfortune of women is, that they indulge in long -hours of conversation among themselves, and about what, if not -dress, gossip, and housekeeping? - -Now, nothing lowers the mind and soul like talking about trifles -for hours, and there is but one method of remedying the evil; -increase the time devoted to study, thus shortening in an equal -degree the hours frittered away in conversation, and supplying -mental food far superior to the vulgar subjects that now exhaust -so many minds and souls. - -As for dress, too much cannot be said against it, not only as a -cause of ruin to women of the world, but as a dissolvent of all -earnestness even among virtuous Christian women. - -Dress! That is what wastes the time and exhausts the spirit of -women; that is what takes them from their domestic duties, and -not these poor calumniated books. Every attentive observer will -recognize, as I do, that it is a taste for the world and for -dress that detaches them from home interests far more than a -taste for study. - -For my own part, I can assert that the truly superior women I -have known, those whose superiority was genuine and not a -pretence or an affectation, were models of practical wisdom. - -There are, on the other hand, certain households admirable in -every respect but one--that on an average they discuss dress four -or five hours a day. The mother of the family is a woman of great -merit and virtue; she dresses with great simplicity; and yet -there are no preoccupations so serious, no anxieties or -sufferings so pressing, that they cannot be dissipated at least -for the moment by the interest of ordering a new gown or bonnet. - -{224} - -These affairs are of vast importance; life slips away while the -mind is wasting itself in their service. - -Mothers of great merit teach their daughters to consider dress as -one of their interests and principal duties, discussing and -letting them discuss _toilette_ for hours every day, and -judging every earthly thing from the standpoint of -_toilette_. The business of dressing, shopping, choosing -materials, talking with shopkeepers and dressmakers, and the time -passed by young girls, and even young women, with lady's maids in -more confidential intercourse than is becoming; these are in -truth the great obstacles to habits of industry. - -But leaving the subject of frivolous persons and unoccupied -lives, how, you will ask, can a mother who owes all her time to -her family find leisure to study? - -It is hardly necessary to remark that I am speaking of women in -easy circumstances, for the reason that they especially have the -means of putting in practice these suggestions. Poor women who -earn their bread by the sweat of their brow, are not less -precious in the eyes of God or in our own than the favorites of -fortune; but daily toil can hardly leave them opportunity to -cultivate their minds. And yet even among them there are many not -called upon to support their families who, without being rich, -keep one domestic, or do the housework themselves with ease and -quickness, and thus have nearly as much leisure as women of -wealth. How many women there are in business, shop-girls, for -instance, or bookkeepers, who surely have time for reading, since -they do read--and read--what? - -It is well known that a taste for reading is now penetrating even -into country villages, affording a means of spending pleasantly -the long winter evenings. There are useful directions, an -elevated impulse to be given to the class of women of whom we -have just spoken; but however worthy of interest such a subject -may be, it is not our present theme. Perhaps we may enter on it -at some future day. - -We address ourselves then to women in easy circumstances. Can the -head of a grand establishment, a wife, a mother, find time to -study. - -Beyond a doubt, yes! To begin with, she can devote to study the -time that other women give to worldly entertainments that consume -their nights, and to personal adornments that devour their -fortunes. They can lay aside all the pursuits that, while -absorbing them without offering any advantage, prepare them ill -for the duties toward their children that belong to them as -mothers of immortal souls. - -Does not the secret of living lie in the reconciliation of -apparent difficulties? Do not duties, tastes, affections often -appear to contradict each other? I have often seen that habits of -orderly activity combined with a simplicity that suppresses -useless exactions multiply an industrious woman's hours and make -it possible to meet every demand. It is a woman's science to -understand how to give herself and yet reserve herself: a science -composed of gentleness and activity, of devotion and firmness, -whose first result is the retrenching of idle indulgences, and -the keeping within due bounds the tribute to be paid to the -claims of society. - -{225} - -In preceding writings I have shown in detail that there are more -empty hours, even in a busy woman's life, than is supposed. When -once her children are grown up, she has often too much liberty on -her hands. I once knew a lady who had six children. Her two elder -sons were at a boarding-school; her three daughters passed the -whole day with their governess; even the youngest had his lesson -hours. This lonely mother said to me mournfully on one occasion, -"I pass the whole day alone with my sewing, and poor company it -is;" and she was reduced, poor lady, to seeking outside -distractions, innocent but futile. If she had had a taste for -study and habits of industry, she would not have been driven from -home. Study makes women love their homes, the attraction of work -commenced always drawing them thither. How little need of visits -and society such persons feel! It is a joy to steal off to one's -room and continue one's reading or drawing. It is with a light -step that one turns toward home when heart and life are filled -with a love of study instead of with an immoderate, ruinous taste -for dress and luxury. - -Much firmness, sweetness, and perseverance are necessary to -secure one's liberty in a household, to make one's working hours -respected, without failing in any other duty; in one word, to -give and reserve one's self discreetly. It is a question of -degree, like most other questions of conduct. But, in order to -acquire courage for the struggle, women must be very sure that -the right is on their side. They are too apt to mistake for a -mere personal taste the duty of cultivating their mental -faculties. - -I have given strong and unanswerable arguments for the necessity -of a rule of life. But in this, as in every human affair, -temperament must be consulted. Though it may easily be made an -illusion and a convenient pretext to cover self-indulgence, yet -one can easily believe that some women, with the best will in the -world, must plead the impossibility of having a rule of life, or -must submit to see it violated so often as to become a dead -letter. - -The mistress of a household rises in the morning, she feels -unwell, or her husband comes in to discuss plans, business, no -matter what; work-people, children little and big, invade her -room: the mother of a family has not an hour when she can shut -herself up and forbid intrusion. There are women and even girls -whose lives slip away under the oppression of these absolutely -tyrannical customs, from which it is the more difficult to escape -because they assert themselves in the name of devotion and -domestic virtue. - -If we tell these young people, "crushed and flattened out," as M. -de Maistre expresses it, "under the enormous weight of nothing," -to create an individual life for themselves, and seek occasional -retirement, they answer: "But I cannot; I have not one moment -absolutely my own. If I leave the parlor, my room is invaded; -somebody wants to speak to me, and so somebody stands about for a -quarter of an hour and then sits down. Then some one else comes, -and so the time is devoured. With all the efforts in the world to -keep my patience, I cannot conceal the annoyance this is to me -skilfully enough to avoid being voted a strong-minded woman," -[Footnote 35] the correlative term of blue-stocking. - - [Footnote 35: Caractère roide, femmes affairée.] - -Very well, I say, for want of regular hours let a woman devote -odd minutes to study. There are always some in the busiest lives; -moments that occur between the various occupations of the day; -and she must learn to work by fits and starts, in a desultory -fashion. There is a wide difference between the woman who reads -sometimes and the woman who never reads. - -{226} - -If the desire to reserve a short time for study led to nothing -more than the acquisition of the _science of odd minutes_, -the result would be very important. _The science of odd -minutes!_ It multiplies and fertilizes time, but books cannot -impart it. It gives habits of order, attention, and precision -that react from the external upon the moral life. The most -cheerful women, the most equable, serviceable, and, I may add, -the healthiest women, are those who are intelligent and -industrious, and who, through the medium of a well-ordered -activity, have discovered the secret of reconciling the duties -they owe to God, to their families, and to themselves. - -Between the spiritual and the material life, which answer to two -orders of duty, the intellectual life must have its place; a -place at present usurped by frivolity. - -The intellectual life should be the porch of the spiritual life, -material existence the support and instrument of the other two. -But alas! it is far otherwise. Material existence usurps, -suffocates, extinguishes the light of mind and soul. Art and -literature elevate the heart, excite a distaste for gross -enjoyments, and spiritualize life. They afford nourishment to -mental activity, which is now the prey of levity, especially -among women, seducing them to vain and dangerous pleasures. All -grand and beautiful things, so worthy of the human intellect, -betray the emptiness of material enjoyments, ennoble the soul and -lead it to heights that approach heaven. - -The culture of art and letters would occupy the feminine -imagination profitably. It would create, or rather reveal to -women admirable resources conducive to happiness, virtue, in -short to a complete existence; whether in society, where woman's -influence can elevate or debase ideas, occupations, interests, -and sentiments; or at home, where talents and information, while -conferring a great charm, would render her more skilful in the -direction of children and in the exercise of salutary influence -as a wife. - -Thus the intellectual and the spiritual life would be united -under the blessing of God; thus we should find in the various -classes of society, intelligent Christian women, elevated above -frivolity, capable of sustaining and inspiring every noble idea, -every useful effort, every productive life; women who at home and -in the world would be more enlightened, energetic, influential, -estimable, forceful than the women of the present day. - --------- - -{227} - - Baby. - - -I've got a baby, you know. There! if you laugh, I'll not tell you -a single word about it. _You won't laugh any more?_ Very -well; then don't. My dear old toad--husband, I mean--Dan, who is -the born image of baby--oh! yes, a very pretty _ruse_, -indeed, pretending to blow your nose. Can't I see you laughing -behind your handkerchief? _I've got sharp eyes!_ Of course I -have. All mothers have. Now, be good, and sit up like a man, -and--there--don't be putting your hand up that way over your -face, because I can see clean through it. What do you say? -_Good gracious!_ That remark is not appropriate. However, I -forgive you, for it might be if you knew what I'm going to tell -you. My dear old toa--husband--is so fond of baby that I don't -think I am fonder of him myself; and that is saying all I can -say, and all I could wish to say, because baby's me, and I'm -baby, as I love to imagine sometimes when I ask myself how much I -want Dan to love his foolish little wife and Our Baby. Really, -please don't hold your breath in that style; I'm always -dreadfully frightened when baby does it. - -Now, husband loving baby and me as he does, there's not the least -doubt in the world that I am the happiest little woman, and the -most contented little wife, that the world ever saw. Perhaps I -may exaggerate, but ask dear Dan. If his opinion differs from -mine, I'll modify it; for _I_ think he has the best judgment -of any man I ever saw. "Tot," he often says, (the dear old toad -always calls me Tot, because I'm small,) "my opinion coincides -precisely with yours, and, if I have any amendment to make, I -feel sure that you yourself would have made it under the -circumstances." Of course, I ask if any amendment occurs to -_his_ mind. Then he tells me, and, in fact, I see that it is -just such an amendment as I _would_ make under the -circumstances. Oh! he has the most perfect judgment, has my -husband. He not only knows what is best, but he knows just what I -would think best. For instance, about what name baby should be -christened. If it was to be a boy, I settled at once in my mind -that he should be called Daniel, after his papa, to be sure. To -think of any other name would be sheer nonsense. But now see the -judgment of my old toad. "I was thinking just the same as you, -Tot," said he, "and your choice of my own name for the little -stranger is the very one I had hoped you would choose; but, -knowing how much you and I loved poor brother Alf--who was -drowned at sea--I determined to renounce my name in his favor, -and so dear brother Alf with his sunny face would live again in -our child. If little Tot thinks of that, she will be sure to -agree with me." _Did I agree with him?_ Of course I did. -What foolish questions you men will ask. I'd no more think of -calling him Daniel after that, than of calling him, -well--Nebuchodonosor--or some other such heathen name. So the -priest christened him Alfred. - -Oh! we had such fun at the party. Old Mr. Pillikins--the old -gentleman, you recollect, you met here last winter, with the gold -spectacles and shiny bald head--was so droll. -{228} -He wanted to drink baby's health, but somehow he had not heard -his name, so looking over to me he says: - -"And his name is--" - -"Begins with an A," said I. - -"Begins with an A," he says after me. "Good, very good. First -letter of the alphabet, where all good children ought to begin, - - 'A was an apple that hung on a tree:' - -and the second letter is--" - -"Is L, to be sure," said I. - -"L! what else could it be?" Mr. Pillikins accented the word -_else_, and then, after he had explained it to us, we had -such a good laugh. Wasn't it an excellent pun? Then he thought he -had it. So, taking up his glass in his right hand and putting the -thumb of his left hand in the armhole of his waistcoat, he says; - -"Alexander!" - -"No, no," says I, "_not_ Alexander." - -"_Not_ Alexander! True," says he, putting his glass down -again. "I was about to add that Alexander had an A and an L, but -did not have an--" - -"F after it," cried Mrs. Gowsky, from the bottom of the table. - -"Madam, you are quite right," replied Mr. Pillikins, bowing. "It -has not an F after it, as the baby's name undoubtedly has, and -the _ef_fect is certainly, more in_ef_able on account -of it. Ha, ha! you understand?" Never was there such a punster as -the old gentleman. "And then follows a--" - -"All the rest," said I, "is just what you did with your -_Herald_ this morning, Mr. Pillikins. What was that?" - -"Madam, I tore it up." - -"No, no. What was the first thing you did with it?" - -"Madam, I dried it before the grate. The newspapers nowadays come -so damp to one that it is enough to give one the gout in the -fingers to hold them." - -"Think again," I continued. "What did you do with it after having -dried it?" - -"Madam, I glanced over its contents, and--" - -"O you tease!" said I, "you didn't do anything of the kind. You -read it. There!" - -"Yes, madam. I read it." - -"Well, there's the baby's name, then," I exclaimed, almost losing -my patience. "Don't you see?" - -"Positively, madam, I did not. It is not the fashion to record -births nowadays. Only the marriages and deaths." - -"Well," said I, after the laugh this raised had somewhat -subsided, "It might have been recorded there, for all I care. It -would have been a happy piece of information, and giving a good -example--" Now what are you laughing at?--"A happy piece of -information," says I, "and that's more than can be said of many -other items to be found in its columns." - -Having got at the name, at last, Mr. Pillikins made a very pretty -speech, at which everybody clapped their hands and smiled, and -everything went off pleasantly, except Mr. Gowsky's son, Peter, -who broke his wine-glass by hammering it on the table, and then -fell backward, sprawling on the floor, from a bad habit he has of -tilting his chair up. He scared baby so, that, to tell the truth, -I had no pity for him in his confusion, and rather enjoyed his -blushes, which never left him all the rest of the evening. - -_I am malicious?_ Not I; but a poor, dear baby that cannot -protect itself must not be abused with impunity. I was near -fainting with fright, too, when I heard the sound; for I thought -it must be the baby that had fallen out of its nurse's arms. -{229} -_First thought always about baby?_ To be sure, bless his -little heart, and the last too! You can sit there twiddling your -thumbs as if you did not agree with me; but I don't mind you; for -what do you know about babies? Dan says, and very truly, that a -mother whose first and last thought is not about her baby is not -likely to give much thought at all, either first or last, to her -husband. I can't understand it; but Dan tells me that nowadays -Protestant wives have a horror of babies. I never thought of it -before; but there is Mrs. Johnson, she has only one child; and -there is Mrs. Thompson, who has but two; and Mrs. Simpson, who is -married now six years, and has no children at all. It is so all -through the Protestant community, Dan says; and that there are -actually more Protestants die than are born. It must be their -religion, I suppose, but I cannot imagine how a woman, if she had -no religion at all--and the Protestants have got some kind of one -or other--could hate babies. - -As for me, I can hardly tell you how much I love baby, and how -proud I am of him; and well I may be. Dinah Jenkins, his nurse, -says that she has nursed a good many babies, but such a baby as -Our Baby she never yet saw. - -"Hi, missus," said she one day, "dis colored woman t'ought she -knowed all kinds o' babies as ever war or ever could _be_. -G'way, Dinah, says I, soon as I luff my eyes on to _dis_ -child," (that's Our Baby,) "dis baby ain't no mo' like de babies -you's nussed, an' I'se nussed a heap on 'em in my time, -dan--dan--stick yer head in de fire!" And as I often say to dear -Dan, she is the most truthful woman I ever met. - -_Have I a black woman for a wet-nurse?_ No, I have'nt a -black woman for a wet-nurse, nor a white woman either. Oh! you -are _such_ a stupid! - -I am the child's mother, am I not? That's enough. I hope I shall -never be reduced to such an extremity as that. I pity poor -mothers who are. If you were a mother, you would say the same. -_People have wet-nurses?_ Yes, just as they have the cholera -or the typhoid fever, I suppose, because they cannot help it. As -to any woman, any mother, choosing to have one, I should say that -is the sheerest nonsense ever dreamed of. _Great people have -them, queens and empresses, and I needn't be above them?_ -Thank Heaven, I am neither a queen nor an empress, but the -devoted wife of my dear old toad of a husband, Dan Gaylark, and -the mother of Our Baby! - -What is that you are saying to relieve your mind? _Good -gracious!_ You have made that remark once before, and equally -to the point, as it seems to me. I was going to tell you all -about the baby, but you are such a tease, Ned, and interrupt one -so often with your exceedingly strange remarks, that I feel very -much as one might suppose the "skirmishun" train feels in being -"generally switched off into a sidin'." But, when I'm not -switched off, I am good as the "skirmishun" at any rate. I "doos -all as lays in my power" to get on. I suppose you call yourself -the express train that is too proud even to whistle a salute in -passing a poor, heavy-laden freight train, and utterly despises a -modest country station as it goes thundering by, as if that was -no place fit for its majesty to "stop at and blow at," as -Professor Haman says in his _Cavalry Tactics. I study military -tactics?_ Yes, infantry tactics, you rogue, under Mrs. -Professor Dinah Jenkins; but I read that in a book of Dan's one -day. Dan has a great fancy for horses and dogs. _Which of -course, I'm jealous of?_ Not the least. It only makes me love -horses and dogs more than I otherwise would. -{230} -_Simply because Dan loves them?_ Simply because Dan loves -them; and if that is not good enough reason, I don't know what -is. Ah! smile away as you please. What do _you_ know about -it, you wretched old bachelor! - -Here! Dixie! Dixie! Dixie! Come here, you good-for-nothing old -black ---- There, then, that's enough now. Say "How d'ye" to Mr. -Ned. Oh! you needn't be afraid of him. He barks loud, I know, but -he won't bite. And he is _so_ knowing. I sometimes wish he -did not know quite so much. And so affectionate. He takes a great -fancy for everything he sees that Dan and I are fond of. I do -think he would die for baby any day. Yes, you would, wouldn't -you, you dear old fellow? There, you see, he says yes; he always -grins and wags his tail that way when he wants to say yes. - -It was about Dixie and baby I was going to tell you. He was so -fond of baby that he wanted to take him out to walk and play with -him on the Palisades. Ah! I shudder when I think of it. - -You recollect that hot Thursday in July? The very air seemed to -be holding its own breath. I felt so oppressed with the heat and -the closeness of the atmosphere that I could bear the inside of -the house no longer, and after taking a look--_and a -kiss?_--yes, and a kiss of baby, who was sleeping soundly in -his cradle, I went out to saunter down the shady lane that leads -to the Palisades. I noticed that Dinah was asleep in a chair, -too, beside the window, and thought that, if she could sleep in -such weather, it was a mercy, and so I left her undisturbed. As I -went out of the room, I left the door open, so that, if any -little breeze might spring up, it would refresh baby in his -sleep. I'm sorry enough now that I did. - -You know what curious notions presentiments, or whatever you -choose to call them, will come into people's heads without their -being able to give any reason for them? So it was with me then. I -had no sooner got out of the house than I thought about my -leaving the door open, and half-determined to go back and close -it. The same thought came to me again as I was turning the lane; -and when I was once upon the green sward under the pine-trees, -looking down the dizzy height from the top of the Palisades upon -the river, I would most assuredly have returned and closed the -door, had it not been for the intense heat, and I may say the -cool and refreshing appearance the water had at that time. _You -don't believe in presentiments?_ Well, I acknowledge that it -savors a little of the fanciful and the romantic--reason enough, -I suppose, for you to reject any such notion, you matter-of-fact -old stick. But we women cannot take life as you men do, or, at -least, as some men do. What! _you are very glad we cannot?_ -Pray, what do you mean by that? Oh! I see, you incorrigible old -bachelor, our different habits, idiosyncrasies, and tastes lead -us to avoid (not your company, you know better) but your own pet -schemes and fancies. _I_, for one, don't ask either to -meddle with them or to share them. But you are very fond of -getting our approbation of them, nevertheless. Dan says that -there is not an orator in the country who would not prefer the -waving of a lady's handkerchief to all that abominable -rat-a-tat-tat you men make with your heels and canes. The more -silent the sign of one's appreciation is, the better. Sincerity, -Ned, is seldom noisy. True love is dumb as well as blind. But -this is hardly _à propos_ of Dixie and the baby. Where was -I? Oh! the Palisades, yes. -{231} -If you were anything of a listener, I might take the trouble to -give you a nice little bit of description of the sunny afternoon -and the beautiful scene which the river presented to my gaze; but -I won't, because I see you are gaping. - -I had been seated on the grass about half an hour, watching the -boats lolling about in the water as if they were too lazy to move -in such hot weather, when not a breath of air was stirring, and I -had been thinking how happy my life had been, and what a still -happier future might yet be in store for me; and, as I looked up -at the bright, cloudless sky, I said to myself, "Thus has God -blessed my life, for not a cloud can I see in the firmament of my -soul," when my reverie was interrupted by the noise of footsteps -behind me. Thinking it was some children, I turned my head, -smiling at the same time, that they might see they were welcome. -Imagine my surprise. It was Dixie and baby. He had caught baby up -in his mouth by the waist, and was bringing him along just as he -is accustomed to carry cook's basket to market, wagging his tail -and curveting about in the highest state of delight. My first -thought was that, the baby was dead--an awful thought that went -through my mind, and felt like an electric shock--either that -Dixie had bitten him to death, or had struck his poor, dear -little head against the trees, or the fences, or the stones, or -something else; but a second glance assured me that he was yet -unhurt, for he was doubling up his fat little fists, and--will -you believe it?--actually pummelling Dixie on his black nose. - -Instead of coming up to me as I hoped he would, Dixie no sooner -caught sight of me than he dashed off, running round and round on -the green grassy bank, stopping suddenly, and looking at me as if -he would entice me to chase him. - -You know that pretty spot at the end of the lane, how smooth the -sward is, and how gently the ground slopes down to the sudden -brink of the Palisades? The circles Dixie described in his -gambols began to grow larger and larger, and to my horror I saw -him run nearer and nearer to the edge of the dreadful precipice -each time he came around. You know the edge there is just as -sharp as if it had been cut away with a knife, and that, with the -exception of a narrow line of jagged rocky ledges, the whole -front of the Palisades is a smooth, perpendicular height of a -hundred and fifty feet at least. What if the dog should lose his -footing and slip off in one of those rapid courses he made! Now, -I'm sure you cannot tell me what I did. _I sprang up and ran -after him? _I knew you would think so. You are mistaken. I -never moved a muscle. I sat as still as a statue, and as silent -too. Dan said that was mother's wisdom, and wished that he had -never missed baby out of his cradle when he came home; for, when -Dixie had had his play out, I would have obtained quiet -possession of baby, and all the fearful consequences of his -appearance on the bank would have been spared. As it was, he no -sooner saw the empty cradle and the little white coverlet lying -on the floor all marked with Dixie's dirty paws, than he -suspected the truth instantly. Cook told him, besides, that she -had seen me going off to walk down the lane, and that she was -sure I had not carried baby with me. Dinah had fallen so fast -asleep that she had heard nothing. - -I heard his footsteps as he came running down the lane, and knew -it was he, but did not turn my head to look. By this time Dixie -seemed to take delight in running straight down the bank, as if -he were about to jump over the Palisades with baby in his mouth, -but would wheel about sharply as he came to the edge. -{232} -It was horrible. My eyes followed his every movement, and they -ached with pain. I did not dare to close them long enough even to -wink. You think my heart was beating fast? No. It beat slowly, -very slowly. I could feel its dull, heavy strokes like a sexton -slapping the earth as he heaps it over a newly filled grave. Dan -said I was not only as still and as silent as a statue, but as -white too. I do not think I shall suffer more when I come to die. - -No sooner had Dixie espied my husband running toward him than he -bounded off to the extremity of the sward, just where that narrow -line of ragged rocks runs down the front of the Palisades. He saw -that his master had anger in his face, and began to slink off to -escape punishment. It is a wonder he did not drop the baby on the -ground; but, do you know, I fancy that he thought the baby was -going to get whipped too, and wanted to get him to a place of -safety. Nothing else will explain why, finding himself nearly -overtaken, he looked first on one side and then on another for a -way to escape, and not seeing any, he went straight to the dizzy -edge, and, gathering up his feet, sprang over the precipice. I -saw them both disappear, and heard that most heart-rending of -sounds, a man's cry of anguish; the very ground seemed whirling -around me and the sky coming down upon me, and crushing me; but I -did not faint. "You are a brave little woman, Tot," Dan has said -to me many a time since, "and worth a whole regiment of -soldiers." I rose from the ground, and staggered toward Dan, who -ran to me and threw his arms about me and pressed my head to his -breast. O moment of agony untold, and of the supremest comfort! -He uttered only one word, speaking the two syllables separately, -as though he loved to dwell upon every letter, and in a tone of -mingled horror, grief, tenderest love, and sublime resignation-- - -"Ba--by!" - -I thought I had loved dear Dan before that with all the love my -poor little woman's heart could hold. No. The deepest love is -only born of the deepest suffering. There are chords of love -whose music joy can never waken. Since then Dan is to me more -than he ever was, more than he ever could have been, had not our -souls passed together that moment of agony. - -I do not know how long we stood thus, neither daring to go to the -brink of the precipice and look over. Baby and Dixie must be both -lying dead on the rocks below. At last Dan mustered up courage -enough to say to me, - -"It is all over, darling. God is good." - -"God is good," I repeated; "but, O Dan, dear! it is a cruel -blow." - -"For us to bear, Tot, for us to bear; but not for him to -give--no, not for him to give." - -He seemed to wring the words from his noble Christian heart, as -if he tore away his very life and offered it to God. - -"Stay here, Tot," said he, "I am strong enough now." But his -whole body trembled from head to foot, and his voice was hoarse -and broken. "I will go and look." - -I feared to let him go. Yet why should I detain him? But I could -not watch him. Throwing myself upon the ground, I buried my face -in my hands, and gave way to floods of bitter, bitter tears. - -I had not lain thus a moment, when I heard a sharp, piercing cry. -Raising my head in alarm, to my unutterable surprise and horror, -I saw Dan spring over the edge of the Palisades and disappear. -Again I heard him cry as before, "Ba--by!" but there was now a -tone of joy mingled with that of fear, which told me that the -child was not dead. -{233} -It was a brief instant that I was on my knees, it is true, it was -nothing more than a look of gratitude I gave to God; but he knows -that not all the language ever expressed by man could fully tell -all that thought of thanksgiving which my soul sent up to him, as -I raised my clasped hands to the cloudless sky. - -In a moment I was at the edge of the Palisades, just where that -ragged, rocky line runs down its front, jutting out here and -there in rough ledges. There was a story of a man who, being -pursued by the officers of justice, had clambered down there and -escaped. Few people who saw the place believed it. The very first -rock that jutted out was ten feet from the top, and that did not -present more than two or three feet of surface. A little to the -right of this, and about three feet lower, was another, on which -a man might easily stand, but not for any length of time, as its -surface shelved outward, and the rock overhanging it above would -not allow him to stand perfectly upright. Any one who had gotten -thus far must perforce take his chances of clambering down the -rest or be precipitated head foremost below, to certain death. - -On this second ledge, I saw Dan holding the baby by his mouth, -just as Dixie had held him before. Dixie himself was crouched up -beside him. Poor Dan could not hold his place long there. As it -was, he was forced to grasp little, sharp edges of rock with both -hands to prevent himself falling off. He saw at once that there -was no time to send for help from above, and that he must try the -perilous descent. As he told me afterward, he had not calculated -upon this when he leapt from above. The first glance he caught of -the dog told him that, if he released his hold upon the child's -dress and opened his mouth, were it but for an instant, baby -would roll over the edge and be dashed to pieces. Dan says now -that he shall never regret taking one hasty step in his life. He -makes that an exception, you see, for he is always saying to me, -"Now, darling Tot, let us see the pros and the cons; for it is my -principle never to leap before I think, but to let my mind jump -before my feet." - -Holding on, as I told you, to baby by his teeth, Dan went -clambering down the line of rocks. He had managed to wave his -hand backward to me as he left the ledge where Dixie was. I knew -what that meant--"Don't look." There was little or no hope of -his ever reaching the bottom safely, and he wished to spare me -the awful sight of his headlong fall, which might take place at -any step of the way. But I could not stir; my feet were riveted -to the ground. Besides, could I not help him? It seemed to me -that, as he went down, almost falling from one sharp rock to -another, I held him up with my eyes. When I told Dan my fancy -afterward, he laughed and said: - -"Not the least doubt of it, Tot. I have felt the power of those -eyes before." - -It did not last long, but it appeared to my mind, wrought up to -such a state of excitement, as if it had been going on and was -going on forever. It is stamped on my mind to-day as a memory of -years. As for dear Dan, it cost him, he said, the strength of -many days. He was no sooner at the bottom than he turned and -lifted up the baby in one hand, and, looking up to me, waved the -other as a sign of safety. Ah! his hands, his poor hands, you -should have seen them, all cut and gashed by the rocks. Those -hands seem to have something sacred about them ever since that -day. -{234} -I saw him on his knees, and then off I scampered to the house to -get the carriage. It is two miles around by the road to the -bottom of the Palisades, and it took us a long while to get to -him. When we did, he was still so weak that Mike, the coachman, -and I had to lift him up into the carriage. Dinah went down to -the place I had left, to make signs to him that he should remain. -Poor dear, there was no need of it. So we came home in more joy -than I can tell you--Dan, baby, and I. Mike rescued Dixie -afterward, by getting himself let down from above with a rope, to -where the patient old dog still was, wondering, who knows? how he -ever came to be there. - -What is that you say? _Good gracious?_ Well, I don't mind -your saying it now, after what I have told you. But don't you -think, now, Mr. Ned, that I ought to be very proud of Our Baby -after that? What? _Ought to be very careful of him?_ The -idea! An old bachelor telling a mother to be careful of her baby! - --------- - - The Cartesian Doubt. [Footnote 36] - - [Footnote 36: _The Churchman,_ - Hartford, Ct., August 31, 1867.] - - -_The Churchman_, an Episcopalian weekly periodical, contains -an article of no little philosophic pretension, entitled -_Science and God_, which we propose to make the occasion of -a brief discussion of what is known in the philosophic world as -the Cartesian Doubt, or Method of Philosophizing. _The -Churchman_ begins by saying: - - "A distinction is frequently and very justly taken between - philosophic and religious scepticism. When Descartes, in order - to find firm ground for his philosophical system, declared that - he doubted the truth of every thing, even of the existence of - the sensible world and the being of God, he did it in the - interest of science. He wished to stand upon a principle which - could not be denied, to find a first truth which no one could - question. And this philosophic scepticism is an essential - element in all investigations of truth. It says to every - accredited opinion, Have you any right to exist? are you a - reality or a sham? By thus exploring the foundation of current - beliefs, we come to distinguish those which have real vitality - in them, and stand on the rock and not on the sand; and by - gathering up the living (true) and casting away the dead, - (false,) science goes step by step toward its goal." - -Whether Descartes recommended a real or only a feigned doubt, as -the first step in the scientific process he defended, has been -and still is a disputed point. If it is only a feigned or -pretended doubt, it is no real doubt at all, and he who affects -it is a real believer all the time. It is a sham doubt, and we -have never seen any good in science or in anything else come from -shams or shamming. If the doubt is real, and is extended to all -things, even to the being of God and our own existence, as -Descartes recommends, we are at a loss to understand any process -by which it can be scientifically removed. To him who really -doubts of everything, even for a moment, nothing can be proved, -for he doubts the proofs as well as the propositions to be -proved. All proofs must be drawn either from facts or from -principles, and none can avail anything with one who holds all -facts and principles doubtful. The man who really doubts -everything is out of the condition of ever knowing or believing -anything. There is no way of refuting a sceptic but by directing -his attention to something which he does not and cannot doubt; -and if there is nothing of the sort, his refutation is -impossible. - -{235} - -Descartes, according to _The Churchman,_ when he declared he -doubted the truth of everything, even of the existence of the -sensible world and the being of God, did it in the interest of -science, in order to find firm ground for his philosophical -system. Doubt is ignorance, for no man doubts where he knows. So -Descartes sought a firm ground for his philosophical system in -universal ignorance! "He wished to stand upon (on) a principle -which could not be denied, a first truth which no one could -question." If he held there is such a principle, such a first -truth, or anything which cannot be denied, he certainly did not -and could not doubt of everything. If he doubted the being of -God, how could he expect to find such a principle or such a first -truth? _The Churchman_ seems to approve of the Cartesian -doubt, and says, "This philosophical scepticism is an essential -element in all investigations of truth." If this real or feigned -scepticism were possible, no investigations could end in anything -but doubt, for it would always be possible, whatever the -conclusions arrived at, to doubt them. But why can I not -investigate the truth I do not doubt or deny? - -Moreover, is it lawful, even provisionally, in the interest of -science, to doubt, that is, to deny, the being of God? No man has -the right to make himself an atheist even for a moment. The -obligation to believe in God, to love, serve, and obey him, is a -universal moral obligation, and binds every one from the first -dawn of reason. To doubt the being of God is to doubt the whole -moral order, all the mysteries of faith, the entire Christian -religion. And does _The Churchman_ pretend that any man in -the interest of science or any other interest has the right -voluntarily to do that? - -Undoubtedly, every man has the right to interrogate "every -accredited _opinion_" and to demand of it, "Have you any -right to exist? are you a reality or a sham?" But the right to -question "accredited opinions" is one thing, and the right to -question the first principles either of science or of faith is -another. A man has no more right voluntarily to deny the truth -than he has to lie or steal. _The Churchman_ will not deny -this. Then either it holds that all science as all faith is -simply opinion, or it deceives itself in supposing that it -accepts the Cartesian doubt or adopts his philosophical -scepticism. Doubt in the region of simple opinion is very proper. -It would be perfectly right for _The Churchman_ to doubt the -opinion accredited among Protestants that Rome is a despotism, -the papacy a usurpation, the Catholic religion a superstition, or -that the church has lost, falsified, corrupted, or overlaid the -pure Christian faith, and demand of that opinion, "Have you any -right to exist? are you a reality or a sham?" And we have little -doubt, if it would do so, that it would find itself exchanging -its present opinion for the faith "once delivered to the saints." -It is clear enough from the extract we have made that _The -Churchman_ means to justify scepticism only in matters of -opinion, and that it is far enough from doubting of everything, -or supposing that there is nothing real which no man can doubt. - -But, if we examine a little more closely this Cartesian method -which bids us doubt of everything till we have proved it, we -shall find more than one reason for rejecting it. The doubt must -be either real or feigned. If the doubt is only feigned for the -purpose of investigation, it amounts to nothing, serves no -purpose whatever; for every man carries himself with him wherever -he goes, and enters into his thought as he is, with all the faith -or science he really has. -{236} -No man ever does or can divest himself of himself. Hence the -difficulty we find even in imagining ourselves dead, for even in -imagination we think, and in all thinking we think ourselves -living, are conscious that we are not dead. In every thought, -whatever else we affirm, we affirm our own existence, and this -affirmation of our own existence is an essential and inseparable -element of every thought. When I attempt to think myself dead, I -necessarily think myself as surviving my own death, and as -hovering over my own grave. No one ever thinks his own death as -the total extinction of his existence, and hence we always think -of the grave as dark, lonely, cold, as if something of life or -feeling remained in the body buried in it. Men ask for proofs -that the soul survives the dissolution of the body, but what they -really need is proof that the soul dies. Life we know; but death, -in the sense of total extinction of life, we know not; it is no -fact of our experience. Life we can conceive, death we cannot. I -am always living in my conceptions, and that I die with my body I -am utterly unable to think, because I can think myself only as -living. - -The thinker, then, enters as an indestructible element into every -one of his thoughts. Then he must enter as he is and for what he -is. His real faith or science enters with him, and no doubt can -enter that is not a real doubt. A feigned or factitious doubt, -being unreal, does not and cannot enter with him. He is always -conscious that he does not entertain it, and therefore can never -think as he would if he did. The Christian, firm in his Christian -faith, whose soul is clothed with Christian habits, cannot think -as an infidel, or even in thought put himself in the infidel's -position. Hence one reason why so many defences of Christianity, -perfectly conclusive to the believer, fail of their purpose with -the unbeliever. Even the unbeliever trained in a Christian -community or bred and born under Christian civilization cannot -think as one bred and born under paganism. What we assert is, -that every man thinks as he is, and cannot think otherwise; -simply what all the world means when it says of a writer, -"Whatever else he writes, he always writes himself." Men may -mimic one another, but always each in his own way. The same words -from different writers produce not the same impression upon the -reader. Something of himself enters into whatever a man thinks or -does, and no translator has ever yet been able to translate an -author from one language to another without giving something of -himself in his translation. The Cartesian doubt, then, if -feigned, factitious, or merely methodical, is impracticable, is -unreal, and counts for nothing; for all along the investigator -thinks with whatever faith and knowledge he really has; or -simply, we cannot feign a doubt we do not feel. - -It will be no better if we assume that the doubt recommended is -real. No man really doubts what he does not doubt, and no man -does or can doubt of everything; for even in doubt the existence -of the doubter is affirmed. But suppose a man really does doubt -of everything, the Cartesian method will never help him to -resolve his doubts. From doubt you can get only doubt. To propose -doubt as a method of philosophizing is simply absurd, as absurd -as it would be to call scepticism philosophy, faith, or science. -The mind that doubts of everything, if such a mind can be -supposed, is a perfect blank, and, when the mind is a perfect -blank, is totally ignorant of everything, how is it to -understand, discover, or know that anything is or exists? -{237} -There have indeed been men, sometimes men called philosophers, -who tell us that the mind is at first a _tabula rasa_, or -blank sheet, and exists without a single character written on it. -If so, if it can exist in a state of blank ignorance, how can it, -we should like to know, ever become an intelligent mind, or ever -know anything more than the sheet of paper on which we are now -writing? Intelligence can speak only to intelligence, and no mind -absolutely unintelligent can ever be taught or ever come to know -anything? But if we assume that the mind is in any degree -intelligent, we deny that it can doubt of everything; for there -is no intelligence where nothing is known, and what the mind -knows it does not and cannot doubt. Either, then, this blank -ignorance is impossible, or no intelligence is possible. - -But, as we have already said, no man does or can doubt of -everything, and hence the Cartesian method is an impossible -method. Descartes most likely meant that we should doubt of -everything, the external world, and even the being of God, and -accept nothing till we have found a principle that cannot be -denied, or a first truth that cannot be doubted, from which all -that is true or real may be deduced after the manner of the -geometricians. He did not mean to deny that there is such first -truth or principle, but to maintain that the philosopher should -doubt till he has found or obtained it. His error is in taking up -the question of method before that of principles or first -truths--an error common to nearly all philosophers who have -succeeded him, but which we never encounter in the great Gentile -philosophers, far less in the great fathers and mediaeval doctors -of the church. These always begin with principles, and their -principles determine their method. Descartes begins with method, -and, as Cousin has justly said, all his philosophy is in his -method. But, unhappily, his method, based on doubt, recognizes -and conducts to no principles, therefore to no philosophy, to no -science, and necessarily leaves the mind in the doubt in which it -is held to begin. The discussion of method before discussing -principles assumes that the mind is at the outset without -principles, or, at least, totally ignorant of principles; and -that, being without principles or totally ignorant of them, it is -obliged to go forth and seek them, and, if possible, find or -obtain them by its own active efforts. But here comes the -difficulty, too often overlooked by our modern philosophers. The -mind can neither exist nor operate without principles, or what -some philosophers call first truths. The mind is constituted mind -by the principles, and without them it is nothing and can do -nothing. The supposed _tabula rasa_ is simply no mind at -all. Principles must be given, not found or obtained. We cannot -even doubt without them, for doubt itself is a mental act, and -therefore the principles themselves, without which no doubt or -denial is possible, are not and cannot be denied or doubted; for -even in denying or doubting the mind affirms them. Principles, -again, cannot be given the mind without its possessing them, and -for the mind to possess a thing is to know it. As the principles -create or constitute the mind, the mind always knows them, and -what it knows it does not and cannot doubt. The philosopher, as -distinguished from the sophist, does not start from doubt, and -doubt of everything till he has found something which he cannot -doubt; but he starts from the principles themselves, which, being -given, are _nota per se_, or self-evident, and therefore -need no proof--in fact, are provable only from the absurd -consequences which would follow their denial. - -{238} - -Having begun with a false method, Descartes fails in regard to -principles, and takes as the first truth which cannot be doubted -what, either in the order of being or knowing, is no first truth -or ultimate principle at all. He takes as a principle what is -simply a fact--the fact of his own personal existence, or of an -internal personal sentiment: _Cogito, ergo sum_, I think, -therefore I exist. Regarded as an argument to prove his -existence, as Descartes evidently at first regarded it, this -enthymem is a sheer paralogism, and proves nothing; for the -consequence only repeats the antecedent; _sum_ is already in -_cogito_. I affirm that I exist in affirming that I think. -But pass over this, and give Descartes the benefit of an -explanation, which he gives in one of his letters when hard -pressed by his acute Jesuit opponent, that he does not pretend to -offer it as an argument to prove that he exists, but presents it -simply as the fact in which he finds or becomes conscious of his -existence. There is no doubt that in the act of thinking I become -conscious that I exist; for, as we have already shown, the -subject enters into every thought as one of its integral and -indestructible elements; but this does not relieve him. He -"wished," as says _The Churchman_, "to stand upon (on) a -principle which could not be denied, to find a first truth which -no one could question." This principle or first truth he pretends -is his own personal existence, expressed in the sophism, I think, -therefore I exist, _Cogito, ergo sum_. We agree, indeed have -already proved, that no one can deny or doubt his own personal -existence, although it is possible for a man to set forth -propositions which, in their logical development, would deny it. -But the method Descartes defends permits him to assert nothing -which cannot be deduced, after the manner of the geometricians, -from the principle or first truth on which he takes his stand; -and unless he can so deduce God and the universe, he must deny -them. - -But from the fact that I exist, that is, from my own personal -existence, nothing but myself and what is in me and dependent on -me can be deduced. Geometrical or mathematical deduction is -nothing but analysis, and analysis can give nothing but the -subject analyzed. Now, it so happens that I do not contain God -and the external universe in myself. Following the Cartesian -method, I can attain, then, to no existence but myself, my own -personal phenomena. I can deduce no existence but my own, and am -forced, if logical, to doubt or deny all other existence, that -is, all existence but my personal existence, and my own interior -sentiments and affections. I am the only existence; I am all that -is or exists, and hence either I am God or God is not. What is -this but the absolute egoism of Fichte? - -Descartes himself seems to have felt the difficulty, and to have -seen that God cannot, after all, be deduced from the fact of -personal existence; he therefore asserts God as an innate idea, -and concludes his real and independent being from the idea innate -in his own mind. Analysis of his own mind discloses the idea, and -from the idea he concludes, after the manner of St. Anselm, that -God is. But when I am given as the principle or first truth, how -conclude from my idea, which is simply a fact of my interior -life, that there is anything independent of me to correspond to it? -{239} -Here Descartes was forced to depart from his own method, and make -what on his system is a most unwarrantable assumption, namely, -that the idea, being innate, is deposited by God in the mind, -and, as God cannot lie, the idea must be true, and therefore God -is. That is, he takes the idea to prove the being of God, and the -veracity of God to prove the trustworthiness of the idea! But he -was to doubt the being of God till he had geometrically -demonstrated it; he therefore must prove that God is before he -can appeal to his veracity. His method involved him in a maze of -sophistries from which he was never able to escape. God concluded -from my idea, innate or otherwise, is only my idea, without any -reality independent of me. The argument of St. Anselm is valid -only when _idea_ is taken objectively, not subjectively, as -Descartes takes it. - -What Descartes really meant by innate ideas we do not know, and -we are not certain that he knew himself; but he says, somewhere -in his correspondence, that, when he calls the idea of God -innate, he only means that we have the innate faculty of thinking -God. His argument is, "I think God, and therefore God is." Still -the difficulty according to his own method remains unsolved. - -Given my own personal existence alone as the principle or first -truth, it follows that, at least in science, I am sufficient for -myself. Then nothing distinguishable from myself is necessary to -my thought, and there is no need of my going out of myself to -think. How, then, conclude that what in thought seems to be -object is really anything distinguishable from myself? I think -God, but how conclude from this that God is distinct from and -independent of me, or that he is anything but a mode or affection -of my own personal existence? The fact is, when we take our own -personal existence alone as the principle from which all objects -of faith or science are to be deduced, we can never attain to any -reality not contained in our existence as the part in the whole, -the effect in the cause, or the property in the essence. -Exclusive psychology, as has been shown over and over again, can -give us only the subjectivism of Kant, or the egoism of Fichte, -resulting necessarily in the nihilism, or identity of being and -not-being, of Hegel. - -The psychologists generally do not, we are aware, concede this; -but they are not in fact, whatever they are in theory, exclusive -psychologists, and their inductions of God and an external -universe are made from ontological as well as from psychological -_data_. They begin their process, indeed, by analyzing the -mind, what they call the facts of consciousness, but they always -include in their premises non-psychological elements. Their -inductions all suppose man and the universe are contingent -existences, and as the contingent is inconceivable as contingent -without the necessary, they conclude, since the contingent -exists, very logically, that there really is also the necessary, -or necessary being, which is God. But the necessary, without -which their conclusion would and could have no validity, is not a -psychological fact or element; otherwise the soul itself would be -necessary being, would be itself God. The mistake arises from -regarding what philosophers call necessary ideas, such as the -idea of the necessary, the universal, the immutable, the eternal, -etc., because held by the mind, as psychological, instead of -being, as they really are, ontological. Being ontological, real -being, the inductions of the psychologists, as they call -themselves, do really carry us out of the psychological order, -out of the subjective into the objective. -{240} -But, if their inductions were, as they pretend, from exclusively -psychological data, they would have no value beyond the soul -itself, and the God concluded would be only a psychological -abstraction. Indeed, most psychologists assert more truth than -their method allows, are better than their systems. Especially is -this the case with Descartes. On his own system, logically -developed, he could assert no reality but his own individual soul -or personal existence; yet, in point of fact, he asserts nearly -all that the Catholic theologian asserts, but he does it -inconsistently, illogically, unscientifically, and thus leads his -followers to deny everything not assertable by his method. - -But, as we have said, Descartes does not attain by his method to -a first principle. Not only cannot the being of God and the -existence of the external universe be deduced from our own -personal existence, but, by his method, our personal existence -itself cannot be logically asserted. It is not ultimate, a first -principle, or a first truth. Our personal existence cannot stand -by itself alone. It is true Descartes says, _Cogito, ergo_ -SUM; but I cannot even think by myself alone, and even he does -not venture to take _sum_ in the absolute sense of -_am_, as in the incommunicable name by which God reveals -himself to Moses, I AM WHO AM, or I AM THAT AM. Even he takes it -in the sense of _exist, Cogito, ergo sum_, I think, -therefore I exist. He never dared assert his own personal -existence as absolute, underived, eternal, and necessary being; -it remained for a Fichte, adopting the Cartesian method, to do -that. Between being and existence, _essentia_ and -_existentia_, there is a difference which our philosophers -are not always careful to note. Existence is from _exstare_, -and strictly taken, means standing from another, or a derivative -and dependent, therefore a contingent existence, or creature, -whose being is in another, not in itself. We speak, indeed, of -human beings, but men are beings only in a derivative sense, not -in the primary or absolute sense. Hence the apostle to the -Gentiles says, "In him (God) we live, and move, and are," or have -our being. In ourselves we have no being, and are something only -as created and upheld by Him who is being itself, or, to speak -_à la_ Plato, being in himself. Evidently, then, our -personal existence is not ultimate, therefore not the first -principle, nor the first truth. The ultimate, at least in the -order of being, is not the soul, a contingent existence, but, -real being, that is, God himself. - -But as we have and can have no personal existence except from -God, it is evident that we cannot assert our personal existence -by itself alone; and to be able to assert it at all, we must be -able to assert the being of God. Now, Descartes tells us that we -must doubt the being of God till we can prove it after the manner -of the geometricians. But how are we to do this? We cannot, as we -have seen, deduce his being from our own personal existence; and -what is still more to the purpose, while we deny or doubt his -being, we cannot assert or even conceive of our own, because our -existence, being derivative, dependent, having not its being in -itself, is not intelligible or conceivable in or by itself alone. -The contingent is not conceivable without the necessary. They are -correlatives, and correlatives connote each other. Now, if we -deny or doubt the being of God, we necessarily deny or doubt our -own personal existence, impossible and inconceivable without God. -{241} -With God disappears the existence of the external universe and -our own. If, then, it were possible to doubt of the being of God, -we should doubt of all things, and should have nothing left with -which to prove that God is. God is the first principle in being -and in knowing, and if he is denied, all is denied. Atheism is -nihilism. - -Descartes evidently assumes that it is both possible and lawful -to doubt the being of God, nay, that we ought to do so, till we -have geometrically demonstrated that he is, and _The -Churchman_ tells us that this "scepticism is an essential -element in the investigation of truth." We cannot bring ourselves -to believe it. God, the theologians tell us, is real and -necessary being, the contrary of which cannot be thought, and it -is the fool, the Scriptures tell us, that says "in his heart, God -is not." The evidence of this is in the fact that we do in every -thought think our own existence, and cannot deny it if we would; -and in the farther fact that we always do think our own existence -as contingent, not as necessary being; and that we cannot think -the contingent without at the same time thinking the necessary, -as was sufficiently shown in the papers on _The Problems of the -Age_, published sometime since in this Magazine. As there can -without God be nothing to be known, we must dissent from _The -Churchman_, as from Descartes himself, that a philosophical -scepticism which extends even to the being of God "is an -essential element in the investigation of truth." It seems to us -the worst way possible to truth, that of beginning by denying all -truth, and even the possibility of truth. The man who does so, -humanly speaking, puts himself out of the condition of -discovering or receiving truth of any sort. He who seeks for the -truth should do so with an open mind and heart, and with the -conviction that it is. We must open our eyes to the light, if we -would behold it, and our hearts to the entrance of truth, if we -would have it warm and vivify us. Those men who shut their eyes, -compress their lips, and close the aperture of their minds are -the last men in the world to discover or to receive the truth, -and they must expect to walk in darkness and doubt all their -lives. Scepticism is a worse preparation for investigating truth -than even credulity, though scepticism and credulity are blood -relations, and usually walk hand in hand. - -If it were possible to doubt the being of God, or to think a -single thought without thinking him, we should prove ourselves -independent of him, and therefore deprive ourselves of all -possible means of proving that he is. If, for instance, we could -think our own existence, as is assumed in the Cartesian enthymem, -_Cogito, ergo sum_, without in the same indissoluble thought -thinking God, there would be no necessity of asserting God, and -no possible argument by which we could prove his being, or data -from which he could be concluded. Man can no more exist and act -in the intellectual order, without God, than in the physical -order. If you suppose men capable of thinking and reasoning -without the intellectual apprehension of the Divine Being, as -must be the man who really doubts the being of God, there is no -possible reason for asserting God, and it is a matter of no -practical moment in the conduct of life whether we believe in God -or not. The fact is, no man can doubt the being of God any more -than he can his own personal existence. The Cartesian method, if -followed strictly, would lead logically to universal nihilism; -for he who doubts the being of God must, if logical, doubt of -everything, and he who doubts of everything can be convinced of -nothing. - -{242} - -We say not only that atheism is absurd, but that it is -impossible; and they who with the fool say there is no God, if -sincere, deceive themselves, or are deceived by the false methods -and theories of philosophers, or sophists rather. No man can -think a single thought without thinking both God and himself. The -man may not advert, as St. Augustine says, to the fact that he -thinks God, but he certainly thinks, as we showed in our article -last May, on _An Old Quarrel_, that which is God. No man -ever thinks the imperfect without thinking the perfect, the -particular without the universal, the mutable without the -immutable, the temporal without the eternal, the contingent -without the necessary. The perfect, the universal, the immutable, -the eternal, the necessary are not abstract ideas, for there are -no abstractions in nature. Abstractions are nullities, and cannot -be thought. The ideas must be real, and therefore being; and what -is perfect, universal, immutable, eternal, real and necessary -being but God? That which is God enters into every one of our -thoughts, and can no more be denied or doubted than our own -existence. Those poor people who regard themselves as atheists so -regard themselves because they do not understand that the -so-called abstract or necessary ideas are not simply ideas in the -mind or psychological phenomena, but are objective, real being, -the eternal, immutable, self-existent God, in whom we live, and -move, and have our being. No doubt we need instruction and -reflection to understand this, but this instruction is within the -reach of all men, and every mind of ordinary capacity is adequate -to the necessary reflection. In point of fact, it is the -philosophers that make atheists, and the atheism is always -theoretical, never real. - -There is no doubt that a little ingenuity may deduce something -like this doctrine from Descartes's assertion of innate ideas, -but not in the sense Descartes himself understood the word -_idea_. With Descartes the word _idea_ never means the -objective reality, but its image in the mind; never being itself, -but its mental representation, leaving it necessary, after having -ascertained that we have the idea, to prove that it represents an -objective reality--a thing which no man has ever done or ever can -do. His subsequent explanation that he meant, by asserting that -the idea of God is innate, simply the innate faculty of thinking -God, was a nearer approach to the truth perhaps, but did not -reach it, because it assumed that the intuition of that which -really is God follows the exercise of the faculty of thinking, -instead of preceding and constituting it, and is not an _à -priori_ but an empirical intuition. If we could suppose the -faculty constituted, existing, and operative, without the -intuition of real and necessary being, and that the idea is -obtained by our thinking, there would still remain the question -as to the objective validity of the thought. If Descartes had -identified the idea with being regarded as intelligible to us, -and represented it as creating or constituting the faculty of -thinking, he would have reached the truth; but this he could not -do by his method, which required him to recognize as his -principle only his own personal existence, and to deduce from it, -after the manner of the geometricians, whatever he recognized as -true. God, or what is God, could be obtained or presented only by -the exercise of our faculty of thinking, and not by the creative -act of God affirming himself as the first principle alike of -thought and the faculty of thinking. - -{243} - -If Descartes had properly analyzed thought and ascertained its -essential and indestructible elements, he would have avoided the -error of resolving the thinker into thought, _la pensée_, -which denied the substantive character of the soul and made it -purely phenomenal, and have ascertained that, beside the subject -or our personal existence, but simultaneously with it, there is -affirmed what in the order of reality precedes it,--God himself, -under the form, if I may so speak, of real, necessary, universal, -eternal, and independent idea or being. There is given in every -thought, as its primary and essential element, a real ontological -element, without which no thought is possible. This, not our -personal existence, is the first truth or principle which every -philosopher must recognize, if he would build on a solid -foundation and not in the air, and this principle can no more be -denied or doubted than our personal existence itself, for without -it we could not think our personal existence, nay, could not -exist at all, as capable of thought. - -But even if, by a just analysis, Descartes had found that this -ontological element is a necessary and indestructible element of -thought, he would have still greatly, fatally erred if he had -taken it as his first principle and refused to admit any -existence not logically deducible from it, that is, deducible -from it "after the manner of the geometricians," as required by -his method. Father Rothenflue, Father Fournier, and the Louvain -professors reject the Cartesian psychology, and assume Ens, or -being, which they very properly identify with God, as the first -principle in science. This is proper. But how do they pass from -being to existences, from the necessary to the contingent, from -God to creation? We cannot deduce logically existences from -being, because logic can deduce from being only what is -necessarily contained in being, that is, only being. If we say, -given being existences logically follow, we assume with Cousin -that God cannot but create, that creation is a necessity of his -own nature, and therefore necessary, as necessary as God himself, -which denies the contingency of creatures, and identifies them -with necessary being. This is precisely what Descartes himself -does after he has once got possession, as he supposes, of the -idea of God, or proved that God is. Creation on his system is the -necessary, not the free act of the Creator. - -There are, as has often been remarked, two systems in Descartes, -the one psychological and the other ontological; as there are in -his great admirer and follower, Victor Cousin. The two systems -are found in juxtaposition indeed, but without any logical or -genetic relation. Descartes proceeds from his personal existence -as his principle, which gives him nothing but his personal -existence; then finding that he has the idea of God, for we -presume he had been taught his catechism, he takes the idea as -his principle, and erects on it a system of ontology. In this -last he was followed by Malebranche, a far greater man than -himself. Malebranche perceived, what we have shown, that we have -direct and immediate intelligence of God, that he, as idea, is -the immediate object of the understanding, and that we see all -things in him. Hence his well-known _Visio in Deo_, or -Vision in God, which would be true enough if we had the vision of -the blest, and could see God as he is in himself; for God sees or -knows all things in himself, and has no need to go out of himself -to know anything he has made. -{244} -But this is not the case with us. We do not see things themselves -in God, but only their idea or possibility. From the idea of God -we may deduce his ability to create, and that the type of all -creatable things must be in him; but as creation is on his part a -free, not a necessary act, we can, as Malebranche was told at the -time, see a possible, but not an actual universe in God; hence, -by his vision in God, he attained only to a pure idealism, in -which nothing actually distinguishable from God was apprehended -or asserted. - -Spinoza, greater still than Malebranche, followed also Descartes -in his ontological system, and took being, which he calls -substance, as his principle. Substance, he said, is one and -ultimate, and nothing is to be admitted not obtainable from it by -way of logical deduction. Spinoza was too good a logician to -suppose that the idea of creation is deducible from the idea of -God, for a necessary creation is no creation at all, but the -simple evolution of necessary being or substance. Hence nothing -is or exists except the one only substance and its modes and -attributes. His attributes are infinite, since he is infinite -substance; but we know only two, thought and extension. The -so-called German ontologists in the main follow Spinoza, and like -him admit only being or substance, or its attributes or modes. -This system makes what are called creatures, men and things, -modes of the Divine Being, in which he manifests his attributes, -thought and extension; hence it is justly called pantheism, -which, under some of its forms, no one can escape who admits -nothing not logically deducible from the idea of substance, -being, or God; for deduction, we have said, is simply analysis, -and analysis can give only the subject analyzed. As the analysis -of my personal existence or the soul can give only me and my -attributes, modes, and affections, and therefore the egoism of -Fichte, which underlies every purely psychological system, so the -analysis of the idea of being can give only being and its modes -or attributes, or the pantheism of Spinoza, which underlies the -ontology of Descartes, and every system of exclusive ontology. - -No philosopher is ever able to develop his whole system, and -present it in all its parts, or foresee all its logical -consequences. It is only time that can do this, and the vices of -a method or a system can be collected fully only from its -historical developments. The disciples of Descartes, who in -France started with his psychological principle, ended in the -pure sensism, or sensation transformed, of Condillac, and those -who in Germany started with the same principle, ended in the -absolute egoism of Fichte, who completed the subjectivism of -Kant, and reached the point where egoism and pantheism become -identical. Those, again, who in any country have started with the -ontological principle of Descartes and followed his method, have, -however they may have attempted to disguise their conclusions, -ended in denying creation and asserting some form of pantheism. -The materialism which prevailed in the last century, and obtains -to a great extent even in the present, is not a historical -development of Cartesianism, so much as of the English school -founded by Bacon, and developed by Hobbes and Locke, and -completed by the French idealogists of Autueil, who were noted -for their Anglomania. -{245} -Cartesianism led rather to what is improperly termed idealism, to -the denial of the material universe, or its resolution into pure -sensation. - -Yet it is instructive to observe that the historical development -of the psychological principle represented by Fichte and that of -the ontological principle represented by Spinoza terminate in -identity. Fichte saw he could not make the soul the first -principle without taking it as ultimate and denying its -contingency, or that he could not make the soul that from which -all that exists proceeds without assuming that the soul, the ego, -is God. Hence his twofold ego, the one absolute and the other -phenomenal or modal. He thus identifies the soul with God, and -concludes that nothing except me and my phenomen, or attributes -and modes, is or exists: I am all. Spinoza, starting from the -opposite pole, the ontological, finds that he can logically -deduce from being only being; and calling being substance, and -substance God, he concludes with an invincible logic nothing is -or exists, except God and his modes or attributes. The form may -differ, but the conclusion is identical with the last conclusion -of egoism, and it is noteworthy that even Fichte, in the last -transformation of his doctrine, substituted God for the soul, and -made God the absolute, and the soul relative and phenomenal, or a -mode of the Divine Being. - -Whether, then, we start with the soul as first principle or with -God, we can never by logical deduction arrive at creation, or be -able to assert any existence as distinguishable from the Divine -Being. Neither can be taken exclusively as the _primum -philosophicum_, and exclusive ontology is as faulty and as -fatal in its consequences as exclusive psychology. The fact is, -we can neither doubt the being of God nor our own personal -existence; for both are equally essential and indestructible -elements of thought, given in the primitive intuition, though -being is logically prior to existence, and our _primum -philosophicum_ must include both. - -But the soul is given in the intuition as contingent, and being -is given as necessary. The contingent cannot exist any more than -it can be thought without the necessary. It then depends on the -necessary, and can exist only as created and upheld by it. The -real principle, or _primum philosophicum,_ is then, as has -been amply shown in the essays on _The Problems of the Age_, -the ideal formula, _Ens creat existentias_, or Being creates -existences. This presents the ontological principle and the -psychological not in juxtaposition merely, but in their real and -true relation. This formula enables us to avoid alike pantheism, -atheism, idealism, and materialism, and to conform in principle -our philosophy to the real order of things and the Catholic -faith. But it is only in principle, for Gioberti himself calls -the formula _ideal_. It does not, after all, give us any -science of actual existences, or itself furnish its own -scientific explication and application. Apply to it the method of -Descartes, and lay it down that everything is to be doubted till -proved, and we are not much in advance of Cartesianism. We know -God is, we know things exist, and God has created or creates -them; but we do not know by knowing the formula what God is, what -things do or do not exist. It gives us the principles of science, -but not the sciences; the law which governs the explication of -facts, not the facts themselves. We cannot deduce, after the -manner of the geometricians, any actual existence or fact from -the formula, nor any of the sciences. -{246} -There is an empirical element in all the sciences, and none of -them can be constructed by logical deduction even from a true -ideal formula, and to deny everything not logically deducible -from it would leave us in the purely ideal, and practically very -little better off than Descartes himself left us. The Cartesian -method based on doubt, then, whether we start with an incomplete -or a complete ideal formula, can never answer the purpose of the -philosopher, or enable us to construct a concrete philosophy that -includes the whole body of truth and all the scientific facts of -the universe. - -We do not pretend that philosophy must embrace all the knowable, -_omne scibile_, in detail; it suffices that it does so in -principle. No doubt the ideal formula does this, as in fact -always has done the philosophy that has obtained in the Catholic -schools. But though the ideas expressed in the ideal formula are -intuitive, the constitution of the mind, and basis of all -intelligence, and are really asserted in every thought, we very -much doubt if they could ever have been reduced to the formula -given by Gioberti if men had never received a divine revelation -from God, or if they had been left without any positive -instruction from their Creator. We are as far as any one can be -from building science on faith; but we so far agree with the -traditionalists as to hold that revelation is necessary to the -full development of reason and its perfect mastery of itself. One -great objection to the Cartesian doubt or method is, that it -detaches philosophy from theology, and assumes that it can be -erected into an independent science sufficient for itself without -any aid from supernatural revelation, and free from all -allegiance to it. This had never been done nor attempted by any -Christian school or even non-Christian school prior to Descartes, -unless the pretension of Pomponatius and some others, that things -may be theologically true yet philosophically false, and who were -promptly condemned by Leo X., be understood as an attempt in that -direction. The great fathers of the church and the mediaeval -doctors always recognized the synthesis of reason and revelation; -and, while they gave to each its part, they seem never to have -dreamed of separating them, and of cultivating either as -independent of the other; yet they have given us a philosophy -which, if not free from all defects, is superior, under the point -of view of reason alone, to anything that has elsewhere ever been -given under that name. He who would construct a philosophy that -can stand the test even of reason must borrow largely from St. -Athanasius, St. Augustine, St. Gregory the Great, St. Thomas, St. -Buonaventura, and the later scholastics. - -It is also an objection to the Cartesian doubt that it is not -only a complete rupture with revealed theology, but also with -tradition, and is an attempt to break the continuity of the life -of the race, and to sever the future of humanity from its past. -We are among those who regard the catholic beliefs and traditions -of mankind as integral elements in the life of the race itself, -and indispensable to its continuous progress. The future always -has its germ in the past, and a beginning _de novo_ for the -individual as for society is alike impossible and undesirable. -The Cartesian doubt overlooks this, and requires the individual -to disgarnish his mind of every relic and memorial of the past, -of everything furnished by his parents and teachers, or the -wisdom of ages, and after having become absolutely naked and -empty, and made himself as ignorant and impotent as the new-born -babe, to receive nothing till he, without experience, without -instruction, has by his own unaided powers tested its truth. -{247} -As reasonable would it be for the new-born infant to refuse the -milk from its mother's breast, till it had by the exercise of its -faculties settled the question of its wholesomeness. - -We object, finally, that it tends to destroy all respect for -authority, all reverence for tradition, all regard for the -learning and science of other ages and other men, and to puff up -the individual with an overweening self-conceit, and sense of his -own sufficiency for himself. It renders all education and -instruction useless and an impertinence. It tends to crush the -social element of our nature, and to create a pure individualism, -no less repugnant to government and society than to religion and -the divine order, according to which all men are made mutually -dependent, one on another. Doubtless, Descartes only developed -and gave expression to tendencies which were in his time -beginning to be active and strong; but the experience of the -civilized world only historically verifies their destructive, -anti-philosophical, anti-religious, and anti-social character. -Yet his method is still, in substance if not in form, very -extensively accepted and followed, as the example of _The -Churchman_ itself proves. - -We do not by any means believe that Descartes had any suspicion -of the real character of his philosophic enterprise. We are far -from agreeing with Gioberti that he was a disguised Protestant -designedly laboring to complete the work undertaken by Luther. We -doubt not that he really accepted the church, as he always -professed to do, though most likely he was far enough from being -a fervent Catholic; but he was bred a soldier, not a philosopher -or a theologian; and though he may have been, and we believe he -was for his time, a great mathematician and a respectable -physicist, he was always a poor theologian, and a still poorer -metaphysician. His natural ability was no doubt worthy of -admiration, but he had no genius for metaphysics, and his -ignorance of the profounder philosophy of antiquity and of the -mediaeval doctors was almost marvellous. He owed in his own day -his popularity to the fact that he discoursed on philosophy in -the language of the world, free from the stiff formulas, the -barbarous locutions, and the dry technicalities of the schools. -He owed much to the merits of his style, but still more to the -fact that he wrote in the vernacular instead of the Latin tongue, -then unusual with writers of philosophical treatises, and -non-professional men and court-bred ladies could read him and -fancy they understood philosophy. His works were -"philosophy-made-easy," and he soon became the vogue in France, -and France gives the fashion to the world. But it would be -difficult to name a writer who has exerted in almost every -direction an equally disastrous influence on modern thought and -civilization; not that his intentions were bad, but that his -ignorance and presumption were great. - -The Cartesian method has no doubt favored that lawless and -independent spirit which we see throughout modern society, and -which is manifested in those Jacobin revolutions which have -struck alike at ecclesiastical and political authority, and at -times threatened the civilized world with a new barbarian -invasion; but the evil resulting from that method which is now -the most to be deplored is the arrogant and independent tone -assumed by modern science, and its insolence toward the sacred -dogmas of faith. Descartes detached philosophy, and with it all -the sciences, from faith, and declared them independent of -revelation. -{248} -It is especially for this that Cousin praises him. But modern -so-called science is not contented even with independence; it -aspires to dominate and subject faith to itself, or to set up its -own conclusions as the infallible test of truth. It makes certain -inductions from a very partial survey of facts, concocts certain -geological, physiological, ethnological, and philological -theories at war with the dogmas of faith, and says with sublime -insolence that therefore faith must give way, for science has -demonstrated its falsity! If the church condemns its unsupported -conclusions, there is forthwith a deafening clamor raised that -the church is hostile to science, and denies the freedom of -thought and the inalienable rights of the mind! _The -Churchman_ sees this, and has written the very article from -which we have made our extract to show its injustice; but with -what success can it hope to do it, after beginning by approving -the Cartesian method and conceding modern science, in principle, -all it asks? - -We have said and shown over and over again that the church does -not condemn science. Facts, no matter of what order, if facts, -never do and never can come in collision with her teaching, nor -can their real scientific explanations ever conflict with -revelation or her dogmas. The church interferes not with the -speculations or the theories of the so-called _savans_, -however crude, extravagant, or absurd they may be, unless they -put forth conclusions under the name of science which militate -against the Christian faith. If they do that, she condemns their -conclusions so far as repugnant to that faith. This supervision -of the labors of _savans_ she claims and exercises for the -protection of her children, and it is as much in the interest of -science as of faith that she should do so. If we were to believe -what men counted eminent in science tell us, there is not a -single Christian dogma which science has not exploded; yet, -though modern investigations and discoveries may have exploded -several scientific theories once taught in the schools and -accepted by Catholics, we speak advisedly when we say science has -not exploded a single dogma of the church, or a single -proposition of faith she has ever taught. No doubt, many -pretendedly scientific conclusions have been drawn and are drawn -daily that impugn the faith; but science has not yet confirmed -one of them, and we want no better proof that it never will -confirm them than the bare fact that they contradict the faith -the church believes and teaches. They can all be scientifically -refuted, and probably one day will be, but not by the people at -large, the simple and unlettered; and therefore it is necessary -that the church from time to time should exert her authority to -condemn them, and put the faithful on their guard against them. -This is no assumption to the injury of science, for in condemning -them she seeks only to save the revealed truth which they impugn. -It is necessary, also, that men should understand that in science -as well as in faith they are not independent of God, and are -bound by his word wherever or whatever it speaks. Descartes -taught the world to deny this and even God himself till -scientifically proved, and hence the pains we have taken to -refute his method, to show its unscientific character, and to -indicate some of the fatal consequences of adopting it. - -We know very well that Bossuet and Fdénélon are frequently -classed with the disciples of Descartes, but these men were -learned men and great theologians, and they followed Descartes -only where he coincided with the general current of Catholic -philosophy. -{249} -Either was a far profounder philosopher than Descartes ever could -have been, and neither adopted his method. The same may be said -of other eminent men, sometimes called Cartesians. The French -place a certain national pride in upholding Descartes, and pardon -much to the sophist in consideration of the Frenchman; but this -consideration cannot weigh with us any more than it did with the -Italian Jesuit, the eminent Father Tapparelli, we believe, who a -few years since, in some remarkable papers in _La Civiltá -Cattolica_, gave a most masterly refutation of Descartes's -psychological method. Truth is of no nation, and a national -philosophy is no more commendable than a national theology, or a -national church. It is no doubt to the credit of a nation to have -produced a really great philosopher, but it adds nothing to its -glory to attempt to make pass for a great philosopher a man who -was in reality only a shallow sophist. It was one of the -objectionable features in the late M. Cousin that he sought to -avail himself of the national prejudices of his countrymen, and -to make his system pass for French or the product of French -genius. The English are in this respect not less national than -the French, and Bacon owes his principal credit with them to the -fact that he was a true Englishman. All real philosophy, like all -truth, is catholic, not national. - -In regard to the scepticism _The Churchman_ deems so -essential in the investigation of truth, we have already remarked -that a sceptical disposition is the worst possible preparation -for that investigation. He who would find truth must open his -heart to it, as the sunflower opens her bosom to the sun, and -turns her face toward it in whatever quarter of the heavens it -may be. Those who, like _The Churchman_, know not the truth -in its unity and catholicity, and substitute opinion for faith, -will do well so far to doubt their opinions as to be able -thoroughly to investigate them, and ascertain if they have any -solid foundation. There are reasons enough why they should -distrust their own opinions, and see if the truth is not really -where the great majority of the civilized world for ages has told -them it is to be found. They ought to doubt, for they have reason -to doubt, not of every thing, not of God, not of truth, but of -their own opinions, which they know are not science nor faith, -and therefore may be false. Scientific men should doubt not -science, nor the possibility of science, but their theories, -hypotheses, and conjectures till they have proved them; and this -all the same whether their theories, hypotheses, and conjectures -are taken from the schools or are of their own concoction. But -this is something very different from presenting to the world or -to one's self the being of God, the creation, the immortality of -the soul, and the mysteries of faith as opinions or as theories -to be doubted till proven after the manner of geometricians. -These are great truths which cannot be reasonably doubted; and, -if we find people doubting them, we must, in the best way we can, -convince them that their doubts are unreasonable. The believer -need not doubt or deny them in order to investigate the grounds -of his faith, and to be able to give a reason for the hope that -is in him. We advance in the knowledge of truth by means of the -truth we have; and the believer is much better fitted for the -investigation of truth than the unbeliever, for he knows much -better the points that need to be proved, and has his mind and -heart in a more normal condition, more in harmony with the real -order of things, and is more able to see and recognize truth. -{250} -But this investigation is not necessary to justify faith in the -believer. It is necessary only that the believer may the better -comprehend faith in its relations with the general system of -things, of which he forms a part, and the more readily meet the -objections, doubts, and difficulties of unbelievers. But all -cannot enter into this investigation, and master the whole field -of theology, philosophy, and the sciences, and those who have not -the leisure, the opportunity, and ability to do it, ought not to -attempt it. The worst possible service we can render mankind is -to teach them that their faith is unreasonable, or that they -should hold themselves in suspense till they have done it, each -for himself. They who can make the investigation for themselves -are comparatively few; and shall no man venture to believe in God -and immortality till he has made it? What, then, would become of -the great body of the people, the poorer and more numerous -classes, who must be almost wholly occupied with procuring the -means of subsistence? If the tender mercies of God were no -greater than those of the Cartesian philosophers and our -Episcopalian _Churchman_, the poor, the unlettered, the -simple, the feeble of intellect would be obliged to live without -any rule of duty, without God in the world, or hope in the world -to come. For them the guidance and consolations of religion would -alike be wanting. - -We may see here why the church visits with her censures whatever -tends to unsettle or disturb the faith of the people, for which -an unbelieving and unreasoning world charges her with denying -reason, and being hostile to freedom of thought and scientific -investigation. We do not hope to convince the world that it is -unjust. The church is willing that every man who can and will -think for himself should do so; but the difficulty is, that only -here and there one, even at best, does or can so think. It is not -that she is unwilling that men should reason, if they will really -reason, on the grounds of faith, but that most persons who -attempt to do so only reason a little way, just far enough to -raise doubts in their minds, doubts which a little more knowledge -would solve, and then stop, and refuse or are unable to reason -any farther. It is the half-reason, the half-learning, the -half-science that does the mischief; as Pope sings: - - "A little learning is a dangerous thing: - Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring; - There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, - But drinking largely sobers us again." - -Many may take "shallow draughts," but very few can "drink deep," -and those shallow draughts, which are all that except the very -few can take, are more hurtful to both intellectual and moral -health than none at all. The church certainly does not encourage -those to reason on sacred subjects who can or will reason only -far enough to doubt, and to puff themselves up with pride and -conceit She, however, teaches all the faith, and gives to every -one who will listen to her voice as solid reasons for it as the -wisest and most learned and scientific have or can have. In this, -however the world may blame or vituperate her, she only pursues -the course which experience and common sense approve and -pronounce wise and just. - -The attempt to educate the mass of the people up to the point of -making each individual able to understand and solve all the -difficulties in the way of faith has never succeeded, and can -never succeed. -{251} -The mass of the people need and always will have teachers of some -sort whom they do and must trust. We see it in politics. In the -most democratic state the mass of the people follow like sheep a -few leaders, wise and prudent men sometimes, perhaps oftener -ignorant but cunning and unscrupulous demagogues. All may be made -to understand that in matters of faith the teachers are -commissioned by the church, and that the church is commissioned -by God himself, who teaches in and through her, and no one has or -can have any better reason for believing anything, for none -better is conceivable. It is the assumption that the people are -to judge for themselves without instructors or instruction that -causes so much unbelief in the modern world; but as they have -been very extensively told that it is their right to do so, and -made to believe it, the church, of course, must meet their -factitious wants the best way she can, and educate them up to the -highest point possible, and give them all the instruction, not -only in the faith, but on its grounds and reasons, they are or -can be made capable of receiving. She must do this, not because -the people believe or are already enlightened, but because they -have learned only just enough to doubt and rebel. - --------- - - Abridged from the German. - - The Composer's Difficulty. - - -The good old custom in London, in 1741, was for the members of -the ---- Club to assemble in the parlor of a noted tavern in -Fleet street, kept by Master Farren, who had a sharp-tongued wife -and a young and lovely daughter. This young girl had been setting -the large room in order, and putting fresh flowers in the vase, -in preparation for the expected guests, when the door opened -softly, and a young man came in. Ellen did not look up till he -was close to her, then she started and blushed crimson, while he -took her hand and kissed it with the air of a cavalier. - -"I did not know it was you, Joseph," faltered the maiden. - -"I can stay but a moment," said the young student of music, "for -they will all be here presently. I came to tell you to come to -the garden without fail this evening; I want to give you a first -lesson, in a new part." - -Ellen's face brightened. Just then a shrill voice called her -name, and she knew her mother would be angry if she saw her with -the German, Joseph Wach. - -"I will come!" she answered quickly. "Now I must leave you." And -she ran out at a repetition of the shrewish call. Joseph did not -attempt to detain her; though the two loved each other well he -knew that Dame Farren regarded him with good will no longer, now -that Master Handel, his teacher and patron, no longer stood high -in the king's favor, and went no more to Carlton House. The -father, old John Farren, was still the friend of the young man. - -{252} - -An hour later, and the round table, on which stood mugs of porter -and glasses, was surrounded by men, members of the musical club, -conversing on a subject deeply interesting to them all. One of -them--a very tall man, with large, flashing eyes and a noble and -expressive countenance--was addressed as "Master Handel;" -another, simple in his dress and plain in his exterior, with a -world of shrewdness and waggery in his laughing eyes, was William -Hogarth, the painter. - -They were talking about the composer's great work, _The -Messiah_, which Handel had not as yet been able to get -properly represented. Hogarth was urging an application to the -Duke of Bedford. Handel, disgusted at his want of success -hitherto, was reluctant to sue for the favor of any patron to -have his best work brought before the public. - -"If his grace only comprehended a note of it!" he exclaimed -petulantly; "but he knows no more of music than that lout of a -linen-weaver in Yorkshire." - -"Whom you corrected with your fist, when he blundered with your -_Saul_!" cried the painter. "You should have learned better -policy, my good master, from your eight-and-twenty years in -England! A stupid, great nobleman can do no harm to a work of -art! If I dealt only with those who understood my work, my wife -and children might starve." - -Handel was leaning on the table, his face buried in his hands. -His thoughts were wandering toward Germany. When he spoke, it was -to express his bitter regret that he had left his fatherland just -as new life in art began to be stirring. While the Germans -achieved greatness in music, he had been tormenting himself in -vain with dolts of singers and musicians in England, whose hard -heads could not take in a notion of music! "I will return to -Germany!" he concluded. "Better a cowherd there than here -director of the Haymarket Theatre, or chapelmaster to his -majesty, who, with his court rabble, takes such delight in the -warblings of that foppish Italian--Farinelli." - -Some other members came in to join them, among them the young -German, Joseph Wach. Handel nodded kindly to him, and asked how -he was getting on with his part. - -"I am very industrious, Master Handel, and will do my best," -replied Joseph. "You shall hear me soon." - -The conversation about the new work was resumed. The Abbé Dubos -described how the chorus, "The glory of the Lord shall be -revealed," had sounded all night in his ears. "Your glory, Master -Handel, will be revealed through your _Messiah_ when once -you can get it brought out. I understand the lord archbishop is -against it!" - -The flush of anger rushed to Handel's brow. "The lord -archbishop!" he repeated scornfully. "He offered to compose me a -text for the _Messiah_, and when I asked if he thought I -knew nothing of the Bible, or if he expected to improve the Holy -Scriptures, he turned his back on me, and represented me to the -court as a rude, thankless boor." - -Master Tyers, the lessee of Vauxhall, remarked that it was not -politic to speak one's mind too openly, especially with the -great. Dr. Hualdy tried to soothe the irritated composer by -speaking of the admiration he had already won, after a long -struggle with ignorance and intrigue. - -{253} - -"What care I," interrupted Handel, "for the admiration of fools -and knaves!" - -There were many to give the "soft answer" which "turneth away -wrath," and to deprecate too severe a judgment of the English -people because they had accomplished little in the glorious art -and failed at once to recognize the best. "Admitting," added the -abbé, "that the court and nobles have done you injustice; that we -have no such musicians and singers as in Germany; that we cannot -grasp all the grand spirit of your works, are you not, -nevertheless, idolized by the people of Britain? Lives not the -name of Handel in the mouth of honest John Bull, cherished as the -names of his proudest statesmen! Give him, then, a little -indulgence! Let us have a chance to hear your _Messiah_; -condescend to ask the aid you need in bringing it out; your honor -will not suffer, and the good you will do will be your reward!" - -"That is just what I have told him!" exclaimed Hogarth. And the -others chimed in their eager assent. Even the burly host coaxed -him, and, by way of argument, said: "You know, Master Handel, how -often I have to bend to my good woman; yet it is no detriment to -my authority as master of the house." - -Handel sat silent for a time, looking gloomily around the circle. -Then suddenly he burst into a laugh. "By my halidome, old -fellow," he cried, "you are right! To-morrow I _will_ go to -the Duke of Bedford. You _shall_ hear the _Messiah_, -were all the rascals in the three kingdoms against it!" - -There was a burst of delighted applause from all the company. The -fat landlord gave a leap of joy, and Joseph clasped his hands; -for he knew Handel's success would be the making of his own and -Ellen's fortune. - -Handel waited on the Duke of Bedford, who happened to be giving a -grand breakfast. The duke prized the reputation of a patron of -the arts, and knew well that Handel's absence from court and the -circles of the nobility was owing more to his disregard of the -forms and ceremonies held indispensable than to any want of -esteem for the composer. His oratorio of _Saul_ had won him -proud distinction. When informed that Handel had called on him, -the duke himself came out to welcome him and lead him into the -drawing-rooms. But the composer drew back, saying he had come to -solicit a favor. The duke then took him into his cabinet, and -listened graciously to his petition that he "would be pleased to -set right the heads of the Lord Mayor and the Archbishop of -London, so that they should cease laying hindrances in the way of -the representation of the _Messiah_." - -The duke not only listened, but promised to use all his means and -influence to remove the obstacles. Handel knew he could depend on -the promise. He accepted the invitation to join the company with -joy, when he heard that his celebrated countryman, Kellermann, -was there and engaged in the duke's service. - -His grace led in and introduced his distinguished guest. The -sight of the great composer produced a sensation. Handel cared -nothing for the noble company, but greeted his old friend -Kellermann with all the warmth of his nature. They had a cordial -talk together, while the idol of the London fashionables, Signor -Farinelli, hemmed and cleared his throat over the piano, in token -that he was about to sing, and wanted Kellermann to accompany -him. -{254} -The musician at length noticed his uneasiness, pressed his -friend's hand, returned to his place, and took up his flute, -while Farinelli began a melting air in his sweet, clear voice. - -Handel, a powerful man, austere and vigorous in nature, abhorred -the singing of such effeminate creatures, and despised the -luxurious ornamentation of the Italian's style. Farinelli's soft -trilling was accompanied by Kellermann on the flute with -dexterous imitation. Handel laughed inwardly to see the effect on -the company. The ladies were in raptures; and, when Farinelli -ceased, the most eager applause rewarded him. - -The duke introduced the Italian to Handel. Farinelli complimented -him in broken English, said he had heard that "Signor AEndel had -composed una opera--il _Messia_," and begged to know, with a -complacent smile, if there would be a part in the opera for "il -famous musico Farinelli?" - -Handel surveyed the ornamented little figure from head to foot, -and answered in his deepest bass tone, "No, signora." - -There was suppressed laughter, and the ladies covered their -faces. Not long afterward Handel took his leave, with his friend -Hogarth, who was a guest. - - ---- - -The _Messiah_ was announced for representation. But an -unexpected difficulty presented itself. The lady who had been -engaged to sing the first soprano part sent word that she was ill -and could not sing; and the oratorio had to be postponed. - -Handel knew it was mere caprice on the part of the spoiled -prima-donna, and was excessively indignant. When he heard from -the leader of the orchestra that a second postponement might be -necessary, he roundly declared it should not be. "It _shall_ -take place!" he exclaimed, and set off to call upon the signora -himself. - -Signora Lucia, the Italian vocalist, that morning held a -_levée_ of her admirers. Their conversation, as she reclined -on a couch in a graceful _déshabillé_, was of "il barbaro -Tedesco," his unreasonable expectations, and the pleasure the -beautiful singer took in disappointing him. "He dared to order me -about at rehearsal!" she cried. "For that, he shall not have his -troublesome oratorio performed at all!" The gentlemen applauded -her spirit. Then it was related how the fair singer Cuzzoni had -refused to sing some music in Handel's opera, and he had gone to -her room, seized her, and, rushing to the open window, had held -her out at arms' length, threatening to drop her unless she -promised to sustain her part. - -"He shall find me harder to deal with," said the beauty -languidly. Just then the name of the great composer was -announced, and Handel's heavy step was heard in the hall. The -gentlemen visitors huddled themselves off in such confusion, they -could only retreat behind the couch, drawing the damask curtain -over the recess so as to conceal them. - -Lucia was uneasy, but maintained her composure. Handel, however, -had not come, as she expected, to entreat her to sing. He stood -near the door, and, vouchsafing no salutation, haughtily demanded -her _part_. - -The singer made no answer, and Handel strode forward. Lucia -sprang up, seized the bell, and rang it violently, but not one of -her admirers answered the call. Handel advanced, and coolly -lifted the curtain behind the sofa, revealing the group of -terrified Italians. He laughed scornfully, and again demanded her -part of the signora. - -{255} - -In unutterable passion, she snatched up a roll of music from the -table and flung it at the composer. He picked it up, bowed -ironically, and walked out of the room. The anger of Lucia with -her cowardly friends who had not interfered to avenge this -insult, and their confusion, may be imagined. - -Handel had punished the capricious singer, but he could find no -one to take her place. His friends sympathized in his distress, -but could offer no aid nor consolation. Hogarth thought he -underrated the Italians, and was too conceited. "You remember," -he said, "when Correggio's Leda was sold in London at auction for -ten thousand guineas, I said, 'I will paint something as good for -such a sum.' Lord Grosvenor took me at my word, I painted my -picture, and he called his friends together to look at it. They -all laughed at me, and I had to take back my picture." - -Handel replied that the old Italian painters were worthy of all -respect, and so were the old Italian church composers. The modern -ones he thought, in their way, more or less like Signor -Farinelli. - -The day before the oratorio was to be produced Handel sat in his -study reviewing the work. Now he would smile over a passage, now -pause over something that did not satisfy him, pondering, -striking out, and altering to suit his judgment. At length his -eyes rested on the last "Amen," long, long, till a tear fell on -the leaf. - -"This work," he said solemnly, and looking upwards, "is my best! -Receive my best thanks, O benevolent Father! Thou, Lord! hast -given it me; and what comes forth from thee, that endureth, -though all things earthly perish. Amen." - -He laid aside the notes, and walked a few times up and down the -room, then seated himself in his easy-chair. His pupil, Joseph, -opened the door softly and came in. Handel started from his -reverie, and asked what he wanted. The young man, with an air of -mystery, begged the master to come with him. - -In a few moments they were in a room in the upper story of Master -Farren's tavern, a room where Joseph practised his music. There, -to Handel's no small astonishment, he saw the host's pretty -daughter, Ellen. - -"What may all this mean?" he asked, while his brow darkened. -"What do you here, Miss Ellen, in this young man's study?" - -"He may tell you that himself, Master Handel," answered the -damsel, turning away her blushing face. - -Joseph hastened to say, "I am ready to answer, dear master, for -what we do." - -"Open your mouth, and speak, then," said Handel sternly. - -"You have done much for me, dear master," said Joseph with -emotion. "When I came a stranger and penniless, you put me in the -way of earning a support. You gave me instruction in music and -singing, spending hours you might have given to doing something -great." - -"And does the fool think making a good singer was not doing -something great--eh?" - -"And I have tried to make a singer for you!" said the young man. -"Will you hear her?" And he pointed to Ellen. - -Handel, in his surprise, opened his eyes wide as he looked at the -damsel. - -"Yes--Ellen!" she repeated, coming close to him, and lifting her -clear, hazel eyes to his face. "Now you know, Master Handel, what -Joseph and I have been about, and for what I am here in his -study." - -{256} - -"We wanted to be of service in your dilemma," said Joseph. "Shall -Ellen sing before you, Master Handel?" - -Handel seated himself: "I am curious to see how your teaching has -succeeded," he said. "Come, let her begin." - -Joseph went to the piano, and Ellen stood beside him. - -The part she took was that of the first soprano, the one taken -from Signora Lucia. Handel started as the young girl's voice -rose, clear, silvery, floating--a voice of the purest quality! -How he listened when he heard the most splendid portion of his -forthcoming work--the glorious air, "I know that my Redeemer -liveth"--and how Ellen sang it may be conjectured when, after she -had ceased, the composer sat motionless, a happy smile on his -lips, his eyes full of tears. At length he drew a deep breath, -arose, kissed the maiden's forehead, kissed her eyes, in which -also bright drops were glancing, and said with profound feeling: -"Ellen, my good--good child--you will sing this part to-morrow at -the representation?" - -"Master Handel! _Father_ Handel cried the maiden, and threw -herself, sobbing, on his neck. Joseph rattled off a jovial air to -cover his emotion. - - ------ - -"Amen!" resounded through the arches of the church, and died away -in whispered melody in its remotest aisles. "Amen!" responded -Handel, while he slowly let fall the staff with which he had kept -time. His immortal masterpiece had produced an immense -impression: his fame was established for all time. - -When the great composer descended the church steps, he was -informed that his majesty had sent for him, and that a carriage -was waiting, by the royal command, to convey him to Carlton -House. - -George the Second received the artist with a gracious welcome, -and he read his triumph in the faces of the court nobles. - -"You have made us a noble present in your _Messiah_, Master -Handel," said the monarch. "It is a brave piece of work!" - -"_Is it?_" asked the composer, looking in the king's face, -and well pleased. - -"It is, indeed," replied George. "And now, tell me what I can do -for you." - -"If your majesty," answered Handel, "will give a place to the -young man who sang the tenor solo part, I shall be grateful. -Joseph Wach is my pupil, and _he_ has a pupil too, Master -Farren's daughter; but they cannot marry till Joseph finds a -place. The old dame will not consent, and your majesty knows the -women bear rule." - -The king's smile was a forced one, for a sore point in his -experience was touched. "I know nothing of the sort," he said. -"But your pupil shall have a place as first tenor in our chapel." - -Handel thanked his majesty with sincere pleasure. The king seemed -to expect him to ask more. - -"Have you nothing," at length he said, "to ask for yourself? We -would thank you, in your own person, for the fair entertainment -provided in your _Messiah_." - -Handel crimsoned as he heard this, and he answered in a tone of -disappointment: "Sire, I have endeavored not to _entertain_ -you, but to make you better." - -All the courtly company looked their astonishment. Even King -George was surprised. Then, bursting into a hearty fit of -laughter, he walked up to the composer and slapped him -good-naturedly on the shoulder. "You are, and ever will be, a -rough old fellow, Handel," said he; "but a good fellow withal! Do -as you will, we shall always be the best friends in the world!" - -{257} - -Handel retired from the audience, and was glad to escape to his -favorite haunt, Master Farren's tavern. Joseph and Ellen were -there, awaiting his return. His news brought them great joy. - -In the last years of Handel's life, when his sight failed him, it -was Ellen who nursed him faithfully as if she had been his own -child, while her husband wrote down his last compositions. - - - ------ - - Translated from Les Études Religieuses, etc. - - The Title Of The Kings Of England - - - Defensor Fidei: - Its Signification And Its Origin. - - -If an Englishman will take a pound sterling of the present year, -he will find around the effigy of Queen Victoria the words, -_Defensor Fidei_, a title which the sovereigns of Great -Britain have been proud to bear for more than three centuries. - -From whom did they receive it? Why was it given to them? What did -it originally mean, and what does it mean now? - -Henry VIII. received this title from the pope as a personal -privilege, and one that he had ardently desired and solicited for -a long time. It was conferred by a bull of Leo X., confirmed by -Clement VII. No one is ignorant on what occasion. Luther had left -the church. He was sowing his heresy in Germany, declaring that -the pope was Antichrist, and declaiming with furious rage against -Rome in his impious work, _The Captivity of Babylon_. Henry -VIII., indignant at the effort to mislead the people, replied in -a book called _Assertio septem sacramentorum adversus Martinum -Lutherum_. We regret that the space to which we are limited -prevents us making copious citations from it; for our readers -would then see that it would be impossible for any one to -proclaim a more devoted attachment to the holy see than did Henry -VIII. at that time. These pages are more than three centuries -old; but to-day, when war against the papacy is more bitter than -ever, we know of none among the contemporary works which defend -the church more filially and more warmly. - -{258} - -If at the time when Henry VIII., full of joy, received the bull -of Leo X., amid the hearty congratulations of his people, a man -had stood before him and said: Sire, in less than fourteen years -you will belie all your protestations of filial devotedness and -submission to the Vicar of Jesus Christ; you will rebel against -the Roman Church in just as striking a way as Martin Luther has -done; you will proclaim yourself the head of the Church of -England; you will be the author of a schism which will make blood -flow in torrents and will desolate England, Scotland, and Ireland -for more than three centuries; you, the victorious Henry VIII., -who would be the delight of your people if you were the master of -your passions instead of being their slave; you will become the -Nero of England: had such words been spoken, their author would -have been looked upon as insane. The proud and passionate Tudor -would have exhausted his ingenuity in inventing means to torture -a traitor like this. But, at the end of 1534, he who would -venture to print this book, which had purchased for Henry VIII. -the title which the sovereigns of England are so proud to use -even to-day, would have been declared guilty of high treason. - -Thus, God has wished that the very coins of his country shall -become for the Englishman who reflects and studies a precious and -lasting historical monument of the ancient faith of the country, -the Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman faith, the faith of France, of -Spain, of Italy, of Austria, and of all Christianity. The title -_Defensor Fidei_ signified at that time defender of the -Roman Faith. What does it mean now? After 1534, Henry VIII. -pretended to defend the Catholic faith, by refusing obedience to -the pope and submitting to his own spiritual supremacy, a new -star in the firmament of the church. - -Under the reign of Edward VI., or rather under that of the two -successive protectors, the Dukes of Somerset and Northumberland, -the faith was defended in the shape of the Forty-two Articles. It -was no longer the Catholic faith in its purity. - -Under the reign of Elizabeth, the governess of the Church of -England, the creed of Edward VI. was modified, and the faith was -now declared to consist in the Thirty-nine Articles. - -Since Elizabeth these Thirty-Nine Articles have continued to be -the official creed of the established church. In a country where -custom holds such sway, all the members of the Anglican clergy -are obliged to profess their faith in these articles under oath; -but do we see that the queen and her privy council exact the -performance of this oath? It would be answered that such a thing -has become impracticable, and that no one is held to the -performance of the impossible. We cheerfully agree to this, for -we are not in the habit of contesting what is plainly evident. - -The striking and multiplied facts of contemporaneous history will -at last compel every serious-minded man to ask himself this -question: Is not the title _Defensor Fidei_ very much like -that of _King of France_ which the sovereign of England -renounced in the beginning of this century, without really losing -anything? To tell the truth, they are "defenders of the faith" in -much the same manner as Victor Emmanuel is King of Cyprus and -Jerusalem. - -If we were English, we would delight in publishing a truly -apostolic book, which would contain little of our own -intellectual labor, except, perhaps, the choice of materials and -the manner of arranging them; nor would it be a controversial -work, for controversy only embitters an opponent; and, if our -readers will permit a playful but striking comparison, we would -make our adversaries appear like two inimical squirrels, who will -continually run about in a circle, with fiery looks and lively -motions, yet never getting one step nearer to each other. -{259} -We should make the calm and impartial voice of history speak, and -our publication would be called _Historical Documents on the -Title of the Kings of England, Defensor Fidei._ - -Large books find few readers nowadays, and so we would make ours -very brief; its contents these: The affirmation of the seven -sacraments against Martin Luther by Henry VIII., with the defence -of his book by John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester; the bull of Leo -X., which gave Henry VIII. the title of _Defensor Fidei_; -the act of parliament which declared Henry VIII. supreme head of -the Church of England; the Forty-two Articles of Anglican faith -under the reign of Elizabeth and her successors; the profession -of faith in the Thirty-nine Articles exacted officially of the -Anglican clergy; and, finally, the profession of faith of Pius -IV., which contains the whole doctrine of the Holy Council of -Trent. We would give the Latin text of all those documents and a -good English translation, so that the exactness of the -translation could be verified. We would crown our work with a -little complementary appendix, which would give our readers an -insight of the privy council of the queen in ecclesiastical -matters--_Optima legum interpres consuetudo_. Showing on one -side an abstract of the condemnations inflicted upon the -Puseyites for having professed Catholic doctrines denied by the -Anglican Church; and, on the other, the recapitulation of the -principal acts, which have favored so-called evangelical and even -rationalistic tendencies in the very heart of the establishment, -and which are recalled by the names, now become so famous, of -Gorham, Hampden, and Colenso. Nor should we omit the nomination -of a bishop of Jerusalem, made with such touching concord by -England and her Protestant sister, Prussia. This characteristic -fact impresses the seal of worldly policy on the forehead of the -Anglican Church. - -What can make a book more attractive than fine engravings? And so -our manual would contain the portraits of all the kings and -queens of England who have born the title of _Defensor -Fidei_; and, in this gallery of sovereigns, would figure in -his place the sombre protector Cromwell, who was a defender of -the faith in a manner peculiarly his own. Facing the rulers of -England, we would place the popes of Rome. We should strictly -deny ourselves the pleasure of making any commentaries. We should -content ourselves with a single exposition of authentic facts, -and look for the fruit of our book from the grace of God, who -enlightens the mind and touches the heart in his own good time, -and from the good sense, the integrity, and well-known -straightforward spirit of the English nation. - -Our reader has no need for us to tell him what the subject of -this work would be. He sees clearly that this book of Henry VIII. -against Luther, and its defence by John Fisher, Bishop of -Rochester--a book now extremely rare, buried, as it were, in the -dust of a few libraries as an archaeological curiosity, or at -most only quoted to show the monstrous self-contradictions that -Henry VIII. exhibited--that this book, we say, is the most -authentic and precious monument of the ancient and Catholic faith -in England, and, at the same time, a refutation in advance of the -Anglican schism, of all the Anglican heresies, and of the -Lutheran diatribes of Anglicanism against the pope as Antichrist, -and Rome as a new Babylon. - -{260} - -Is there not a sign in this very work of wondrous divine -predilection for England, and a distant preparation for a future, -such as we see with so much joy, springing from the seed sown -then, centuries ago? - -In religious and wise England many souls are eagerly seeking the -unity and antiquity of the Christian faith; like others, who have -preceded them in finding the fold of Christ, they are ready to -make the most heroic sacrifices as soon as they have discovered -the pearl without price. These brothers are already Catholic by -the aspirations of their hearts. Perhaps many belong already, -without their own knowledge and without ours, to the soul of the -only true church, because they have validly received holy -baptism, which has made them members of Jesus Christ and children -of the church; because they are only material heretics; and -because they walk in humility in the way that he who is the only -Mediator attracts them by his grace. They always take a step in -the true faith at each new light that they receive from heaven. -These Christians whom we respect and love, and who love us, honor -their country more than we can readily express. We cannot think -of them without the deepest interest and sympathetic veneration. - -With the exception of the trials of Pius IX., the father of the -Christian universe, the most venerable and the most magnanimous -of all the oppressed, except this holy, old man, this pontiff -king, surrounded by his legion of Machabees, crowned with his -gray locks, his virtues, and his misfortunes, we know of nothing -so beautiful as the devotion of our Catholic brothers of England, -Scotland, and Ireland to God and his church, and the divine -assistance which continually rallies new neophytes about them -when God calls them. It is a flood destined to overspread the -land. "Wonderful are the surges of the sea." [Footnote 37] - - [Footnote 37: Psalm xc. 4.] - -A religious of one of the missionary orders recently wrote from -India concerning a Protestant lady whom he had met, and said, -"Her conversation made me think that she was only a Protestant by -mistake." How many Englishmen to-day are only Anglicans by -mistake! - -While the Episcopal Church is falling to pieces under the -disintegrating influence of Protestantism, which is its essence, -and of rationalism, which has invaded it, as the lamented Robert -Wilberforce has clearly shown, [Footnote 38] many Christians born -within its communion, but animated by a different spirit which -urges them to the divine centre of Catholicity, are no longer -willing to build their faith on the shifting sand of human -opinions, and cement a religious society by the dissolving -principle of private judgment. For them the authority and the -common faith of the universal church are necessary: they demand -the integrity of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the sacred -guardian of apostolic traditions. For such as these, the book of -Henry VIII. and John Fisher is a most striking monument of the -unity and antiquity of the faith, a sort of beacon to show all in -the great impending shipwreck of religion in England what -direction they must take in order to find safety. - - [Footnote 38: The principle of authority in the church.] - -You who seek the unity of the faith, then, "one heart and one -soul," [Footnote 39] see in what splendor she shines here. - - [Footnote 39: Acts iv. 32.] - -{261} - -It is the King of England, and with him the most pious and -learned English bishop of the sixteenth century, who makes his -profession of faith, who glories in his submission to the -authority of the pope, who defends the seven sacraments. Does a -single bishop protest? Are Oxford and Cambridge silent? Do the -secular and regular clergy, the parliament, the laymen of every -condition of life, all acquiesce? Does not a single Englishman -present this respectful remonstrance: "Sire, you are sacrificing -the rights and prerogatives of your crown! A King of England -submit to the pope! Is not one king the supreme head of the -church? You defend seven sacraments: how so when there are only -two?" - -It was, then, evidently the faith of England that Henry VIII. and -John Fisher defended; and this monument, reared before the schism -and different creeds that it has created, shows us that those who -would dare to deny the doctrines there put forth would be -considered innovators, which, in the church of Jesus Christ, has -always been considered synonymous with heretics. - -But if this book is the monument of the faith of England in the -sixteenth century, before 1534, it is at the same time a monument -of the Roman faith, that is to say, of the faith of the Catholic -Church. At that time, when the pontiffs were more than usually -vigilant on account of the heresies which were springing up in -the various countries of Europe, two popes, Leo X. and Clement -VII., were not content with sanctioning the work of Henry VIII., -but gave and confirmed to him the title of the "Defender of the -Faith." England declared her belief; Rome, and through her the -Catholic Church, answered: "Your faith is ours; we congratulate -you on your able defence of it." Here was indeed unity and -unanimity. - -Is this all the light that we can gather from this source? This -monument was erected in the midst of the religious life of -England, between its Roman Catholic past, of more than a thousand -years from the birth of the Anglo-Saxon Church, and its -schismatic future, which would count more than three hundred -years. Nowhere can one better stand to see the different policies -and course travelled by England than here: once as the cherished -daughter of the Roman Church, the sister of Catholic nations; and -then how she has changed since she rebelled against Rome, and has -gone on in her isolation, sufficient for herself, Christian in -her own way, even while an oecumenical council was assembled. - -The Roman Catholic past of England is known by the certain -evidence of history; and from the monument of Henry VIII., which -can well be considered its terminus, we propose to cast a hasty -glance at its most distant events; and of these by far the most -interesting are the glorious acts of the pontificate of Pope St. -Gregory the Great, who sent missionaries to convert his dear -English, although yet idolaters, and who chose their first bishop -from the Benedictine monks of his convent at Rome. What unity, -what unanimity between Rome and England in the time of the monk -St. Augustine! It was the union of a daughter and mother: it was -precisely the same union, the same faith, in the sixth as in the -sixteenth century, until 1534. - -The sixth century makes us go far back in the history of the -church; but, in admiring the apostolic works of St. Augustine and -his companion, we find about them precious and striking witnesses -of a past yet more distant. -{262} -St. Augustine convokes the bishops of the Britons to beg them to -aid him in converting the Saxons to Christianity. He -acknowledged, then, that the Britons were in the same communion, -and professed the same Roman Catholic faith. Indeed, if the -Britons were wrong in refusing their help, it was only because of -their hatred against their oppressors, for the ancient British -Church was never separated from the communion of the Roman -Church, never lost the purity of the Catholic faith. [Footnote -40] - - [Footnote 40: See _The Monks of the West_, - by M. le Comte de Montalembert.] - -Pelagius, it is true, was a Briton, and his heresy, which he -first sowed at Rome, was not long in reaching Great Britain, yet -it never took deep root there. The British Catholics sent a -deputation to the bishops of Gaul, urging them to send a number -of missionaries to them. Pope Celestine, warned of the danger to -the faith, sent St. Germain of Auxerre; the bishops of Gaul, -assembled for this purpose, added St. Loup of Troyes. These two -great bishops left their peaceful flocks in all haste to come to -the rescue of the invaded folds; and while they were working so -faithfully for the glory of God and of his holy church, all -Catholic Gaul was praying most fervently for its sister, Great -Britain. Pelagianism was vanquished and found no home in the land -of Pelagius; it was in another land that it made its most -deplorable ravages. - -Thus it was in Great Britain that the bishops, who are -established by the Holy Spirit to govern the church, [Footnote -41] triumphed over this sad and insidious heresy, when they were -free to exercise their divine mission in that country, and when -they were closely united to the centre of unity. - - [Footnote 41: Acts xx. 28.] - -There was something like it in the fourteenth century, when the -heresy of Wickliff arose. He was condemned by the council of -London, (1382,) although an Englishman, and one who had studied -at Oxford, and who had been the principal of the College of -Canterbury, at once the flatterer and the favorite of his -sovereigns. His doctrine, which contained the germ of all the -Anglicanism of the time of Elizabeth, caused considerable trouble -in England; but, thanks to the firmness of the episcopate, these -troubles are not to be compared with those from which Bohemia -suffered, where John Huss taught the same heresy. - -Before the Anglican "reform," which has created a system before -unheard of, and which unites calumny with historical delusions, -every Englishman was proud to claim for his country the honor of -having preserved the faith always in its purity from the time -that the gospel had first been preached there. [Footnote 42] - - [Footnote 42: According to the Venerable Bede, Catholic - missionaries were sent there in the second century of our - era, by Pope Eleutherius.] - -Was England, then, in error? If so, she has deceived herself and -all Christendom; and this universal error has lasted from the -pontificate of Pope St. Eleutherius, to that of Pope Clement -VII., a period of more than thirteen hundred and fifty years! We -must say that anyone who looks upon this fact as of slight -importance would greatly astonish us. Where do they think that -the true church of Jesus Christ was during these long centuries, -that church against which the gates of hell shall not prevail? -[Footnote 43] Did it disappear, this city of God, which was to be -placed on the mountain and seen by all people? [Footnote 44] -Surely the spirit of delusion and darkness must be very potent -when it can make a pious Englishman declare that the glory of the -English Church was reduced to nothing before the sixteenth -century, and that then Henry VIII. and Cranmer, an infamous -libertine and his servile courtier, were raised up to open a new -career to her. - - [Footnote 43: St. Mark xvi. 18.] - - [Footnote 44: St. Matthew v. 14.] - -{263} - -Yet England, notwithstanding its modern religious state, is not -revolutionary. She loves order as warmly as she does liberty. -Even in religion, she desires by subordination the only means of -preserving it. - -How much light for Anglicans of good faith (and they are -numerous) shines in the violent and even indecent attacks made by -their preachers and historians upon the greatest names of -Catholic England--names that England revered in former times with -the whole Christian world--names still dear to the Catholic -Church, albeit they are now almost unknown in England. To efface -so much glory, it was needful that a new kind of glory should -appear and dazzle by its very contrast. - -At the end of 1534, and still more definitively in 1559, at the -commencement of the reign of Elizabeth, the Roman Catholic Church -and the Anglican Church were violently separated; they no more -profess the same creed, they have no longer the same worship, -their hierarchies are strangers, they mutually reproach each with -not being the true church of Jesus Christ. It is from the -monument of Henry VIII. and John Fisher that we can see the -different paths they followed and the daily increasing difference -which has separated them. - -For the Roman Church this epoch was one of those glorious -epiphanies which our Lord Jesus Christ prepares for it in -different times, and of which the joys are sown in tears. After a -sterile and desolate winter a spring appeared for the divine -tree, full of sap, and perfumed with celestial blossoms, followed -by a summer and autumn, rich in precious fruits of sanctity, of -knowledge, and charity. The Council of Trent was convoked in 1542 -by Paul III. for the spread and exaltation of the Christian -faith, for the extirpation of heresies, the peace and union of -the church, _for the reformation of the clergy and the -Christian people_, for the repression and extinction of the -enemies of the Christian name. The evils that existed were -fearful. The holy council, with the divine assistance, acquitted -itself of its task in a manner which would bring a speedy and -certain remedy to all the prevalent abuses. God, the supreme King -of kings, recompensed so many generous efforts on the part of his -faithful people by according to them, before the end of the -sixteenth century, under the glorious pontificate of St. Pius V., -that memorable victory of Lepanto, which crowned the work of the -crusades and shattered for ever the power of the Mussulman. - -But what avail the laws the most salutary in the bosom of nations -profoundly ignorant and deeply corrupt, if there do not rise in -their midst men powerful in word and work to instruct them, and, -above all, to regenerate them by the irresistible attraction of -the most heroic virtue? It was then God raised up in Italy, in -France, in Spain, in Germany, _true reformers_, who, after -the example of their divine Master, began to act before they -began to teach. Their names are too well known to need mention -here. They compelled men to acknowledge the divine tree by its -fruits. They professed the faith proclaimed by the Council of -Trent, which was nothing else than the faith of Nice in its -legitimate development. The faith of Nice was the faith of the -apostles. This faith of the apostles, of Nice, of all the -oecumenical councils, is the faith to-day of the Roman Church in -the solemn profession of faith of Pius. IV., which is a -_résumé_ of all the doctrine of the holy Council of Trent. - -{264} - -As for England, in separating from the Roman Church she commenced -the history of her variations: she entered upon that downward -path of religious decline which naturally ends in a sudden -descent into the gulf of scepticism. With a creed subject to the -changing will of man, she was Anglican after one fashion under -Henry VIII., after another fashion under Edward VI., after a -third under Elizabeth, and now, to the inexpressible confusion -and grief of those pious Christians born and nurtured in the -bosom of the established church, she has arrived, step by step, -at a point where she offers the spectacle of a chaos of -incoherent doctrines, some true, some false, some orthodox, -others heretical, some pious, others monstrously wicked, but all -tolerated out of respect for the genius of the individuals who -took the pains to invent them; all publicly and peaceably taught -beneath the standard of the Thirty-nine Articles. _Le pavilion -couvre la marchandise_. - -While so many great servants of God and his poor, venerated and -blessed throughout the rest of Christendom, adorned the Roman -Church, unfortunate England, shut up in its island and still -closer imprisoned by an atrocious religious persecution, saw -generations of her children grow up in hate, contempt, and horror -of popery and papists. Every source of education, all the pulpits -of the Anglican Church, all books allowed to be published, helped -to keep up this spirit of ignorant and bigoted hate against the -church of God. - -While St. Vincent de Paul, that great reformer of the clergy and -saintly founder of world-wide works of charity, prepared, -together with so many other apostolic men, the glory and -prosperity of our present great age; in sanctifying the family, -divinely instituted as the practical school of social virtues; in -arousing a spirit of generous devotion and sacrifice which led -men to comfort all forms of misery and reconcile rich and -poor--those brethren so easily made enemies--England was -deprived of all her religious orders, consecrated in former times -to the service of the poor and the sick, to the education of -youth, to the stubborn labors of science, to the contemplation of -divine things, to the crucified life, the life of prayer, the -life of the soul, against which the world blasphemes because it -cannot comprehend it. She lost the blessings of a celibate -clergy: she was despoiled of the sacred patrimony of the poor by -her king and lords, who distributed it among themselves, together -with the greater part of the wealth of the church, as the enemy's -spoils are divided and shared after a victory. (We intend to be -polite.) England beheld the wound of pauperism open wider each -day, and found herself forced to have recourse to the poor-tax, -unheard of in old Catholic times. Within her boundaries will be -found to-day an excessive wealth in face of poverty unknown -elsewhere. By the constant progress of science and industry, -machine labor tends to replace the labor of the individual, and -self-aggrandizement diminishes wages in proportion as it augments -the daily task of the workman. What a harvest would be offered to -the works of Catholic charity if her divine activity were only -there to replace the horrible workhouses where souls are -withering and dying! We yet have in France and elsewhere the -money of St. Vincent de Paul in an innumerable number of works of -charity truly Christian, and that enables us to live without -taxing the poor. - -{265} - -Such are the different paths which the Roman and Anglican Church -have followed since the deplorable schism of Henry VIII., renewed -and aggravated under Elizabeth. If before his death Henry VIII. -had repented of his wicked attack upon the church, what would he -have been obliged to do to reconcile himself with Rome? He would -have needed only to return to that profession of faith which he -made in his book against Luther. Since the beginning of the -Anglican schism, and at any point of its successive variations, -any Englishman, to return to the bosom of the Catholic Church, -would have nothing to do but to return to that same profession, -conformable in every point to the profession of faith of Pius IV. -This is what has been done in our own day by Father Spencer, -Archbishop Manning, Fathers Newman and Faber, Palmer and -Wilberforce, and a host of others, eminent for their virtues, -their knowledge, their public and private character, whom no -Englishman capable of appreciating the merit of sacrifices made -for God and in fidelity to conscience can name without respect -and pride. - -But possibly some of our readers may be astonished that we insist -so strongly upon the book written by Henry VIII., for it might -seem that the shameful life of the author reflects discredit upon -the work. Let us not be mistaken. In the first place, when Henry -VIII. wrote against Luther, he was very far from being the -monster of iniquity which he became afterward, and whose history -I leave to the severe judgment of a Christian Tacitus. Again, it -is important to understand that Henry VIII. was not the sole -author of this monument of his former faith reared by his hand -fourteen years before his apostasy. The universal judgment of -critics has always attributed the more solid part of the work, at -least, to John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, who assumed -ostensibly all the responsibility of it in the public defence he -made of it. - -Thus we see, on the one hand, Henry VIII., who, after putting -forth his work with so much ostentation, belied it without shame -and strove to mutilate it; and, on the other, John Fisher, who -plants it upon the immovable rock where he had taken his place, -and with glorious magnanimity sacrifices his life to defend it -This is the choice offered. He who returns to the ancient faith -of Henry VIII. separates himself from the tyrant and the -murderer, and joins himself to the company of his victim. He -ranks himself beside the glorious martyr who, during the second -half of King Henry's reign, was, of all the episcopate of -England, the only guardian left of English honor, and the last -champion of the liberty of conscience. - -An unwelcome truth, but a hard fact. In 1521, at the time of the -publication of the king's book against Luther, the whole English -episcopate most undoubtedly believed in the primacy of the pope -with Fisher, with Henry VIII., with all the Catholic Church, and -in no sense believed in the spiritual supremacy of the king. Then -there was unity and unanimity, and the present and past of -England were in harmony. But in 1534 the king changes his -doctrine, and with him the whole episcopate and parliament. One -English bishop only was found to display the firmness of a Basil, -a Hilary, an Athanasius, an Ambrose, a Chrysostom, a Lanfranc, an -Anselm, an Edward, a Thomas of Canterbury. The number of the -cowards does but make the immortal beauty of the contrast shine -out with the greater splendor. How many rough stones are not -thrown together pell-mell in their shapelessness and obscurity, -to form the foundation of the pedestal of one chosen stone, -carved with the sublime inspiration of genius by the chisel of a -Michael Angelo, to become the statue of a great man! - -{266} - -If John Fisher, like the heroic Thomas More, had not the support -of his own nation, he had that of all Christendom. Yes, the -monument of John Fisher is worthy to become the rallying point of -every generous-hearted Christian Englishman, who ardently looks -for the realization of the promise and dearest wish of our common -Redeemer and Saviour, Jesus Christ--There shall be one flock and -one Shepherd. - -With what indescribable emotion the heart of an Englishman must -beat when, after a long interior combat with so many prejudices -in which he has been nurtured, he at last breaks the chains of -his slavery, and when, feeling himself free with that liberty -which only a Catholic can feel, he cries out: "I'll do it: I -abjure the schism of Henry VIII., the creed of Cranmer and -Parker; I will go back to the faith of John Fisher!" - -Such, doubtless, were the sentiments of the pious and learned -Robert Wilberforce when he returned to the bosom of the holy -Catholic Church. His words, so serious, so marked by the ardent -love of truth, so touching in their tone of respect and fraternal -charity for his adversaries, fall upon our ears in accents of -majestic solemnity as they echo back to us from the depths of the -tomb. This is what his hand has written whose memory is enshrined -in the noblest hearts: - - "When national distinctions cease to exist, and mankind, small - and great, are assembled before God, it will be seen whether it - was wiser, like Henry VIII. and his minion Cromwell, to break - up the Church Catholic for the sake of ruling it, or, like More - and Fisher, to die for its unity." - - --------- - - - Seventy-three. - - Be merry as May, - If you want to be - As merry and gay, - At seventy-three. - - To be merry and gay - Though, at seventy-three, - Argues Life's primal May - Spent virtuously. - - T. K. - - --------- - - - - - -{267} - - A Winged Word. - - "O power of life and death - In the tongue! as the preacher saith." - - -Mr. Basil Andrew paused in writing and held his pen suspended, -his breath also slightly in suspense, as he contemplated his -subject anew. He had been reviewing a theological work just -published; but his thoughts had developed as he dwelt on them, -and were no longer a plan, but the torso of a plan. - -He sat like one in a trance while the new idea grew; grew slowly, -almost painfully, seeming to find scant room in his brain, albeit -his brows were wide. Touches from the utmost limits of his nature -and his experience shaped and modified it: the swell of feeling -with the ray of intellect that ruled its tide; vague emotions and -vaguer speculations, in whose mists sparks of truth were -dissipated, from whose sudden meeting had sometimes sprung the -electric flash of intelligence; aspirations that had climbed -their Jacob's ladder, reason fixing the rounds till the climbers -took wings, and dazzled her with their transfigured faces; -fragments of knowledge hard and sharp-edged; stray conclusions -finding their premises, and stray premises their -conclusions--mallet and handle for blows--all working the shape -till there it stood in his brain, the perfect form of a truth. - -One instant he contemplated it with rapture, while it glowed -alive under his gaze; the next, he looked outward and perceived -its relations with the world. As he did so, a wave of color swept -over his face; and, heart failing, that form was no longer to him -a living truth, but the statue of a truth. - -"I might have known," he muttered, flinging his pen aside, "for -me, at least, 'all roads lead to Rome.' I believe I am -bewitched." - -With that flush still upon his face, he rolled up the unfinished -manuscript, and deliberately laid it on the coals that burned -redly in the grate, where it quivered like a sentient thing. One -might fancy that the thoughts just warm from his brain still -retained some clinging sensation, telling where their rest had -been, as, stepping ashore, for a while we continue to feel the -motion of the sea on which we have been tossing. Then the edges -of the leaves blackened, slender fingers of flame stole over -them, opened them out, drew rustling leaf from leaf, scorching -them, till one sentence started out vivid as lightning on a -cloud, that sentence on which he had paused, finding it not a -conclusion, but an indication. Then a strong draught caught the -yet quivering cinders and carried them up the chimney. - -"There they go in a swirl, like Dante's ghosts," he thought; and -turned away to look out into the north-eastern storm that, having -brushed the bloom from a crimson sunrising, was now, at -afternoon, rushing in power over the city. The air was thick with -snow, through which, far aloft, dark objects occasionally sailed -with the wind-witches, probably. Passers struggled in wind and -drift, and the houses seemed not sure of their footing, and had a -forlorn and smothered aspect. But Mr. Andrew perceived with -satisfaction that the mansion in which he dwelt maintained its -dignified dowager port, and that, if ever a feathery drift -presumed to alight on the doorsteps, an obsequious little flirt -of wind darted round a corner of the house and whisked it off. - -{268} - -While the gentleman stood there, the door of the room opened for -the first time in three hours, and Miss Madeleine, Mrs. Hayward's -niece, came in with a book in her hand. He watched her as she -crossed the room without noticing him, and, when she had seated -herself at another window, he breathed out, "How sweet is -solitude!" speaking in one of those cloudy, golden voices, such a -voice as might have swept over the chords of David's harp when -David sang. - -The lady looked up, brightening for an instant as though shone -upon. Then she opened her book, and Mr. Andrew returned to his -table and read also. And there was silence for another hour. - -Mr. Basil Andrew was in person rather superb, tall till he bent -slightly with a languid grace, which also hung about his motions -and his speech. But when he was excited, these mists were -scorched up. Then he grew erect as a palm-tree, the not large but -beautifully shaped eyes flashed out their crystalline blue, and -delicate lines trembled or hardened in mouth and nostril. Then, -too, it appeared that those tones of his could ring as well as -melt. If it be true that "soul is the form, and doth the body -make," the philosophical reader may be able to guess the shape of -his nose and chin. Lavater would have pronounced favorably -concerning his intellect from seeing only that significant inch -across the brows. In color he was white and flaxen-haired, but -had some indefinable glow about him, like a pale object seen in a -warm light. - -Mr. Andrew at thirty-five years of age found himself in that -pause of life which, in natures too well poised for violent -reaction, comes between the disgust of unsatisfying pursuit and -the adoption of higher aims, or the disdainful and -half-despairing resumption of the former life. He awaited the -inspiring circumstance which should waft him hither or thither, -or perhaps for his soul to gather itself and make its own will -the wind's will, whichever might be more potential. Pending this -afflatus, interior or exterior, he rested upon life - - "As idle as a painted ship - Upon a painted ocean." - -Miss Madeleine was a well enough young woman, baptized into the -church, but from an early age subjected to Protestant influences; -oscillating between the two, never very conspicuously Catholic -except when the faith was assailed, then _plus Arabe que -l'Arabie;_ at other times following out Protestantism to its -ultimate pantheism. She had a dimly remembered father and mother -somewhere in church suffering or triumphant, and occasionally, -when life seemed to her unstable, she sent out a little prayer -for or to them, a prayer too weak to find olive-leaves. This -young woman was not without power, but it escaped in reverie and -dreaming; what she meant to do so vividly imagined that she -rested there as on accomplished work. Too impetuous and flimsily -ambitious to think with profit, her mind was encumbered with -fragments of thought, often with a sparkle in them, like the -broken snow-crystals she now dropped her book to watch. In fine, -her outer life was a purposeless stupor, her inner life one of -Carlyle's "enchanted nightmares" in miniature. - -{269} - -As the clock struck four, Mr. Andrew closed his book and -approached his companion. - -"I have been reading Thoreau's description of autumn woods," she -said, "and I feel all colored. I am steeped in crimson, and -purple, and amber, and rich tawny browns. My eyes are violet, and -my hair is golden." - -"Your hair is brown, and your eyes are gray," was the -matter-of-fact reply, it being Mr. Andrew's opinion that the -girl's mind needed ballast. - -"What book have you there?" she asked, settling into place. - -"Oh!" just aware he still held it, "it is Father de Ravignan's -_Society and Institute of the Jesuits_--very good if one -desires information on the subject. Moreover, one is charmed to -learn that Père de Ravignan, though himself a Jesuit, has been a -magistrate and a man of his time; also that he is still a man, -and, _par excellence_, a Frenchman. The good father becomes -a little Hugoish and staccato when he refers to himself." - -Since she still waited, watching him with eager, imperative eyes, -he went on. "You know the story of the Florentine and Genoese who -wished to compliment each other: 'If I were not a Genoese, I -should wish to be a Florentine,' said one. 'And I,' said the -other, 'if I were not a Florentine, should wish to be--' 'A -Genoese!' suggested the other. 'No, a Florentine!' So I, if I -were not a free-thinker, would wish to be--" - -"A Catholic!" the girl broke in. "Don't deny. You already tire of -your Theodore Parker, whose intellect was to him what astronomers -call a crown of aberration. You have but to look at the church, -and faith is easy! How beautiful are thy steps, O prince's -daughter!" - -"Very pretty, but not very conclusive," was the cool comment. -"You once said to me, 'Epithets are not arguments.' Allow me to -retort that apostrophes are not arguments. By the way, how -impossible it is to calculate on where you may be found, except -that it is sure to be 'in _issimo_.' The arc of your motion -takes in both poles." - -Miss Madeleine relapsed again immediately, and with a somewhat -weary expression. - -At the same moment the door opened wide, and Mrs. Hayward -entered, producing the effect of being preceded by a band of -music. This lady of fifty was ample, rustling, and complacent, -and, being lymphatic, was called dignified. If, on being left a -widow in straitened circumstances, and finding herself obliged to -take a few boarders, Mrs. Hayward had felt any sense of -diminished social lustre, no one had perceived it. "They pay my -housekeeping expenses," she said serenely; and immediately that -seemed the end of their being. - -There is something imposing in the suave conceit of such persons. -Possessing themselves so completely, they also possess those who -approach them, abashing larger and more slowly ripening natures. -Names respectfully pronounced by them become at once names of -consequence, and trivial incidents by them related swell into -significant events. If they are something, then I am nothing, is -the thought with which we approach them; and the fact that they -are something seems so clear that the mortifying conclusion is -inevitable. - -After this lady followed Mrs. Blake, obviously the wife of Mr. -Blake, also the mother of an uproarious boy of six years who -accompanied her, and who was at this moment quieted by the -possession of an enormous cake which he was devouring. - -{270} - -"O the cherub!" cried Miss Madeleine wickedly. "That child has -genius. See, he eats his cake in the epical manner, beginning in -the middle. Little pocket edition of his papa! Only," in an aside -to her aunt, "I hope they haven't stereotyped him. And here comes -his papa now." - -A bang of the street-door, and enter Mr. Blake, rubbing his -hands, and quoting, - - 'It is not that my lot is low, - That bids the silent tear to flow;' - -it is the cold. No, my son; no kiss now. Sydney Smith says that -there is no affection beyond seventy or below twenty degrees -Fahrenheit. Wait till I rise to the paternal temperature." - -Mr. Blake was assistant editor of a second-class magazine, -considered himself literary, and had a way of saying "we -scribblers" to Mr. Andrew, which made that gentleman stiffen -slightly. While the one entertained the ladies with an account of -the immense amount of literary labor performed by him since -breakfast, the other looked from the window and absently watched -the wild wind curl itself to edge off the crest of a drift, -curling it over like the petal of a tuberose, but more thinly, -hanging, wavering, flake to flake, daintily and airily touching -the frail crystals. - -"Oh! there's to be a great Christmas at your cathedral -to-morrow," Mr. Blake said to Madeleine, as they went out to -dinner. "Bassoon's going to sing, and Kohn's orchestra to play. -It will be worth seeing and hearing, especially at five o'clock. -I mean to go if I can wake. And you?" - -"Yes," Madeleine said, glancing at Mr. Andrews, who flushed a -little as he nodded acquiescence. - -"'Similia similibus curantur,'" he thought. "I'll go and get -cured." - -"They really do things of that sort well at the cathedral," said -Mrs. Hayward patronizingly, seeming to pat a personified -cathedral on the head as she softly touched the table with her -plump white hand. - -Madeleine groaned inwardly. - -"Mr. Andrew," she said, "what should put me in mind of the frog -that tried to swell to the size of an ox?" - -Mr. Andrew found himself unable to guess. - -"But wouldn't it have been odd," she pursued, with the air of a -philosophical child, "if the frog had succeeded, and had swelled -to the size of an ox?" - -Mr. Andrew admitted that it would have been a phenomenon. - -"But," she concluded, with an air of infantile _naiveté_, -"it wouldn't have been anything but a great frog, would it?" - -"My dear, what are you talking about?" said her aunt. "Pray eat -your dinner." - -"Christmas-eve is a fast-day of obligation," says Madeleine. - -A little raising of three pairs of eyebrows fanned the flame. -This young woman had a tongue of her own, and while the others -dined she entertained them with a theological discourse, which, -if not always logical, had some telling points, and which -certainly did not assist the digestion of her hearers. They sat -with very red faces, choking a little, but trying to appear -indifferent. - -"Do people take bitters with their dinner?" asked Mr. Andrew, at -length. "I should think it would spoil the taste." - -"I must say, Madeleine," Mrs. Hayward interposed, "that, -considering you address Protestants, and that we are all friends -of yours, you show very little regard for our feelings." - -{271} - -The best thing that could have been said. Madeleine melted at -once. - -"O auntie!" she cried penitently, "'it is not that I love Caesar -less, but Rome more.' I own that it is you who have shown the -Christian spirit, and reminded me that centuries ago to-night the -angels sang 'Peace on earth.' I'm going to banish myself in -disgrace to the parlor. Rest you merry." - -Going, into the parlor, she saw all out-doors suffused with a -soft rose-color, a blush so tender and evanescent that it seemed -everywhere but where the eye rested. "The sky side of this storm -is all a sea of fire," she thought, throwing up the window, and -drawing in a delicious breath of mingled sunshine, west wind, and -frost. "How the clouds melt! And the winds and sunbeams, with -their convex gleams, build up the blue dome of the air." - -Coming in later, the others found her sitting at the piano in the -amethystine twilight, and singing a faint and far-away sounding -Gloria. - -"Hush!" said Mr. Blake, pausing on the threshold, "the evening -stars have begun, that the morning stars may know. See them all -of a tremor on that sky!" - -Listening to those strains of threaded silver, Mr. Andrew sat -looking into the twilight through which the grander -constellations burned with outlines unblurred by the lesser -stars. There was Orion, erect, with his girdle of worlds; Taurus, -with starred horns lowered; the Dogs, witnessed to by the liquid -brilliance of Sirius, matchless in shifting hues; the Lion, just -coming out of the East, his great paw resting on the ecliptic; -all those hieroglyphs of fire in which God has written his -autograph upon the heavens. - -"What a pretty myth it was," he thought, "that of the -morning-stars singing together. And that other of the star of -Bethlehem!" He half-wished he could believe those things, they -saved so much weary thought, so much maddening speculation. -Sometimes, while straining to grasp at extraordinary knowledge, -he had felt as though falling from a giddy height into an outer -darkness, and had drawn back shuddering, eager to catch at some -homely fact for support. He smiled now mockingly to himself. -"Perhaps the stars did sing. Like a child, I'm going to make -believe they did, and that one 'handmaid lamp' did attend the -birth of Jesus." It was easier to believe anything while he -listened to that Gloria. For, disregarded as Miss Madeleine might -be at other times, when she sang she was regnant. Her voice was -magnetic enough to draw the links from any man's logic. - -Ceasing, she called Mr. and Mrs. Blake to the piano, and the -three voices sang Milton's Hymn on the Nativity. - -It is astonishing how magnificently some small-souled persons do -contrive to sing, expressing sentiments which they must be -totally incapable of experiencing. Mrs. Blake sang a superb -contralto, and the three perfect voices struck fire from one -listener's heart as they beat the emphatic rhythm of that -majestical measure. - -All but Miss Madeleine went to bed early. She kept vigil, and was -to call them. They seemed scarcely to have slept when they heard -her voice ring up the stairs in the muezzin which she -christianized for the occasion, being in no mood to call Mohammed -a prophet: - - "Great is the Lord! Great is the Lord! - I bear witness that there is no God but the Lord! - I bear witness that Jesus is the Son of God! - Come unto prayer--come unto happiness-- - Great is the Lord! Great is the Lord! - There is no God but the Lord! - Prayer is better than sleep--prayer is better than sleep!" - -{272} - -As the last word died upon the air, every foot touched the floor, -and in half an hour the party had gathered as wild as witches. - -Mr. Andrew came down late and grumbling. "Cannot we hear music -and see candles without getting out of bed for the purpose at -such unearthly hours? I had just gone to sleep, and was in -Elysium. Miss Madeleine, why should you say that prayer is better -than sleep? We are not going to pray; we are going to hear -demi-semi-quavers, and Mr. Bassoon's C in the deeps. I'll go to -bed again." - -"Possibly we may pray, Mr. Andrew," she said in a low tone. "I -have been thinking to-night, and it seems to me that God had a -Son, and that he will come down this morning and stand in the -midst of the candles." - -A Catholic, unless a convert, can scarcely understand the -emotions of a stranger who enters a church for the first time on -one of our great festivals. That "cool, silver shock" must be -taken from another element. Our party stepped from the dim and -frosty starlight into an illumination more dazzling than -daylight, into a warmth that was fragrant with flowers, into a -crowd where every face had a smile dissolved in it. And over all -waved a sparkling tissue of violin music from the orchestra. - -"By George!" was Mr. Blake's only audible comment. - -"It is like the Arabian Nights!" exclaimed his wife. - -"Turns up the mastodon strata in them," whispered Mr. Andrew to -the lady on his arm. - -They were shown to seats, and sat watching the steadily -increasing crowd, and the altar that was a pyramid of fire. The -worshippers were, of course, various: ragged Irish women, whose -faith invested them with better than cloth of gold; rich ladies, -sweeping in velvets and sables, but with thoughts of better -things in their faces; ambitious working-girls, finer than their -mistresses. A pretty young woman came into the slip in front of -our party, her face beautifully arranged to represent modesty and -sweetness. She cast a glance behind at her audience, then sank -upon her knees and beat her breast with one hand, while she -arranged her bonnet-strings with the other. This performance at -an end, she faced about and closely scanned the gallery, turning -again and again till those behind her began to feel annoyed. - -"I do wish he'd come!" said Madeleine impatiently. - -"He has come," whispered Mr. Andrew, as the young woman suddenly -returned toward the altar, and began a series of languishing -attitudes and prostrations, all her _repertoire_ of -theatrical devotion. - -A grand-looking man next attracted their attention, walking past -with the unmistakable sailor roll. His head was erect, and his -massive shoulders looked fit for Atlas burdens; but the clear, -blue eyes were gentle, and his face was full of a beautiful -solemnity and reverence. As he walked, the long, tawny beard -flowing down his breast waved slightly. - -Madeleine gave Mr. Andrew's arm a delighted squeeze, and -whispered, - - 'With many a tempest had his beard been shaken.' - -Fancy him on the ship's deck, in mid-ocean, in darkness and -storm, beaten by the wind, drenched with spray, the lightnings -blazing and the thunders crashing about him, shouting to the men -to cut the mast away!" - -{273} - -Here the organ and choir broke forth in glad acclaim, and the -procession came winding in from the sacristy. Cloth of gold and -cloth of silver, lace and fine linen, and crimson and purple, all -combined, gave the effect of a many-jewelled band coiled about -the sanctuary. - -Attending alternately to the altar and the choir, Mr. Andrew -tried to believe it all a vain pageant; but thoughts will enter, -though the doors be shut. What a stupendous thing, he thought, if -the Real Presence were true; if, as this girl said, God had a -Son, and he should come down this morning and stand in the midst -of the candles! - -For one instant he was dazzled and confounded by the possibility; -the next, he recoiled from it. - -"Gloria in excelsis" sang the choir with organ and orchestra in -many an involved and thrilling strain, a pure melody springing up -here and there from the midst, voice and instrument meeting and -parting, catching the tone from each other, swelling till the -vaulted roof of the cathedral rang, fading again, dropping away -one after another, till there was left but a many-toned sigh of -instruments, and one voice hanging far aloft, with a silvery -flutter, upon a trill, like a humming-bird sucking the sweetness -from that flower of sound. A pause of palpitating silence, then -an amen that set swinging the myrtle vines hanging over the St. -Cecilia in front of the organ, and made the pennons of blue and -scarlet that hung about the altar wave on their standards. - -Contrary to custom, there was to be a sermon at that Mass, and, -as the preacher ascended the pulpit, Mr. Andrew said to himself: -"If Christ was the Son of God, he is on that altar; and if there, -I wish he would speak to me by this man." - -He hoped to hear an argument to prove the divinity of Christ, not -aware that his reason had already been pampered with such until -it had grown insolent. The speaker, however, handled his subject -quite otherwise. Assuming that divinity, he took for his theme, -"what thoughts should fill the mind, what sentiments dilate the -heart," on the feast of the Nativity. Calling up before them -then, in a few words, a picture of that scene at once so humble -and so marvellous, and pointing to the mysterious babe, he boldly -announced on the threshold of his discourse the difficulties -connected with the dogma for which he demanded their homage: - -"This babe is a creature as you and I: this babe is the Creator -of all contingent being. This babe is just born; this babe is -from all eternity. This babe is contained in the manger; this -babe pervades all space. It suffers: hear its cries! It enjoys -bliss beyond power of augmentation. It is poor: see the -swaddling-clothes! To it belong the treasures of the universe. -Here present are husband and wife; yet I am required to believe -that her the Holy Spirit overshadowed, a virgin conceived, a -virgin bore a Son." - -Not Ulysses' arrow flew through the rings with surer, swifter aim -than these words through the winding doubts that had bound that -listener's heart. It was too sublime not to be true! Almost the -triumphant paradox--I believe, because it is impossible--broke -from his lips. The human mind was incapable of inventing a -falsity so glorious. - -In that tumult of feeling he lost what came next; but, listening -again, heard: "If I must bow down and worship, I elect him as the -object of my adoration whose dwelling is in light inaccessible, -who is inscrutable in his nature, and incomprehensible in his -works." - -"Amen!" said Basil Andrew. - -{274} - -"A virgin conceived, a virgin bore a Son," repeated itself again -and again in his thought. All the singing of voices and the -playing of instruments were because of that; all the splendor of -the festival, the gathering of the crowd in the midst of the -winter night, were for that. "O sweetest and most glorious mother -in all the universe!" he thought, bowing where it is, perhaps, -most difficult for a convert to render homage. - -Clouds are unsubstantial things for anything but rainbows to -stand on, and even they find but vanishing foothold. Had that -delight in Basil Andrews's heart warmed only his imagination, it -would have faded with the moment; but thought and study had done -their part, and that uprising of the heart was Pygmalion's kiss -to his statue. The feeling with which he turned to leave the -cathedral was one of thankful content with perfected work. - -Pausing in the vestibule for the crowd to pass, he looked back -with a tender fear toward the altar. - -Poor Madeleine's religion was iris and the cloud. She had known -well what was going on in her companion's mind, and, as she stood -waiting with him, a text went sighing through her memory like a -sighing wind. "_I say unto you that the kingdom of God shall be -taken from you, and shall be given to a nation yielding the -fruits thereof._" While she, a child of the church, had given -it a fitful obedience more insulting than a consistent disregard, -this man had toiled every step of the way from a far-off heresy, -and, passing by her as she loitered outside, had walked into the -very penetralia. - -She stood looking gloomily out into the morning that was one -cloudless glow of pale gold. - -"The air has crystallized since we came in," she said, "and we -are shut inside a great gem, like flies in amber. We will have to -stay here for ever." - -He bent a smiling face toward her as they went out into the -morning, and said softly: "How beautiful are thy steps, O -Prince's daughter! You were right, Madeleine!" - -A fortnight from that day Madeleine Hayward stood on the steps of -her aunt's house, saying good-by to its inmates. A Southern girl, -the cold skies of the North froze her. She wanted to get into a -warmer sunshine, and, being prompt and determined, obstacles -vanished before her. - -"Mr. Andrew," she said, as he gave her his arm to the carriage, -"I am sorry I can't stay to be your god-mother." - -"I wouldn't have you," he said. "I'm going to have my old nurse." - -Madeleine took her seat in the carriage, gave a smiling nod -toward the group in the door, then held a cold hand out to her -companion. - -"When you are a priest, and when you hear that I am dead, say a -Mass for me," she said faintly, then turned her face resolutely -away. - -The violent color that had risen to the gentleman's face at her -words faded into a paleness as he went up the steps. By what -power did that girl sometimes divine the thoughts which he had -not yet owned to himself? - -But she was a prophetess. - --------- - -{275} - - - Translated from the French of L. Vitet. - - The Present Condition of Christianity in France - - -Some time ago M. Guizot published the second series of his -_Meditations on the Christian Religion_. He is now -prosecuting right valiantly, and will ere long have completed, -the noble task that won for him two years since so novel a -triumph among his many victories, and crowned his illustrious -life with what may be considered its brightest glory. That -calmest and most serene of creeds, a lucid definition and summary -of the fundamental dogmas of Christianity, viewed from the -highest stand-point, in all their native simplicity and grandeur, -was greeted, it will be remembered, with gratitude by some who -looked upon it as furnishing most timely aid, and with respect -and partial embarrassment by others; and so marked was its effect -that the most exciting religious polemics were for the time being -quieted. The first series referred to the very essence of the -Christian religion; what is the subject of the second? - -The author, in his preface, had thus drawn the general plan of -the work: First, the essence of Christianity, next its history, -then its present condition, and, finally, its future. Thus a -complete history of Christianity was really promised us. The plan -determined upon had, perhaps, some advantages. The history of -Christianity is nowadays the point that anti-christian critics -would show to be vulnerable, and the portion of the armor they -seek to penetrate. The public, however, after a moment's -surprise, has of itself meted out partial justice to this manner -of attack; or at all events, new attempts, as skilfully devised -as the first, have been received with a coolness of good augury -that weakens vastly the importance of previously achieved -successes. Was it not most opportune, then, to enlighten still -more and at once a public whose _furore_ had but just died -away? was it not most important not to adjourn, even by a brief -delay, a decisive refutation? As for ourselves, we yearned to -behold, striving with the new-comers of criticism and -history--who claim to be their masters and almost their -inventors--him who, nearly half a century since, founded in our -land modern historical criticism. By setting face to face with -their rash assertions the true and severe laws of historic -certainty; by taking down, piece by piece, their most cleverly -contrived scaffolding; by reducing to naught their credit, was -not the writer rendering to Christianity a most great and needed -service? - -M. Guizot has thought that there was something still more urgent -to be accomplished; without abandoning his original idea, -involving the four series, he has inverted their order of -sequence; he now dwells upon the present state of Christian -beliefs. At a later day he proposes to resume the discussion of -historical questions, dilate upon the authority of holy books, -continue his commentary on the concord of the Scriptures, and his -arguments concerning technicalities and minor details; -subsequently he will try to look into the future. -{276} -At present, he has but one care, one thought: he wishes to know -what is occurring, or rather what men are believing, around him. -To place in the strongest light the present state of -Christianity; to enumerate its armies and those of its opponents, -and establish a comparison between the strength of both; thus to -summon all Christians to awaken to a sense of the events -concerning the common safety; to teach them not to be deceived -either as to their might or as to the magnitude of the perils -besetting them, and to guard against a feeling of treacherous -security as against cowardly discouragement; this it is that -engrosses his attention, and, forming the subject of all his -thoughts, indicates to him that which he is to consider his first -duty. As he says himself, he supplies the most pressing -emergency, and, hurrying to the spot where the struggle is -commencing, rushes into the thick of the fight. - -We can readily understand his impatience. All other questions -become unimportant when compared with such a problem. No -eagerness can be more legitimate than that of M. Guizot, and the -investigation which it is necessary to make is surely the most -serious and interesting that could be prosecuted. Let us add that -few inquiries are as intricate and as difficult. - -It is not, in fact, the mere exterior and apparent state of -Christianity that it is necessary to depict; but its life, its -action, its power, which simple statistics can by no means -describe. Figures may set forth how many churches there are in -France; how many priests, congregations, and convents; how many -children are baptized, and couples married; how many dying -mortals receive spiritual succor; but after these computations -are completed, are they of any genuine value? Though the civil -code is not compulsory as to the choice of a religion, and though -each one be free to elect his own belief, does it follow that the -conclusion arrived at is always the result of proper reflection? -Are all those who, either from early childhood, through the -medium of their parents, or in after life and by their own free -will, on certain solemn days, publicly proclaim their adherence -to Christianity, real and true Christians? How many can you -designate who knew what they were doing, who did not simply -conform with a custom, and for whom the sacred contract did not -become at once a dead letter? To arrive at a correct estimate as -to the actual strength of Christianity, we must not consult -registers, but make researches in the bosoms of families, and -descend into the depths of consciences. Thus should we make our -soundings to ascertain the state of Christian belief. We admit -that such a mode of investigation would be impracticable; we must -be content, therefore, with less precise data, and pass judgment -upon apparent events. Draw a parallel, then, between Christianity -as it was in the early part of the century and Christianity as it -is, criticise the two periods in accordance with the same rules, -make allowances for deceptive appearances on both sides, and -exclude from your calculation the apocryphal believers who are -only Christians in name; however numerous the false men and -things at present, you will, nevertheless, be compelled to -concede that in our country, during the past sixty years, -Christianity has at least taken root again in the soil, that it -has recovered its life, and that its progress has been -undeniable. - -{277} - -M. Guizot describes the phases of the resurrection or rather the -awakening of Christianity; the comprehensiveness of his views and -the choiceness of his expressions render this largely developed -portion of his work of absorbing interest. We have, however, no -intention to attempt its analysis. In these later meditations, as -in those that precede them, one would in vain seek to follow the -author step by step. His work alone can speak for its contents; a -person must peruse it, or abandon the idea of becoming acquainted -with it. Let us only point out the plan the writer has drawn, and -notice the succession of his thoughts. From its commencement, by -a natural division, the volume to which we allude forms two -parts: one relates to Christianity, the other to its adversaries. -What do we see in the first? The narrative of the Christian -awakening, or rather an _exposé_ of the religious beliefs in -France since the year 1800. This is a composition in which the -incidents follow each other in natural sequence, an historical -painting as well as a picture-gallery, comprising none but -portraits from nature, such as M. Guizot, with that firmness and -concision that characterize in few words ideas as well as men, -can produce; portraits full of expression and life, though always -of a sober coloring and subdued effect. M. Guizot had abundant -opportunities for word-painting, for sitters were not scarce. -Evidently Providence was resolved, from the beginning of the -century, to repair by almost perceptible progress the effects of -the great disaster of Christianity, and the damage caused by the -cataclysm into which it seemed to have sunken. How numerous the -men who suddenly came into existence, each worthy of the mission -to be entrusted to him! How marked the contrast with the days -gone by, when there was none to shiver a lance for that ancient -religion still replete with honors, wealth, and apparent life, -but without credit, without influence upon souls, without new -adepts, and gradually forsaken, like unto those tottering -edifices whose abandonment ere their fall is decreed by a -prophetic instinct! The scaffold was needed to restore it to -life. The first symptom of regeneration was observed when humble -priests and monks, who, a day previous, were heedless of their -duty, arose as intrepid and as ready for martyrdom as if theirs -had been austere lives, passed in the desert or in the darkness -of the catacombs. Then a brighter signal and one more easily -understood was to be given by two men, who, each in his sphere -and within the limits of his power, were really the earliest -promoters of the Christian awakening. We refer to a great -politician and to a great writer--to the First Consul and to M. -de Chateaubriand, to the Concordat and to the _Genius of -Christianity_. There is nothing artificial nor strained in -this connection; for these two men and these two works, at the -commencement of this century, played the most important part in -the work of resurrecting the traditions of Christianity. M. -Guizot speaks of Bonaparte and Chateaubriand in a rare spirit of -justice and impartiality. Though possessed of little sympathy for -them, and aware that their works have become antiquated and, so -to say, somewhat out of fashion, he asserts quite warmly that the -_Genius of Christianity_, despite its imperfections, is a -great and powerful work, such as only appears at long -intervals--one of those productions that, having deeply moved -men's souls, leave behind them traces never to be effaced. And as -for the Concordat, albeit the sincerest friends of Christian -beliefs point out nowadays with sadness, if not with bitterness, -its defects and dangers, M. Guizot concedes that, in 1802, its -promulgation was, on the part of the First Consul, an act of -superior intelligence rather than of despotism, and, for the sake -of religion, the most opportune and necessary of events, the -_sine qua non_ condition of the existence of Christianity. -{278} -He thinks that, after ten years of revolutionary orgies, a solemn -recognition of religion by the state was needed to endow it with -that influence, dignity, and stability which it had totally lost. - -In this respect, we share M. Guizot's opinion, certain -reservations, however, being made. The Concordat was a welcome -gift; neither its timely advent nor the necessity for it can be -disputed. Why? Because two years previous the national movement -of 1789 was suddenly transformed into an abdication, by which one -man benefited. If, instead of submitting to this saviour, half -out of lassitude and half out of enthusiasm, France had had the -energy, by making a supreme effort, and, perhaps, at the cost of -new calamities, to see to her own safety and remain mistress of -her fate, the Concordat would have been an unneeded blessing. -Christianity would have had more labor and expended more time in -regaining the lost ground; it would not have obtained possession -at once, by the scratch of a pen, and between sunrise and sunset, -of all its presbyteries and churches; it would have recovered -them little by little, after having conquered men's souls. Had it -had no other staff of support but its flock, it would have -neglected nothing to strengthen it and increase its numbers; it -would have won the confidence of the people and obtained their -acceptance of it as a counsellor, a father, a friend, and would -not have been looked upon as an emigrant, amnestied and recalled -by tolerance, favor, and an act of authority, and thus placed -under obligations to one man, and made the vassal of his power. -It is not sufficient that one should be cured of a fatal disease; -the remedy, in destroying the evil, must not leave the patient -with an altered constitution or impaired vitality. The Concordat -undoubtedly delivered us from a great affliction for a nation, -and saved us from a complete divorce from God; it restored -Christianity to France, but restored it less robust and less -prepared for the strife, less life-like and less popular, and in -a less fit condition to face the danger than if the old beliefs -had been compelled, when born anew, to clear their own pathways. -In religion, as in politics, France still feels, and will -probably ever experience, the effects of having been saved by the -events of the 18th of _Brumaire_. - -That which we must admit with M. Guizot is that, when, in these -later days, we criticise the work of our fathers, written upward -of sixty years ago, we can speak of them with wondrous facility. -Their doubts are at hand to enlighten us. But we must carry -ourselves back to 1802, and behold flocks without shepherds, -tombs without prayers, and cradles without baptismal fonts! Where -is the proud and far-seeing Christian who would then have -refused, as a destructive present, in the name of his belief and -for the sake of his faith, a _régime_ that did the work of -Christian restoration, and by the touch of a magic wand repaired -all the evils that bore it down? No one then would have even -dreamed of such a paradox. Let us, therefore, blame with -indulgence, and to a certain degree only, the men who invented -the compromise, although the consequential events subsist, and -when we examine the present state of Christian belief, we cannot -avoid meeting at every step the still evident traces of defective -origin, and its resurrection by process of law. -{279} -Even as the government of the Restoration, despite its sincerest -efforts and never-failing good-will, was never absolved by France -from the reproach that attached to its self-commitment by -friendship with the Emperor Alexander and Lord Wellington, even -so Christianity in this land, during the past sixty years, is -partly indebted for its weakness, and for the prejudices that -maintain it in a state of excitement, to the honor of having had -for a godfather the Emperor Napoleon. Sheltered and warmed under -the purple, and having become an imperial pensioner, Christianity -acquired, against its will, a certain need of protection and -certain habits of submission and almost of complaisance, which -having rendered it under some _régimes_ a party to the acts -of the government, has caused it to be called upon to share the -responsibility of many errors, and exposed it to the perils of -unpopularity. - -Within the sixty years gone by, have we not seen by a transient -example how much religion would have gained by remaining on less -compromising terms with the heads of the nation and boldly -dispensing with their favors? There was once a government whose -members were imbued with profound respect for the religious -interests of the country, and who were always ready to render -unto its ministers the most kindly offices; this same government, -however, from its earliest days, was viewed with coldness and -hostility by a certain number of Catholics and a great portion of -the clergy; is it not known how favorable that attitude proved to -Catholicism itself? For eighteen years it was looked upon as -possessed of no credit, and, for that very reason, each day -acquired more and more power, not, indeed, in public places and -in ante-chambers, but in men's consciences. It may be boldly -asserted that the greatest and most definite progress which the -Christian religion can justly claim for itself since the -commencement of the present century was made during that period. -We do not deduce from this fact that systematic hostility to the -ruling powers is necessary for the propagation of religious -ideas, for intestine strifes are evils and not to be fomented; -but that the sacred ministry, to have influence upon rulers, must -possess a degree of independence carried even to the extent of -pride, and bringing into prominence its abandonment of all things -earthly, and its absolute indifference to worldly interests. - -From 1830 to 1851, whatever may have been the true motives of its -estrangement and indifference, the Catholic clergy was benefited -by the situation. It had prospered and increased in numbers, it -had won for itself, to the great advantage of Christian belief, -the esteem, the respect, and even the minds of persons who, until -then, had been rebellious and inclined to disparage it. Was it -aware of the cause of this unusual kindliness of feeling? Did it -comprehend how much this was to be preferred, for the cause of -religion and for its own sake, to former courtly favors? Has it -since guarded against the temptations which have surrounded it? -Has it persevered in burning incense before God only, in adoring -none but him? Have not more earthly and apparently less -disinterested bursts of enthusiasm caused it to lose a goodly -portion of the conquered ground? These are questions which it may -be well not to look into too deeply; but enough is known -concerning them to enable us to understand how it came that, -during the fifteen years that have just elapsed, the radical vice -of the Concordat, the spirit in which it was framed, the danger -of establishing between Christianity and the absolute power a -so-called natural alliance, a kind of necessary complicity, have -awakened in the hearts of some Christians objections, fears, and -antipathies now more active and potent than ever. - -{280} - -We next behold one of the great incidents of the Christian -awakening whose history M. Guizot recounts. The First Consul, by -raising the altar from the dust, partly obeying the great views -of his genius, and partly yielding to his despotic instincts; M. -de Chateaubriand, by moving and delighting French society by the -revelation of the treasures of Christian poetry, of the existence -of which it was unaware; M. de Bonald, by honoring the -governmental traditions of the old _régime_ by translating -them into metaphysical theories; M. de Maistre, by outpouring, in -floods of fiery eloquence, overwhelming invective against the -revolutionary spirit; all these but paid homage to noble ruins, -and, hurling indignation at the destroyers, made a generous -attempt to rehabilitate the past, to glorify it, and to give it -renewed life. The important questions, the questions of the -future, are not yet propounded. It is not sufficient that -Christianity should be restored; it must be given health, and -taught to live in peace and friendship with a power henceforward -beyond all estimate, with an irresistible force--that of modern -civilization. How could the Christian, and more especially the -Catholic Church, be led to acknowledge the liberty of civil -society as constituted by the French revolution? How could that -society be brought to respect the just rights of the church? Such -was the problem that could not fail to speedily appear. - -Until the year 1830, the question was only foreshadowed; its -solution was by no means urgent. As Catholicism had recovered -under the government of the Restoration its former privilege as a -state religion, reconciliation, or a reciprocal tolerance between -itself and society, was no longer in discussion. It was -understood that its portion was to be secured by an actual -struggle, and the secular power was at its disposal--without -violence, with due moderation, but not without injury to its -authority and detriment to its influence upon men's souls. The -Catholic religion had to assume the responsibility as well as -accept the profits of its privileged situation. Subsequent to -1830, circumstances changed. Inasmuch as the words "state -religion" had been erased from the constitutional compact, no one -religion could lay claim to special immunities or occupy an -exceptionally exalted position. All enjoyed equal rights. -Whatever the number of their adherents, as soon as they were -recognized by and receiving a subsidy from the state, the law -held them to be equally sacred and deserving of respect. The -neutral attitude of the government excited the anger of some -Catholics. In their opinion, privilege was the very essence, the -normal and vital condition of their belief. The powers of the -day, by reducing them to the slender diet of equality and common -rights, was guilty not only of indifference and culpable -abandonment, but of spoliation and persecution. Their complaints -were loudest because their adversaries feigned to have won a most -brilliant triumph. Extremes meet: on both sides a firm belief -prevailed that, without special support, without the favors of -the magistracy and the soldiery, Catholicism had no chance of -life, and that, both armies being provided with equally effective -weapons, it could never withstand the onslaughts of the foe. -{281} -The conduct of the persons interested, however, differed; for -some wished to be regarded as martyrs, and cursed the atheism of -the government, charging it with bringing about the inevitable -ruin of the faith; whilst others reproached the same government -for its supposed weakness toward the once privileged religion, -and accused it of prolonging its existence by secretly favoring -it. - -During the progress of this conflict there was gradually formed a -group of Catholics who contemplated events in an entirely new -light. They were all young in years and men of the age; their -hearts throbbed with the noble thoughts of liberty and -independence that were maddening France for the second time, and, -seemingly, carrying the nation back to the dawn of 1789. What did -these fervent and sincere Christians, animated by a firm resolve, -propose to do? Were they to sacrifice to their religious faith -that political faith just born within them? To what end? What was -to prevent them from being both Catholic and liberals? In what -respect were the principles of the evangels and those of a free -government incompatible with each other? Was not the government -of the church, in the early ages, the result of the free choice -of the faithful? Were not respect for human liberty, love of -justice, and opposition to tyranny and barbarity, the glory and -actual essence of Christian belief? Had not they who for three -centuries had linked religion to the fortunes and precepts of the -old monarchy, and identified it with them, really deformed -Catholicism? - -When these men had become thoroughly convinced not only that -their views and their faith were, by no means irreconcilable, but -also that it was their duty as Christians to render the church -the greatest of all services by checking its retrogressive -tendency and reconciling it with the world and with modern ideas, -they inaugurated the campaign, unfurled their flag, organized a -committee, and commenced the publication of a journal, neglecting -none of the means by which to disseminate their ideas and gain -accessions to their ranks. Had they been so fortunate as to -choose, not a more eloquent, but a less rash and more -unimpassioned chief than the Abbé de Lamennais; had the noble -minds, the brave hearts, the wondrous talent centred in those -grouped around him belonged to men of riper years; had his -adherents been less fiery and impatient, and less prejudiced -against a new power which was still insecure on its foundation, -but was imbued with the spirit of true liberty to such a degree -that it imperilled its own existence every day to avoid attacking -the rights of its adversaries, and thus overstep the limits of -the law; had they understood what service their cause could have -expected of that government on the sole condition of not -demanding impossibilities, of not harassing and chiding it on all -occasions, and of not aiding and abetting its destroyers; in a -word, had the same talent, ardor, sincerity, and devotedness been -coupled with greater experience, prudence, and practicability, -perhaps, after thirty years had gone by, the great work of -effecting a reconciliation between the church and the spirit of -the age would be more thoroughly comprehended and approved than -it is at present. The boldness of the opinions professed from the -commencement by liberal Catholics increased the difficulty and -rendered the problem more complicated. -{282} -Their enterprise would certainly not have been one of easy -achievement had it even been reduced to the simplest form. Was it -not enough to ensure the acceptance, by a majority of the clergy -and of the faithful, of the definite results of the revolution, -the for ever acquired rights of civil society the blessings of -liberty as understood by the July government and by all truly -free governments; of liberty based upon the sovereignty of the -law, a respect for the rights of all, for the rights of the power -as for those of the poorest citizen? By preaching to Catholics -extreme liberalism, without either limits or guarantee, Utopian, -absolute, aggressive, and revolutionary liberalism, such as was -advocated by _l'Avenir_, the organ of the Abbé de Lamennais -and his young friends, they compromised everything, put an end to -all attempts at encouragement, terrified those whom they sought -to convert, and furnished a pretext to the faithful, in the event -of an opportunity being offered them, to throw themselves, out of -prudential considerations, into the arms of the absolute power. - -The same ardor that carried them, in politics, even to the -practice of liberty unrestrained, led them, in religion, to the -recognition of the principles of excessive obedience. They never -dared dispense with the explicit approval of Rome; her silent -consent was deemed insufficient. They ever sought to elicit a -reply, notwithstanding the expectant reserve usually and most -prudently maintained by the Holy See previous to passing judgment -upon any new enterprise. They required a notice or a formal -decision. With this object in view, they never hesitated to risk -their all; they ceased not their endeavors until the Holy Father -had sanctioned or disapproved their action. Then, after the -sentence had gone forth, after such words of censure, as might -have been anticipated, had been uttered, they were compelled, -under pain of rendering themselves amenable to a charge of -revolt, to submit, to bow their heads and abandon the field, to -the great detriment of the cause in which they labored. Not only -had they lost their authority over the minds of a certain portion -of the faithful, as was seen when, a few years later, weary of -inaction, they reentered the arena, but they had brought about -another and greater misfortune: they had made the court of Rome -enter, before the time had come, and without the slightest -necessity for such a proceeding, upon the course that she now -follows, kept to it by her own words. Is it not possible that, -had she been questioned at a later day, in other terms and under -other circumstances, her reply might have been different? - -But it happens that we cannot but admit that, though since the -beginning of this century Christianity has achieved in France -great and true progress; though valiant adherents and illustrious -champions have arisen; though it has recovered little by little a -portion of its domains; though it has in certain respects -extended the field of its conquests, one success is wanting, one -victory has not been achieved, the work commenced in 1830 is -still unfinished, the question is no nearer its solution, the -_entente cordiale_ is not yet established, and the treaty of -peace between Christianity and the spirit of the times has not -yet been concluded. - -Some persons find consolation for this state of affairs: the -attempt to remedy it has borne in their eyes a chimerical -appearance, and they look upon the discord which most men would -quell as most natural. -{283} -Has not this manner of war, they say, ever raged between the lay -spirit and the religious spirit? Has not Christianity, since its -infancy, been destined to blame and combat, century after -century, the prevailing ideas and tastes; has not this been its -part, its mission, and, it may be said, its glory? Why seek to -change that which has always been? Christian faith is now, as -ever, quite intolerant toward the age in which it thrives: do not -interfere with events; it must be so. To these arguments we would -answer by stating that, not to discriminate between two objects -as distinct from each other as the spirit of the age which, to -speak in general terms, is the worldly spirit, that train of -never-changing passions and vices reappearing at all periods -under slightly different forms--and the spirit of each age taken -separately--that is to say, the uniformity of ideas, manners, and -institutions which give to the society of each century its -peculiar traits--is to quibble as to the significance of words -and deal in mere equivocation. That Christianity is the natural, -permanent, and necessary adversary of the worldly spirit and of -the vices and passions of men; that it is such at all times, in -all places, in the present as in the past; to assert that to give -its followers a word of advice as to the adoption of innovations -under any of these heads would be to mistake and forget its real -reason to exist, is incontestable: but to affirm that its very -character renders it incapable of adaptation to the spirit of -such and such an epoch, and that it can only blame and oppose the -ideas, tendencies, and laws of the days in which it lives, is to -give to the testimony of history, to the most self-evident and -authentic facts, a singular denial. Compare the latter centuries -of the empire of the West and the first of the feudal ages: was -the state of society, were the manners, customs, and institutions -of those days the same? Could aught have been more dissimilar and -contradictory? Yet, did not Christianity first uphold the empire -until it crumbled into the dust, and subsequently aid most -cheerfully and efficaciously in the establishment of the feudal -power? Again, when the monarchical system gradually regained the -ascendency and triumphed over feudal anarchy, did Christianity -prove an obstacle to the movement? Did it offer any opposition to -the change? Did it not submit to it with a good will? Did it not -share the ideas, principles, and even the good fortune and -greatness of royalty? What we now demand of it is, to do once -more that which it has always done, to recognize without regret -and without hostility a necessary and irrevocable change--a -change in conformity with the nature of circumstances, and -therefore legitimate; in a word, we call upon it to treat the -modern spirit of the day as it has treated all other modern -spirits that have successively appeared. - -Why should a reconciliation be at present peculiarly difficult -and embarrassing? Are thoughts of liberty foreign and unknown to -Christianity? Has Christianity never acted in accordance with -them? Have not those thoughts watched, rather, over the cradle of -religion? Has not that system of elections, discussion, and -censure which honors our modern spirit come forth from the very -womb of the church? To make peace with liberty, to become suited -to its rule, to understand and bless its gifts, does not imply -the necessity of absolving it from its errors, approving its -crimes, or making the slightest concession to disorder and -anarchy. -{284} -Never mind, it will be said, do not mingle religion and party -questions, do not inspire it with any interest in wrangles of -such a kind. The more persistently Christianity stands aloof from -the affairs of this world, the more solid will be the foundation -of its power. With these views we cordially agree, and but -recently dwelt upon their importance; but of however little -moment politics or worldly affairs be to them, however deeply -engrossed by prayer and good works, can the most religious mind -and the clergy itself live on this earth in utter ignorance of -events? To attack the vices, meannesses, and misdeeds of the -time, must they not know them, and by their own knowledge? We ask -of those pious souls who are most terrified by the coupling of -the words liberalism and religion, do _they_ complain -because eloquent speakers denounce and stigmatize from the pulpit -the wanderings of the spirit of modern times and the -revolutionary delirium, those impious doctrines, the curse of -families and society? If religion is to wage war upon civil -liberty, ought it not to be authorized to allude to beneficial -freedom? Ought it not to be encouraged to speak of it in kindly -terms, to place it in the brightest light, to make us understand -and cherish it? If not, what is Christianity, and what fate have -you in store for it? Would you make of it but a puny doctrine, a -privilege to be enjoyed by a few chosen ones only, the tardy and -solitary consolation of those whom old age and grief separate -from the world? If you seek nothing else of it, if it be -sufficient for you to have it live just enough to prevent the -recording of its death, like a ruin guarded by archaeology, and -preserved and respected in its tottering condition, then keep it -apart from the rising generation, from the flood of democracy; -let it be isolated and grow old; let it seek a place of -concealment, and there, contenting itself with the praises of the -past, dwell in disdain of the present, lacking indulgence for all -persons and things--chagrin, morose, and unpopular. But if, with -a better understanding of its true destiny, you desire it to -exercise a salutary influence not only upon yourselves and your -friends, but upon all humanity; if you wish it to enter into the -hearts of all your brothers, young and old, small and great--to -inspire men with the spirit of justice and truth--to transform, -purify, and regenerate them, let it speak to them in their own -language; let it become interested in their ideas; let it suit -itself to their peculiarities--not like a weak flatterer, but as -a loving father, who takes unto himself his children and becomes -a child for their sake, by sharing their tastes while correcting -their errors, guarding them from the perils of life, and pointing -out to them the narrow and straight paths of wisdom and truth. - - - To Be Concluded In Next Number. - --------- - -{285} - - New Publications. - - - Kathrina, Her Life And Mine, In A Poem. - By J. G. Holland. New York: - Charles Scribner & Co. 1867. - -There can be little doubt that this is more than a commonplace -poem. The narrative has a charming simplicity about it, and is -happily told; the rhythm is smooth and graceful; and the -language, with the exception of a rather too free use of words -tortured into English from the Latin and German, both choice and -appropriate. In a first perusal of it, which will not be our -last, (for it is a book which will bear more than one reading,) -two points in the narrative impressed us disagreeably--the -revelation of his future career to the hero when but a child -rambling over the mountains, and the suicide of his mother. These -incidents were a part of the author's plan, and had to be told; -but they are both forced and unnatural, the more apparently so -because all other threads of romance which run through the story -are closely woven in harmony with real life. Very many passages -are marked by the truest pathos, with here and there touches of -quiet humor worthy of a Dickens. There is a deeper moral lesson -inculcated in this poem than we think will be appreciated or even -perceived by the mass of Dr. Holland's readers; and we venture to -predict that it will be either entirely overlooked, or made the -subject of ridicule by the majority of the Protestant or -rationalistic journals and reviews which may notice the volume. -We say this boldly, because we know that it elucidates a doctrine -entirely foreign to their experience, and is based upon -principles of life asserted only by the Catholic religion. What -the author has endeavored to bring out is nothing new in Catholic -ascetic theology. It is the old cry of St. Augustine: -"_Inquietum est cor nostrum, Deus, donec requiescat in te._" -God is the supreme illumination of the soul, and the object of -its highest aspirations. Life without God is a life of -disquietude, of disgust, and disappointment. The hero is made to -learn this truth through years of self-worship, of -creature-worship, and of world-worship. His mind passes from -ignorance to indifference, from that to scepticism, infidelity, -despair. A true and sad picture of many noble souls who, in our -age and country, grow up under the sterile influence of the -spirit of naturalism, the revolt of reason without the guidance -of faith against Protestantism. There is more than one who will -read the story of his own life depicted in Dr. Holland's poem. -Such will read it with more than an ordinary interest, and find, -we trust, some glimpses of that hidden truth whose clear -statement can only be found in the teachings of that religion -which shows man his true destiny and has the mission to guide him -to it. - -We do not think the author is himself wholly aware of the -ultimate logical consequences of the principles of life he has -here developed. A study of Catholic ascetic theology, the perusal -of a few books like the _Imitation of Christ_, Henry Suso's -_Eternal Wisdom_, or Father Baker's _Sancta Sophia_ -would be, if we mistake not, a revelation to him. In conclusion, -we cannot refrain from quoting one of those passages which -confirm the truth of the impressions we have received and the -reflections we have made. The hero, chagrined with the -disappointments of his career, finding the idols he has -worshipped turned to clay, deprived of all human consolation, -disgusted with the hollowness and unreality of his sceptical -life, at last turns to Him whom he had shunned, and yields his -soul to that higher will whose inspirations he had all his life -long so vainly rebelled against. - -{286} - - "Then the impulse came, - And I poured out like water all my heart. - 'O God!' I said, 'be merciful to me - A reprobate! I have blasphemed thy name, - Abused thy patient love, and held from thee - My heart and life; and now, in my extreme - Of need and of despair, I come to thee. - Oh! cast me not away, for here, at last, - After a life of selfishness and sin, - I yield my will to thine, and pledge my soul-- - All that I am, all I can ever be-- - Supremely to thy service. I renounce - All worldly aims, all selfish enterprise, - And dedicate the remnant of my power - To thee and those thou lovest. Comfort me! - Oh! come and comfort me, for I despair! - Give me thy peace, for I am rent and tossed! - Feed me with love, else I shall die of want! - Behold! I empty out my worthlessness, - And beg thee to come in, and fill my soul - With thy rich presence. I adore thy love; - I seek for thy approval; I bow down - And worship thee, the Excellence Supreme. - I've tasted of the sweetest that the world - Can give to me; and human love and praise, - And all of excellence within the scope - Of my conception, and my power to reach - And realize in highest forms of art, - Have left me hungry, thirsty for thyself. - Oh! feed and fire me! Fill and furnish me! - And, if thou hast for me some humble task-- - Some service for thyself, or for thy own-- - Reveal it to thy sad, repentant child, - Or use him as thy willing instrument. - I ask it for the sake of Jesus Christ, - Henceforth my Master!'" - -This beautiful prayer is the true climax of the poem. There is -not a word in it we could wish to see suppressed or a sentiment -altered. There are deep truths written in those few lines, well -put and timely uttered in a worldly-minded age like ours. - -We observe the work placarded about the city as "Timothy -Titcomb's last poem." We are glad to see that this paltry _nom -de plume_ does not deface the title-page of the publication. - ----- - - The Votary. A Narrative Poem. - By James D. Hewett. - New York: G. W. Carleton & Co. 1867. - -"Great wits jump." This poem of Mr. Hewett is like Dr. Holland's -_Kathrina_--the story of a false and disappointed ambition. -The hero, Rudiger, loves Sybilla, goes forth to seek a famous -name, sacrifices his honor to the greed of ambition by forgetting -his first vows, and espousing Adelaide, the daughter of an -influential and rich politician. His wife, discovering his -infidelity to Sybilla and his subsequent remorse, becomes -jealous, charges him with having buried his heart in the grave, -(for Sybilla died of grief,) but offers to receive him back to -her affections if he can say his love is now wholly hers. This, -unfortunately, he cannot honestly do, and flies from his home for -ever, betaking himself to some religious brotherhood, there to do -penance, and labor, preach, and pray for a purpose which, to -judge from the sensual character of the entire poem, is too -vaguely described to allow us to be quite sure what is meant: - - "He fathomed now the mighty truth that Love-- - Love, the sole axis on which earth is swung-- - Is the prime essence of the Deity, - And Intellect subservient to Love: - And that true glory is to serve, and bleed, - If need be, in Love's blessed cause." - -And so he becomes a missionary to foreign parts: - - "To teach all men the everlasting truth, - The blest, eternal truth of perfect Love, - I will go forth. I'll preach it far and wide. - To earth's last threshold will I pierce my way, - And speak to all the dwellers there of Love." - -And again: - - "Henceforth to Love my life I dedicate-- - God's love, including every human phase." - -This would do if we were not so painfully impressed by the -perusal of the whole poem, that the author's highest idea of love -is a sort of deification of the sensual. Being false to his troth -to Sybilla he calls "losing love's divine repast," in the very -line preceding our last quotation above. We do not like the book. -Its moral tone is not healthy. The poem is, however, full of rich -imagery, and evidences no little dramatic power; but the rhythm -is not always faultless, such words as "of" and "the" frequently -forming the last syllable of the verse, and couplets like the -following are not uncommon: - - "With fitful step, across a verdurous lawn - Close venueing a dwelling, paced a youth." - -Happily, we think, for the strength of our language, we are -becoming every day less and less tolerant of these attempts to -foist foreign words upon it. - ----- - -{287} - - Uberto; or, The Errors of the Heart. - A Drama in Five Acts. - By Frank Middleton. New York. 1867. - - -The writing of a drama is reckoned a bold project, for there is -scarce any sort of literary production apt to meet with severer -treatment at the hands of critics. The present one, however, -possesses merit enough to command their respect, if it does not -win their praise. The plot is well conceived, and the characters -sustained and combined with more than ordinary ability. The -speeches are, however, rather too lengthy, and become in many -places prosy. The little comedy introduced, of the loves of -Bellamori and Bonita, detracts considerably from the merit of the -tragedy, and is forced upon our notice, most unseasonably, in the -preparation for the final tableau. - ------- - - History Of Blessed Margaret Mary, - a Religious of the Visitation of St. Mary; - and of the Origin of Devotion to the Heart of Jesus. - - By Father Ch. Daniel, SJ. - Translated by the authoress of the - _Life of Catharine McAuley._ - New York: P. O'Shea. - - -The subject of this memoir is celebrated in church history and in -Catholic theology. In church history she was the instrument -chosen by God to introduce a new feast, to render public and -obligatory in worship what had been merely a matter of private -and voluntary devotion, and against which for years all the -learning and determination of Jansenism unsuccessfully battled. -In Catholic theology she was the means developing another branch -of divine truth and asceticism. She popularized the Devotion to -the Sacred Heart of Jesus, made devotion to it the characteristic -of one religious order of women; and its name become the title of -another. Margaret Mary Alacoque is the apostle of the Sacred -Heart of Jesus. - -She was a young girl, who, led by the power of grace, entered the -Visitation Order, sanctified her soul, fulfilled the mission -appointed for her by God, died a saint, and after death was -beatified by the church. - -The history before us tells admirably the story of her life. It -is an agreeable narrative, full of edification, of pleasant -anecdotes, and interesting details. - -The best biographies in the world are those of the saints. They -not only give us information, but they make us better It is -impossible to read the life of one devoted to God's service, full -of the spirit of Christian love and sacrifice, without being -stirred up to imitate, in some degree, the example set before us. -The world has its heroes, it is true, and makes the most of them; -but religion has hers also, and it is not surprising if she does -the same; the less so, as those whom she exalts and honors are in -every respect so much the more worthy of our admiration and -reverence. - -He does a positive good to humanity, therefore, who calls -attention to the life and deeds of the Christian hero. That was a -good answer of the holy father. "I am complained of," said he, -"for canonizing so many saints; but it is a fault I cannot -promise to amend. Have we not more need than ever of intercessors -in heaven, and models of religious virtue in the world?" - -The style of the translation of the present memoir does not -please us. It bears signs of haste and literary carelessness. -Whatever may be the character of the original French of Father -Daniel, the English of this is verbose, weak, and tiresome. It -makes the book larger, it is true, to use twice as many words as -are needful, and to select the longest words of the dictionary to -say what one wants to say; and we may add, it makes it heavier, -too. It is a common fault of religious biographies. Neither is -the style of the publication praiseworthy. Its typography is -close and heavy, and presents anything but an inviting page. If -this book were read to us, we should go to sleep; and if we were -to read it through ourselves without giving our eyes frequent -repose, we should seriously damage our eye-sight. - -Nevertheless, it is a good book; it is written on a good subject, -and will do good; and as such our thanks are due to both -translator and publisher, whose efforts toward the formation of a -Catholic literature and the fostering of Catholic piety in the -reproduction of works like the present will not fail of earning a -higher reward than any amount of commendation on our part is -worth. - --------- - -{288} - - - The Battle-fields of Ireland, From 1688 to 1691, - including Limerick and Athlone, Aughrim, and the Boyne. - Being an outline of the History of the Jacobite - Wars in Ireland and the Causes which led to it. - 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 323. New York: Robert Coddington. 1867. - - -Those who wish to read that portion of the sad record of -Ireland's checkered history which led to its subjugation to the -Prince of Orange will find this volume sadly interesting. Like -all of Ireland's history since the advent of Strongbow and his -robbers, it presents the usual amount of blunders, mistakes, -jealousies, and treachery on the part of those who should have -been faithful to their country. This epoch in Ireland's history -has been familiar to us since boyhood, and we think the author -has done his part of the work faithfully and honestly. His -description of the battles of the Boyne and of Aughrim are -concise and in the main correct; but we think he overestimates -William's army in the first-mentioned battle. His assertion, in a -note on page 304, that the doggerel, known as the "Battle of -Aughrim," was written by Garrick, is an error. It was the -production of Richard Ashton, an Englishman. - -The book is handsomely printed, and makes a very -respectable-looking volume. - ------- - - The Life Of St. Aloysius Gonzaga, of the Company of Jesus. - Philadelphia: Peter F. Cunningham. 1867. - -The republication of the English edition of this life will meet, -we are sure, with universal and hearty commendation. Such a book -as this is one for all Catholic parents to present to their -children, that they may learn how one may become a saint even in -youth. Reading the lives of such holy young men as a St. Aloysius -or a St. Stanislaus Kostka, our memory goes back to the friends -of our own youth, when they with ourself thought it necessary to -wait until we grew to be men before we could "get religion." We -advise our readers to do what we would wish to do ourself--give a -copy of this book to every Protestant young man of their -acquaintance. The perusal of it will show them how a Catholic boy -gets religion when he is baptized a Christian, and may possess -religion in its perfection and be a saint at an age when a -Protestant boy is not expected to have any religion at all. - ------- - - Little Pet Books. - By Aunt Fanny. - Containing Books 1, 2, and 3. - New York: James O'Kane, 484 Broadway. - -These little books are the best ones with which we are acquainted -for children. They contain pleasing stories, written in plain, -small words, not more than five letters to each word--a difficult -task, but one which the gifted authoress has accomplished in a -most satisfactory manner. The illustrations are good, and the -books are printed on good paper, bound in good style, and put up -in a neat box, making the set one of the best presents that one -could give, of this kind of books, to a child. - ------- - -From P. O'Shea, - - _Life of Lafayette_, written for children, - by E. Cecil, 218 pages, 12mo. - - _The Bears of Angustenburg,_ an Episode in Saxon History, - by Gustave Nieritz; - translated by Trauermantel; - 251 pages, 12mo. - - _Hurrah for the Holidays_, - or The Pleasures and Pains of Freedom; - translated from the German; - 220 pages, 12mo. - - _Nannie's Jewel Case_, or True Stories and False; - Tales translated from the German by Trauermantel; - 223 pages, 12mo. - - _Well Begun is Half Done_, - or The Young Painter and Fiddlehanns; - Tales translated from the German of - Richard Baron and Dr. C. Deutsch; - 246 pages, 12mo. Price, $1.25 each. - ------- - -From D. & J. Sadlier & Co., New York, - - _The Book of Oratory_, compiled for the use of Colleges, - Academies, and the High Classes of Select Schools. - By a member of the Order of the Holy Cross, - 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 648. - ------- - -From Fowler & Wells, New York, - - _An Essay on Man_, by Alexander Pope, - and _The Gospel among the Animals_, - by Samuel Osgood, D.D. Paper. - --------- - -{289} - - - The Catholic World. - - - Vol. VI., No. 33. December, 1867. - ------- - - The Third Catholic Congress Of Malines. - - -The ancient city of Malines, which has once more been the seat of -one of those remarkable Catholic congresses already described in -our pages, is well worthy of the distinguished honor conferred -upon it by these illustrious assemblages. A few words of -description will not, therefore, be amiss, as introductory to our -sketch of the proceedings of the congress of last September. - -The province of South Brabant, in which the city of Malines, or, -as it is called in Flemish, Mechelen, is situated, has had a most -varied and eventful history. Having originally formed a part of -the province of Belgic Gaul, under the Roman empire, it was -successively included in the domains of the Frankish and -Austrasian kingdoms, and of the duchy of Lorraine. In the year -1005, Brabant, including North Brabant which is now a province of -Holland as well as the Belgian province of South Brabant, was -erected into a duchy. Godfrey of Bouillon was one of its dukes. -Its independence ceased in 1429, when it was annexed to Burgundy. -In 1484 it passed under the dominion of the emperor of Germany, -at the death of Charles V. was transferred to Spain, again -reverted to Germany at the beginning of the eighteenth century, -was annexed by conquest to France in 1794, taken from France and -annexed to Holland by the Congress of Vienna, and finally, by the -revolution of 1830, became a portion of the new kingdom of -Belgium, to which we wish perpetuity and prosperity with our -whole heart. - -South Brabant covers an area of 1269 square miles, containing a -population of about 750,000. It is a flat, well-wooded country, -crowded with beautiful towns and villages, intersected by several -rivers and canals, cultivated throughout like a garden, and alive -with thrift and industry. The city of Malines is at the point of -intersection of the principal Belgian railways, about fifteen -miles from Brussels, and at the same distance from Antwerp and -Louvain. The river Dyle partly encircles and partly intersects -the city, affording pleasant walks, well shaded, on the -outskirts, and creating some most picturesque scenes within the -town, by winding among some of the streets, whose residences and -warehouses front upon the river. -{290} -The railway depots have been kept, by the city authorities, on a -remote outskirt of the town, so that its quiet and antique -streets are not disturbed by the noise and bustle of the trains. -Nor are they disturbed by any other kind of noise or bustle. -Whatever business is done there seems to be out of sight and -hearing. It is the most quiet, tranquil, and clean city that can -possibly be imagined. In the centre is a great public square, -upon which are situated the cathedral, the headquarters of -administration, the military barracks, located in a very antique -and picturesque building, the museum, and two hotels, as well as -numerous shops and houses. In the centre of the square stands a -statue of Margaret of Austria. The city contains a population of -33,000. The streets are wide and regular, but winding. Nearly all -the buildings are white, being either constructed of white stone, -or covered with a very fine and durable white stucco. Among them -are numerous residences of great comfort and elegance, some of -them really palatial, although their exterior surface is -perfectly plain and simple, without porches, balconies, or grand -entrances, to relieve their monotonous smoothness, or break up -the continuity of white wall which gives Malines the appearance -of a city of mural monuments. The great metropolitan cathedral of -St. Rumbold, in the Grand Place, presents, however, a striking -contrast to this general effect of uniform and brilliant -whiteness, by its vast mass of dark stone and its immense -unfinished tower, 340 feet high, which domineers in dark, sombre -grandeur over the city. Returning on the Saturday night before -the congress to Malines, from Ostend, in company with a friend -who has travelled throughout all Europe and seen all its finest -churches, we were particularly impressed by the great beauty of -the picture presented by the Grand Place and the cathedral in a -very clear moonlight and our friend remarked that he never saw -anything more grand than the view of the vast, dark cathedral, -overshadowing the white walls of the adjacent buildings, and -towering above them in strong relief against their moon-bright -surfaces. Notwithstanding the sneers of M. Baedeker, the -cathedral of Malines is a truly grand and imposing church. It was -commenced in the twelfth and completed in the fifteenth century; -the tower, which is slowly growing upward toward its proposed -height of 480 feet, was commenced in 1452, with the aid of -contributions from the pilgrims who resorted there to gain the -indulgences of the crusade, granted by Nicholas V. The patron -saint of the cathedral, called in French St. Rombaut, in Flemish -St. Rumbold, and in English St. Rumold, was the first apostle of -Brabant. He is supposed by many writers to have been an Irishman, -although others think that he was an Englishman. Not being able -to form any opinion of our own on this point, we will take leave -to quote what Alban Butler says on the subject: - - "The place of St. Rumold's birth is contested. According to - certain Belgic and other martyrologies, he was of the blood - royal of Scotland (as Ireland was then called) and Bishop of - Dublin. This opinion is ably supported by F. Hugh Ward, an - Irish Franciscan, a man well skilled in the antiquities of his - country, in a work entitled _Dissertatio Historica de vitâ et - patriâ, S. Rumoldi, Archiepiscopi Dubliniensis_, published - at Louvain, in 1662, in 4to. The learned Pope Benedict XIV. - seems to adjudge St. Rumold to Ireland, in his letters to the - prelates of that kingdom, dated the 1st of August, 1741, - wherein are the following words: 'If we were disposed to - recount those most holy men, Columbanus, Kilianus, Virgilius, - _Rumoldus_, Gallus, and many others who brought the - Catholic faith out of Ireland into other provinces, or - illustrated by shedding the blood of martyrdom.' (_Hib. Dom. - Suppl_. p. 831.) On the other hand, Janning, the Bollandist, - undertakes to prove that St. Rumold was an English Saxon." - [Footnote 45] - - [Footnote 45: Butler's _Lives of the Saints_, July 1. - Note.] - -{291} - -Whether St. Rumold was Irish or English, at all events his -reputation as an Irish saint obtained for us the pleasure of -having two very agreeable priests from Ireland to dine with us -one Sunday afternoon, who had stopped _en route_ for -Aix-la-Chapelle in order to visit the cathedral. - -St. Rumold, after spending the earlier part of his life in a -monastery, went to Rome in order to receive the apostolic -blessing of the pope and authority to preach the faith in the -then heathen country of Lower Germany. He was consecrated bishop -at some period of his missionary life, when we are not informed, -and converted a great number of the people of Brabant. He was -assassinated by some wicked men whose crimes he had reproved, on -the 24th of June, 775, and is therefore honored as a martyr. A -church was built to honor his memory and receive his relics at -Malines, and these are still preserved and venerated in the -present cathedral, the successor of the original church of St. -Rumbold. The church of Malines was made a metropolitan see by -Paul IV., and is now the primatial see of Belgium, including -Brussels within its diocesan limits. In more recent times, the -archbishops have usually been raised to the dignity of cardinals. -The Cardinal de Frankenberg, who governed the see in the reign of -Joseph II., distinguished himself by his firm opposition to the -anti-catholic policy of that emperor. Cardinal de Mean, who died -in 1831, and has a beautiful monument in the cathedral, has left -behind him the reputation of an intrepid and valiant defender of -the rights of the church in most difficult and dangerous times. -Cardinal de Sterckx is the present Archbishop of Malines, a -prelate advanced in years, but still retaining the full vigor of -mind and body, and universally beloved for his patriarchal -benignity and mildness of character, as was evident by the -genuine and heartfelt warmth of the expressions of attachment -which greeted his presence at the congress. - -The chapter consists of twenty-two resident canons, who chant the -entire office with great solemnity every day. The interior of the -cathedral is imposing, and contains some fine pictures, -especially a Crucifixion by Vandyke, a Last Supper by Wouters, -and other paintings by Flemish masters. The chimes of the -cathedral tower, which are unusually melodious and joyous in -their tone, ring at the striking of the hours and half-hours, and -on many other occasions, especially on festivals and their eves, -when they are rung almost without cessation during the greater -part of the day, with a very festive and enlivening effect. - -There are eight or ten other churches, some of them very large -and of imposing architecture, the most remarkable of which is the -church of Notre Dame d'Hanswyck, on the outskirts of the city, -containing a picture by Rubens of the miraculous draught of -fishes. St. John's church has a picture of the Adoration of the -Magi, and several smaller pictures, all by Rubens, forming an -altar-piece with wings on the high altar. -{292} -St. Peter's was formerly the Jesuits' church, and some adjacent -buildings were once used as a novitiate. Here the B. John -Berchmans, whose picture is in the church, lived for a time; and -here are still memorials of the noble order so unjustly expelled -from their peaceful home, in a beautiful marble statue of St. -Francis Xavier placed in a recumbent position under the high -altar, and in a series of large paintings on the side walls -representing scenes in the life of the saint. The carved work of -the pulpit and the confessionals in this church is remarkably -fine, and in general this is the case throughout Belgium. - -There is a large and commodious grand seminary at Malines, a -little seminary, which is on a corresponding scale of -completeness and extent, and a college. There are several -religious communities of men and women, and, under the care of -one of the latter, a very extensive and well-built hospital of -recent construction. - -The motto of the city, _In fide constans_, was conferred -upon it two centuries and a half ago by one of the emperors of -Germany, and is still appropriate, notwithstanding the strenuous -and in part successful efforts of the anti-catholic party to -seduce the population from their fidelity to the church. Malines -is still one of the most thoroughly and openly Catholic cities of -Europe. It would be impossible to find more intelligent, -courageous, warm-hearted, or devout Catholics than are found in -great numbers among the nobility and higher classes. A large -proportion of the people are also, as indeed throughout Belgium, -especially in the country places, sincerely attached to their -religion and in the habit of complying with its duties. -Nevertheless, even in Malines that infidel clique calling itself -the liberal party, which has the control of the administration, -is able to influence a sufficiently large number of the voters to -carry all the elections. We were informed by intelligent -gentlemen of Malines that this is due in great measure to the -official patronage in connection with the railway system, which -is a state affair, and places a great number of appointments in -the hands of the government. A large class are also excluded from -voting in Belgium by the peculiar law of property qualification. -The keepers of estaminets, as the drinking-shops are called, are -also there as here a very numerous class, and possessed of great -influence in politics, all of which is on the side of the -pseudo-liberals. - -The liberal party is undoubtedly thoroughly anti-catholic and -infidel in its principles and aims. Nevertheless, as the devil -knows better than to send up his carte-de-visite with his name -and likeness on it, the leaders of that party are adroit and -plausible enough to carry with them not only the portion of the -people which is corrupt, but also a number of good and -well-meaning Catholics, as well as a large number of those who -are apathetic and indifferent. All the bad Catholics are -liberals, we were told, but not all the liberals are bad -Catholics. It is a great disgrace, however, to such an ancient -and Catholic city as Malines, that the anti-catholic party should -rule it, and we hope the stain on its escutcheon may ere long be -wiped off. - -On the Sunday morning before the opening of the congress, it was -difficult to imagine that anything of the sort was at hand. -Everything looked as quiet as usual, and there were no visible -signs of any great influx of strangers. All at once, however, the -congress came, like the sun bursting suddenly in its full -splendor out of a cloud. -{293} -The preparations had been made quietly but efficiently, and -during the latter part of Sunday afternoon one became aware all -at once of something going on. The city appeared to become full -at once, as if by magic, of a thousand or more of clergymen and -lay gentlemen from various parts of Belgium, France, and other -countries of the world, and even a few adventurous ladies made -their appearance at the _tables d' hôte_ of the hotels. The -central bureau of the congress held its preliminary session on -Sunday afternoon, and during the ceremony of tea, at our hotel on -the Grand Place, M. Ducpetiaux, the founder, the prime mover, and -the secretary-general of the congress, made his appearance, with -various red and blue tickets and printed programmes in his -pockets, which indicated that the ball was about to open. - -Under the guidance of this experienced pilot, we put out into the -hitherto unknown sea of congressional life, by crossing the Grand -Place toward the cathedral, to take part in a reunion given by an -association of young men, called "The Circle of Loyalty." As we -approached the place of meeting, the first object which greeted -our eyes was a brilliant, semicircular jet of gas over the arched -entrance to a garden enclosed by a high wall, forming the words, -"_Cercle Catholique._" A crowd of juvenile Flamanders with -their broad backs and good-humored countenances, watched, and -chatted, and peeped about the outside, as is always the case with -the boys of all countries whenever there are great doings going -on from which they are excluded. Inside the gate, which was -vigilantly guarded by well-dressed young men clothed with the -usual badges of office, we found ourselves in the midst of a -garden filled with a gay and talkative crowd of priests in -various sorts of ecclesiastical costumes, and of gentlemen of all -ages and many countries, all making themselves as social and -happy as possible. Passing through the garden, we were ushered -into the large and commodious building which forms the hall of -the association, and which was also filled with the members of -the circle and of the congress from top to bottom. In the first -room we entered, we found the president of the circle, M. Cannart -d'Hamalle, one of the principal gentlemen of Malines, and a -member of the Belgian senate, in full evening dress, receiving -the members as they arrived, with that courtly and at the same -time cordial politeness in which the Belgians excel all others. -From the lower apartments of the hall we were soon summoned to -the audience-room above, where speeches were made and applauded -_con amore_, and a musical entertainment given by a choir -and orchestra, consisting of Belgian national hymns, the hymn of -Pius IX., and concluding with an exquisite _morceau_ on the -violoncello by a young artist of merit, which was vehemently -applauded. These social reunions were continued without the -formalities every evening during the week. - -The congress was opened on the next morning. The place of meeting -was the little seminary, situated on the outskirts of the city, -near the boulevard which skirts the banks of the river Dyle. The -grounds and buildings of the seminary are extremely convenient -for the purpose. The buildings are extensive, and, together with -the high wall connecting them, enclose a large, quadrangular -space. Within this space the members of the congress assembled at -an early hour on Monday. -{294} -The entrances were guarded by young men of the Circle of Loyalty, -who formed a body of volunteer police and commissariat during the -sessions of the congress, performing their duties in such a -manner as to receive well-merited eulogiums approved by the -entire assembly, the most eloquent and delicate of which came -from the lips of the Count de Falloux. The illustrious statesman -and orator, with that felicity and charming grace of manner and -expression which are his peculiar characteristics, uttered the -sentiment, during one of his speeches, that the array of Catholic -youth in attendance upon the congress was its most beautiful and -attractive feature, and seemed, as it were, like a little legion -of Stanislas Kostkas. - -In the enclosure of the seminary, everything was arranged which -could facilitate the business of the congress or promote the -comfort and convenience of its members. A post-office, booths for -the sale of newspapers and for writing letters, a restaurant -where refreshments could be obtained at all hours, and where a -dinner was provided every day, with other similar conveniences, -were established on the premises. The assembly-room was a large -exhibition hall, tastefully decorated with the busts of the pope -and king, the flags of various nations, and appropriate mottoes. -All the members of the congress were furnished with a ticket of -membership; no other persons being admitted within the enclosure, -except a few ladies, for whom seats were reserved. Special -tickets for reserved places and the platform were given to the -foreign members and others specially privileged. The number of -members in attendance during the week was about three thousand, a -large proportion of whom were assembled at the place of -rendezvous on Monday morning, the majority being clergymen -dressed in the various ecclesiastical costumes of Belgium, -France, and Germany, with a sprinkling of the picturesque habits -of the old religious orders. At the appointed hour, all moved in -a procession, not remarkably well ordered, but very dignified and -respectable in appearance, to the cathedral, through a double -hedge of citizens lining the streets, by a pretty long route, -along which many of the houses and shops were decorated with -banners, armorial bearings, and other ornaments of a festal and -welcoming nature. After the arrival of the procession, pontifical -Mass was celebrated by the cardinal, a number of Belgian and -foreign bishops and prelates assisting, and the procession -returned once more to the seminary, where the opening session was -held. - -The cardinal, who is always the honorary president of the -congress, on his arrival at the hall of assemblage, assumed the -chair amid loud cheers and vivas, and, after pronouncing a short -prayer, delivered a brief and paternal allocution. At the close -of his allocution, he descended from the platform to a chair in -front of it, near which were placed chairs for the prelates. -Among the foreign bishops assisting at the congress were the -Patriarch of Antioch, the Archbishop of Bosra, Vicar-Apostolic of -Bengal, the Vicar-Apostolic of Alexandria, the Archbishop of Rio -Grande in Brazil, the Bishop of Vancouver, the Bishops of Natchez -and Charleston, U. S., and Chatham, N. S.; Mgr. de Merode was -also present during the early part of the session. Mgr. -Dupanloup, Père Hyacinthe, and the Count de Falloux came by -special invitation as the great orators of the congress. A few -clergymen and gentlemen from Germany, Italy, Poland, Spain, -Holland, and America, a moderately large number from France, and -some scattering individuals from almost everywhere, representing, -it was said, eighteen different nations, made up the foreign -element of the congress. -{295} -Among the more distinguished foreign members of the congress, -were Mgr. Kubinski, rector of the seminary of Pesth, in Hungary; -Mgr. Woodlock, rector of the Catholic university of Dublin; F. -Formby, of England; Mgr. Sacré, rector of the Belgian College in -Rome; Baron de Bach, formerly Austrian ambassador at Rome; -Chevalier Alberi of Florence; Viscount de la Fuente, professor of -canon law in the University of Madrid; Don Manè y Flaquer, an -eminent Spanish publicist; Count Cieszkowski, of Poland; the Abbé -Brouwers, editor of the _Tyd_, of Amsterdam, etc. The -strangers were treated with marked distinction and the most -cordial kindness by their Belgian _confrères_. Nevertheless, -apart from the brilliant orators from abroad, whose eloquence was -chiefly directed to an object identical with the special and -local purposes of the active members of the congress, the -international character of the assembly was much less marked than -in former years. England had but one representative, F. Formby, -and other European countries were not strongly represented, with -the single exception of France. Germany had its own congress a -week after the one at Malines; and it appears probable that the -Catholic congresses will become hereafter more and more -exclusively national, occupied with local affairs of practical -necessity, and having less of the character of international -_réunions_. The Baron della Faille, in an article published -in _La Revue Generale,_ seems, however, to regret this -tendency, and to desire that the congress should become more of -an international reunion. The late congress was especially marked -by this practical and business-like character, and, if it fell -behind the former ones somewhat in numbers and _éclat_, was -probably increased in practical utility by this very -circumstance. This is precisely the view taken in the -_Compte-Rendu_ of the congress published in _Le -Catholique_ of Brussels: - - "Its labors went more directly to their object, had something - about them stronger and better developed, and a more practical - character. The accessory aspects occupied a smaller space. - Eloquence, even--we speak of the eloquence of words, not of - realities--played a lesser _rôle_. We may say that - rhetorical display scarcely appeared at all, and that there was - a decided preference for the reality of ideas and facts. Read - the details of the general sessions and of the sections. You - will see there fewer speeches for effect, but more that give - information and instruction. The congress meddled little with - speculations, properly so-called; it did not set forth any - religious or political metaphysics; it proceeded to its end by - the shortest and surest routes. The rights of the church, its - necessities, the liberty which it needs, its perils and trials - in various countries, the organization and results of pious - undertakings, the means of propagating them, the precise and - urgent duties of Catholics in respect to religion, such were - the matters principally discussed." - -It may be well to state also, in this connection, that purely -political discussions were prohibited in the congress, and -strictly excluded from its deliberations. - -The Cardinal Archbishop of Malines, as we have said, is always -the honorary president of the congress, and it is by him that the -sessions are solemnly opened and closed. The active presidency is -confided to some distinguished Belgian nobleman, and this high -office has been hitherto filled by the Baron de Gerlache, a -statesman and patriot of one of the most illustrious families of -the kingdom, who was the president of the national congress by -which the constitution was established, and until of late the -chief judge of the court of cassation. -{296} -The Baron de Gerlache having resigned the office of president of -the Catholic congress on account of his advanced age and -infirmities, he was associated with the cardinal as honorary -president, in order to testify the gratitude and veneration of -the Catholics of Belgium for his illustrious career of public -service; and the office of active president was left vacant. Its -duties were performed with great dignity and ability by the first -vice-president, Baron Hippolyte della Faille, a senator and -leading Catholic statesman. The other vice-presidents were -Viscount Kerckhove, Mgr. Laforet, rector magnificus of the -University of Louvain, Viscount Dubus de Gisignies, senator, and -Count de Theux, honorary vice-president, to whom were added as -honorary vice-presidents the Count de Falloux and a number of the -other foreigners present. The central bureau, which is a supreme -council of management, was composed of the active -vice-presidents, M. Ducpetiaux, secretary-general, with four -other secretaries and a treasurer, and ten other gentlemen of -distinguished rank and character, three of whom are clergymen and -seven laymen. The presidents of the sections were Count Legrelle, -Canon de Haerne, Mgr. Laforet, Viscount Dubus de Gisignies, and -M. Dechamps, with a number of vice-presidents and secretaries. -About fifty or sixty clergymen and lay-gentlemen of rank are thus -placed at the head of the congress as members of the central and -subordinate bureaux, constituting really the working congress. -The great mass of the members, the majority of whom are clergymen -of Belgium, constitute the audience, and cooperate chiefly by -their presence and sympathy, although any member is at liberty to -attend any section and gain a hearing for himself, if he has -anything to propose to the attention of his colleagues. The -measures to be proposed are initiated by the central bureau, sent -down to the appropriate section for discussion and preparation, -and, after approbation by the central bureau, laid before the -congress for their ratification, which is usually given without -further discussion, either by acclamation or by a formal vote. -The real business meetings are consequently those of the bureaux -and sections, the general sessions being devoted to hearing -speeches, addresses, and reports. The sections meet during the -morning, the members attending any of them they may choose. They -are five in number. The first section is occupied with works of -Catholic piety, the second with social science and works of -general public improvement, the third with education, the fourth -with Christian art, and the fifth with the Catholic press. - -The general sessions are held during the afternoon, and at the -last congress one of the evenings was devoted to a musical -entertainment; another to a _fête_, given by the city, in -the Botanical Garden; and the others were spent, by many of the -members, in social conversation at the Catholic circle. - -Before we give a _résumé_ of the proceedings of these -sectional and general sessions of the late congress, it may be -well to state the reasons, objects, and guiding principles in -view of which the assemblage of these congresses at Malines has -been inaugurated and carried on. A great deal has been already -published in our former numbers upon this topic; but as our -readers may have forgotten it, and not care to look it up afresh, -we think it will enable them to appreciate the proceedings of the -congress we are describing more thoroughly, if we furnish them -the substance anew in a brief and summary manner. -{297} -In making this explanation, we shall be guided by the published -and official statements of His Eminence the Cardinal de Sterckx, -the Baron de Gerlache, and M. Ducpetiaux, which are to be found -in the authentic documents of the first congress. - -The necessity of the times which induced the leading Catholics of -Belgium to conceive and execute the plan of convoking a general -assembly of the clergy and laity of the kingdom, under the -auspices of their primate and bishops, was the peculiar condition -of the Catholic Church in relation to the civil administration of -the state. The revolution of 1830, which severed Belgium from -Holland and made it an independent kingdom, was accomplished by -the concurrence of the Catholic majority of the nobility and -people with the smaller but more active and enterprising liberal -party who were the originators of the movement. By a similar -concurrence and compromise between these two totally different -elements, a constitution was formed on principles of very -enlarged civil and religious liberty, and a Protestant prince, -Leopold I., was called to the throne. The late king is usually -spoken of by Catholics as a monarch of honorable and upright -character, who endeavored to fulfil the duties entrusted to him -in a just and impartial manner. Nevertheless, it is quite true -that the position of affairs with a Protestant sovereign at the -head of a Catholic people was an anomalous one, most unfavorable -to the interests of the church and affording the greatest -facilities to the so-called liberals to obtain a predominant -influence in the state. The Catholic nobility and gentry, whose -position, intelligence, and wealth made them the most capable of -taking the principal part in directing political affairs, seem to -have been too apathetic, and to have confided too much in the -sincerity, loyalty, and good faith of the opposite party. The -consequence was, that this party was allowed to get the control -into its own hands, and enabled to secure an amount of influence -over the people, who are fundamentally good, but too apathetic to -their own highest interests, which has proved very dangerous, and -has threatened to prove very disastrous, to religion. The -accusation publicly made against this party by the gravest and -most high-minded statesmen of Belgium is, that it has pursued an -unremittingly perfidious policy in direct violation of the -constitution, the end of which is to deprive the Catholic Church -of that liberty and those rights solemnly guaranteed to it by the -fundamental law of the realm, and, as far as possible, to -decatholicize and unchristianize the people. The Catholic -congress was called together and organized in order to unite the -most influential laymen of the kingdom with the leading members -of the clerical order, to take counsel together and adopt -measures for counteracting this anti-catholic, infidel policy of -the pseudo-liberal party. The honor of originating this glorious -and happy enterprise, and of doing more than any other individual -to promote its success, is ascribed by unanimous consent to M. -Edouard Ducpetiaux, of Brussels, a gentleman whose name deserves -to be enrolled with those of the most illustrious benefactors of -his country. -{298} -M. Ducpetiaux is a gentleman of wealth and high education, the -author of some valuable works on social science, a corresponding -member of the French Institute, and was formerly -inspector-general of the prisons and public charitable -institutions of Belgium. It is impossible to find in the world a -man more genial, kind-hearted, unassuming, and energetic in -prosecuting every benevolent work or one more enthusiastically -beloved by those who are associated with him in the noble cause -of promoting the Catholic faith in Belgium and Europe. Happily -for the interests of religion in this ancient Catholic country, a -number of other gentlemen of the highest standing and the most -thorough Catholic loyalty cooperated with him in his great -undertaking. The wise, generous, and unfaltering patronage and -support of the venerable primate of Belgium, the Cardinal -Archbishop of Malines, crowned it with that sanction and imparted -to it that spirit of union with the Holy Roman Church and the -hierarchy, which are the guarantee of its genuine Catholicity and -the vital principle of its activity. The congress was intended to -serve as an instrument for thwarting the destructive policy of -the infidel party by combining together those zealous and loyal -Catholics who, in their isolation and separation, were in danger -of losing courage; revealing to them their real strength, -animating their faith and ardor by able and eloquent addresses -from the most illustrious champions of the church, concerting and -taking means to carry out all kinds of measures for preserving -and extending a Catholic spirit among the people. The more -precise and definite objects to be aimed at were, to win for the -church the full and perfect possession of her liberty and other -divine rights, to promote the cause of Catholic education, to -make known and give new impetus to all kinds of religious and -charitable works and associations already existing, as well as to -found new ones; to provide for the publication of books, tracts, -magazines, and newspapers devoted to the sound and wholesome -instruction of the people; to preserve, restore, and augment the -treasures of religious art; and to work for social reform by -alleviating the burdens, miseries, and privations of the laboring -classes. The special reason for calling a congress for these -purposes was, in order that the nobility and other influential -classes of the laity might be brought into direct and immediate -cooperation with the clergy for promoting and defending the -sacred cause of religion. The words of the Most Eminent Cardinal -de Sterckx carry with them such a weight of authority and wisdom -on this head, not only on account of his position as primate of -the Belgian hierarchy, but also from the still higher rank which -he holds as a prince of the Roman Church, and from the fact that -he has spoken and acted throughout after seeking counsel and -direction from the Holy Father, as well as from his own high -personal character, that we will make a citation of them from his -allocution at the opening of the first congress: - - "It is true, gentlemen, that the government of the church - belongs to the clergy; it is true that it is to the sovereign - pontiff, to the bishops, and to the priests that the deposit of - faith and the care of souls has been confided. It is to them - that the divine Founder of the church has said: _'Go, teach - all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of - the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.'_ It is to them that He has - said: _'You are the light of the world, you are the salt of - the earth.'_ Nevertheless, the Christian laity are also - called to contribute to the propagation of the gospel, to - sustain and defend the church of God. -{299} - By baptism they have become the children of the church, and - they are bound to take to heart the interests of their mother; - by confirmation they have become soldiers of the church, and - they are bound to defend her against the attacks of her - enemies. It is, moreover, by the practice of good works that we - are all obliged, both ecclesiastics and laymen, to secure our - salvation. '_Strive_,' says the prince of apostles to all - Christians without distinction, '_strive to secure your - vocation and election by the practice of good works_.' - - "But, if such is the duty of the laity, they ought to concert - together in order to fulfil it with zeal and perseverance; they - ought to combine and form associations; they ought to confer - together, in order to plan the means of doing with more - certainty and success that which they could only do in a very - incomplete manner if they were abandoned to their own - individual capacities." - -We add one more sentence from the same allocution, which -manifests the genuine and large-minded liberality of sentiment so -conspicuous in this wise and venerable prelate and in the body of -eminent men who have had the principal direction of the congress: - - "All honest opinions may be expressed, all measures proper for - promoting that which is good may be proposed. Both the one and - the other may be defended, discussed, and combated with the - greatest liberty; but you will also be all ready to abandon, if - necessary, your sentiments and your projects, in order to rally - to the support of those measures which shall be judged to be - the best. In this way you will arrive at that perfect union - which the Saviour demanded for his disciples: You will all have - but one heart and one soul, and the success of your labors will - be secured." - -There can be no doubt that the congress of Malines has -accomplished a great deal of the good contemplated by its eminent -and excellent promoters. The mere assemblage of so many fervent -Catholics together, and the enunciation of their common -sentiments, wishes, and purposes, have had a great influence in -giving increased courage, confidence, and zeal to the faithful -adherents of the church in Belgium. Moreover, many works of great -practical utility have either been inaugurated or have received -additional extent and vigor. Among them may be mentioned the -support given to the Catholic University of Louvain, the -formation of a society among the alumni of the university, the -establishment of Catholic circles of young men in the towns, the -formation of libraries, the establishment of lectures and -conferences, the formation of charitable and religious -associations, the foundation of a Catholic publication house, the -multiplication of books, tracts, and newspapers, the care given -to the preservation, repair, and increase of churches, the -cultivation of the fine arts in connection with religion, the -efforts made for the sanctification of the Sunday and for the -amelioration of the condition of the laboring classes. It is -impossible to enumerate all that has been done, and would require -a more minute knowledge of the state of things in Belgium than we -possess--such a knowledge as is possessed only by those who have -been engaged permanently in the work of the congress from the -beginning. - -{300} - -In regard to the work of the congress lately held, our -information is also much restricted and very general, as we are -obliged to rely on the succinct reports already published. The -meetings of the sections being held simultaneously in different -rooms, and their proceedings being a continuation of those of -preceding congresses as well as of a great number of various -branches of active effort carried on perpetually by those engaged -in them, we cannot pretend to give any complete and detailed -statement of practical results, but merely an indication of the -general topics discussed and the general objects had in view in -the measures adopted. - -In the first section, the topics discussed related to the -Christian burial of the poor, the sanctification of the Sunday, -the work of St. Francis Xavier for the instruction of laboring -men, which has forty thousand members from this class in the -cities of Belgium, the work of St. Francis Regis for legitimating -illicit unions and facilitating marriages among the poor, and the -contribution in aid of the pope called St. Peter's pence. - -The second section was exclusively occupied with considering the -interest of the laboring class and the relation of capital to -labor, the terrible and at present insoluble European _question -ouvrière_. The discussions in this section were more lively -and the interest excited more general than in any other section. - -The third section discussed three questions: - -1. The attitude which Catholics ought to take in view of the war -declared against the law of 1842, and in the eventuality of its -abrogation. - -2. The means of protecting the schools of the middle class -against the incursions of official bureaucracy. - -3. The improvement to be introduced in the Catholic system of -instruction, under which head the improvement of historical -text-books was especially considered. - -The fourth section discussed the subject of instruction and -improvement in religious art, the permanent exposition of fine -paintings and statuary in churches, the means of developing and -propagating religious art, and literary works imbued with a -Christian spirit. M. Bordeaux, an eminent French archaeologist, -was present, and spoke with ability in this section, giving -interesting details of the progress of sacred archaeology in -France. Among other recommendations, we were happy to find one -relative to the removal of the ridiculous images which disfigure -some fine churches, and the abolition of the unpleasant custom of -paying a franc to the sacristan for removing the curtains before -certain pictures. Desires were expressed for the publication of a -manual of sacred archaeology and architecture as a guide to -priests and architects. - -The fifth section had a great number of important questions -before it relating to the Catholic press, Catholic circles, -popular lectures, secret societies, judicial oaths, etc., which -it appears were not so well prepared beforehand or dealt with in -so thorough a manner as the questions laid before the other -sections. The most important resolution arrived at by this -section was that of effecting a union of the Catholic circles for -young men by means of a central organization. The formation of -similar circles for the benefit of the industrial classes, and -the giving of popular lectures on a more extensive scale, were -also recommended. - -Such is an imperfect and meagre outline of the work accomplished -in the morning sessions of the several congressional sections. -These sessions were opened at eight or nine o'clock, and -continued until twelve or later. -{301} -At three o'clock the general sessions of the congress were -opened, continuing until six or seven in the evening; and we will -now attempt to give a sketch of their proceedings. - -The opening of the congress by the cardinal has already been -noticed. After His Eminence had left the president's chair, the -nominations of the central and sectional bureaux made by the -committee of delegates were proposed and ratified by the -assembly, and the chair was taken by the Baron della Faille, who -immediately pronounced a long, elaborately written, and extremely -able opening discourse. The baron is a gentleman of plain but -impressive dignity, whose entire bearing and language bear the -stamp of solid sense, elevated principles, thorough -conscientiousness, and quiet but indomitable courage. A tone of -profound and deeply meditative Christian thought and fervent -Catholic piety predominates in his discourses, with a little -shadow of sadness, as if he felt the great interests of the -church and society to be in great danger; together with an -undercurrent of suppressed emotion, as of a just and high-minded -man indignant at the baseness of those who are faithless to their -duty toward God and their fellow-men; as well as deeply resolved -to be faithful to the death himself, at whatever cost of selfish -interests. - -At the outset of his discourse, the distinguished vice-president -laid down the proposition that a state of conflict is the -perpetual condition of the church, and proceeded to develop his -views concerning the radical causes of the hostility which -Christianity perpetually excites in the human bosom against its -principles, its precepts, and its claim of authority over reason, -conscience, and human activity. This part of his discourse was -profoundly theological, the views and reasonings presented being -all derived from the doctrine that man, in consequence of the -original sin into which he fell from his primitive state of -integrity, finds a perpetual repugnance and struggle in his own -bosom of selfish passion against the supernatural law. This -repugnance and resistance tends to produce itself in society even -after it has been christianized and civilized, in the form of a -retrograde movement toward irreligion and barbarism. - -The orator proceeded then to examine the question whether this -conflict could be terminated, so far as its disturbing influence -on political tranquillity and the peace of society is concerned, -by a reformation or reconstruction of the relations between the -two orders, spiritual and temporal, religion and society, the -church and the state. To this question he addressed himself to -give a historical solution, arguing from the facts of the past as -to what might be expected in the future. "When the irreconcilable -adversaries of the truth," said the orator, with energy and -emotion, "tear the state away from the church, reject Christ, ah! -gentlemen, it is not in order to create for us a more peaceful -condition; it is, on the contrary, in order to attack us more -freely. If the civil power forces itself to be impartial, guided -by reason alone, it is not secure from error; it will often be -deceived, and the Catholic religion, being incapable of -submitting to the manipulations of the temporal authority, will -always be the first thing menaced. But what if this same power is -malevolent? what if it has fallen into the hands of our enemies?" -The orator then went on to sustain the position thus laid down by -a reference to the actual policy of the so-called liberal -governments of Europe toward the Catholic Church. -{302} -He demanded that a single European state should be indicated, -where liberalism is in power, which has not persecuted the -church. After reproaching the blindness and apathy of a great -number of Catholics who hang loose from an active part in the -conflict against infidelity, he set forth, in very forcible -language, the common duty of all to maintain, or rather to make a -conquest of, the liberties of the church. This, he said, could -only be accomplished by an obstinate conflict with the enemies of -the church, in which there could be _ni paix ni trêve_. -Touching then upon Belgium in particular, the country which -liberty has made so famous, he asked the question, What is the -condition of things there now? Without disparaging the amount of -liberty still left to them, he declared that they had already -lost enough to awaken just regret in their own minds, and to -suggest the caution to their too confident friends: "Do not -exaggerate the authority of this example, and take care for -yourselves." He then went on to affirm that the church in Belgium -is combated in its religious and charitable works--in the -exercise of worship, where it has new assaults to expect, without -any respect for the conditions which have been affixed to -charitable institutions, or to the solemn engagements of the -state. Such, he exclaimed, is our situation, in spite of our -legislation which was favorable to us, in spite of promises the -most formal, compacts the most solemn. Elsewhere, he asked, is -the situation more favorable? The orator then deduced the -conclusion which was the final object aimed at throughout his -closely reasoned discourse, that the Catholics of Europe must -rely on themselves alone, and prepare for a combat which must be -sustained with courage, constancy, and union. In this part of his -discourse, the baron proved how legitimate is the title he has -received from his warlike ancestors, and we were reminded of the -old days and old scenes of the chivalrous, warlike Netherlands, -when the fathers of the peaceable gentlemen in the costume of -civilians, who sat upon the platform or on the floor of the -congress, rode forth with their pennons flying, clad in steel -armor and coat of mail, to fight against the paynim for the cross -and sepulchre. "We are the children of the Crusaders!" he -exclaimed. "To a threatening infidelity let us oppose a new -crusade, and let us each one bring his own arms with him." - -On the conclusion of the discourse, which had been frequently -interrupted by applause, the assembly gave loud and -long-continued expression to the universal sentiment of -admiration with which this introductory discourse of the -illustrious Belgian statesman was received. - -An address to the Holy Father was then voted by the assembly; the -address was intrusted to Mgr. de Merode, to be presented by him -to His Holiness on his return to Rome. Information of the vote -was transmitted to Rome by telegraph, and in response to it the -Holy Father sent his benediction on the opening of the congress, -and subsequently another benediction on its close. After some -communications from the secretary, the first public session of -the congress was adjourned. - -At the second session, on Tuesday afternoon, the hall was still -more crowded than on the day previous. A few moments before it -was opened, the Count de Falloux entered, leaning on the arm of -Mgr. Laforet, amid prolonged and enthusiastic acclamations. - -{303} - -At the opening of the session an address to the cardinal was -proposed and voted. M. de Falloux was nominated honorary -vice-president, and a large number of the foreign members were -honored with the same mark of distinction. - -The favorite demonstration of cheering accompanied all these -courteous formalities, and no sooner had it subsided than it was -awakened to new and increased vigor by the arrival of the -cardinal with the accompanying prelates, conducting the -illustrious Bishop of Orleans, Mgr. Dupanloup, together with the -celebrated orator of the Carmelite order, Father Hyacinthe. Long, -loud, and often renewed were the acclamations with which the -assembly greeted the heroic, veteran champion of the Catholic -cause, "the Lamoricière of the episcopate," as he was happily -designated by one of the orators of the congress. The president -succeeded in silencing the thunders of congratulation long enough -to allow him to address a few words of salutation to Mgr. -Dupanloup in the name of the assembly, when they again burst -forth with irrepressible energy, and could not be appeased until -the illustrious orator, reluctantly yielding to the irresistible -demand of three thousand voices, ascended the tribune to -pronounce a short but fervid allocution. - -Mgr. Dupanloup presents much more the exterior aspect of a -hard-working apostolic missionary, or of an austere and -self-denying religious, than of a stately dignitary of the -church; and his style of address is in accordance with his -personal appearance, having more of the unstudied energy, the -spontaneous fire, of an earnest, popular preacher, than of the -polished, artistic eloquence of a French academician. - -His dress was a simple black cassock, with the slightest possible -amount of purple trimming, and a cloak of the same color, just -enough to indicate his episcopal rank, but still more significant -of his profound indifference for its decorations. Everything else -about his person and manner wore the same air of unstudied -_negligé_ and inattention to the ceremonial of exterior -elegance and polish. As he appeared in full view of the audience -upon the platform, an expression used by Rufus Choate of Napoleon -the First could be applied to him, as giving with terse -completeness a designation to the impression we received of the -physical, intellectual, and moral _tout ensemble_ of the -man--"the worn child of a thousand battles." The same idea is -conveyed by the title given him by general acclamation at the -congress, "the Lamoricière of the episcopate." The bishop is -somewhat over sixty years of age, his hair is gray, his movements -somewhat indicative of failing bodily strength, his countenance -vivid, lighting up as if from the flame of an internal, -ever-burning furnace which is consuming his physical frame, his -manner natural, easy, familiar, yet kindling at intervals into a -startling, vibrating eloquence that thrills through the nerves -like an electric shock. Mgr. Dupanloup had not preached in his -diocese for the last two years on account of weakness in the -throat, and, on taking the tribune at Malines, he apologized for -himself on the ground that his voice was weakened by long and -laborious use. In point of fact, his excuses seemed to be -well-grounded; yet, as he caught the expression of the eyes and -faces of his sympathetic audience, the electrical influence of -the atmosphere of the place, surcharged with the enthusiasm of -the Catholic faith, seemed to reanimate all his ancient fire, and -he sent forth, like a flash of lightning, with a tone that -vibrated through every heart in that august assembly, the -eloquent exclamation, "_Nous savions que le feu sacré est -immortel dans l'Eglise; mais_ ICI ON EN VOIT LA FLAMME!" -{304} -The bishop spoke but a few minutes, seizing the opportunity of -the renewed applause which broke out on his uttering these words -to descend hastily from the tribune, having produced an effect by -this sudden _coup de main_ of eloquence which it would be -impossible to describe in any language we have at command. - -The acclamations caused by Mgr. Dupanloup's _début_ in the -assembly having subsided, a short and amusing conflict arose -between the amiable pertinacity of M. Ducpetiaux in insisting -upon an immediate address from the Count de Falloux, and the -reluctance of that gentleman to yield to the demand; in which the -latter was obliged to succumb. Indeed, the audience came at once -to the support of their secretary in such overwhelming force that -resistance was impossible, and the illustrious French statesman -was borne up to the tribune just vacated by the illustrious -French bishop, as it were by a great wave of applause. - -The Count de Falloux is a finished specimen of the most graceful -and polished type of French gentlemen, orators, and men of polite -letters. The paleness of his countenance, together with an -expression of subdued languor in his eye and movements, bore -witness to the truth of his avowal, that a pitiable state of -health had prevented him from making any preparation for -addressing the congress. In consequence of this, the count made -no long or elaborate discourses. In his discourse of Tuesday, -which was the longest, he spoke but half an hour. Nevertheless, -this brief discourse, although apparently an unstudied, impromptu -utterance of thoughts and sentiments occurring at the moment; -delivered, without any effort at oratory, in a simple, almost -conversational manner; was a specimen of the most consummate, -captivating, and classical eloquence; as our readers will see for -themselves, we hope, so far as a translation can enable them to -do so, when the text of the discourse is published in full in our -pages, as we intend it shall be; together with those of Mgr. -Dupanloup and Father Hyacinthe. The expression of M. de Falloux's -countenance, the tones of his voice, and his entire manner of -address bear an impress of gentleness, of graceful, charming -persuasiveness, through which he wins the hearts of his audience -at once, and gains an easy, almost imperceptible dominion over -their minds. With exquisite grace and delicacy, he complimented -all the most distinguished persons present, the congress, and the -Belgian nation; thanking the latter especially for the honor and -kindness shown to his illustrious and suffering friend -Montalembert, then confined to his chamber by sickness at his -villa of Brixensart, near Brussels. The genuine, affectionate -tenderness and emotion with which he spoke of Montalembert -communicated itself at once to his sympathetic audience, and -called out the most energetic, enthusiastic acclamations of the -name so dear to the Belgian Catholics. "It is to you," said the -orator, "that Montalembert owes the motto expressive of that -sacred cause to which his life has been devoted, _Liberty as in -Belgium_." The theme thus introduced with such consummate -skill and effect occupied the remainder of the discourse, which -was in its drift and aim a modest, reserved, courteous, but not -the less powerful apology and defence of the nineteenth century -and the cause of liberty against the charge of being essentially -anti-catholic and irreligious. - -{305} - -The name of Montalembert was, in every instance when it was -mentioned, greeted with the same hearty applause during all the -sessions of the congress; a circumstance which elicited from him -a letter of thanks and sympathy, afterward publicly read by the -Count de Falloux, and received with acclamations of the most -energetic character by the assembly. - -We do not feel ourselves competent to express an opinion on the -question how far the applause given by the congress to these two -illustrious Catholic statesmen of France indicated an approbation -of the principles in regard to the alliance of religion and -liberty which they advocate. There is, no doubt, a great -difference regarding this very important, delicate, and -complicated question, in Belgium as well as throughout Europe; a -difference existing, consequently, among the members of the -Congress of Malines. The Count de Falloux's speech has been -courteously but searchingly criticised by some of the most -prominent writers for the Catholic press in Belgium, and still -more severely by another writer in one of the English papers; -while, as is natural, it is sustained with equal courtesy as well -as with equal decision by _Le Correspondant_ of France. All -the members of the congress, as well as all other firm adherents -of the Catholic cause in Europe and the world, are of one mind -and one heart, in filial devotion to the Pope, loyalty to the -Holy See and the Catholic Church, determination to fight against -anti-catholic, infidel pseudo-liberalism in both its phases of -despotism and radical demagogueism for the perfect liberation, -the complete liberty of the Catholic Church from the tyranny, -both of governments and of revolutions. In regard to the basis of -settlement between the church and civil, political society, or -the state, through which this liberty can be most effectually -gained, most durably established, there is a divergence which -sometimes threatens to become a sharp contest, involving in its -issues other questions more directly ecclesiastical or -theological. The most admirable feature of the Congress of -Malines was, that this difference of opinion was neither -violently smothered nor permitted to burst into a flame of -discord, but subdued by the dominant power of mutual charity, -respect, and courtesy. The Catholics of Belgium, we may also add -those of France also, give a good example in this respect worthy -to be imitated by all, but especially _needing to be -imitated_ by the Catholics of England and our own country. The -Belgian Catholics are too deeply sensible of the imminent duties -and perils of the Catholic cause in front of the deadly enemy of -all religion, to tolerate the excesses of party spirit or -internal dissension among themselves, to allow the tyranny of -theological opinion the right of branding all dissidents as -disloyal to the church, to tolerate the secret undermining or -open detraction of the reputation of eminent, meritorious -advocates of the Catholic cause, much less to permit the -violation of the rules of Christian charity and courtesy by those -who write for the press. They have felt the necessity of shunning -personal or party disputes, rising above the spirit of clique or -sectional interest, throwing off indifference and apathy toward -measures or enterprises set on foot by men of zeal and courage -for the common good, and combining together in a spirit of -disinterested, self-sacrificing effort, strong enough to sweep -away and drown all petty interests, for the common, the sacred, -the glorious, but deeply endangered cause of God, religion, and -true philanthropy. -{306} -If we are so fortunate as to have a Catholic congress in the -United States, we trust it will be animated by the same spirit -which prevailed in the Congress of Malines, and that its -influence will promote powerfully this truly Catholic spirit -wherever it is felt. - -To return from this digression; when the Count de Falloux had -finished his speech, a very pleasing interlude occurred in the -presentation of a magnificent vase of gold, on the part of the -central bureau, to M. Ducpetiaux, by the Viscount Kerckhove, who -made a graceful and appropriate speech on the occasion, embracing -affectionately the amiable secretary at its conclusion, to the -unbounded delight of the audience. Several other addresses were -then read, some compliments were passed between the congress and -the representatives of the city of Malines, an excellent report -was read by Mgr. Nameche, vice-rector of the University of -Louvain, from a committee appointed to give a premium to the best -treatise on the education of young ladies, an animated speech was -made by one of the juvenile members of the congress, and the -session was adjourned. - -The general session of Wednesday was addressed, after a few -preliminary proceedings, by Lieutenant-General de Lannoy, a -veteran warrior of the Belgian army, in a brief but exceedingly -eloquent speech, commending the charitable heroism of the -pontifical Zouaves during the visitation of Rome and Albano by -the cholera. It was resolved to send an expression of the -sentiment of the assembly to the secretary of war at Rome, and -two young Belgian Zouaves present in the audience were invited to -a seat on the platform. Father Tondini, an _Italian_ -Barnabite, then read a paper relating to a work in which he is -engaged, for promoting the return of Russia to the unity of the -church. He was followed by the celebrated Mgr. Dechamps, formerly -a Redemptorist missionary, now the Bishop of Namur, who -pronounced an able and eloquent discourse on the subject of -Catholic unity. After this eloquent prelate had left the tribune, -it was taken by the Bishop of Charleston, who employed the -remaining time of the session, the hour of adjournment having -been fixed at five P.M., on account of the oratorio in the -evening, in a discourse on the state of the Catholic religion in -the United States, but principally in his own diocese. The -learned bishop, whose presence did so much honor to the hierarchy -and the Catholic body of our own country at the Congress of -Malines, exposed the sad state of the Catholic people of South -Carolina, as well as of the whole population, but more especially -of the colored race, in consequence of the late war. He -communicated a project of his own for establishing a community of -monks upon an island on the coast of South Carolina, as the -nucleus of a great work for converting and civilizing the colored -population. The address of Bishop Lynch produced a most profound -impression upon the assembly; and we are happy to state that some -of the wealthy members of the congress gave handsome -contributions toward his benevolent undertaking. - -On Thursday the great event of the session was the discourse of -Mgr. Dupanloup, of which we give no analysis here, as the text of -the discourse is to appear in our pages. It was throughout a -scathing denunciation of the principle of the pseudo-liberals, -the _liberâtres_, as he designated them, the -_liberticides_, as we would propose to call them in English. -{307} -Near the close of his discourse he gave utterance to a sentence -which has aroused the attention of all Europe, and bids fair to -make its echo heard for a long time to come. It was _à -propos_ of a plan, proposed, we believe, by the editor of the -Paris _Siède_, for erecting a statue to Voltaire. - - "Shall I remind you of Voltaire, the inventor of the title - _The Infamous_, by which he designated the church? And he, - what name did he give himself? He called himself philosopher. - Ah! well, gentlemen, no one shall ever bring me to give the - name of philosophers to a d'Holbach, to a Lamettrie, or the - rest of the impious men who conspired with their master to - crush the Infamous. But what do I hear? People say that they - desire to erect a statue to the man who gave this name to - Christianity. Indeed! and I, on my part, say that they will - have raised a statue to INFAMY PERSONIFIED. (Prolonged bravos.) - I should like to encounter here a man who would contradict me! - I would promise to give him, as soon as he pleased, proofs with - which all Europe would resound. This violence done to good - sense, to rectitude, to French honor, revolts me. I repeat it, - they will raise a statue to INFAMY PERSONIFIED. The Bishop of - the Orleans of Joan of Arc could not have or express a more - worthy sentiment." (Prolonged acclamations.) - -The editor of the _Siède_ has offered to take up the glove -thus thrown at him, and a short but spicy correspondence has been -interchanged between himself and the bishop, who is preparing to -redeem his pledge in a pamphlet containing the proofs of his -assertion. - -We cannot refrain from noticing one more passage in this -remarkable discourse, one which came like a flash of lightning -from the bishop's mouth, striking the assembly with an -irresistible force, but especially kindling every heart of a -Belgian there present into aflame of patriotic enthusiasm. The -effect was indeed indescribable. We add our fervent hope that it -may be _ineffaceable_, especially upon the hearts of the -Belgian youth there present, to whom their country looks with -such fond hope for the future. - -"O patriotism! it is not to you that I have to preach it; but I -say to you simply, You HAVE A COUNTRY, KNOW HOW TO KEEP IT!" -Words apparently simple and commonplace as written down on paper -to be read by those who are remote from the scene of their -utterance, strangers to the memories, the associations, the hopes -and fears whose key-note they struck, and unable to represent to -themselves the attitude, the tone, the expression of the orator -who gave them utterance. But words which, as Dupanloup uttered -them, with a sudden _élan_, in which his whole soul of fire -seemed to blaze forth before the eyes of his audience, "VOUS AVEZ -UNE PATRIE, SACHEZ LA CARDER!" Were sufficient to set a whole -nation on fire. - -The castigation given to infidelity by the intrepid Bishop of -Orleans caused the party suffering from his well-applied lash to -give utterance to its smarting sensations by an outcry in the -_Independence Belge_, repeated by the London Times, and -echoed by some of its feeble imitators in America. The burden of -the complaint against Mgr. Dupanloup is, that he did not treat -the _soi-disant_ liberal party with sufficient courtesy or -respect. For our own part, we did not find anything in his -discourse, nor have we ever seen anything in any of his writings, -in the slightest decree contrary to the charity of a Christian or -the dignity of a bishop. -{308} -In speaking of the party called by the extremely vague, general -name of liberal, we must distinguish. We assent to the opinion of -the amiable writer who furnished the sketch of the late congress -in _Le Correspondant_, that it is incumbent on the champion -of the Catholic cause to combat for it with _courteous -arms_. We allow that a very large proportion of those who -would class themselves under the general head of liberals, -whether they call themselves liberal Christians or liberal -philosophers, are entitled to courtesy. But, when it is question -of such men as Voltaire and his modern disciples, who are engaged -in the nefarious work of destroying all Christian faith in the -hearts of the Catholic people, as well as poisoning the very -well-spring of all political and social life, we deny that, apart -from courtesies of private life, and in the public arena of -discussion, they are entitled to any courtesy at the hands of a -loyal defender of Christian faith and civilization, beyond that -which his own self-respect and Christian charity require him to -show to the deadliest enemies of the human race. We trust the -time has not yet come in England or America when the name of -Voltaire must be mentioned with respect. Whatever courtesy any -man of that class deserves can only be given on the same -principle that the poor woman addressed the executioner during -the French reign of terror, with a plea to spare the lives of -herself and her children, in the words, "_Ayez pitie, M. le -Bourreau_." We hope it is through ignorance only that so many -in England and America, calling themselves by the Christian name, -extend their sympathy to a class of men who are laboring for the -destruction of all religion and all social order; if it be -through ignorance, their eyes will be opened in due time, perhaps -in a somewhat startling manner. - -When the thunders of acclamation, in the midst of which the -Bishop of Orleans descended from the tribune, had subsided, the -audience felt as if they had been swept up, by the hurricane of -his eloquence, to a height from which it was difficult as well as -unpleasant to descend on _terra firma_. His discourse was -well styled in the _Bulletin_ of the next morning, "_ce -discours monument_" and, in our own mind, it is like some of -these _chefs d'oeuvre_ of Raffaelle in the Louvre, whose -excellence is more vividly appreciated in the reminiscence than -in the actual moment of viewing them. - -The remainder of the session was occupied by an interesting -memoir on the state of Italy, by the Chevalier Alberi of -Florence, and an address on North American missions, by the -Bishop of Vancouver. - -The great speech of the Friday session was that of Father -Hyacinthe. It was preceded by a short though brilliant address -from the eminent statesman M. Adrian Dechamps, and another short -address from the Count de Falloux, who read a letter from M. de -Montalembert, which will be published hereafter. - -Father Hyacinthe, dressed in the picturesque, impressive habit of -the Carmelites, presented a striking contrast in appearance, as -well as in the style of his eloquence, to the two great French -orators who had preceded him. He is still in the full vigor of -the prime of manhood, untouched by any token of decline; on the -contrary, hardly more than just arrived at the full efflorescence -of physical and intellectual maturity. The poetic sentiment seems -to predominate in him, with an exuberance of the tender and -expansive emotions of the heart, the pleasing, radiant creations -of the imagination, yet not without the power of descending to -the deeper region of tragic sentiment, or striking out more bold -and sublime conceptions. -{309} -His ordinary manner and expression are gentle and winning, his -eye and countenance full of benevolence, his voice sweet, -musical, somewhat feminine. When the spirit of oratorical -inspiration carries him away, his countenance changes to a more -earnest, impassioned expression, his gestures are rapid and -vehement, his voice alternately sinks to a deep, low, organ-like -tone, or rings out clearly like a trumpet, and the whole mind and -body are roused into an action in which every cord and nerve has -the tension of a ship's cordage under full sail. After the -discourse, which was two hours long, and held the audience in a -breathless attention interrupted only by their applauses, the -eloquent father was completely exhausted and obliged to return -home to his lodgings at once for a period of perfect quiet and -repose. Of the discourse, which was on the _question -ouvrière_, we will not speak, leaving our readers to peruse it -in the translation which will be given in our pages hereafter. - -A short address was made by Mgr. Rogers, Bishop of Chatham, N. -S., thanking the Catholics of Europe for their charitable -assistance to the missions of America, and giving some naive -details of the primitive manners of the Acadians. Canon Rousseau -then gave an analysis of the memoir presented by Father Hecker in -a French translation for publication among the congressional -documents, relating to the progress of the Catholic religion in -the United States. Finally, M. l'Abbé Brouwers, a young priest of -Amsterdam, succeeded in gaining the attention of the audience, -already fatigued and impatient, to an address on the religious -condition of Holland. This young priest exhibited proofs in his -speech, of possessing the gift of sacred eloquence in no common -degree. Another thing about him that pleased every one was, that -he gave a bright, cheerful picture of the state of things in his -own country. Everything was going on well, and promised to go on -still better in the future--a circumstance quite creditable to -the contented disposition of the compatriots of our first -settlers in New York. - -The closing service on Saturday morning was devoted to the -reading of the reports of the sections and voting their -conclusions. This work had been commenced at an extraordinary -general session on Friday morning. The president gave a short -concluding discourse, and after some usual formalities the -members of the congress repaired to the cathedral, where a sermon -was preached by Father Hyacinthe, the _Te Deum_ was chanted, -and the cardinal gave his benediction on the close of the -congress. A general communion of the Society of St. Vincent de -Paul had already been made on Friday morning in the church of -Notre Dame d'Hanswyck. We may add here that a bulletin of the -acts of the congress was published every morning, and also that -there is an association called the Catholic Union, which is a -sort of permanent standing committee of the congress during the -intervals of its assemblages. - -An elegant and _recherché_ banquet, at which about three -hundred gentlemen were present, concluded the Catholic -_réunion_ at Malines in a very pleasant manner, and before -nightfall we had bidden adieu to Malines and were on our way to -Brussels, preparatory to a return to Paris, and thence to -America. - -{310} - -In conclusion, we beg leave to thank, in the name of the entire -American delegation, the Cardinal Archbishop of Malines, and the -other distinguished gentlemen of Belgium who are the chief -directors of the congress, especially the noble-hearted and -amiable secretary, M. Ducpetiaux, for the hospitality and -consideration so kindly extended by them during our stay at -Malines; and we trust that it may be in our power at a future day -to return this hospitality in an equally cordial manner to some -of their number as guests of the Catholics of the United States -of America. _Vive la Belgique! Vive le Congrès Catholique de -Malines!_ - --------- - - Translated From The French. - - The Story Of A Conscript. - - - I. - -Those who have not seen the glory of the Emperor Napoleon, during -the years 1810, 1811, and 1812, can never conceive what a pitch -of power one man may reach. - -When he passed through Champagne, or Lorraine, or Alsace, people -gathering the harvest or the vintage would leave everything to -run and see him; women, children, and old men would come a -distance of eight or ten leagues to line his route, and cheer and -cry, "_Vive l'Empereur! Vive l'Empereur!_" One would think -that he was a god, that mankind owed its life to him, and that, -if he died, the world would crumble and be no more. A few old -republicans might shake their heads and mutter over their wine -that the emperor might yet fall, but they passed for fools. - -I was in my apprenticeship since 1804, with an old watchmaker, -Melchior Goulden, at Phalsbourg. As I seemed weak and was a -little lame, my mother wished me to learn an easier trade than -those of our village, for at Dagsberg there were only -wood-cutters and charcoal-burners. Monsieur Goulden liked me very -much. We lived on the first story of a large house opposite the -"Red Ox" inn, and near the French gate. - -That was the place to see princes, ambassadors, and generals come -and go, some on foot, and some in carriages drawn by two or four -horses; there they passed in embroidered uniforms, with waving -plumes and decorations from every country under the sun. And in -the highway what couriers, what baggage-wagons, what -powder-trains, cannon, caissons, cavalry, and infantry did we -see! Those were stirring times! - -In five or six years the innkeeper, George, had made a fortune. -He had fields, orchards, houses, and money in abundance; for all -these people, coming from Germany, Switzerland, Russia, Poland, -or elsewhere, cared little for a few handfuls of gold scattered -upon their road; they were all nobles who took a pride in showing -their prodigality. - -From morning until night, and even during the night, the "Red Ox" -kept its tables in readiness. Through the long windows on the -first story nothing was to be seen but great white table-cloths, -glittering with silver and covered with game, fish, and other -rare viands, around which the travellers sat side by side. -{311} -In the yard behind, horses neighed, postilions shouted, -maid-servants laughed, coaches rattled. - -Sometimes, too, people of the city stopped there, who in other -times were known to gather sticks in the forest or work on the -highway. But now they were commandants, colonels, generals, and -had won their grades by fighting in every land on earth. - -Old Melchior, with his black silk cap pulled over his ears, his -weak eyelids, his nose pinched between great horn spectacles, and -his lips tightly pressed together, could not sometimes avoid -putting his magnifying-glass and punch upon the work-bench, and -throwing a glance toward the inn, especially when the cracking of -the whips of the postilions awoke the echoes of the ramparts and -announced a new arrival. Then he became all attention, and from -time to time would exclaim: - -"Hold! It is the son of Jacob, the slater," or of "the old scold, -Mary Ann," or of "the cooper, Franz Lépel! He has made his way in -the world; there he is, colonel and baron of the empire into the -bargain. Why don't he stop at the house of his father who lives -yonder in the _Rue des Capucins?_" - -But, when he saw them shaking hands right and left in the street -with those who recognized them, his tone changed; he wiped his -eyes with his great spotted handkerchief, and murmured: - -"How pleased poor old Annette will be! Good! good! _He_ is -not proud; he is a man. God preserve him from cannon-balls!" - -Others passed as if ashamed to recognize their birthplace; others -went gayly to see their sisters or cousins, and everybody spoke -of them. One would imagine that all Phalsbourg wore their crosses -and their epaulettes; while the arrogant were despised even more -than when they swept the roads. - -Nearly every month _Te Deums_ were chanted, and the cannon -at the arsenal fired their salutes of twenty-one rounds for some -new victory. During the week following every family was uneasy; -poor mothers especially waited for letters, and the first that -came all the city knew of; the rumor spread like wildfire that -such an one had received a letter from Jacques or Claude, and all -ran to see if it spoke of their Joseph or their Jean-Baptiste. I -do not speak of promotions or the official reports of deaths; as -for the first, every one knew that the killed must be replaced; -and as for the reports of deaths, parents awaited them weeping, -for they did not come immediately; sometimes they never came, and -the poor father and mother hoped on, saying, "Perhaps our boy is -a prisoner. When they make peace, he will return. How many have -returned whom we thought dead!" - -But they never made peace. When one war was finished, another was -begun. We always needed something, either from Russia or from -Spain, or some other country. The emperor was never satisfied. - -Often when regiments passed through the city, with their -great-coats pulled back, their knapsacks on their backs, their -great gaiters reaching to the knee, and muskets carried at will; -often when they passed covered with mud or white with dust, would -Father Melchior, after gazing upon them, ask me dreamily: - -"How many, Joseph, think you we have seen pass since 1804?" - -"I cannot say, Monsieur Goulden," I would reply', "at least four -or five hundred thousand." - -{312} - -"Yes, at least!" he said, "and how many have returned?" - -Then I understood his meaning, and answered: "Perhaps they return -by Mayence or some other route. It cannot be possible otherwise!" - -But he only shook his head, and said: "Those whom you have not -seen return are dead, as hundreds and hundreds of thousands more -will die, if the good God does not take pity on us, for the -emperor loves only war. He has already spilt more blood to give -his brothers crowns than our Revolution cost to win the rights of -man." - -Then we set about our work again; but the reflections of Monsieur -Goulden gave me some terrible subjects for thought. - -It was true that I was a little lame in the left leg; but how -many others with defects of body had received their orders to -march notwithstanding! - -These ideas kept running through my head, and when I thought long -over them, I grew very melancholy. They seemed terrible to me, -not only because I had no love for war, but because I was going -to marry Catharine of Quatre-Vents. We had been in some sort -reared together. Nowhere could be found a girl so fresh and -laughing. She was fair-haired, with beautiful blue eyes, rosy -cheeks, and teeth white as milk. She was approaching eighteen; I -was nineteen, and Aunt Margrédel seemed pleased to see me coming -early every Sunday morning to breakfast and dine with them. - -It was I who took her to high Mass and vespers; and on holidays -she never left my arm, and refused to dance with the other youths -of the village. Everybody knew that we would some day be married; -but, if I should be so unfortunate as to be drawn in the -conscription, there was an end of matters. I wished that I was a -thousand times more lame; for at the time of which I speak they -had first taken the unmarried men, then the married men who had -no children, then those with one child; and I constantly asked -myself, "Are lame fellows of more consequence than fathers of -families? Could they not put me in the cavalry?" The idea made me -so unhappy that I already thought of fleeing. - -But in 1812, at the beginning of the Russian war, my fear -increased. From February until the end of May, every day we saw -pass regiments after regiments--dragoons, cuirassiers, -carbineers, hussars, lancers of all colors, artillery, caissons, -ambulances, wagons, provisions, rolling on for ever, like the -waters of a river. All flowed through the French gate, crossed -the Place d'Armes, and streamed out at the German gate. - -At last, on the 10th of May, in the year 1812, in the early -morning, the guns of the arsenal announced the coming of the -master of all. I was yet sleeping when the first shot shook the -little panes of my window till they rattled like a drum, and -Monsieur Goulden, with a lighted candle, opened my door, saying, -"Rise up, he is here!" - -We opened the window. Through the night I saw a hundred dragoons, -of whom many bore torches, entering at a gallop; they shook the -earth as they passed; their lights glanced along the house-fronts -like dancing flames, and from every window we heard the shouts of -"_Vive l'Empereur!_" - -{313} - -I was gazing at the carriage, when a horse crashed against the -post to which the butcher Klein was accustomed to fasten his -cattle. The dragoon was thrown to the pavement, his helmet rolled -in the gutter, and a head leaned out of the carriage to see what -had happened--a large head, pale and fat, with a tuft of hair on -the forehead: it was Napoleon; he held his hand up as if about -taking a pinch of snuff, and said a few words roughly. The -officer galloping by the side of the coach bent down to reply; -and his master took his snuff and turned the corner, while the -shouts redoubled and the cannons roared louder than ever. - -This was all that I saw. - -The emperor did not stop at Phalsbourg, and, when he was on the -road to Saverne, the guns fired their last shot, and silence -reigned once more. The guards at the French gate raised the -drawbridge, and the old watchmaker said: - -"You have seen him?" - -"I have, Monsieur Goulden." - -"Well," he continued, "that man holds all our lives in his hand; -he need but breathe upon us and we are gone. Let us bless Heaven -that he is not evil-minded; for if he were, the world would see -again the horrors of the days of the barbarian kings and the -Turks." - -He seemed lost in thought, but in a moment he added: - -"You can go to bed again. The clock is striking three." - -He returned to his room, and I to my bed. The deep silence -without seemed strange after such a tumult, and until daybreak I -never ceased dreaming of the emperor. I dreamed, too, of the -dragoon, and wanted to know if he were killed. The next day we -learned that he was carried to the hospital and would recover. - -From that day until the month of September they often sang the -_Te Deum_, and fired twenty-one guns for new victories. It -was nearly always in the morning, and Monsieur Goulden cried: - -"Eh, Joseph! Another battle won! Fifty thousand men lost! -Twenty-five standards, a hundred guns won. All goes well, all -goes well. It only remains now to order a new levy to replace the -dead!" - -He pushed open my door, and I saw him bald, in his shirt-sleeves, -with his neck bare, washing his face in the wash-bowl. - -"Do you think, Monsieur Goulden," I asked, in great trouble, -"that they will take the lame?" - -"No, no," he said kindly; "fear nothing, my child, you could not -serve. We will fix that. Only work well, and never mind the -rest." - -He saw my anxiety, and it pained him. I never met a better man. -Then he dressed himself to go to wind up the city clocks--those -of Monsieur the Commandant of the place, of Monsieur the Mayor, -and other notable personages. I remained at home. Monsieur -Goulden did not return until after the _Te Deum_. He took -off his great brown coat, put his peruke back in its box, and -again pulling his silk cap over his ears, said: - -"The army is at Wilna or at Smolensk, as I learn from Monsieur -the Commandant. God grant that we may succeed this time and make -peace, and the sooner the better, for war is a terrible thing." - -I thought, too, that, if we had peace, so many men would not be -needed, and that I could marry Catharine. Any one can imagine the -wishes I formed for the emperor's glory. - - - II. - -It was on the 15th of September, 1812, that the news came of the -great victory of the Moskowa. Every one was full of joy, and all -cried, "Now we will have peace! now the war is ended!" - -{314} - -Some discontented folks might say that China yet remained to be -conquered; such mar-joys are always to be found. - -A week after, we learned that our forces were in Moscow, the -largest and richest city in Russia, and then everybody figured to -himself the booty we would capture, and the reduction it would -make in the taxes. But soon came the rumor that the Russians had -set fire to their capital, and that it was necessary to retreat -on Poland or to die of hunger. Nothing else was spoken of in the -inns, the breweries, or the market; no one could meet his -neighbor without saying, "Well, well, things go badly; the -retreat has commenced." - -People grew pale, and hundreds of peasants waited morning and -night at the post-office, but no letters came now. I passed and -repassed through the crowd without paying much attention to it, -for I had seen so much of the same thing. And besides, I had a -thought in my mind which gladdened my heart, and made everything -seem rosy to me. - -You must know that for six months past I had wished to make -Catharine a magnificent present for her _fête_ day, which -fell on the 18th of December. Among the watches which hung in -Monsieur Goulden's window was one little one, of the prettiest -kind, with a silver case full of little circles, which made it -shine like a star. Around the face, under the glass, was a thread -of copper, and on the face were painted two lovers, the youth -evidently declaring his love, and giving to his sweetheart a -large bouquet of roses, while she modestly lowered her eyes and -held out her hand. - -The first time I saw the watch, I said to myself: "You will not -let that escape; that watch is for Catharine, and, although you -must work every day till midnight for it, she must have it." -Monsieur Goulden, after seven in the evening, allowed me to work -on my own account. He had old watches to clean and regulate; and, -as this work was often very troublesome, old father Melchior paid -me reasonably for it. But the little watch was thirty-five -francs, and one can imagine how many hours at night I would have -to work for it. I am sure that, if Monsieur Goulden knew that I -wanted it, he would have given it me for a present, but I would -not have let him take a farthing less for it; I would have -regarded doing so something shameful. I kept saying, "You must -earn it; no one else must have any claim upon it." Only for fear -somebody else might take a fancy to buy it, I put it aside in a -box, telling father Melchior that I knew a purchaser. - -Under these circumstances, every one can readily understand how -it was that all these stories of war went in at one ear and out -at the other with me. While I worked I imagined Catharine's joy, -and for five months that was all I had before my eyes. I thought -how pleased she would look, and asked myself what she would say. -Sometimes I imagined she would cry out, "O Joseph what are you -thinking of? It is much too beautiful for me. No, no; I cannot -take so fine a watch from you!" Then I thought I would force it -upon her; I would slip it into her apron-pocket, saying, "Come, -come, Catharine! Do you wish to give me pain?" I could see how -she wanted it, and that she spoke so only to seem to refuse it. -Then I imagined her blushing, with her hands raised, saying, -"Joseph, now I know indeed that you love me!" And she would -embrace me with tears in her eyes. I felt very happy. Aunt Grédel -approved of all. -{315} -In a word, a thousand such scenes passed through my mind, and -when I retired at night I said: "There is no one as happy as you, -Joseph. See what a present you can make Catharine by your toil; -and she surely is preparing something for your _fête_, for -she thinks only of you; you are both very happy, and, when you -are married, all will go well." - -While I was thus working on, thinking only of happiness, the -winter began, earlier than usual, toward the commencement of -November. It did not begin with snow, but with dry, cold weather -and strong frosts. In a few days all the leaves had fallen and -the earth was hard as ice and all covered with hoar-frost; tiles, -pavement, and window-panes glittered with it. Fires had to be -made to keep the cold out, and, when the doors were opened for a -moment, the heat seemed to disappear at once. The wood crackled -in the stoves and burnt away like straw in the fierce draught of -the chimneys. - -Every morning I hastened to wash the panes of the shop-window -with warm water, and I scarcely closed it when a frosty sheen -covered it. Without, people ran puffing with their coat-collars -over their ears and their hands in their pockets. No one stood -still, and, when doors opened, they soon closed. - -I don't know what became of the sparrows, whether they were dead -or living, but not one twittered in the chimneys, and, save the -reveille and retreat sounded in the barracks, no sound broke the -silence. - -Often when the fire crackled merrily did Monsieur Goulden stop -his work, and, gazing on the frost-covered panes, exclaim: - -"Our poor soldiers! our poor soldiers!" - -He said this so mournfully that I felt a choking in my throat as -I replied: - -"But, Monsieur Goulden, they ought now to be in Poland in good -barracks; for to suppose that human beings could endure a cold -like this, it is impossible." - -"Such a cold as this," he said; "yes, here it is cold, very cold, -from the winds from the mountains; but what is this frost to that -of the north, of Russia and of Poland? God grant that they -started early enough. My God! my God! the leaders of men have a -heavy weight to bear." - -After the frosts so much snow fell that the couriers were stopped -on the road toward Quatre-Vents. I feared that I could not go to -see Catharine on her _fête_ day; but two companies of -infantry set out with pickaxes, and dug through the frozen snow a -way for carriages, and that road remained open until the -commencement of the month of April, 1813. - -Nevertheless, Catharine's _fête_ approached day by day, and -my happiness increased in proportion. I had already the -thirty-five francs, but I did not know how to tell Monsieur -Goulden that I wished to buy the watch; I wanted to keep the -whole matter secret; and it annoyed me greatly to talk about it. - -At length, on the eve of the eventful day, between six and seven -in the evening, while we were working in silence, the lamp -between us, suddenly I took my resolution, and said: - -"You know, Monsieur Goulden, that I spoke to you of a purchaser -for the little silver watch." - -"Yes, Joseph," said he, without raising his head, "but he has not -come yet." - -"It is I who am the purchaser, Monsieur Goulden." - -Then he looked up in astonishment. I took out the thirty-five -francs and laid them on the work-bench. He stared at me. - -{316} - -"But," he said, "it is not such a watch as that you want, Joseph; -you want one that will fill your pocket and mark the seconds. -Those little watches are only for women." - -I knew not what to say. - -Monsieur Goulden, after meditating a few moments, began to smile. - -"Ah!" he exclaimed; "good! good! I understand now; to-morrow is -Catharine's _fête_. Now I know why you worked day and night. -Hold! take back this money; I do not want it." - -I was all confusion. - -"Monsieur Goulden, I thank you," I replied; "but this watch is -for Catharine, and I wish to have earned it. You will pain me if -you refuse the money; I would as lief not take the watch." - -He said nothing more, but took the thirty-five francs; then he -opened his drawer, and chose a pretty steel chain, with two -little keys of silver-gilt, which he fastened to the watch. Then -he put all together in a box with a rose-colored favor. He did -all this slowly, as if affected; then he gave me the box. - -"It is a pretty present, Joseph," said he. "Catharine ought to -deem herself happy in having such a lover as you. She is a good -girl. Now we can take our supper. Set the table." - -The table was arranged, and then Monsieur Goulden took from a -closet a bottle of his Metz wine, which he kept for great -occasions, and we supped like old friends rather than as master -and apprentice; all the evening he never stopped speaking of the -merry days of his youth; telling me how he once had a sweetheart, -but that, in 1792, he left home in the _levée en masse_ at -the time of the Prussian invasion, and that on his return to -Fénétrange, he found her married--a very natural thing, since he -had never mustered courage enough to declare his love. However, -this did not prevent his remaining faithful to the tender -remembrance, and when he spoke of it he seemed sad indeed. I -recounted all this in imagination to Catharine, and it was not -until the stroke of ten, at the passage of the rounds, which -relieved the sentries on post every twenty minutes on account of -the great cold, that we put two good logs in the fire, and at -length went to bed. - - - III. - -The next day, the 18th of December, I arose about six in the -morning. It was terribly cold; my little window was covered with -a sheet of frost. - -I had taken care the night before to lay out on the back of a -chair my sky-blue coat, my trousers, my goat-skin vest, and my -fine black silk cravat. Everything was ready; my well-polished -shoes lay at the foot of the bed; I had only to dress myself; but -the cold I felt upon my face, the sight of those window-panes, -and the deep silence without made me shiver in advance. If it -were not Catharine's _fête_, I would have remained in bed -until midday; but suddenly that recollection made me rush to the -great delf stove, where some embers of the preceding night almost -always remained among the cinders. I found two or three, and -hastened to collect and put them under some split wood and two -large logs, after which I ran back to my bed. - -Monsieur Goulden, under the huge curtains, with the coverings -pulled up to his nose and his cotton night-cap over his eyes, -woke up, and cried out: - -"Joseph, we have not had such cold for forty years. I never felt -it so. What a winter we shall have!" - -{317} - -I did not answer, but looked out to see if the fire was lighting; -the embers burnt well; I heard the chimney draw, and at once all -blazed up. The sound of the flames was merry enough, but it -required a good half-hour to feel the air any warmer. - -At last I arose and dressed myself. Monsieur Goulden kept on -chatting, but I thought only of Catharine, and when at length, -toward eight o'clock, I started out, he exclaimed: - -"Joseph, what are you thinking of? Are you going to Quatre-Vents -in that little coat? You would be dead before you accomplished -half the journey. Go into my closet, and take my great cloak, and -the mittens, and the double-soled shoes lined with flannel." - -I was so smart in my fine clothes that I reflected whether it -would be better to follow his advice, and he, seeing my -hesitation, said: - -"Listen! a man was found frozen yesterday on the way to Wecham. -Doctor Steinbrenner said that he sounded like a piece of dry wood -when they tapped him. He was a soldier, and had left the village -between six and seven o'clock, and at eight they found him; so -that the frost did not take long to do its work. If you want your -nose and ears frozen, you have only to go out as you are." - -I knew, then, that he was right; so I put on the thick shoes, and -passed the cord of the mittens over my shoulders, and put the -cloak over all. Thus accoutred, I sallied forth, after thanking -Monsieur Goulden, who warned me not to stay too late, for the -cold increased toward night, and great numbers of wolves were -crossing the Rhine on the ice. - -I had not gone as far as the church when I turned up the fox-skin -collar of the cloak to shield my ears. The cold was so keen that -it seemed as though the air were filled with needles, and one's -body shrank involuntarily from head to foot. - -Under the German gate, I saw the soldier on guard, in his great -gray mantle, standing back in his box like a saint in his niche; -he had his sleeve wrapped about his musket where he held it, to -keep his fingers from the iron, and two long icicles hung from -his mustaches. No one was on the bridge, but, a little further -on, I saw three carts in the middle of the road with their -canvas-tops all covered with frost; they were unharnessed and -abandoned. Everything in the distance seemed dead; all living -things had hidden themselves from the cold; and I could hear -nothing but the snow crunching under my feet. On each side were -walls of ice, as I ran along the trench the soldiers had dug in -the snow; in some places swept by the wind, I could see the oak -forest and the bluish mountain, both seeming much nearer than -they were, on account of the clearness of the air. Not a dog -barked in a farm-yard; it was even too cold for that. - -But the thought of Catharine warmed my heart, and soon I descried -the first houses of Quatre-Vents. The chimneys and the thatched -roofs, to the right and left of the road, were scarcely higher -than the mountains of snow, and the villagers had dug trenches -along the walls, so that they could pass to each other's houses. -But that day every family kept around its hearth, and the little -round window-panes seemed painted red, from the great fires -burning within. Before each door was a truss of straw to keep the -cold from entering beneath it. - -{318} - -At the fifth door to the right I stopped to take off my mittens; -then I opened and closed it very quickly. I was at the house of -Grédel Bauer, the widow of Matthias Bauer and Catharine's mother. - -As I entered, and while Aunt Grédel, astonished at my fox-skin -collar, was yet turning her gray head, Catharine, in her Sunday -dress--a pretty striped petticoat, a kerchief with long fringe -folded across her bosom, a red apron fastened around her slender -waist, a pretty cap of blue silk with black velvet bands setting -off her rosy and white face, soft eyes, and slightly -_retroussé_ nose--Catharine, I say, exclaimed: - -"It is Joseph!" - -And she ran to greet me, saying: - -"I knew the cold would not keep you from coming." - -I was so happy that I could not speak. I took off my cloak, which -I hung upon a nail on the wall, with my mittens; I took off -Monsieur Goulden's great shoes, and felt myself pale with joy. - -I would have said something agreeable, but could not; suddenly I -exclaimed: - -"See here, Catharine; here is something for your _fête_." - -She ran to the table. Aunt Grédel also came to see the present. -Catharine untied the cord and opened the box. I was behind them, -my heart bounding--I feared that the watch was not pretty enough. -But in an instant, Catharine, clasping her hands, said in a low -voice: - -"How beautiful! It is a watch!" - -"Yes," said Aunt Grédel; "it is beautiful; I never saw so fine a -one. One would think it was silver." - -"But it _is_ silver," returned Catharine, turning toward me -inquiringly. - -Then I said: - -"Do you think, Aunt Grédel, that I would be capable of giving a -gilt watch to one whom I love better than my own life? If I could -do such a thing, I would despise myself more than the dirt of my -shoes." - -Aunt Grédel asked: - -"But what is this painted upon the face?" - -"That painting, Aunt Grédel," said I, "represents two lovers who -love each other more than they can tell: Joseph Bertha and -Catharine Bauer; Joseph is offering a bouquet of roses to his -sweetheart, who is stretching out her hand to take them." - -When Aunt Grédel had sufficiently admired the watch, she said: - -"Come until I kiss you, Joseph. I see very well that you must -have economized very much and worked hard for this watch, and I -think it is very pretty, and that you are a good workman, and -will do us no discredit." - -From then until midday we were happy as birds. Aunt Grédel -bustled about to prepare a large pancake with dried prunes, and -wine, and cinnamon and other good things in it; but we paid no -attention to her, and it was only when she put on her red jacket -and black sabots, and called, "Come, my children; to table!" that -we saw the fine table-cloth, the great porringer, the pitcher of -wine, and the large round, golden pancake on a plate in the -middle. The sight rejoiced us not a little, and Catharine said: - -"Sit there, Joseph, opposite the window, that I may look at you. -But you must fix my watch, for I do not know where to put it." - -I passed the chain around her neck, and then, seating ourselves, -we ate gayly. Without, not a sound was heard; within the fire -crackled merrily upon the hearth. It was very pleasant in the -large kitchen, and the gray cat, a little wild, gazed at us -through the balusters of the stairs without daring to come down. - -{319} - -Catharine, after dinner, sang _Der liebe Gott_. She had a -sweet, clear voice, and it seemed to float to heaven. I sang low, -merely to sustain her. Aunt Grédel, who could never rest doing -nothing, began spinning; the hum of her wheel filled up the -silences, and we all felt happy. When one air was ended, we began -another. At three o'clock, Aunt Grédel served up the pancake, and -as we ate it, laughing, she would exclaim: - -"Come, come, now, you are children in reality." - -She pretended to be angry, but we could see in her eyes that she -was happy from the bottom of her heart. This lasted until four -o'clock, when night began to come on apace; the darkness seemed -to enter by the little windows, and, knowing that we must soon -part, we sat sadly around the hearth on which the red flames were -dancing. I would almost have given my life to remain longer. -Another half-hour passed, when Aunt Grédel cried: - -"Listen, Joseph! It is time for you to go; the moon does not rise -till after midnight, and it will soon be dark as a kiln outside, -and an accident happens so easily in these great frosts." - -These words seemed to fall like a bolt of ice, and I felt -Catharine's clasp tighten on my hand. But Aunt Grédel was right. - -"Come," said she, rising and taking down the cloak from the wall; -"you will come again Sunday." - -I had to put on the heavy shoes, the mittens, and the cloak of -Monsieur Goulden, and would have wished that I were a hundred -years doing so, but, unfortunately, Aunt Grédel assisted me. When -I had the great collar drawn up to my ears, she said: - -"Now, Joseph, you must go!" - -Catharine remained silent. I opened the door, and the terrible -cold, entering, admonished me not to wait. - -"Hasten, Joseph," said my aunt. - -"Good-night, Joseph, good-night!" cried Catharine, "and do not -forget to come Sunday." - -I turned around to wave my hand; then I ran on without raising my -head, for the cold was so intense that it brought tears to my -eyes even behind the great collar. - -I ran on thus some twenty minutes, scarcely daring to breathe, -when a drunken voice called out: - -"Who goes there?" - -I looked through the dim night, and saw, fifty paces before me, -Pinacle, the pedler, with his huge basket, his otter-skin cap, -woollen gloves, and iron-pointed staff. The lantern, hanging from -the strap of his basket lit up his debauched face, his chin -bristling with yellow beard, and his great nose shaped like an -extinguisher. He glared with his little eyes like a wolf, and -repeated, "Who goes there?" - -This Pinacle was the greatest rogue in the country. He had, the -year before, a difficulty with Monsieur Goulden, who demanded of -him the price of a watch which he undertook to deliver to -Monsieur Anstett, the curate of Homert, and the money for which -he put into his pocket, saying he had paid it to me. But, -although the villain made oath before the justice of the peace, -Monsieur Goulden knew the contrary, for on the day in question -neither he nor I had left the house. Besides, Pinacle wanted to -dance with Catharine at a festival at Quatre-Vents, and she -refused because she knew the story of the watch, and was, -besides, unwilling to leave me. - -{320} - -The sight, then, of this rogue with his iron-shod stick in the -middle of the road did not tend to rejoice my heart. Happily a -little path which wound around the cemetery was at my left, and, -without replying, I dashed through it, although the snow reached -my waist. - -Then he, guessing who I was, cried furiously: - -"Aha! it is the little lame fellow! Halt! halt! I want to bid you -good-evening. You came from Catharine's, you watch-stealer." - -But I sprang like a hare through the heaps of snow; he at first -tried to follow me, but his pack hindered him, and, when I gained -the ground again, he put his hands around his mouth, and -shrieked: - -"Never mind, cripple, never mind! Your reckoning is coming all -the same; the conscription is coming--the grand conscription of -the one-eyed, the lame, and the hunch-backed. You will have to -go, and you will find a place under ground like the others." - -He continued his way, laughing like the sot he was, and I, -scarcely able to breathe, kept on, thanking Heaven that the -little alley was so near me; for Pinacle, who was known always to -draw his knife in a fight, might have done me an ill turn. - -In spite of my exertion, my feet, even in the thick shoes, were -intensely cold, and I again began running. - -That night the water froze in the cisterns of Phalsbourg and the -wines in the cellars--things that had not happened before for -sixty years. - -On the bridge and under the German gate the silence seemed yet -deeper than in the morning, and the night made it seem terrible. -A few stars shone between the masses of white cloud that hung -over the city. All along the street I met not a soul, and when I -reached home, after shutting the door of our lower passage, it -seemed warm to me, although the little stream that ran from the -yard along the wall was frozen. I stopped a moment to take -breath; then I ascended in the dark, my hand on the baluster. - -When I opened the door of my room, the cheerful warmth of the -stove was grateful indeed. Monsieur Goulden was seated in his -arm-chair before the fire, his cap of black silk pulled over his -ears, and his hands resting upon his knees. - -"Is that you, Joseph?" he asked without turning round. - -"It is," I answered. "How pleasant it is here, and how cold out -of doors! We never had such a winter." - -"No," said he gravely. "It is a winter that will long be -remembered." - -I went into the closet and hung the cloak and mittens in their -places, and was about relating my adventure with Pinacle, when he -resumed: - -"You had a pleasant day of it, Joseph," - -"I have had, indeed. Aunt Grédel and Catharine wished me to make -you their compliments." - -"Very good, very good," said he; "the young are right to amuse -themselves, for when we grow old, and suffer, and see so much of -injustice, selfishness, and misfortune, everything is spoiled in -advance." - -He spoke as if talking to himself, gazing at the fire. I had -never seen him so sad, and I asked: - -"Are you not well, Monsieur Goulden?" - -But he, without replying, murmured: - -"Yes, yes; this is to be a great military nation; this is glory!" - -He shook his head and bent over gloomily, his heavy gray brows -contracted in a frown. - -{321} - -I knew not what to think of all this, when, raising his head -again, he said: - -"At this moment, Joseph, there are four hundred thousand families -weeping in France; the grand army has perished in the snows off -Russia; all those stout young men whom for two months we saw -passing our gates are buried beneath them. The news came this -afternoon. Oh! it is horrible! horrible!" - -I was silent. Now I saw clearly that we must have another -conscription, as after all campaigns, and this time the lame -would most probably be called. I grew pale, and Pinacle's -prophecy made my hair stand on end. - -"Go to bed, Joseph; rest easy," said Monsieur Goulden. "I am not -sleepy; I will stay here; all this upsets me. Did you remark -anything in the city?" - -"No, Monsieur Goulden." - -I went to my room and to bed. For a long time I could not close -my eyes, thinking of the conscription, of Catharine, and of so -many thousands of men buried in the snow, and then I plotted -flight to Switzerland. - -About three o'clock Monsieur Goulden retired, and a few minutes -after, through God's grace, I fell asleep. - - - - - IV. - - -When I arose in the morning, about seven, I went to Monsieur -Goulden's room to begin work; but he was still in bed, looking -weary and sick. - -"Joseph," said he, "I am not well. This horrible news has made me -sick, and I have not slept at all. I will get up by and by. But -this is the day to regulate the city clocks; I cannot go; for to -see so many good people--people I have known for thirty -years--in misery, would kill me. Listen, Joseph; take those keys -hanging behind the door, and go. I will try to sleep a little. If -I could sleep an hour or two, it would do me good." - -"Very well, Monsieur Goulden," I replied; "I will go at once." - -After putting more wood in the stove, I took the cloak and -mittens, drew Monsieur Goulden's bed-curtains, and went out, the -bunch of keys in my pocket. The illness of Father Melchior -grieved me very much for a while, but a thought came to console -me, and I said to myself: "You can climb up the city clock-tower, -and see the house of Catharine and Aunt Grédel." Thinking thus, I -arrived at the house of Brainstein, the bell-ringer, who lived at -the corner of the little court, in an old, tumble-down barrack. -His two sons were weavers, and in their old home the noise of the -loom and the whistle of the shuttle was heard from morning till -night. The grand-mother, old and blind, slept in an arm-chair, on -the back of which perched a magpie. Father Brainstein, when he -did not have to ring the bells for a christening, a funeral, or a -marriage, kept reading his almanac behind the small round panes -of his window. - -The old man, when he saw me, rose up, saying: - -"It is you, Monsieur Joseph." - -"Yes, Father Brainstein; I come in place of Monsieur Goulden, who -is not well." - -"Very well; it is all the same." - -He took up his staff and put on his woollen cap, driving away the -cat that was sleeping upon it; then he took the great key of the -steeple from a drawer, and we went out together, I [was] glad to -find myself again in the open air, despite the cold; for their -miserable room was gray with vapor, and as hard to breathe in as -a kettle; I could never understand how people could live in such -a way. - -{322} - -At last we gained the street, and Father Brainstein said: - -"You have heard of the great Russian disaster, Monsieur Joseph?" - -"Yes, Father Brainstein; it is fearful - -"Ah!" said he, "there will be many a Mass said in the churches; -every one will weep and pray for their children, the more that -they are dead in a heathen land." - -We crossed the court, and in front of the tower-hall, opposite -the guard-house, many peasants and city people were already -standing, reading a placard. We went up the steps and entered the -church, where more than twenty women, young and old, were -kneeling on the pavement, in spite of the terrible cold. - -"Is it not as I said?" said Brainstein. "They are coming already -to pray, and half of them have been here since five o'clock." - -He opened the little door of the steeple leading to the organ, -and we began climbing up in the dark. Once in the organ-loft, we -turned to the left of the bellows, and went up to the bells. - -I was glad to see the blue sky and breathe the free air again, -for the bad odor of the bats which inhabited the tower almost -suffocated me, But how terrible the cold was in that cage, open -to every wind, and how dazzlingly the snow shone over twenty -leagues of country! All the little city of Phalsbourg, with its -six bastions, three _demilunes_, two advanced works; its -barracks, magazines, bridges, _glacis_, ramparts; its great -parade-ground, and little, well-aligned houses, were beneath me, -as if drawn on white paper. I was not yet accustomed to the -height, and I held fast on the middle of the platform for fear I -might jump off, for I had read of people having their heads -turned by great heights. I did not dare go to the clock, and, if -Brainstein had not set me the example, I would have remained -there, pressed against the beam from which the bells hung; but he -said: - -"Come, Monsieur Joseph, and see if it is right." - -Then I took out Monsieur Goulden's large watch which marked -seconds, and I saw that the clock was considerably slow. -Brainstein helped me to wind it up, and we regulated it. - -"The clock is always slow in winter," said he, "because of the -iron working." - -After becoming somewhat accustomed to the elevation, I began to -look around. There were the oak-wood barracks, the upper -barracks, Bigelberg, and lastly, opposite me, Quatre-Vents, and -the house of Aunt Grédel, from the chimney of which a thread of -blue smoke rose toward the sky. And I saw the kitchen, and -imagined Catharine, in sabots and woollen skirt, spinning at the -corner of the hearth and thinking of me. I no longer felt the -cold; I could not take my eyes from their cottage. - -Father Brainstein, who did not know what I was looking at, said: -"Yes, yes, Monsieur Joseph; now all the roads are covered with -people in spite of the snow. The news has already spread, and -every one wants to know the extent of his loss." - -He was right; every road and path was covered with people coming -to the city; and, looking in the court, I saw the crowd -increasing every moment before the guard-house, and the mairie, -and the post-office. A deep horror arose from the mass. - -At length, after a last, long look at Catharine's house, I had to -descend, and we went down the dark, winding stairs, as if -descending into a well. Once in the organ-loft, we saw that the -crowd had greatly increased in the church; all the mothers, the -sisters, the old grandmothers, the rich, and the poor, were -kneeling on the benches in the midst of the deepest silence; they -prayed for the absent, offering all only to see them once -again. - -{323} - -At first I did not realize all this; but suddenly the thought -that, if I had gone the year before, Catharine would be there -praying and asking me of God, fell like a bolt on my heart, and I -felt all my body tremble. - -"Let us go! let us go!" I exclaimed, "this is terrible." - -"What is?" he asked. - -"War." - -We descended the stairs under the great gate, and I went across -the court to the house of Monsieur the Commandant Meunier, while -Brainstein took the way to his house. - -At the corner of the Hotel de Ville, I saw a sight which I shall -remember all my life. There, around a placard, were more than -five hundred people, men and women crowded against each other, -all pale and with necks outstretched, gazing at it as at some -horrible apparition. They could not read it, and from time to -time one would say in German or French: - -"But they are not all dead! Some will return." - -Others cried out: - -"Let us see it! let us get near it." - -A poor old woman in the rear lifted up her arms, and cried: - -"Christopher! my poor Christopher!" - -Others, angry at her clamor, called out to silence her. - -Behind, the crowd continued to pour through the German gate. - -At length, Harmautier, the _sergent-de-ville_, came out of -the guard-house, and stood at the top of the steps, with another -placard like the first; a few soldiers followed him. Then a rush -was made toward him, but the soldiers kept off the crowd, and old -Harmautier began to read the placard, which he called the -twenty-ninth bulletin, and in which the emperor informed them -that during the retreat the horses perished every night by -thousands. He said nothing of the men! - -The _sergent-de-ville_ read slowly; not a breath was heard -in the crowd; even the old woman, who did not understand French, -listened like the others. The buzz of a fly could have been -heard. But when he came to this passage, "Our cavalry was -dismounted to such an extent that we were forced to collect the -officers who yet owned horses to form four companies of one -hundred and fifty men each. Generals rated as captains, and -colonels as under-officers"--when he read this passage, which -told more of the misery of the grand army than all the rest, -cries and groans arose on all sides; two or three women fell and -were carried away. - -It is true that the bulletin added, "The health of his majesty -was never better," and that was a great consolation. -Unfortunately it could not restore life to three hundred thousand -men buried in the snow; and so the people went away very sad. -Others came by dozens who had not heard the news read, and from -time to time Harmautier came out to read the bulletin. - -This lasted until night; still the same scene over again. - -I ran from the place; I wanted to know nothing about it. - -I went to Monsieur the Commandant's. Entering a parlor, I saw him -at breakfast. He was an old man, but hale, with a red face and -good appetite. - -"Ah! it is you!" said he, "Monsieur Goulden is not coming, then?" - -"No, Monsieur the Commandant, the bad news has made him ill." - -{324} - -"Ah! I understand," he said, emptying his glass, "yes, it is -unfortunate." - -And while I was regulating the clock, he added: - -"Bah! tell Monsieur Goulden that we will have our revenge. We -cannot always have the upper hand. For fifteen years we have kept -the drums beating over them, and it is only right to let them -have this little morsel of consolation. And then our honor is -safe; we were not beaten fighting; without the cold and the snow, -those poor Cossacks would have had a hard time of it. But -patience; the skeletons of our regiments will soon be filled, and -then let them beware." - -I wound up the clock; he rose and came to look at it, for he was -a great amateur in clock-making. He pinched my ear in a merry -mood; and then, as I was going away, he cried as he buttoned up -his overcoat, which he had opened before beginning breakfast: - -"Tell Father Goulden to rest easy, the dance will begin again in -the spring; the Kalmucks will not always have winter fighting for -them. Tell him that." - -"Yes, Monsieur the Commandant," I answered, shutting the door. - -His burly figure and air of good humor comforted me a little; but -in all the other houses I went to, at the Horwiches, the -Frantz-Tonis, the Durlachs, everywhere I heard only lamentations. -The women especially were in misery; the men said nothing, but -walked about with heads hanging down, and without even looking to -see what I was doing. - -Toward ten o'clock there only remained two persons for me to see: -Monsieur de la Vablerie-Chamberlin, one of the ancient nobility, -who lived at the end of the main street, with Madame -Chamberlin-d'Ecof and Mademoiselle Jeanne, their daughter, They -were _émigrés_, and had returned about three or four years -before. They saw no one in the city, and only three or four old -priests in the environs. Monsieur de la Vablerie-Chamberlin -loved only the chase. He had six dogs at the end of the yard, and -a two-horse carriage; Father Robert, of the Rue des Capucins, -served them as coachman, groom, footman, and huntsman. Monsieur -de la Vablerie-Chamberlin always wore a hunting vest, a leathern -cap, and boots and spurs. All the town called him the hunter, but -they said nothing of Madame nor of Mademoiselle de Chamberlin. - -I was very sad when I pushed open the heavy door, which closed -with a pulley whose creaking echoed through the vestibule. What -was then my surprise to hear, in the midst of general mourning, -the tones of a song and harpsichord! Monsieur de la Vablerie was -singing, and Mademoiselle Jeanne accompanying him. I knew not, in -those days, that the misfortune of one was often the joy of -others, and I said to myself, with my hand on the latch: "They -have not heard the news from Russia." - -But while I stood thus, the door of the kitchen opened, and -Mademoiselle Louise, their servant, putting out her head, asked: - -"Who is there?" - -"It is I, Mademoiselle Louise." - -"Ah! it is you, Monsieur Joseph. Come this way." - -They had their clock in a large parlor which they rarely entered; -the high windows, with blinds, remained closed; but there was -light enough for what I had to do. I passed then through the -kitchen and regulated the antique clock, which was a magnificent -piece of work of white marble. Mademoiselle Louise looked on. - -"You have company, Mademoiselle Louise?" I asked. - -{325} - -"No, but monsieur ordered me to let no one in." - -"You are very cheerful here." - -"Ah! yes," she said; "and it is for the first time in years; I -don't know what is the matter." - -My work done, I left the house, meditating on these occurrences, -which seemed to me strange. The idea never entered my mind that -they were rejoicing at our defeat. - -Then I turned the corner of the street to go to Father Féral's, -who was called the "Standard-Bearer," because, at the age of -forty-five, he, a blacksmith, and for many years the father of a -family, had carried the colors of the volunteers of Phalsbourg in -'92, and only returned after the Zurich campaign. He had his -three sons in the army of Russia, Jean, Louis, and George Féral. -George was commandant of dragoons; the two others, officers of -infantry. - -I imagined the grief of Father Féral while I was going, but it -was nothing to what I saw when I entered his room. The poor old -man, blind and bald, was sitting in an arm-chair behind the -stove, his head bowed upon his breast, and his sightless eyes -open, and staring as if he saw his three sons stretched at his -feet. He did not speak, but great drops of sweat rolled down his -forehead on his long, thin cheeks, while his face was pale as -that of a corpse. Four or five of his old comrades of the times -of the republic--Father Demarets, Father Nivoi, old Paradis, and -tall old Froissard--had come to console him. They sat around him -in silence, smoking their pipes, and looking as if they -themselves needed comfort. - -From time to time one or the other would say: - -"Come, come, Féral! are we no longer veterans of the army of the -Sambre and Meuse?" - -Or, - -"Courage, Standard-Bearer! courage! Did we not carry the battery -at Fleuries?" - -But he did not reply; every minute he sighed, and the old friends -made signs to each other, shaking their heads, as if to say: - -"This looks bad." - -I hastened to regulate the clock and depart, for to see the poor -old man in such a plight made my heart bleed. - -When I arrived at home, I found Monsieur Goulden at his -work-bench. - -"You are returned, Joseph," said he. "Well?" - -"Well, Monsieur Goulden, you had reason to stay away; it is -terrible." - -And I told him all in detail. - -He arose. I set the table, and, whilst we were dining in silence, -the bells of the steeples began to ring. - -"Some one is dead in the city," said Monsieur Goulden. - -"Indeed? I did not hear of it." - -Ten minutes after, the Rabbi Rose came in to have a glass put in -his watch. - -"Who is dead?" asked Monsieur Goulden. - -"Poor old Standard-Bearer." - -"What! Father Féral?" - -"Yes, near an hour ago. Father Demarets and several others tried -to comfort him; at last, he asked them to read to him the last -letter of his son George, the commandant of dragoons, in which he -says that next spring he hoped to embrace his father with a -colonel's epaulettes. As the old man heard this, he tried to -rise, but fell back with his head upon his knees. That letter had -broken his heart." - -Monsieur Goulden made no remark on the news. - -"Here is your watch, Monsieur Rose," said he, handing it back to -the rabbi; "it is twelve sous." - -{326} - -Monsieur Rose departed, and we finished our dinner in silence. - - - V. - -On the eighth of January, a huge placard was posted on the -town-hall, stating that the emperor would levy, after a -_senatus-consultus_, as they said in those days, in the -first place, one hundred and fifty thousand conscripts of 1813; -then one hundred _cohortes_ of the first call of 1812, who -thought they had already escaped; then one hundred thousand -conscripts of from 1809 to 1812, and so on to the end; so that -every loophole was closed, and we would have a larger army than -before the Russian expedition. - -When Father Fouze, the glazier, came to us with this news, one -morning, I almost fell through faintness, for I thought: - -"Now they will take all, even fathers of families. I am lost!" - -Monsieur Goulden poured some water on my neck; my arms hung -useless by my side; I was pale as a corpse. - -But I was not the only one upon whom the placard had such an -effect: that year many young men refused to go; some broke their -teeth off, so as not to be able to tear the cartridge; others -blew off their thumbs with pistols, so as not to be able to hold -a musket; others, again, fled to the woods; they proclaimed them -"refractories," but they had not _gens d'armes_ enough to -capture them. - -The mothers of families took courage to revolt after a manner, -and to encourage their sons not to obey the _gens d'armes_. -They aided them in every way; they cried out against the emperor, -and the clergy of all denominations sustained them in so doing. -The cup was at last full! - -The very day of the proclamation I went to Quatre-Vents; but it -was not now in the joy of my heart; it was as the most miserable -of unhappy wretches, about to be bereft of love and life. I could -scarcely walk, and when I reached there I did not know how to -announce the evil tidings; but I saw at a glance that they knew -all, for Catharine was weeping bitterly, and Aunt Grédel was pale -with indignation. - -"You shall not go," she cried. "What have we to do with wars? The -priest himself told us it was at last too much, and that we ought -to have peace! You shall not go! Do not cry, Catharine; I say he -shall not go!" - -"This carnage," she continued, "has lasted long enough. Our two -poor cousins, Kasper and Yokel, are already going to lose their -lives in Spain for this emperor, and now he comes to ask us for -the younger ones. He is not satisfied to have slain three hundred -thousand in Russia. Instead of thinking of peace, like a man of -sense, he thinks only of massacring the few who remain. We will -see! We will see!" - -"In the name of Heaven! Aunt Grédel, be quiet; speak lower," said -I, looking at the window. "If they hear you, we are lost." - -"I speak for them to hear me," she replied. "Your Napoleon does -not frighten me. He commenced by closing our mouths, so that he -might do as he pleased; but the end approaches. Four young women -are losing their husbands in our village alone, and ten poor -young men are forced to abandon everything, despite father, -mother, religion, justice, God! Is not this horrible?" - -Then Aunt Grédel became silent. Instead of giving us an ordinary -dinner, she gave us a better one than on Catharine's _fête_ -day, and said, with the air of one who has taken a resolution: - -"Eat, my children, and fear not; there will soon be a change!" - -{327} - -I returned about four in the evening to Phalsbourg, somewhat more -calm than when I set out. But as I went up the Rue de la -Munitionnaire, I heard at the corner of the college the drum of -the _sergent-de-ville_, Harmautier, and I saw a throng -gathered around him. I ran to hear what was going on, and I -arrived just as he began reading a proclamation. - -Harmautier read that, by the _senatus-consultus_ of the 3d, -the drawing for the conscription would take place on the 15th. - -It was already the 8th, and only seven days remained. This upset -me completely. - -The crowd dispersed in the deepest silence. I went home sad -enough, and said to Monsieur Goulden: - -"The drawing takes place next Thursday." - -"Ah!" he exclaimed, "they are losing no time; things are -pressing." - -It is easy to imagine my grief that day and the days following. I -could scarcely stand; I constantly saw myself on the point of -leaving home. I saw myself flying to the woods, the _gens -d'armes_ at my heels, crying, "Halt! halt!" Then I thought of -the misery of Catharine, of Aunt Grédel, of Monsieur Goulden. -Then I imagined myself marching in the ranks with a number of -other wretches, to whom they were crying out, "Forward! charge -bayonets!" while whole files were being swept away. I heard -bullets whistle and shells shriek; in a word, I was in a pitiable -state. - -"Be calm, Joseph," said Monsieur Goulden; "do not torment -yourself thus. I think that of all who may be drawn there are -probably not ten who can give as good reasons as you for staying -at home. The surgeon must be blind to receive you. Besides, I -will see Monsieur the Commandant. Calm yourself." - -But these kind words could not reassure me. - -Thus I passed an entire week almost in a trance, and when the day -of the drawing arrived, Thursday morning, I was so pale, so -sick-looking, that the parents of conscripts envied, so to speak, -my appearance for their sons. "That fellow," they said, "has a -chance; he would drop the first mile. Some people are born under -a lucky star!" - - To Be Continued. - --------- - -{328} - - "Per Liquidum AEthera Vates." - - - Oh! to chant the grander story, - And to muse the melting tale! - Oh! to rouse the soul of glory, - And to charm the happy vale! - - I should love to make the nations - Bow before my lofty song, - While my fancy's fair creations - Endless pleasures should prolong. - - I should love to have my pages - Eager sought by wise and old, - While throughout the countless ages - Fair and young my numbers told. - - - II. - - Ever thus gay Hope will wander - Up the shining mount of fame; - Ere you follow, pause and ponder, - While she waves her luring flame. - - Souls are blest that dwell more lowly, - Braving not the gaze of earth, - Where they lead a life all holy, - And the gentler joys have birth. - - You may guide your kindred kindly - Through the rosy ways of life, - While the world shall trample blindly - Down the thorny paths of strife. - - You may seek the 'feast of reason,' - And enjoy the 'flow of soul,' - Dearest friends in every season, - Peaceful age the blessed goal. - - Nature spreads her rich attractions - On the earth, and sea, and sky; - Art, religion, man's great actions - Food for mind and soul supply. - - God in heaven giveth vision - Of the better land beyond: - Good on earth, and joys elysian, - These shall sate thy yearnings fond. - - -{329} - - III. - - But to wake the hills and valleys - With the poet's sounding lyre! - Glory yet my spirit rallies, - I would breathe the sacred fire. - - Nature, art, and holy friendship, - Books and men shall give me aid; - Even Heaven will grant me kinship, - I would tell what God hath made. - - I will dwell apart with heroes, - I will mate with saintly men; - God and nature ever near us, - I shall be more blessed then. - - Humbled, chaste, my soul shall listen - To the chiming of the spheres, - Where, on high, His glories glisten, - As His throne the spirit nears. - - - IV. - - Yes, ye bands of bright immortals, - Free throughout all earth and time, - I would ope the grand old portals - Leading to your realms sublime; - - Suns and starry worlds beneath you, - Lords of wisdom, light, and air, - I would sip rare nectar with you, - I would taste ambrosia there; - - There to feel exultant powers - Lift me up the ethereal tide, - O'er your bright and airy towers, - Where the boldest plume is tried. - - - V. - - Holiest helpers, lend assistance, - That I fail not in the flight! - Pride, away! in that grand distance - Thou art black as shades of night. - - Faithful, pure, and single-hearted, - I may soar on tireless wing, - Till the folds of light are parted - Where the heavenly muses sing. - - - Whitmore. - --------- - -{330} - - - Faith and the Sciences. - - -In the last half of the seventeenth century and the first half of -the eighteenth, the so-called free-thinkers defended their -rejection of the Christian mysteries on the alleged ground that -the mathematicians had exploded them. Thus Dr. Garth, in his last -illness, resisted the efforts of Addison to persuade him to die -as a Christian, by saying, "Surely, Mr. Addison, I have good -reason not to believe those trifles, since my friend, Dr. Halley, -who has dealt much in demonstration, has assured me that the -doctrines of Christianity are incomprehensible, and the religion -itself an imposture." - -In this assurance of Dr. Halley, we see a trace of Cartesianism -which places certainty in clearness of ideas, and assumes that -what is incomprehensible, or what cannot be clearly apprehended -by the mind, is false; as if the human mind were the measure of -the true, and as if there were not truths too large for it to -comprehend! But since Berkeley, the Protestant Bishop of Cloyne, -exposed in his _Analyst_, and Letters in its defence, the -confused and false reasoning of mathematicians, especially in -fluxions or the differential calculus, in which, though their -conclusions are true, they are not obtained from their premises, -the free-thinkers have abandoned the authority of mathematicians, -and now seek to justify their infidelity by that of the so-called -physicists. They appeal now to the natural sciences, chiefly to -geology, zoology, and philology, and tell us that the progress -made in these sciences has destroyed the authority of the Holy -Scriptures and exploded the Christian dogmas. Geology, we are -told, has disproved the chronology of the Bible, zoology has -disproved the dogma of creation, and ethnology and philology have -disproved the unity of the species; consequently the dogma of -original sin, and all the dogmas that presuppose it. Hence our -scientific chiefs, whom the age delights to honor, look down on -us, poor, benighted Christian believers, with deep pity or -supreme contempt, and despatch our faith by pronouncing the word -"credulity" or "superstition" with an air that anticipates or -admits no contradiction. It is true, here and there a man, not -without scientific distinction, utters a feeble protest, and -timidly attempts to show that there is no discrepancy between the -Christian faith and the facts really discovered and classified by -the sciences; but there is no denying that the predominant -tendency of the modern scientific world is decidedly unchristian, -even when not decidedly anti-christian. - -The most learned men and profoundest thinkers of our age, as of -every age, are, no doubt, believers, sincere and earnest -Christians; but they are not the men who represent the age, and -give tone to its literature and science. They are not the -_popular_ men of their times, and their voice is drowned in -the din of the multitude. There is nothing novel or -_sensational_ in what they have to tell us, and there is no -evidence of originality or independence of thought or character -in following them. In following them we have no opportunity of -separating ourselves from the past, breaking with tradition, and -boldly defying both heaven and earth. -{331} -There is no chance for war against authority, of creating a -revolution, or enjoying the excitement of a battle; so the -multitude of little men go not with them. And they who would deem -it gross intellectual weakness to rely on the authority of St. -Paul, or even of our Lord himself, have followed blindly and with -full confidence an Agassiz, a Huxley, a Lyell, or any other -second or third-rate physicist, who is understood to defend -theories that undermine the authority of the church and the -Bible. - -We are not, we frankly confess, learned in the sciences. They -have changed so rapidly and so essentially since our younger -days, when we did take some pains to master them, that we do not -know what they are to-day any more than we do what they will be -to-morrow. We have not, in our slowness, been able to keep pace -with them, and we only know enough of them now to know that they -are continually changing under the very eye of the spectator. -But, if we do not know all the achievements of the sciences, we -claim to know something of the science of sciences, the science -which gives the law to them, and to which they must conform or -cease to pretend to have any scientific character. If we know not -what they have done, we know something which they have not done. - -We said, in our article on the _Cartesian Doubt_, that the -ideal formula does not give us the sciences; but we add now, what -it did not comport with our purpose to add then, that, though it -does not give them, it gives them their law and controls them. We -do not deduce our physics from our metaphysics; but our -metaphysics or philosophy gives the law to the inductive or -empirical sciences, and prescribes the bounds beyond which they -cannot pass without ceasing to be sciences. Knowing the ideal -formula, we do not know all the sciences, but we do know what is -not and cannot be science. - -The ideal formula, being creates existences, which is only the -first article of the creed, is indisputable, certain, and the -principle alike of all the real and all the knowable, of all -existence and of all science. This formula expresses the -primitive intuition, and it is given us by God himself in -creating us intelligent creatures, because without it our minds -cannot exist, and, if it had not been given us in the very -constitution of the mind, we never could have obtained it. It is -the essential basis of the mind, the necessary condition of all -thought, and we cannot even in thought deny it, or think at all -without affirming it This we have heretofore amply shown; and we -may add here that no one ever thinks without thinking something -the contrary of which cannot be thought, as St. Anselm asserts. - -As Berkeley says to the mathematicians, "Logic is logic, and the -same to whatever subject it is applied." When, therefore, the -cultivators of the inductive sciences allege a theory or -hypothesis which contradicts in any respect the ideal formula, -however firmly persuaded they may be that it is warranted by the -facts observed and analyzed, we tell them at once, without any -examination of their proofs or reasonings, that their hypothesis -is unfounded, and their theory false, because it contradicts the -first principle alike of the real and the knowable, and therefore -cannot possibly be true. We deny no facts well ascertained to be -facts, but no induction from any facts can be of as high -authority as the ideal formula, for without it no induction is -possible. Hence we have no need to examine details any more than -we have to enter into proofs of the innocence or guilt of a man -who confesses that he has openly, knowingly, and intentionally -violated the law. -{332} -The case is one in which judgment _à priori_ may be safely -pronounced. No induction that denies all science and the -conditions of science can be scientific. - -The ideal formula does not put any one in possession of the -sciences, but it enables us to control them. We can entertain no -doctrine, even for examination, that denies any one of the three -terms of the formula. If existences are denied, there are no -facts or materials of science; if the creative act is denied, -there are no facts or existences; and finally, if God is denied, -the creative act itself is denied. God and creature are all that -is or exists, and creatures can exist only by the creative act of -God. Do you come and tell me that you are no creature? What are -you, then? Between God and creature there is no middle term. If, -then, you are not creature, you must be God or nothing. Well, are -you God? God, if God at all, is independent, necessary, -self-existent, immutable, and eternal being. Are you that, you -who depend on other than yourself for every breath you draw, for -every motion you make, for every morsel of food you eat, whom the -cold chills, the fire burns, the water drenches? No? do you say -you are not God? What are you, then, I ask once more? If you are -neither God nor creature, then you are nothing. But nothing you -are not, for you live, think, speak, and act, and even reason, -though not always wisely or well. If something and not God, then -you are creature, and are a living assertion of the ideal -formula. Do you deny it, and say there is no God? Then still -again, what are you who make the denial? If there is no God, -there is no real, necessary, and eternal being--no being at all; -if no being, then no existence, for all existence is from being, -and if no existence, then what are _you_ who deny God? -Nothing? Then your denial is nothing, and worth nothing. - -It is impossible to deny any one of the three terms of the -formula, for every man, though he may believe himself an atheist -or a pantheist, is a living assertion of each one of them, and in -its real relation to the other two. We have the right, then, to -assert the formula as the first principle in science, and oppose -it as conclusive against any and every theory that denies -creation, and asserts either atheism or pantheism. Do not think -to divert attention from the intrinsic fallacy of such a theory -by babbling about natural laws. Nature, no doubt, has her laws, -according to which, or, if you please, by virtue of which, all -natural phenomena or natural effects are produced, and it is the -knowledge of these laws that constitutes natural science or the -sciences. But these laws, whence come they? Are they superior to -nature, or inferior? If inferior, how can they govern her -operations? If superior, then they must have their origin in the -supernatural, and a reality above nature must be admitted. -Nature, then, is not the highest, is not ultimate, is not herself -being, or has not her being in herself; is, therefore, contingent -existence, and consequently creature, existing only by virtue of -the creative act of real and necessary being, which brings us -directly back to the ideal formula. God denied, nature and the -laws of nature are denied. - -The present tendency among naturalists is to deny creation and to -assert development--to say with Topsy, in _Uncle Tom's -Cabin_, only generalizing her doctrine, "Things didn't come; -they _growed_." Things are not created; they are developed -by virtue of natural laws. Developed from what? From nothing? -_Ex nihilo nihil fit_. -{333} -From nothing nothing can be developed. A universe self-developed -from nothing is somewhat more difficult to comprehend than the -creation of the universe from nothing through the word of his -power by One able to create and sustain it. You can develop a -germ, but you cannot develop where there is nothing to be -developed. Then the universe is not developed from nothing: then -from something. What is that something? Whatever you assume it to -be, it cannot be something created, for you deny all creation. -Then it is eternal, self-existent being, being in itself, -therefore being in its plenitude, independent, immutable, -complete, perfect in itself, and therefore incapable of -development. Development is possible only in that which is -imperfect, incomplete, for it is simply the reduction of what in -the thing developed is potential to act. - -There is great lack of sound philosophy with our modern -theorists. They seem not to be aware that the real must precede -the possible, and that the possible is only the ability of the -real. They assume the contrary, and place possible being before -real being. Even Leibnitz says that St. Anselm's argument to -prove the existence of God, drawn from the idea of the most -perfect being, the contrary of which cannot be thought, is -conclusive only on condition that most perfect being is first -proved to be possible. Hegel makes the starting-point of all -reality and all science to be naked being in the sense in which -it and not-being are identical; that is, not real, but possible -being, the _abyssus_ of the Gnostics, and the _void_ of -the Buddhists, which Pierre Leroux labors hard, in his -_L'Humanité_ and in the article _Le Ciel_ in his -_Encyclopédie Nouvelle_, to prove is not nothing, though -conceding it to be not something, as if there could be any medium -between something and nothing. In itself, or as abstracted from -the real, the possible is sheer nullity; nothing at all. The -possibility of the universe is the ability of God to create it. -If God were not himself real, no universe would be possible. The -possibility of a creature may be understood either in relation to -its creability on the part of God, or in relation to its own -perfectibility. In relation to God every creature is complete the -moment the Divine Mind has decreed its creation, and, therefore, -incapable of development; but, in relation to itself, it has -unrealized possibilities which can be only progressively -fulfilled. Creatures, in this latter sense, can be developed -because there are in them unrealized possibilities or capacities -for becoming, by aid of the real, more than they actually are, -that is, because they are created, in relation to themselves, not -perfect, but perfectible. Hence, creatures, not the Creator, are -progressive, or capable, each after its kind, of being -progressively developed and completed according to the original -design of the Creator. - -Aristotle, whom it is the fashion just now to sneer at, avoided -the error of our modern sophists; he did not place the possible -before the real, for he knew that without the real there is no -possible. The _principium_, or beginning, must be real -being, and, therefore, he asserted God, not as possible, but -real, most real, and called him _actus purissimus_, most -pure act, which excludes all unactualized potentialities or -unrealized possibilities, and implies that he is most pure, that -is, most perfect being, being in its plenitude. God being -eternally being in himself, being in its plenitude, as he must be -if self-existent, and self-existent he must be if not created, he -is incapable of development, because in him there are no -possibilities not reduced to act. -{334} -The developmentists must, then, either admit the fact of -creation, or deny the development they assert and attempt to -maintain; for, if there is no creation, nothing distinguishable -from the uncreated, nothing exists to be developed, and the -uncreated, being either nothing, and therefore incapable of -development, or self-existent, eternal, and immutable being, -being in its plenitude, and therefore from the very fulness and -perfection of its being also incapable of development. If the -developmentists had a little philosophy or a little logic, they -would see that, so far from being able to substitute development -for creation, they must assert creation in order to be able to -assert even the possibility of development. Is it on the -authority of such sciolists, sophists, and sad blunderers as -these developmentists that we are expected to reject the Holy -Scriptures, and to abandon our faith in Christianity? We have a -profound reverence for the sciences, and for all really -scientific men; but really it is too much to expect us to listen, -with the slightest respect, to such absurdities as most of our -_savans_ are in the habit of venting, when they leave their -own proper sphere and attempt to enter the domain of philosophy -or theology. In the investigation of the laws of nature and the -observation and accumulation of facts they are respectable, and -often render valuable service to mankind; but, when they -undertake to determine by their inductions from facts of a -secondary order what is true or false in philosophy or theology, -they mistake their vocation and their aptitudes, and, if they do -not render themselves ridiculous, it is because their -speculations are too gravely injurious to permit us to feel -toward them anything but grief or indignation. - -None of the sciences are apodictic; they are all as special -sciences empirical, and are simply formed by inductions from -facts observed and classified. To their absolute certainty two -things are necessary: First, that the observation of the facts of -the natural world should be complete, leaving no class or order -of facts unobserved and unanalyzed; and, second, that the -inductions from them should be infallible, excluding all error, -and all possibility of error. But we say only what every one -knows, when we say that neither of these conditions is possible -to any mortal man. Even Newton, it is said, compared himself to a -child picking up shells on the beach; and after all the -explorations that have been made it is but a small part of nature -that is known. The inductive method, ignorantly supposed to be an -invention of my Lord Bacon, but which is as old as the human mind -itself, and was always adopted by philosophers in their -investigations of nature, is the proper method in the sciences, -and all we need to advance them is to follow it honestly and -strictly. But, every day, facts not before analyzed or observed -come under the observation of the investigator, and force new -inductions, which necessarily modify more or less those -previously made. Hence it is that the natural sciences are -continually undergoing more or less important changes. Certain -principles, indeed, remain the same; but set aside, if we must -set aside, mathematics and mechanics, there is not a single one -of the sciences that is now what it was in the youth of men not -yet old. Some of them are almost the creations of yesterday. -{335} -Take chemistry, electricity, magnetism, geology, zoology, -biology, physiology, philology, ethnology, to mention no more; -they are no longer what they were in our own youth, and the -treatises in which we studied them are now obsolete. - -It is not likely that these sciences have even as yet reached -perfection, that no new facts will be discovered, and no further -changes and modifications be called for. We by no means complain -of this, and are far from asking that investigation in any field -should be arrested, and these sciences remain unchanged, as they -now are. No: let the investigations go on, let all be discovered -that is discoverable, and the sciences be rendered as complete as -possible. But, then, is it not a little presumptuous, illogical -even, to set up any one of these incomplete, inchoate sciences -against the primitive intuitions of reason or the profound -mysteries of the Christian faith? Your inductions to-day militate -against the ideal formula and the Christian creed; but how know -you that your inductions of to-morrow will not be essentially -modified by a fuller or closer observation of facts? Your -conclusions must be certain before we can on their authority -reject any received dogma of faith or any alleged dictamen of -reason. - -We know _á priori_ that investigation can disclose no fact -or facts that can be incompatible with the ideal formula. No -possible induction can overthrow any one of its three terms. It -is madness to pretend that from the study of nature one can -disprove the reality of necessary and eternal being, the fact of -creation, or of contingent existences. The most that any one, not -mad, does or can pretend is, that they cannot be proved by way of -deduction or induction from facts of the natural world. The -atheist Lalande went no further than to say, "I have never seen -God at the end of my telescope." Be it so, what then? Because you -have never seen God at the end of your telescope, can you -logically conclude that there is no God? For ourselves, we do not -pretend that God is, or can be asserted by way of deduction or -induction from the facts of nature, though we hold that what he -is, even his eternal power and divinity, may be clearly seen from -them; but the fact that God cannot be proved in one way to be -does not warrant the conclusion that he cannot in some other way -be proved, far less that there is no God. - -We do not deduce the dogmas of faith from the ideal formula, for -that is in the domain of science; but they all accord with it, -and presuppose it as the necessary preamble to faith. We have not -the same kind of certainty for faith that we have for the -scientific formula; but we have a certainty equally high and -equally infallible. Consequently, the inductions or theories of -naturalists are as impotent against it as against the formula -itself. The authority of faith is superior, we say not to -science, but to any logical inductions drawn from the facts of -the natural world, or theories framed by natural philosophers, -and those then, however plausible, can never override it. No -doubt the evidences of our faith are drawn in part from history, -and therefore from inductive science; but even as to that part -the certainty is of the same kind with that of any of the -sciences, rests on the analysis of facts and induction from them, -and is at the very lowest equal to theirs at the highest. - -{336} - -But let us descend to matters of fact. We will take geology, -which seems just now to be regarded as the most formidable weapon -against the Christian religion. Well, what has geology done? It -has by its researches proved an antiquity of the earth and of man -on the earth which is far greater than is admissible by the -chronology of the Holy Scriptures. It has thus disproved the -chronology of the Bible; therefore it has disproved the divine -inspiration of the Bible, and therefore, again, the truth of the -Christian dogmas, which have no other authority than that -inspiration. But have you, geologists, really proved what you -pretend? You have discovered certain facts, fossils, etc., which, -if some half a dozen possible suppositions are true, not one of -which you have proved or in the nature of the case can prove, -render it highly probable that the earth is somewhat more than -six thousand years old, and that it is more than five thousand -eight hundred and sixty-seven years since the creation of man. As -to the antiquity of man, at least, you have not proved what you -pretend. Your proofs, to be worth anything, must destroy all -possible suppositions except the one you adopt, which they do not -do, for we can suppose many other explanations of the undisputed -facts besides the one you insist on our accepting. Moreover, the -facts on which you rely, if fairly given by Sir Charles Lyell in -his _Antiquity of Man_, by no means warrant his inductions. -Suppose there is no mistake as to facts, which is more than we -are willing to concede, especially as to the stone axes and -knives, which, according to the drawings given of them, are -exactly similar to hundreds which we have seen when a boy -strewing the surface of the ground, the logic, by which the -conclusion is obtained is puerile, and discreditable to any man -who has had the slightest intellectual training. - -But suppose you have proved the antiquity of the earth and of man -on it to be as you pretend, what then? In the first place, you -have not proved that the earth and man on it were not created, -that God did not in the beginning create the heavens and the -earth, and all things therein. You leave, then, intact both the -formula and the dogma which presupposes and reasserts it as a -truth of revelation as well as of science. But we have disproved -the chronology of the Bible. Is it the chronology of the Bible or -chronology as arranged by learned men that you have disproved? -Say the chronology as it actually is in the Bible, though all -learned men know that that chronology is exceedingly difficult if -not impossible to make out, and we for ourselves have never been -able to settle it at all to our entire satisfaction, is it -certain that the Scriptures themselves even pretend that the date -assigned to the creation of the world is given by divine -revelation and is to be received as an article of faith? There is -an important difference between the chronology given in the -Hebrew Bible and that given in the Septuagint used by the -apostles and Greek fathers, and still used by the united as well -as by the non-united Greeks, and we are not aware that there has -ever been an authoritative decision as to which or either of the -two chronologies must be followed. The commonly received -chronology certainly ought not to be departed from without strong -and urgent reasons; but, if such reasons are adduced, we do not -understand that it cannot be departed from without impairing the -authority of either the Scriptures or the church. We know no -Christian doctrine or dogma that could be affected by carrying -the date of the creation of the world a few or even many -centuries further back, if we recognize the fact of creation -itself. -{337} -Our faith does not depend on a question of arithmetic, as seems -to have been assumed by the Anglican Bishop Colenso. Numbers are -easily changed in transcription, and no commentator has yet been -able to reconcile all the numbers as we now have them in our -Hebrew Bibles, or even in the Greek translation of the Seventy. - -Supposing, then, that geologists and historians of civilization -have found facts, not to be denied, which seem to require for the -existence of the globe, and man on its face, a longer period than -is allowed by the commonly received chronology, we do not see -that this warrants any induction against any point of Christian -faith or doctrine. We could, we confess, more easily explain some -of the facts which we meet in the study of history, the political -and social changes which have evidently taken place, if more time -were allowed us between Noah and Moses than is admitted by -Usher's chronology; it would enable us to account for many things -which now embarrass our historical science; yet whether we are -allowed more time or not, or whether we can account for the -historical facts or not, our faith remains the same; for we have -long since learned that, in the subjects with which science -proposes to deal, as well as in revelation itself, there are many -things which will be inexplicable even to the greatest, wisest, -and holiest of men, and that the greatest folly which any man can -entertain is that of expecting to explain everything, unless -concluding a thing must needs be false because we know not its -explanation is a still greater folly. True science as well as -true virtue is modest, humble indeed, and always more depressed -by what it sees that it cannot do than elated by what it may have -done. - -Science, it is further said, has exploded the Christian doctrine -of the unity and the Adamic origin of the species, and therefore -the doctrines of Original Sin, the Incarnation, the Redemption, -indeed the whole of Christianity so far as it is a supernatural -system, and not a system of bald and meagre rationalism. Some -people perhaps believe it. But science is knowledge, either -intuitive or discursive; and who dares say that he _knows_ -the dogma of the unity of the human species is false, or that all -the kindreds and nations of men have _not_ sprung from one -and the same original pair? The most that can be said is that the -sciences have not as yet proved it, and it must be taken, if at -all, from, revelation. - -Take the unity of the species. The naturalists have undoubtedly -proved the existence of races or varieties of men, like the -Caucasian, the Mongolian, the Malayan, the American, and the -African, more or less distinctly marked, and separated from one -another by greater or less distances; but have they proved that -these several races or varieties are distinct species, or that -they could not all have sprung from the same original pair? -Physiologists, we are told, detect some structural differences -between the negro and the white man. The black differs from the -white in the greater length of the spine, in the shape of the -head, leg, and foot and heel, in the facial angles, the size and -convolutions of the brain. Be it so; but do these differences -prove diversity of species, or, at most, only a distinct variety -in the same species? May they not all be owing to accidental -causes? The type of the physical structure of the African is -undeniably the same with that of the Caucasian, and all that can -be said is, that in the negro it is less perfectly realized, -constituting a difference in degree, indeed, but not in kind. - -{338} - -But before settling the question whether the several races of men -belong to one and the same species or not, and have or have not -had the same origin, it is necessary to determine the -characteristic or _differentia_ of man. Naturalists treat -man as simply an animal standing at the head of the class or -order mammalia, and are therefore obliged to seek his -_differentia_ or characteristic in his physical structure; -but if it be true, as some naturalists tell us, that the same -type runs through the physical structure of all animals, unless -insects, reptiles, and crustacea form an exception, it is -difficult to find in man's physical structure his -_differentia_. The schoolmen generally define man, a -rational animal, _animal rationale_, and make the genus -animal, and the _differentia_ reason. The characteristic of -the species, that which constitutes it, is reason or the rational -mind, and certainly science can prove nothing to the contrary. -Some animals may have a degree of intelligence, but none of them -have reason, free will, moral perceptions, or are capable of -acting from considerations of right and wrong. We assume, then, -that the _differentia_ of the species _homo_, or man, -is reason, or the rational soul. If our naturalists had -understood this, they might have spared the pains they have taken -to assimilate man to the brute, and to prove that he is a monkey -developed. - -This point settled, the question of unity of the species is -settled. There may be differences among individuals and races as -to the degree of reason, but all have reason in some degree. -Reason may be weaker in the African than in the European, whether -owing to the lack of cultivation or to other accidental causes, -but it is essentially the same in the one as in the other, and -there is no difference except in degree; and even as to degree, -it is not rare to find negroes that are, in point of reason, far -superior to many white men. Negroes, supposed to stand lowest in -the scale, have the same moral perception and the same capacity -of distinguishing between right and wrong and of acting from free -will, that white men have; and if there is any difference, it is -simply a difference of degree, not a difference of kind or -species. - -But conceding the unity of the species, science has, at least, -proved that the several races or varieties in the same species -could not have all sprung from one and the same original pair. -Where has science done this? It can do it only by way of -induction from facts scientifically observed and analyzed. What -facts has it observed and analyzed that warrant this conclusion -against the Adamic origin of all men? There are, as we have just -said, no anatomical, physiological, intellectual, or moral facts -that warrant such conclusion, and no other facts are possible. -Wherever men are found, they all have the essential -characteristic of men as distinguished from the mere animal; they -all have substantially the same physical structure; all have -thought, speech, and reason, and, though some may be inferior to -others, nothing proves that all may not have sprung from the same -Adam and Eve. Do you say ethnology cannot trace all the kindreds -and nations of men back to a common origin? That is nothing to -the purpose; can it say they cannot have had a common origin? But -men are found everywhere, and could they have reached from the -plains of Shinar continents separated from Asia by a wide expanse -of water, and been distributed over America, New Holland, and the -remotest islands of the ocean, when they had no ships or were -ignorant of navigation? -{339} -Do you know that they had, in what are to us antehistorical -times, no ships and no knowledge of navigation, as we know they -have had them both ever since the first dawn of history? No? Then -you allege not your _science_ against the Christian dogma, -but your _ignorance_, which we submit is not sufficient to -override faith. You must prove that men could not have been -distributed from a common centre as we now find them before you -can assert that they could not have had a common origin. Besides, -are you able to say what changes of land and water have taken -place since men first appeared on the face of the earth? Many -changes, geologists assure us, have taken place, and more than -they know may have occurred, and have left men where they are now -found, and where they may have gone without crossing large bodies -of water. So long as any other hypothesis is possible, you cannot -assert your own as certain. - -But the difference of complexion, language, and usage which we -note between the several races of men proves that they could not -have sprung from one and the same pair. Do you know they could -not? Know it? No; not absolutely, perhaps; but how can you prove -they could and have? That is not the question. Christianity is in -possession, and must be held to be rightfully in possession till -real science shows the contrary. I may not be able to explain the -origin of the differences noted in accordance with the assertion -of the common origin of all men in a single primitive pair; but -my ignorance can avail you no more than your own. My nescience is -not your science. Your business is by science to disprove faith; -if your science does not do that, it does nothing, and you are -silenced. We do not pretend to be able to account for the -differences of the several races, any more than we pretend to be -able to account for the well-known fact that children born of the -same parents have different facial angles, different sized -brains, different shaped mouths and noses, different -temperaments, different intellectual powers, and different moral -tendencies. We may have conjectures on the subject, but -conjectures are not science. If necessary to the argument, we -might, perhaps, suggest a not improbable hypothesis for -explaining the difference of complexion between the white and the -colored races. The colored races, the yellow, the olive, the red, -the copper-colored, and the black, are inferior to the Caucasian, -have departed farther from the norma of the species, and -approached nearer to the animal, and therefore, like animals, -have become more or less subject to the action of the elements. -External nature, acting for ages on a race, enfeebled by -over-civilization and refinement, and therefore having in a great -measure lost the moral and intellectual power of resisting the -elemental action of nature, may, perhaps, sufficiently explain -the differences we note in the complexion of the several races. -If the Europeans and their American descendants were to lose all -tradition of the Christian religion, as they are rapidly doing, -and to take up with spiritism or some other degrading -superstition, as they seem disposed to do, and to devote -themselves solely to the luxuries and refinements of the material -civilization of which they are now so proud, and boast so much, -it is by no means improbable that in time they would become as -dark, as deformed, as imbecile as the despised African or the -native New Hollander. -{340} -We might give very plausible reasons for regarding the negro as -the degraded remnant of a once over-civilized and corrupted race; -and perhaps, if recovered, Christianized, civilized, and restored -to communication with the great central current of human life, he -may in time lose his negro hue and features, and become once more -a white man, a Caucasian. But be this as it may, we rest, as is -our right, on the fact that the unity of the human species and -its Adamic origin are in possession, and it is for those who deny -either point to make good their denial. - -But the Scriptures say mankind were originally of one speech, and -we find that every species of animals has its peculiar song or -cry, which is the same in every individual of the same species; -yet this is not the case with the different kindred and nations -of men; they speak different tongues, which the philologist is -utterly unable to refer to a common original. Therefore there -cannot be in men unity of species, and the assertion of the -Scriptures of all being of one speech is untrue. If the song of -the same species of birds or the cry of the same species of -animals is the same in all the individuals of that species, it -still requires no very nice ear to distinguish the song or the -cry of one individual from that of another; and therefore the -analogy relied on, even if admissible, which it is not, would not -sustain the conclusion. Conceding, if you insist on it, that -unity of species demands unity of speech, the facts adduced -warrant no conclusion against the Scriptural assertion; for the -language of all men is even now one and the same, and all really -have one and the same speech. Take the elements of language as -the sensible sign by which men communicate with one another, and -there is even now, at least as far as known or conceivable, only -one language. The essential elements of all dialects are the -same. You have in all the subject, the predicate, and the copula, -or the noun, adjective, and verb, to which all the other parts of -speech are reducible. Hence the philologist speaks of universal -grammar, and constructs a grammar applicable alike to all -dialects. Some philologists also contend that the signs adopted -by all dialects are radically the same, and that the differences -encountered are only accidental. This has been actually proved in -the case of what are called the Aryan or Indo-European dialects. -That the Sanskrit, the Pehlvi or old Persic, the Keltic, the -Teutonic, the Slavonic, the Greek, and the Latin, from which are -derived the modern dialects of Europe, as Italian, French, -Spanish, Portuguese, English, Dutch, German, Scanian, Turk, -Polish, Russian, Welsh, Gaelic, and Irish, all except the Basque -and Lettish or Finnish, have had a common origin, no philologist -doubts. That the group of dialects called Semitic, including the -Hebrew, Chaldaic, Syriac, Coptic, and Ethiopic, have had an -origin identical with that of the Aryan group is, we believe, now -hardly denied. All that can be said is, that philologists have -not proved it, nor the same fact with regard to the so-called -Turanian group, as the Chinese, the Turkish, the Basque, the -Lettish or Finnish, the Tataric or Mongolian, etc., the dialects -of the aboriginal tribes or nations of America and of Africa. But -what conclusion is to be drawn from the fact that philology, a -science confessedly in its infancy, and hardly a science at all, -has not as yet established an identity of origin with these for -the most part barbarous dialects? From the fact that philology -has not ascertained it, we cannot conclude that the identity does -not exist, or even that philology may not one day discover and -establish it. - -{341} - -Philology may have also proceeded on false assumptions, which -have retarded its progress and led it to false conclusions. It -has proceeded on the assumption that the savage is the primitive -man, and that his agglutinated dialect represents a primitive -state of language instead of a degenerate state. A broader view -of history and a juster induction from its facts would, perhaps, -upset this assumption. The savage is the degenerate, not the -primeval man; man in his second childhood, not in his first; and -hence the reason why he has no growth, no inherent progressive -power, and why, as Niebuhr asserts, there is no instance on -record of a savage people having by its own indigenous efforts -passed from the savage to the civilized state. The thing is as -impossible as for the old man, decrepit by age, to renew the -vigor and elasticity of his youth or early manhood. Instead of -studying the dialects of savage tribes to obtain specimens of the -primitive forms of speech, philologists should study them only to -obtain specimens of worn-out or used up forms, or of language in -its dotage. In all the savage dialects that we have any knowledge -of, we detect or seem to detect traces of a culture, a -civilization, of which they who now speak them have lost all -memory and are no longer capable. This seems to us to bear -witness to a fall, a loss. Perhaps, when the American and African -dialects are better known, and are studied with reference to this -view of the savage state, and we have better ascertained the -influence of climate and habits of life on the organs of speech -and therefore on pronunciation, especially of the consonants, we -shall be able to discover indications of an identity of origin -where now we can detect only traces of diversity. As long as -philology has only partially explored the field of observation, -it is idle to pretend that _science_ has established -anything against the scriptural doctrine of the unity of speech. -The fact that philologists have not traced all the various -dialects now spoken or extinct to a common original amounts to -nothing against faith, unless it can be proved that no such -original ever existed. It may have been lost and only the -distinctions retained. - -Naturalists point to the various species of plants and animals -distributed over the whole surface of the globe, and ask us if we -mean to say that each of these has also sprung from one original -pair, or male and female, and if we maintain that the -primogenitors of each species of animal were in the garden of -Eden with Adam and Eve, or in the Ark with Noah. If so, how have -they become distributed over the several continents of the earth -and the islands of the ocean? _Argumentum a specie ad speciem, -non valet_, as say the books on logic. And even if it were -proved that in case of plants and animals God duplicates, -triplicates, or quadriplicates the parents by direct creation, or -that he creates anew the pair in each remote locality where the -same species is found, as prominent naturalists maintain or are -inclined to maintain, it would prove nothing in the case of man. -For we cannot reason from animals to man, or from flora to fauna. -Nearly all the arguments adduced from so-called science against -the faith are drawn from supposed analogies of men and animals, -and rest for their validity on the assumption that man is not -only generically, but specifically, an animal, which is simply a -begging the question. - -{342} - -Species again, it is said, may be developed by way of selection, -as the florist proves in regard to flowers, and the shepherd or -herdsman in regard to sheep and cattle. That new varieties in the -lower orders of creation may be attained by some sort of -development is not denied, but as yet it is not proved that any -new species is ever so obtained. Moreover, facts would seem to -establish that, at least in the case of domestic animals, horses, -cattle, and sheep, the new varieties do not become species and -are not self-perpetuating. Experiments in what is called crossing -the breed have proved that, unless the crossing is frequently -renewed, the variety in a very few generations runs out. There is -a perpetual tendency of each original type to gain the -ascendency, and of the stronger to eliminate the others. -Cattle-breeders now do not rely on crossing, but seek to improve -their stock by selecting the best breed they know, and improving -it by improved care and nourishment. The different varieties of -men may be, perhaps, improved in their physique by selection, as -was attempted in the institutions of Lycurgus; but, as the moral -and intellectual nature predominates in man and is his -characteristic, all conclusions as to him drawn from the lower -orders of creation, even in his physical constitution, are -suspicious and always to be accepted with extreme caution. The -church has defined what no physiologist has disproved, that -_anima est forma corporis_. The soul is the informing or -vital principle of the body, which modifies all its actions, and -enables it to resist, at least to some extent, the chemical and -other natural laws which act on animals, plants, and unorganized -matter. The physiological and medical theories based on -chemistry, which were for a time in vogue and are not yet wholly -abandoned, contain at best only a modicum of truth, and can never -be safely followed, for in the life of man there is at work a -subtiler power than a chemical or any other physical agent. We do -not deny that man is through his body related to the material -world, or that many of the laws of that world, mineral, -vegetable, and animal, are in some degree applicable to him; but, -as far as science has yet proceeded, they are so only with many -limitations and modifications which the physician--we use the -word in its etymological as well as in its conventional -sense--can seldom determine. The _morale_ every physician -knows has an immense power over the _physique_. The higher -the morale, the greater the power of the physical system to -resist physical laws, to endure fatigue, to bear up against and -even to throw off disease. Physical disease is often generated by -moral depression, and not seldom thrown off by moral -exhilaration. What is called strength of will at times seems not -only to subject disease to its control, but to hold death itself -at bay. In armies the officer, with more care, more labor, more -hardship, and less food and sleep, will survive the common -soldier, vastly his superior as to his mere physical -constitution. These facts and innumerable others like them -justify a strong protest against the too common practice of -applying to man without any reservation the laws which we observe -in the lower orders of creation, and arguing from what is true of -them what must be true of him. Tear off the claw of a lobster, -and a new one will be pushed out; cut the polypus in pieces, and -each piece becomes a perfect polypus, at least so we are told, -for we have not ourselves made or seen the experiment. But -nothing of the sort is true of man, nor even of the higher -classes of animals in which organic life is more complex. -{343} -We place little confidence in conclusions drawn from the assumed -analogies between man and animals, and even the development of -species in them by selection or otherwise, if proved, would not -prove to us the possibility of a like development in him. We must -see a monkey by development grow into a man before we can believe -it. - -But why, even in the case of animals that can be propagated only -by the union of male and female, we should suppose the necessity -of duplicating the parents of the species is more than we are -able to understand. The individuals of the species could go where -man could go. Suppose we find a species of fish in a North -American lake, and the same species in a European or Asiatic lake -which has no water communication with it, can you say the two -lakes have never been in communication, you who claim that the -earth has existed for millions of ages? Much of what is now land -was once covered with water, and much now covered with water it -is probable was once land inhabited by plants, animals, and men. -Facts even indicate that the part of the earth now under the -Arctic and Antarctic circles once lay nearer to the Equator, if -not under it, and that what are now mountains were once islands -dotting the surface of the ocean. No inductions which exclude -these probabilities or indications are scientific, or can be -accepted as conclusive. - -Take, then, all the facts on which the naturalists support their -hypotheses, they establish nothing against faith. The facts -really established either favor faith or are perfectly compatible -with it; and if any are alleged that seem to militate against it, -they are either not proved to be facts, or their true character -is not fully ascertained, and no conclusion from them can be -taken as really scientific. We do not pretend that the natural -sciences, as such, tend to establish the truth of revelation, and -we think some over-zealous apologists of the faith go further in -this respect than they should. The sciences deal with facts and -causes of the secondary order; and it is very certain that one -may determine the quality of an acorn as food for swine without -considering the first cause of the oak that bore it. A man may -ascertain the properties of steam and apply it to impel various -kinds of machinery, without giving any direct argument in favor -of the unity and Adamic origin of the race. The atheist may be a -good geometrician; but, if there were no God, there could be -neither geometry nor an atheist to study it. All we contend is, -that the facts with which science deals are none of them shown to -contradict faith or to warrant any conclusions incompatible with -it. - -Hence it may be assumed that, while the sciences remain in their -own order of facts, they neither aid faith nor impugn it, for -faith deals with a higher order of facts, and moves in a superior -plane. The order of facts with which the sciences deal no doubt -depends on the order revealed by faith; and no doubt the -particular sciences should be connected with science or the -explanation and application of the ideal formula or first -principles, what we call philosophy, as this formula in turn is -connected with the faith; but it does not lie within the province -of the particular sciences as such to show this dependence or -this connection, and our _savans_ invariably blunder -whenever they attempt to do it, or to rise from the special to -the general, the particular to the universal, or from the -sciences to faith. Here is where they err. -{344} -What they allege that transcends the particular order of facts -with which the sciences deal is only theory, hypothesis, -conjecture, imagination, or fancy, and has not the slightest -scientific value, and can warrant no conclusions either for or -against faith. There is no logical ascent from the particular to -the universal, unless there has been first a descent from the -universal to the particular. Jacob saw, on the ladder reaching -from heaven to earth, the angels of God descending and ascending, -not ascending and descending. There must be a descent from the -highest to the lowest before there can be an ascent from the -lowest to the highest. God becomes man that man may become God. -The sciences all deal with particulars and cannot of themselves -rise above particulars, and from them universal science is not -obtainable. - -He who starts from revelation, which includes the principles of -universal science, can, no doubt, find all nature harmonizing -with faith, and all the sciences bearing witness to its truth, -for he has the key to their real and higher sense; but he who -starts with the particular only can never rise above the -particular, and hence he finds in the particulars, or the nature -to which he is restricted, no immaterial and immortal soul, and -no God, creator, and upholder of the universe. His -generalizations are only classifications of facts, with no -intuition of their relation to an order above themselves; his -universal is the particular, and he sees in the plane of his -vision no steps by which to ascend to science, far less to faith. -Saint-Simon and Auguste Comte both understood well the necessity -of subordinating all the sciences to a general principle or law, -and of integrating them in a universal science; but starting with -the special sciences themselves, they could never attain to a -universal science, or a science that accepted, generalized, and -explained them all, and hence each ended in atheism, or, what is -the same thing, the divinization of humanity. The positivists -really recognize only particulars, and only particulars in the -material order, the only order the sciences, distinguished from -philosophy and revelation, do or can deal with. Alexander von -Humboldt had, probably, no superior in the sciences, and he has -given their _résumé_ in his _Cosmos_; but, if we -recollect aright, the word God does not once appear in that work, -and yet, except when he ventures to theorize beyond the order of -facts on which the sciences immediately rest, there is little in -that work that an orthodox Christian need deny. Herbert Spencer, -really a man of ability, who disclaims being a follower of -Auguste Comte or a positivist, excludes from the _knowable_, -principles and causes, all except sensible phenomena; and -although wrong in view of a higher philosophy than can be -obtained by induction from the sensible or particular facts, yet -he is not wrong in contending that the sciences cannot of -themselves rise above the particular and the phenomenal. - -Hence we do not agree with those Christian apologists who tell us -that the tendency of the sciences is to corroborate the doctrines -of revelation. They no more tend of themselves to corroborate -revelation than they do to impair it. They who press them into -the cause of infidelity, and hence conclude that science explodes -faith, mistake their reach, for we can no more conclude from them -against faith than we can in favor of faith. The fact is, the -sciences are not science, and lie quite below the sphere of both -science and faith. When arrayed against either, their authority -is null. -{345} -Hence we conclude, _á priori_, against them when they -presume to impugn the principles of science as expressed in the -ideal formula, or against faith which is, considered in itself -objectively, no less certain than the formula itself; and we have -shown, _à posteriori_, by descending to the particulars, -that the sciences present no facts that impugn revelation or -contradict the teachings of faith. The conclusions of the -_savans_ against the Christian dogmas are no logical -deductions or inductions from any facts or particulars in their -possession, and therefore, however they may carry away sciolists, -or the half-learned, or little minds, greedy of novelties, they -are really of no scientific account. - -All that faith demands of the sciences as such is their silence. -She does not demand their support, she only demands that they -keep in their own order, that the cobbler should stick to his -last, _ne sutor ultra crepidam_. Faith herself is in the -supernatural order, and proceeds from the same source as nature -herself; it presupposes science indeed, and elevates and confirms -it, but no more depends upon it than the creator depends on the -creature. The highest science needs faith to complete it, and in -all probability never could have been attained to without -revelation; but neither science nor the sciences, however they -may need revelation, could ever, without revelation, have risen -to the conception of a divine and supernatural revelation. It is -idle, then, to suppose that without revelation we could find by -the sciences the demonstration or evidence of revelation. Lalande -was right when he said he had never seen God at the end of his -telescope, and his assertion should weigh with all natural -theologians, so-called, who attempt to prove the existence of God -by way of induction from the facts which naturalists observe and -analyze; but he was wrong and grossly illogical when he concluded -from that fact, with the fool of the Bible, there is no God, as -wrong as those chemists are who conclude against the real -presence in holy eucharist, because by their profane analysis of -the consecrated host they find in it the properties of bread. The -most searching chemical analysis cannot go beyond the visible or -sensible properties of the subject analyzed, and the sensible -properties of the bread and wine nobody pretends are changed in -transubstantiation. None of the revealed dogmas are either -provable or disprovable by any empirical science, for they all -lie in the supernatural order, above the reach of natural -science, and while they control all the empirical sciences they -can be controlled by none. - -But when we have revelation and with it, consciously or -unconsciously, the ideal formula, which gives us the principles -of all science and of all things, and descend from the higher to -the lower, the case is essentially different. We then find all -the sciences so far as based on facts, and all the observable -facts or phenomena of nature, moral, intellectual, or physical, -both illustrating and confirming the truths of revelation and the -mysteries of faith. We then approach nature from the point of -view of the Creator, read nature by the divine light of -revelation, and study it from above, not from below; we then -follow the real order of things, proceed from principles to -facts, from the cause to the effect, from the universal to the -particular, and are, after having thus descended from heaven to -earth, able to reascend from earth to heaven. In this way we can -see all nature joining in one to show forth the being and glory -of God, and to hymn his praise. -{346} -This method of studying nature from high to low by the light of -first principles and of divine revelation enables us to press all -the sciences into the service of faith, to unite them in a common -principle, and do what the Saint-Simonians and positivists cannot -do, integrate them in a general or universal science, bring the -whole intellectual life of man, as we showed in our article on -Rome or Reason, into unison with faith and the real life and -order of things, leaving to rend our bosoms only that moral -struggle symbolized by Rome and the World, of which we have -heretofore treated at length. - -But this can never be done by induction from the facts observed -and analyzed by the several empirical or inductive sciences. We -think we have shown that the pretension, that these sciences have -set aside any of the doctrines of Christianity, or impaired the -faith, except in feeble and uninstructed minds, is unfounded; we -think we have also shown that they not only have not, but cannot -do it, because they lie in a region too low to establish anything -against revelation. Yet as the sciences are insufficient, while -restricted to their proper sphere, to satisfy the demand of -reason for apodictic principles, for unity and universality, -there is a perpetual tendency in the men devoted exclusively to -their culture to draw from them conclusions which are -unwarranted, illogical, and antagonistic both to philosophy and -to faith. Against this tendency, perhaps never more strongly -manifested than at this moment, there is in natural science alone -no sufficient safeguard, and consequently we need the -supernatural light of revelation to protect both faith and -science itself. With the loss of the light of revelation we lose, -in fact, the ideal formula, or the light of philosophy; and with -the light of philosophy, we lose both science and the sciences, -and retain only dry facts which signify nothing, or baseless -theories and wild conjectures, which, when substituted for real -science, are far worse than nothing. - --------- - - - My Meadowbrook Adventure. - - -"No, no, Tom; that is out of the question. I can't afford to go -away just now. I am getting into a fine practice; the courts open -in ten days; and besides, I am in the midst of an essay on the -Law of Contracts which I promised for the next number of a -certain law magazine. Your prescription is a very pleasant one; -but really I can't take it. You must give me a good dose of -medicine instead." - -"I tell you what it is, Franklin, I don't let my patients dictate -to me in that style. You have been fool enough to throw yourself -into a nervous fever by working in this nasty den all summer, -instead of taking a vacation-run to the country as you ought to -have done; and now, if you don't follow my directions, I swear I -won't cure you! Go off to some quiet farm-house for a week or -two, and, if your essay on contracts weighs upon your mind, take -the stupid stuff with you. I'll risk your working much at it -after you get within scent of the fields." - -{347} - -I could not stand out very long against the bluff orders of my -friend and physician Tom Bowlder. I knew, too, that he was right. -I had overtasked myself. I had been dangerously ill; and, eager -as I was to get on with my work, I could not help feeling that -rest and change were absolutely necessary for me. So I packed my -portmanteau, not forgetting my precious essay and a liberal -supply of writing-paper, and the next morning saw me on the way -to Meadowbrook. - -It was a quiet, sleepy little village, nestling at the foot of a -beautifully wooded ridge, and looking out from its shelter, -across a slope of green fields, to a little stream which ran -purling over the stones a quarter of a mile distant. Majestic old -elm-trees shaded the grassy roads and swung their branches over -the roofs of the trim little cottages. There was only one house -in the place which pretended to be anything better than a -cottage, and that was a rather stately villa, a good hundred -years old at least, which stood a little way out of the village, -surrounded with trees, and shut in from the public gaze by an -enormous hawthorn hedge which ran around the extensive grounds. -Meadowbrook House, or "the house," as it was generally called by -the villagers, was the property of an old maiden lady named -Forsythe, the daughter of a retired merchant who long years ago -had chosen this quiet spot as a retreat for his old age. Mr. -Forsythe was a Catholic, and one of his first actions after -removing to Meadowbrook was to build the pretty stone church in -the main street of the village, and to pledge a certain sum -annually from his ample income for the support of the priest. -When, after a long life of usefulness, he died and was buried by -the side of his wife, leaving all his property to his daughter, -who had already long passed the period of youth, the generosity -of Miss Forsythe continued to supply what the poor little -Catholic congregation was unable to give, and the excellent -spinster was still the mainstay of the church. Poor Father James, -an old man now of nearly seventy, would have fared ill but for -her assistance. - -So much I learned in an after-supper chat with my landlady on the -night of my arrival. I cannot say that I was much engrossed at -the time by the good woman's garrulous narrative, but -after-events were to give me a deep interest in Meadowbrook House -and in everything connected with it. I had taken lodgings in the -village inn, a neat, quiet, respectable establishment, where -there were few guests except the villagers who used to drop in of -an evening to enjoy a little gossip and a pipe, and with whom, -after a days' ramble, I used often to sit and smoke my cigar. I -led an idle but most delicious life during my ten day's holiday. -I ranged through the woods, with my gun on my shoulder, bringing -home now and then a bird or so, but caring in reality more for -the walk than the shooting. I whipped the brook for trout. I -searched the fields for botanical specimens. I wandered about -with a volume of Tennyson or Buchanan in my pocket, stopping at -times to lie down and read under the trees. I did almost -everything, in fact, except work at my essay, which remained in -the portfolio where I had originally packed it. - -One sunny afternoon I was dozing on my back in the shade of an -apple orchard, when a strain of music was borne to my ears, -beginning like the distant hum of bees, and gradually swelling on -the air with slow and majestic cadences. I had never heard such -music in Meadowbrook before. -{348} -Curious to know whence it came, I followed the sound, and was not -long in discovering that some practised hand was touching the -wheezy little organ in the village church. Not the same hand -which was accustomed painfully to struggle with the keys there on -Sunday, and wring from them broken and doleful sounds to the -distress of all nervous listeners. The person who was playing now -had the touch of a master; and as the plaintive phrases of the -_Agnus Dei_ from Mozart's First Mass broke upon the solitude -of the church, the rickety organ seemed infused with a new -spirit. I could not have believed that so much pathos and such -exquisite delicacy of tone could be drawn from the wretched -instrument whose laborious whistling and puffing had set my teeth -on edge the previous Sunday. I sat down in a pew under the -gallery, and listened. It was not until twilight approached that -the playing ceased. I heard the organ closed; the player was -silent for a few moments; "He is saying a prayer," thought I; and -then a soft step began to descend the stairs. Thinking it -possible the performer might feel annoyed at perceiving a -stranger in the church, I sat quietly in my place, confident that -the growing darkness and the shelter of one of the pillars would -screen me from observation. I could see very well, however, -though I could not be seen, and my surprise was great when a -slender female figure issued from the gallery staircase, and came -within the light of the open street door. She was young--not more -than eighteen, I should think--with a face of rare beauty, a -pretty form, a light and graceful carriage, and the unmistakable -air of a gentlewoman. Small, regular features, light brown eyes, -cheeks like a peach, blooming with health, a profusion of dark -hair, and an expression of remarkable simplicity and sweetness -made up a picture of loveliness such as I had never seen before. -She wore a fascinating little round hat, and when I first caught -sight of her was just drawing on her gloves, and I could see that -her hands were small and shapely. She bent her knee as she passed -before the altar, and when she went out into the street the -church seemed suddenly to have grown darker. My first impulse was -to follow her; but I stopped, feeling that it would be an -intrusion, and trusting that she would return the next day, if -she supposed herself to be unobserved. So I kept still until she -had been gone several minutes, and when I left the church she was -nowhere to be seen. - -I determined to ask my landlady about the fair musician, and that -evening, when worthy Mrs. Brown brought me my supper, I detained -her a few minutes in conversation--an amusement to which she was -in noway adverse. - -"It's been an elegant day, hasn't it, now, Mr. Franklin?" said -the old woman, as she placed on the table the smoking rasher of -ham and the pile of buttered toast; "and it's plain to see what a -world of good this tramping about the country is doing you. I -wouldn't say you were over-strong yet; but, Lord bless me! when -you first came here, you were little better than a ghost. Well, -well, sir, and I hope you won't find our little village too dull -for you!" - -"Dull! Mrs. Brown. Not a bit of it. I wish I could stay here a -year. By the way, who is it plays the organ so beautifully in -Meadowbrook church? I heard the music, and stopped awhile to -listen." - -"Plays the organ, sir? Well, you know there's Mr. Thrasher, the -schoolmaster; he's the organist on Sundays, and very like you -heard him practising--though why he should be out of school -to-day, and this not a holiday--" - -{349} - -"Mr. Thrasher, Mrs. Brown, thumps on the organ as if he was -thumping his pupils, and his singers scream as if they felt the -blows. This was not Mr. Thrasher. It was a young lady!" - -"Well, sir, I never knowed of no young lady playing the organ -except it was Betty Cox, the butcher's daughter. They do say she -has a wonderful talent for music, and Mr. Thrasher, he has been -giving her lessons this last month, and I wouldn't wonder if it -was her!" - -Now, it had been my privilege to hear Miss Betty Cox finger the -keys one day after Mass, and a more doleful performance I never -had listened to. Even if I had not seen the performer, I should -have been sure it was not Miss Betty; but, quite apart from her -musical proficiency, I felt a little bit indignant that the -beautiful girl who had made such an impression upon me should be -mistaken for a Betty Cox. No, she was not one of the village -damsels; that was clear. And unfortunately it was equally clear -that Mrs. Brown knew no more about her than I did myself. - -I fell asleep that night humming the _Agnus Dei_, and -dreamed of angels with round hats and brown kid gloves, playing -on rickety organs, and hurling legions of musty school-masters -out of the clouds. - -The next day I took my book to the church-yard, and chose a shady -spot where I could hear the first notes of the organ. I waited a -long while, reading little, for I could not fix my attention on -the page. At last she came, as I had hoped. For more than an hour -I listened to the exquisite tones which seemed to flow from her -agile fingers. Then she went away without perceiving me. - -I need hardly say that I made many another visit to the church, -for the pursuit of the fair organist had now become a genuine -passion with me. Sometimes I waited all the afternoon without -seeing or hearing her. Then I used to go to my room and be moody -and miserable all the evening. A rainy day would throw me into -despair, and I watched the clouds with the eagerness of a -schoolboy on a holiday. My readers will not need to be told that -I was falling desperately in love. Once or twice I met her -walking, and had an opportunity to notice more particularly the -singular beauty of her form and countenance, and the refined and -quiet air which pervaded her whole person. Once I met her by -accident at the crossing of a brook. I gave her my hand to help -her over, and she took it with the modest frankness of a true -lady, saying, "Thank you, sir," in a voice which seemed to me as -sweet as her face. Yes, I was certainly in love. - -I might easily have found out all about her by asking a few -questions in the village, where the shopkeepers, at all events, -would hardly be as ill informed as my landlady; but since my -conversation with Mrs. Brown I had become, I know not why, -unwilling to speak of her. I had grown to look upon her as _my -secret_, which I was disposed to guard pretty jealously. A bit -of mystery, be it ever so little and unnecessary, is one of the -most charming things in the world to a young lover, and I have -always thought that Sheridan displayed great knowledge of human -nature when he made Lydia Languish refuse to be married without -an elopement. At some time in our lives almost all of us give way -to more or less of the same sort of nonsense. - -{350} - -There came a sudden end at last to my mooning and dreaming, and -it came in a way with which even Lydia Languish herself could not -have quarrelled. I had been off one day on a long ramble among -the hills, and, missing my way, did not get back to Meadowbrook -until close upon evening. As I came near the village, I was made -aware of some extraordinary commotion in the place. Men and women -were hurrying through the streets, and voices were shouting in -excited tones. I ran after the crowd, and as I turned into the -main street a glance in the direction of the church revealed the -cause of the disturbance. Flames were bursting through the -gallery windows, and a dense smoke poured through the open door. -Nearly the whole population of Meadowbrook had gathered around -the scene of disaster. The men, and some of the women with them, -had formed lines leading to one or two of the nearest wells, and -were passing buckets with all the speed they could; but it was -too evident with but little prospect of subduing the -conflagration. I have already mentioned that the building was of -stone, so there was little fear of the walls falling; but the -woodwork of the interior was old, and burned almost like tinder. -The organ-gallery was, of course, of wood, and inside the tower, -which stood at the front of the edifice, there was a wooden -staircase, forming the only means of access to the gallery. It -was in the tower, I saw at once, that the flames were burning -most fiercely. The rear of the church was as yet untouched. I -need hardly tell what my first thought was when I saw the cruel -glare that lighted up the approaching twilight. A sickening -sensation crept over me. If the fair musician was in the gallery -when the fire broke out, her escape seemed effectually cut off. I -ran forward but there was little need to ask questions. The -distressed expression on every face, the eager eyes fixed upon -the windows of the gallery, the frantic but vain efforts of one -or two of the boldest of the crowd to penetrate the doorway, out -of which the smoke was rolling in great black clouds, told me -that my worst fears were true. - -"Ah! sir," said one of the men "it's a dreadful thing to see a -pretty young creature like that burned to death before our very -eyes. But we can't get to her!" - -A cold perspiration broke out upon my forehead, and for a moment -I reeled like a drunkard. "Good heavens!" I cried; "have you no -ladders?" - -"Yes, we have two; but look at the tower, sir. There's no window -except in the belfry, and both the ladders together would not -reach that." - -"Take the ladders into the church by the back way," I cried, "and -get up the front of the gallery! Here," I added, pulling out my -purse, "this for the first man who reaches her." - -"We wouldn't want your money, sir, if we could get at the young -lady," answered one or two voices together; "but there's little -use in trying. Three men have gone into the church already." - -They were still speaking when there was a stir among the crowd at -the side of the building, and the three men reappeared. Their -clothes were scorched, and even their hair was slightly singed. - -"Can't do it," said one; "the gallery front is burning like a -furnace. We got the ladders up, but we could not climb them and -hardly got them away again." - -"Did you see anything of her?" - -"No, and didn't hear a sound. If she has not been choked already -by the smoke, she must have gone up -into the tower." - -{351} - -It was a slight hope, yet there was something in it after all. -Behind the organ there was, as I knew, a door opening into a sort -of lumber-room in the tower, from which a rude flight of steps, -terminating in a ladder, led up to the bell. It was possible that -when she found the gallery staircase in flames, (I afterward -learned that it was here the fire broke out; it was supposed to -have been caused by a coal dropped on the stairs by a tinker who -had been repairing the roof that afternoon)--it was just -possible, I say, that she might have retreated up these steps in -the hope of being rescued through the belfry window. For a moment -or two after the failure to reach her through the interior, there -was a pause of awful suspense. Whatever was to be done, however, -must be done at once. The flames were making rapid headway, and -in ten minutes nothing would be left of the tower but the bare -stone shell. Already it was doubtful if any one could survive -even in the upper portion of it. The men were still throwing -bucketfuls of water into the burning porch with frantic speed; -but this, of course, did little good, for the fire was spreading -high above their reach. Others were running helplessly about with -coils of rope. Suddenly a thought seized me. Just in front of the -church, but on the opposite side of the road, stood an enormous -elm-tree. Some of its upper branches reached within fifty feet of -the top of the tower. Was it not possible to bridge across that -chasm? - -"Is there any opening," I cried, "in the tower roof?" - -"No, sir; none at all." - -"Give me an axe and some rope." - -Two or three axes were thrust at me. I took one, and tied it -round my waist with a long coil of rope. Then I chose out another -coil, and, throwing it over one of the lower limbs of the -elm-tree, clambered with some difficulty into the branches. It -would have been very hard climbing without the rope; but as I -could throw it from limb to limb where I could not reach, and as -I was a sufficiently expert gymnast to pull myself up by it, a -few seconds saw me on one of the upper branches which had caught -my eye from below. There was a battlement around the top of the -tower, and I thought if I could secure one end of the rope to one -of the projections of this battlement, I might contrive, by tying -the other to the tree, to work my way across. I made a large -slip-noose, gathered up the line like a lasso, and cast it with -all my strength. The first attempt failed. The crowd below saw my -object now, and gave a tremendous cheer. I tried again, and this -time the noose caught upon the battlement. I drew up the rope as -tight as I could, tied it fast to the tree, and, clasping it with -my legs and hands, began the most dangerous and difficult part of -my enterprise. There was a breathless silence below as I pulled -myself across the awful chasm. I could hear the roar and -crackling of the flames, and the hot air and acrid smoke were -driven into my face until I thought I should have fainted and -fallen to the ground. At last I reached the battlement. With much -trouble I clambered upon the roof, and while the excited -villagers were screaming themselves hoarse and hurrahing like -madmen--I hardly heard their cries at the time, but, with other -incidents of that memorable afternoon, they came to me -afterward--I plied my axe so vigorously that in a few minutes I -had stripped off a section of the roofing, and made an opening -two or three feet square. It was too dark now to distinguish -anything in the interior, but I knew that the platform on which -the bell rested must be some twelve or fifteen feet below me. -{352} -Fastening the second coil of rope to the battlement, I let myself -down through the hole until I felt the solid planking under my -feet. There was a suffocating odor of fire, but the air was still -pure enough to be breathed without serious inconvenience, groped -about in the dark until I found the ladder leading below, and, -trembling with apprehension, hurried down as fast as I was able. -I shouted, but there was no answer. I reached the landing-stage -where the ladder stopped and the rough steps, already mentioned, -began, and at this moment some barrier which had kept the flames -confined below seemed to give way, and a flood of light streamed -up the staircase. I hurried on with the energy of desperation. -When I reached the lumber-room, the door-way leading into the -gallery was wrapped in fire. Through it I could see the old organ -blazing, the planks dropping off one by one, and the metal pipes -melting under the intense heat. The lower staircase was nearly -consumed, and the floor of the room itself had caught in several -places. The dreadful glow reflected upon the rough stone walls -and rugged beams showed me in a moment what I had come to seek. -There, in a remote corner which the fire had not yet reached, was -a female form stretched senseless on the floor. A round hat was -lying beside her, and her rich brown hair fell in graceful waves -over her neck. Her white arms, from which the sleeves had fallen -back, were stretched out before her, and her fingers clasped a -rosary, as if her last conscious act had been a prayer. I seized -her by the waist, and, with a strength at which I even now -wonder, rushed with my burden toward the steps which I had just -descended. She was still living. I could feel the beating of her -heart and the heaving of her breast, and my joy at this discovery -gave me fresh energy. How I got her up the steps I never clearly -knew; but in a short space of time I had reached the top of the -ladder and burst open the single window which looked out from the -bell-chamber. The cool air revived her almost instantly. I held -her up for a moment by the window, and, as she opened her eyes -with a bewildered stare, I tried to say a word to calm her. She -gazed at me an instant and then burst into tears, and her head -fell forward on my shoulder. - -"Fear nothing, dear lady," said I, "you are safe now. Collect -your strength as much as you can. I am going to let you down -through this window." - -"And yourself!" she asked, staggering to her feet. - -"Oh! make yourself easy about me. I shall follow you by the same -way. You have only to keep calm, and there is little real -danger." - -The rope by which I had descended from the roof was still hanging -there. I whipped out my knife, and cut it off as high as I could, -there was still enough left to reach within fifteen feet of the -ground. I tied it around her waist, wrapping my coat about it, so -that it might chafe her as little as possible, gave it two turns -around the windlass of the bell to strengthen my hold, and then -shouted to the crowd below to put up their longest ladder under -the window. A cheer told me that I was understood, and, before -the preparations for the descent were quite finished, I saw a -ladder raised against the wall, and two or three stout fellows -standing ready to receive my burden. - -{353} - -"Now," said I, "you have only to be careful to keep yourself -clear of the stones with your feet; grasp the rope by this knot -to diminish the strain on your waist, and trust me for the rest." - -The window was so near the floor that there was little difficulty -in her getting out. I braced my feet firmly against the windlass, -and lowered away carefully, but as fast as I dared, for the -increased roaring of the flames below warned me that I had not a -second to lose. The openings I had made in the roof and window -had, of course, created a strong draught in the tower, and the -fire was now burning in it like a furnace. Her feet touched the -topmost round of the ladder just as I had got within a yard of -the end of the rope. A pair of brawny arms received her, and at -that moment the floor of the lumber room and gallery fell in with -an awful crash; there was a lull for an instant; then a dense -mass of smoke, flame, and cinders burst forth, as if belched from -a volcano, and in less than a minute the _outside_ as well -as the interior of the tower was wrapped in flame. Not soon -enough, however, to touch what I had fought so hard to save. I -thank God I had the presence of mind, when I heard the crash, to -know what was coming; and, that no precious moments might be lost -in unfastening the rope from her waist, I threw the other end out -the window the instant I saw her foothold was secure, and the men -hurried her down the ladder just in time. I heard her utter a cry -of horror as I sacrificed my own means of escape, and, looking -out, I saw her carried senseless away. Terrible as my danger was, -I could not help noticing the awful grandeur of the scene. -Twilight had given way to night, but the red glare illuminated -the surrounding objects, and threw a flickering, unearthly light -upon the upturned faces of the crowd. I saw women running to and -fro, wringing their hands in despair, and men looking up at the -window where I stood, with an expression of mingled fright and -pity. But, if I had had a mile of rope, it would have been of -little use to me now. The burning timbers had fallen outside the -door of the tower, and I could not have let myself down without -falling into the midst of them. I thought of the bell-rope; if I -could get back to the roof with that, I might let myself down at -the side. It would not be long enough to reach near the ground, -but, if I escaped with a broken leg, that would be better anyhow -than being burnt to death. I seized the rope where it was -attached to the bell, and began to pull it up through the hole in -the floor; a few feet of it only came away in my hand; the rest -had been consumed. The smoke by this time was pouring through -every crack, and the heat of the small chamber in which I stood -was so intense that I knew that, too, must soon fall in. The roof -was about twelve feet above me. My last hope was to reach it, and -return by the same frightful bridge by which I had worked my way -over. I shuddered to think of trusting myself again upon that -dizzy crossing, with my hands already torn and bleeding, my brain -reeling, and my eyes half-blinded. I sprang, however, upon the -windlass, and made one desperate leap for the hole in the roof. I -just grasped the rafters, and as I did so the planks upon which I -had been standing gave way, and the bell and its platform sank -into the ruins. I never can forget the horror of that moment -when, as I made my leap, I felt the timbers crack and fall under -my foot into the blazing abyss. For the present, however, I was -safe. I had got a firm hold, and with much exertion, nerved by -the strength of desperation, I succeeded in drawing myself up and -getting upon the roof. The rope-bridge was still there. -{354} -I staggered toward it, and as I showed myself over the -battlements a hearty cheer went up from the crowd, who had given -me up for lost when the belfry fell in. I heard, yet hardly -heeded them. In the act of climbing over the parapet, my eye fell -upon the fragment of the second rope which I had cut away. -Scarcely reflecting upon what I did, yet with a sort of -providential instinct, I loosened it from the wall, tied one end -around my body, and passed the other around the rope which had to -support me across the dreadful chasm, making it fast with a noose -which would slip easily as I pulled myself along. Thus the whole -weight of my body would not have to be borne by my disabled -hands. This precaution, I believe, was all that saved me. I made -the crossing with great pain, dizzy from excitement and -over-exertion, and suffering intensely from the smoke and flames -which the wind was now driving upon me. Ten or twenty yards of -the distance were yet to be passed, when I was dimly conscious of -a sudden swaying of the crowd, a suppressed groan from many -voices at once, then a quick slackening of the rope, a thundering -crash as of falling walls, and a quick rush of air that took away -my breath. Mechanically I tightened my grasp. Without seeing, I -knew what had happened. The tower had fallen in. It has often -been mentioned how in a moment of deadly peril the memories of -years will rush across the mind with the speed of lightning. Now, -in the instant while I was falling through the air, I had time to -notice the excitement of the people, to comprehend what had taken -place, to breathe a short prayer, and to calculate my chances of -being dashed to pieces against either the trunk of the tree or -some of the lower branches. But the same good Lord who had saved -me before was again on my side. The rope swung free of -obstructions; I was jerked once or twice back and forth; I lost -my hold; there was a sharp pain as if some one had struck me a -tremendous blow, and I knew no more. - -When I came to my senses again, it was with a feeling of -bewilderment inexpressibly painful. I recognized nothing about -me; I remembered nothing that had happened. I was lying in bed in -a large, cheerful room, so bright and pretty that it was comfort -even to look at it. The sun was struggling through the closed -blinds, two or three logs of wood blazed in the capacious -fire-place, and two luxurious, great, chintz-covered armchairs -stood before the hearth. The walls were hung with a neat flowered -paper, and the mantel-shelf was decorated with curious old china -vases and various knick-knacks. Everything was the perfection of -cleanliness and order, yet nothing looked prim. The coverlid on -the bed was of warm, harmonious tints; the linen was, beautifully -soft and white; there was a table in the middle of the room, -covered with a bright cloth, and bearing a number of books and a -dish of luscious-looking fruit; and on a little stand by the -bedside was a bouquet of rare hot-house flowers. Here was a -pleasant scene to open one's eyes upon; but where was I? I threw -myself back upon the pillow, and gradually the events I have -narrated in the preceding pages shaped themselves in my memory. I -felt very weak, but I was not long in satisfying myself that I -had broken no bones. I looked at my wounded hands. They were -covered with scars, but the wounds were healed. I knew then that -I must have been lying there a pretty long time. I was still -wondering, when the door opened softly, and a tidy-looking -elderly woman, whose dress indicated that she was some sort of an -upper servant, came into the room. -{355} -She uttered an exclamation of pleasure when she caught my eye, -and came up to the bedside. - -"Well, sir," said she, "it does my heart good to see you looking -so much better. You've had a hard time of it, that's the truth; -but we'll soon have you up, now." - -"You're very kind," I answered; "anybody might get well in this -room; but please tell me where I am." - -"O sir! you're at Meadowbrook House. Miss Forsythe had you -fetched here right after the fire." "How long ago was that?" -"About two weeks." "So long! I must have been very sick. You are -very good." - -I thought she seemed a little surprised at the fervor of my -gratitude; but I took no notice of it, and was going on to ask -her further questions when she very peremptorily shut me up. - -"Now, that will do," said she; "don't say another word. You must -keep quiet for a while; if you talk, I'll go away and not come -near you again." - -"Just one thing more. Who brought those flowers?" - -"Well, if you must know, Miss Forsythe herself. She brings them -every day. I suppose she'd scold if she knew I told you. But now, -keep quiet till the doctor comes, and, if he is willing, I'll -chat with you as much as you please." - -So saying, the good-natured nurse to ensure my silence, left the -room. But, indeed, I felt little desire to talk any more just -then. I had asked about the flowers with a vague hope that they -might have been culled by the hand which I had learned to prize -so dear, and I am ashamed to say that, when the name of the -excellent old lady, whose hospitality I was receiving was -mentioned, I turned my head with a sigh of disappointment. I fell -to worrying about the fair organist; wondering whether she had -suffered any harm from the perilous occurrences of that memorable -night; whether I should ever meet her again, and _how_ we -should meet; how I could approach her without seeming to presume -upon the service I had rendered; and, finally, why Miss Forsythe -should have lavished so much care and kindness on a total -stranger. I was in the midst of such reveries when my nurse -returned and ushered in the doctor. - -"Well, Franklin, old fellow! Got your wits again, have you?" -exclaimed a cheery and familiar voice. "That's right; now we'll -soon get you on your legs." - -The doctor was no other than my old friend Tom Bowlder. He had -heard of my accident, hurried down to Meadowbrook, taken entire -control of me, established a close friendship with the lady of -the mansion, put himself on the best of terms with the -housekeeper, Mrs. Benson, and installed her as nurse, and, thanks -to his skill and tenderness, I had passed safely through a -dangerous crisis. After putting a few professional questions, he -sat down by the bedside, and indulged me with a little -conversation. - -"Well, old boy," said he, "I suppose you want to be told first -about yourself." (I did not; but I let him go on.) "You've had an -ugly time of it--brain fever and that sort of thing, you -know--and it's a wonder you weren't killed outright. But you are -all right now, and you can have the satisfaction of knowing that -you saved one of the prettiest girls that ever breathed, and I do -believe one of the best." - -{356} - -"She is not hurt, then?" - -"Not a bit." - -"And you have seen her? Is she still in Meadowbrook?" - -"Seen her! Why, of course I have. How could I help it? I see her -every day." - -In spite of my previous perplexity how I should conduct myself if -I ever met her again, I was now so eager for the meeting that, -weak as I was, I wanted to get up at once. But to this, of -course, Doctor Tom would not listen. - -"Yes; but, Tom, you mustn't keep me here for ever. I want to--to -see"--I stammered and broke down--"to see Miss Forsythe, you -know, and thank her for taking care of me." - -"All in good time, Franklin. I don't mean to keep you in bed much -longer; and the moment you are able to leave the room, I promise -you shall see her, and make as many acknowledgments as you want -to. For the rest of the afternoon, however, you must keep quiet. -There, now, you have talked enough for one day. Good-by." And so -saying, Tom left me to myself. - -Mrs. Benson soon came back, bringing a tray covered with a -snow-white napkin, a bowl of gruel, and a glass of wine. Tom had -evidently given her instructions; for I could not draw her into -conversation, and, as soon as she had seen me comfortably fixed, -she went away again. - -The next morning, Tom paid me an early visit, and doled out a few -more scraps of information. I learned that Miss Forsythe had -caused all my luggage to be brought from the inn, and that, as -long as I could be persuaded to remain in Meadowbrook, I was to -make her house my home. "You need not look surprised," added -Bowlder. "I satisfied her that you were a very respectable -person; and, indeed, I believe the old lady knows some of your -family." - -"Well, see here, Tom; when I was out of my head, did I talk -much?" - -"Talk! I should think you did! Chattered like a magpie; raved -about round hats and little brown gloves, talked a good deal of -lovers' nonsense, and sometimes hummed a few bars of music--Miss -Forsythe said it was a bit out of one of Mozart's Masses. One day -you grabbed a hold of me, and asked if I knew you had been -listening under the gallery, and 'if she knew about your loving -her.' Miss Forsythe blushed like a rose, and went out of the -room." - -"Did she?" said I, blushing now in my turn. "I don't see what -difference that ought to make to her." - -Tom opened his eyes at this remark in a very curious way. - -"Well," said he, "_I_ thought it might make a good deal of -difference; but I suppose you two know best. Now I must be off. -Old Doctor Jalap, who physics the villagers, has fallen sick -himself, and I have to take care of him and his patients, too. I -mean to let you get up tomorrow, though I would not advise you to -go into the streets till you have got all your old strength, and -some to spare. The people down here have got the preposterous -idea that you're a sort of a hero, and whenever you show -yourself, they'll shake you to death with congratulations." - -When Tom had gone, I thought a great deal over his remark about -Miss Forsythe, but I could not comprehend it. The old lady had -certainly been very kind to me; but, even if she did know my -family, it was unreasonable to suppose that she should take a -very warm interest in my love affairs. And what did Tom mean by -saying that "we two knew best?" -{357} -The more I reflected, the more I got puzzled. Possibly, said I, -Miss Forsythe knows this young lady. At any rate, I'll lose no -time in seeing her. I can't lie here, muddling my brains, any -longer. So I got up, found my clothes, dressed, and made my way -down-stairs. Mrs. Benson met me in the hall, and, of course, -began to scold; but she had to admit that I seemed stronger, -after all, than anybody suspected me to be, and, now that the -mischief was done, I might as well see Miss Forsythe. "You'll -find her in the parlor, sir; she's just come in from the garden." - -There was no one in the parlor when I entered it, but at the -further end of the room was an open door leading to a -conservatory, and there I caught a glimpse of somebody moving -among the flowers. I went forward, and saw a lady, whose back was -toward me, in the act of plucking a flower to add to a bunch in -her hand. She did not hear me until I spoke: - -"Miss Forsythe, I don't know how to thank you properly for--" - -I stopped in amazement, for, as she turned, I beheld not the good -old spinster, but that sweet, innocent young face which had so -long haunted me. She started at my voice. A deep blush suffused -her features. She hesitated a moment; she cast down her eyes; and -then, with a frankness which was even more charming than her -maiden modesty, she sprang forward to meet me, and placed both -her little hands in mine. - -I have no purpose of repeating all the foolish things we said in -the next half hour. _This_ was the Miss Forsythe who had -watched over my sick-room, and had run away when I raved about -her in my delirium. It never occurred to me, when Tom Bowlder -made his last puzzling remarks, that there could be any other -Miss Forsythe than the mistress of Meadowbrook House. My Miss -Forsythe was the niece of that good lady, and, when I first met -her, had just arrived in Meadowbrook on a visit for the first -time in her life. The aunt came into the room, after a while, and -I then had an opportunity of making my interrupted -acknowledgments in the right quarter, and beginning a friendship -with her which I look upon as one of the blessings of my life. -Tom came back, too, before long, and, though he pretended, at -first, to scold me for breaking out of bounds before I had been -regularly discharged by my physician, he must have seen, by the -sparkle in my eyes and the elasticity which happiness imparted to -my whole frame, that my rashness had been of a vast deal of -service to me. - -"Doctor," said the old lady, "I think you and I must let him -alone. Mr. Franklin seems to have changed his physician, and I -dare say Mary, there, will do him more good now than all the -medicines in the world." - -"Upon my word, Miss Forsythe, I believe you're right; and, if -Miss Mary will take care not to lead her patient through any more -fiery furnaces, I'll trust the case to her hands." - -I have only to add to my story that the essay on the Law of -Contracts was never finished, business of a very engrossing -nature (including a contract of a peculiarly interesting kind) -absorbing all my spare moments during the next few months. By the -liberality of the elder Miss Forsythe the little church was soon -restored, and the asthmatic organ which had played such a -memorable part in my life was replaced by a new and excellent -instrument. -{358} -The flames, fortunately, had spared the sanctuary and all the -rear portion of the building. As soon as the repairs were -finished, there was a merry wedding at Meadowbrook, and Father -James gave us his blessing as we knelt together in the sacred -place where we had so narrowly escaped together from a horrible -death. The little side-altar, which has since been put up in the -church, was built by my wife and me to commemorate our -deliverance. Once or twice a year we make a visit of a week or so -to dear Aunt Forsythe at Meadowbrook. Mary and I never fail at -such times to say a prayer of thanksgiving in the church. Then we -stray together into the organ gallery, and, while the old -familiar strains flow from her touch, I sit by her side, and -thank God in my heart for blessing me with so sweet a wife. - --------- - - Joy In Grief. - - From The French Of Marie Jenna. - - - "Blessed are they that mourn: - for they shall be comforted." - - - Friend! in vain thy bosom hides the sharp and cruel sword that wounds it. - I have understood thy silence, and my prayer hath still been for thee. - Cast away the foolish pride that shuts thy heart against my friendship; - Come, and weep before me. - - Well I know that there are days of heavy grief and lonely suffering, - When the soul doth find in solitude a grim and bitter pleasure; - And the thoughtless world beholds its shrouded majesty pass by it - Pale, and wrapped in silence. - - Then the friendly hand, uncertain, stops and hesitates before it, - Fearing lest too rudely it may draw aside the veil of mourning: - There are griefs so great and sacred that all human thought and language - Dies upon the threshold. - - Now, however, days are past; and it is time I came and sought thee. - Oh! permit a friend to share the heavy burden of thy sorrow. - Put thy hand in mine, thy weary head upon my heart, and rest thee: - I have suffered also. - - I will not approach thee with those vain and heartless words of fashion, - Words which grief receives and spurns as mocking echoes of its wailing; - No, I have a word to whisper that will bring a holy comfort: - 'Tis a heavenly secret. - -{359} - - If I might, as from an urn, before thy feet pour out my treasures, - Hope and peace would fill thy soul now groping in despairing darkness. - Light would shine upon thy pathway; sweet repose would mark thy slumbers, - Dreams of happy moments. - - There are pure and lofty summits where the soul of man reposes. - 'Tis the sword which cleaves our hearts asunder opens up the pathway. - Friend of mine, believe me that the loss of all things counts as nothing - If those heights be mastered. - - Silly bees, we flit from flower to flower in this world's pleasure-garden; - Drinking in their rich perfumes and tasting of their honeyed sweetness. - Resting there, and living on its passing charms as if its beauty - Were enough for ever. - - There we dream away our life, and precious moments pass unheeded; - Placing all our joys in pleasures fleeting as the summer sunshine, - Joys that vanish when the evening casts its shadows o'er the garden - Gone before the moonlight. - - 'Tis when robbed of human love; when seated desolate and lonely - On the wide and arid desert, with no kindly eye to greet us; - When the howling tempest rages, and the frightful darkness thickens, - Comfort has a meaning. - - Then the brow defeat has humbled, and the heart grown sick with sorrow, - Find an arm and hand divine to lean upon and bear its burden: - And the spirit wrung with anguish, crushed by cruel disappointment, - Sings a hymn unspoken. - - When before the lost one's footsteps opens an abyss of horror, - Then appears a bridge of safety stretching o'er the gulf's dark passage: - There, where danger threatens most, and death menaces, God is standing - Open-armed to meet him. - - When the fitful joys of human passion are consumed within us, - Other joys begin their reign of which the soul as yet knew nothing. - Ah! what matter, when a brilliant star appears in heaven above us, - If the lamp burn dimly? - - O thou mystery of suffering, deep abyss for human wonder! - Since that day when on a shameful cross love gained its greatest triumph, - We begin to sound thy awful depths, and catch at least faint glimpses - Of thy hidden meaning! - - Come, for there the lesson may be learned which only He, the Master, teaches - From his throne of truth and wisdom. At the feet of Jesus seated, - Words will fall upon our ears that human lips have never spoken - Words of heaven's language. - -{360} - - Sword of sorrow, minister of peace, I bless thee for thy wounding! - Pleasing is the pain of sacrifice, and sweet the tears of martyrs - Shed for too much joy when from the eyes all earthly sights are fading - In the light of heaven. - - Of those melodies divine, those flames of love and joy celestial, - Of those floods of rapture springing from the lonely plains of sorrow, - Ye, poor, thoughtless souls, know nothing, nor have ever dreamed their presence, - Ye who ne'er have suffered. - - Man of sorrows! he who never trod the road of desolation, - He who hath not borne a cross and followed thee to crucifixion, - He who hath not passed through death unto the day of resurrection-- - He hath never known thee. - - Blessed are the mourners! From the mouth of Truth these words have fallen. - Blessed! Yes, it must be true indeed, my God, when thou hast spoken. - Welcome, then, be suffering, welcome! Happy they above all measure - Who in thee find comfort! - --------- - - Translated from the French of L. Vitet. - - - The Present Condition Of Christianity In France. - - -That the men for whom the Christian faith is but an ordinary -belief, a purely human work, and therefore mortal and perishable, -should consider that their object is to be best attained by -separating it from the living portion of our society and keeping -it sequestered, so to speak, within the circle of retrogressive -ideas; that such should be sarcastic at the expense of liberal -Catholicism, and, looking upon its plans as chimerical, should -triumph on learning of its defeats, nothing can be more natural: -in so doing, they but carry out their policy and sustain their -cause. But that true Christians and sincere believers should form -an alliance with them or follow the same rut; that they should -strive to attain the same end by opposing harmony and -reconciliation with the spirit of the age, jesting at -peace-makers, and objecting to their endeavors, not only on the -plea of the impracticability of the schemes, but on the ground -that the attempts made are culpable, impious, and sacrilegious; -this is worse than an error, worse than blindness, and -constitutes for the future of Christian beliefs a grave and -alarming symptom. - -There would be little cause for anxiety if a small portion of the -faithful, a few chagrined beings, a few morose old men were the -only obstinate adherents to these views, for time would be the -best remedy in such a case; but do not be deceived, the masses -are inclined to the adoption of similar opinions. -{361} -Conciliatory ideas are as yet only within the reach of a certain -_élite_. The group in whose midst they were born upward of -thirty years since is scarcely more numerous now than then, and -is, perhaps, less favorably thought of and less sustained by the -public. Yet how many reasons are there for its more general -recognition! Is not the party under a better guidance than in -earlier days? Whom can it terrify by its temerity? In politics it -only aspires to the possession of the most harmless liberty; in -religion its tendencies are ultramontane only to the extent -prescribed by faith. What, then, does it lack? Is its cause -obscure, badly defined, ill-defended? Never were its traits given -more brilliant prominence. God has bestowed upon it defenders of -wondrous might. When an idea is fathered by the indefatigable -energy and overwhelming eloquence of the Bishop of Orleans, by -such masters of speech as M. de Montalembert and Father -Lacordaire, by writers such as M. Albert de Broglie and Father -Gratry; when young and valiant champions, such as Charles -Lenormant, Frédéric Ozanam, and Henri Perreyve have died in its -service; if it attract not; if it make not great and speedy -conquests; if it secure not at once the approval of the -competent, and obtain from the people naught but sterile -applause, there can be no misunderstanding, its time is not come, -and men's minds are not prepared for its reception. But does it -follow that opinion has espoused the opposing cause, and that -hostility and warfare against modern laws and ideas are generally -favored? that all other Christians accept unreservedly the -doctrines of certain violently retrogressive journals that do -religion the injury of being regarded as its confidants? No; the -masses, by their own instinct, escape the contagion of -extremists' opinions; but, without breaking off entirely from -modern ideas, the great majority of the faithful hold them to be -dangerous and avoid their contact. Between civil and religious -society there is a marked coldness and restraint; there is a want -of confidence and sympathy; the least that can be said is, that -they live in two separate camps. - -This should not be. We cannot calculate upon a new uprising or -upon a complete awakening of Christian belief, unless sincere -concord between the church and society be reestablished. The -present disagreement, if prolonged, would seem to indicate a -decline of Christianity; it might be said that religion was -losing, for the first time, the knowledge of the needs of the -epoch, as well as that power of rejuvenation that for eighteen -centuries has endowed it with such unexampled longevity. That the -prediction that preceded its birth may be realized, that it may -live as long as this earth, upon which nothing lives and endures -without change or modification, must it not submit to the common -law, and, while remaining fundamentally the same, be transformed -and renewed, superficially at least? To sentence it to -immovability lest some change take place in its elements; to -petrify it that its purity may be greater, is to proclaim its -ruin and announce its death. A cessation of life and a life of -lethargy are about the same. - -How comes it, then, that, despite so many causes of alarm, in the -depth of our soul we are calm, and our fears are mingled with so -much hope? Do faith without reasoning and pure instinct comfort -us? No; it is Christianity itself, and Christianity of today, -that reassures us by its acts. -{362} -Notwithstanding the disagreement with the age that hinders its -progress, notwithstanding the wounds from which it suffers, the -coldness with which it is treated, the hearts that are closed to -it, whithersoever it penetrates it is still so brimming with life -and light, so lavish of compassion and love, it still causes one -to shed freely such soothing tears, and gives birth to so many -deeds of self-devotion, that it is most evident that its vigor is -unsubdued. The tree about to die does not put forth such boughs -and fruits. The sap flows, the roots spread; an eternal youth -betrays itself by unmistakable signs. Seek not these consoling -symptoms elsewhere but by the domestic fireside, or under the -shadow of the altar, in the retirement of the house of God. Ask -not for an official and public explanation; neither institutions, -nor laws, no monuments, nor outward indices would assert it. In -this respect, the contrast between the days we live in and the -centuries gone by is most striking. Eighty years since, while -Christians, isolated and apart from each other, estranged -themselves more and more from God, whilst the belief in Voltaire -reigned at the bottom of all hearts, society remained outwardly -Christian, religion presided over all the acts of every-day life, -and hallowed them by its presence and its blessings; everything -was done in its name, and its sovereign authority was proclaimed -everywhere. Now, it is only at distant intervals and in certain -ceremonies in which, out of mere force of habit and for purposes -of adornment, it is made to figure, that some shadow of its -former _prestige_ is allowed it; for the remainder of the -time no allusion is made to it, it is set aside as a superfluity -and avoided as a hinderance to action. Judging by this, you would -think, perhaps, that it has fallen into oblivion, that it is -forsaken, lifeless, and unhonored. But it is only dead in -appearance: look more closely, uplift the veil, and you will -behold a wholly different condition of Christianity. While the -outer world escapes its dominion, the world of men's consciences -is being regained. That which institutions refuse to yield to it, -souls commence to accord. How numerous the rebellious or -perplexed spirits that gradually bow to it and bravely summon its -aid! How many tired hearts are indebted to it for rest! Do you -not see whole families, hitherto all but ignorant of the -blessings of faith, almost transformed by a new baptism? It is -most generally to the influence of children that these -metamorphoses are due. The Christian education which through -their medium obtains access to the fireside instills itself into -the minds of their parents. The mother learns the truths that are -explained to her daughters, and becomes attached to them in -understanding them more thoroughly and acting in accordance with -their precepts, the better to inculcate them; even the father -feels the necessity of not interfering with the belief of his -sons by the contradiction of his own example, and, having become -a Christian from a sense of duty, remains a Christian out of -affection. - -Thus, without noise or _éclat_, by a latent process whose -results alone are discernible, faith diffuses and propagates -itself. Certain it must be that its ranks are swelling, and that -the rising generations, in furnishing their respective -contingents, more than fill the vacancies caused by death, for -almost all churches in large cities are becoming too small for -the assembled worshippers. Without speaking of the holydays, of -the solemn occasions, the spectacular character of which attracts -perhaps as many idlers as they do believers, and confining -ourselves to the consideration of the gatherings at ordinary -services, can you deny that year after year the attendances are -larger and that the attention paid is more zealous? -{363} -Do you not observe, also, how many men mingle with the women? At -the commencement of this century the appearance of a man in -church was an event. Now it is not even a subject of -astonishment; and certainly we note no mediocre triumph of faith -over human respect when we record the return of men to the asylum -of prayer. Many other novel incidents of similar purport seem no -less extraordinary, such as students in our schools and soldiers -in our camps publicly asserting their faith; practical Christians -having a majority in the councils of large cities and in -faculties of physicians, this latter instance being a most -exceptional occurrence. If there were aught to be gained nowadays -by passing for a Christian, if men were living in the age of the -Restoration and had some chance of bringing themselves into -notice, and being of good service to their family by proclaiming -their piety, we might not take into account either this increase -of apparent fervor, or the crowded houses of worship, or the -numerous communions. Such, however, is not the case; and is it -not now a better policy, if one wish to obtain advancement, to -become a Free-Mason, in preference to committing one's self by -figuring in some conference of a St. Vincent de Paul's Society? -That there are still hypocrites and false devotees, we all are -agreed. Such there always will be; but hypocrisy and feigned -piety are not fashionable vices. In our time, to enter a church -one must really experience a desire to pray. We challenge the -most sceptical, giving them the privilege of broadly criticising -and pruning as they please, not to recognize as genuine the -progress, limited no doubt, but, nevertheless, incontrovertible, -of modern Christianity. Besides, there can be applied a test that -will dispel all doubts on the subject: of the three divine -virtues, the most difficult of imitation is that which depletes -our purse and compels us to be generous. Inquire of the clergy, -the treasurers of the poor, what charity is at present; ask if it -slumber or decay; or rather, if day after day it gain not new -powers of existence in proportion as, in certain classes of -society, Christian sentiments are awakening. Ask of the clergy if -these tokens of _largesse_ are only entrusted to it for -reasons of vanity, and if the most modest are not those who give -most liberally, an evident sign that the source whence the gifts -come is a Christian one. No doubt, men can bestow much in charity -without believing--the former act is easier of performance than -the latter; but true charity is, as it were, inseparable from the -two virtues whose sister it is: he who gives liberally, hopes and -believes. - -Be ye, then, reassured, for Christian faith still endures. It -lives, labors, and wins over souls; it has not forgotten its old -secrets, and can once again become youthful and associate itself -with the destinies of the world. All that is needed is to give it -time. If there be hesitation on its part to accept modern ideas, -it is not owing to lack or indolence of spirit. The fault is -first to be ascribed to the age itself, whose explanations are so -obscure and whose aspirations are so unintelligibly expressed. -"The principles of 1789" are most elastic words. What sense can -be given them? How can they be applied? Does the century intend -to belong to liberty and its severe duties, to the caprices of -demagogues, or would it be fired by the military spirit? The -second day of December, that period of inaction in our -apprenticeship to free institutions, complicated events and added -to the perplexity and uncertainty of religious minds. -{364} -What were the intentions of the new empire? Was it to follow the -example set by its predecessor, and was the world to behold for -the second time the papacy closely guarded by _gens -d'armes_? Was it not rather the traditions of Charlemagne it -proposed to conform with, and was it not to prove a veritable -Eldorado for Christian beliefs? This latter intention had been so -definitely announced, that most men were deceived by the promise. -But the horizon is now becoming clearer; there is neither hope -nor gratitude to burden the faithful and render them incredulous -as to the blessings of liberty. Awhile longer and there will be -light. If, as we must believe, the true destiny of the age, made -apparent to all, be conciliated with the great principles -constituting Christianity; if it mark new progress in the advance -of humanity, fear not. Christianity will not rebel, but will -promote the movement. If it still live, and otherwise but -nominally--and we have had proof that life was not wanting--it -will not lack intelligence. - -Know you the true cause of alarm, the true peril? It is that -Christianity does not progress alone. It certainly marches on and -labors; its advance is apparent; and more apparent, perhaps, are -the conquests, the ardor, and the faith of those who struggle. By -a strange contradiction, visible in the case of the two opposing -forces, when one should gain what the other loses, the strength -of neither is affected. On both sides the numbers increase and -the armies proceed onward. Which shall win the victory? whose -gains are the most genuine? Despite this seeming equality, we do -not entertain the slightest doubt but that the Christians, if -they will, are the masters of the future. But how are they to -secure their triumph? Concerning that we must speak candidly. - -Ere we come to this, however, let us, with M. Guizot, enter the -anti-christian camp, estimate the forces of the enemy, and -examine the formidable host we are called upon to defeat. - -The distinctive trait nowadays of the war waged against -Christianity is the number and the diversity of the opposing -doctrines. Formerly its adversaries confined themselves to -seeking to destroy it: now they are more ambitious; they attempt -to provide for it a substitute. Hence the multitude of systems, -each of which, in more or less vague or contradictory terms, is -intended to elucidate the great natural problems that humanity, -since its birth, has evolved, and that Christianity has explained -with such simplicity, completeness, and clearness. These systems -do not claim to be religious; they merely flatter themselves that -they will become satisfactory guides for man; that they will read -to him the enigma of this world, and supply all the wants of his -heart and mind. As they exact neither sanction, practice, nor -responsibility, as they are indulgent in the matter of human -weaknesses, their popularity can be easily understood. They have -believers, adepts, and, we may say, devotees of their own. One of -the characteristics of modern incredulity is that it denies and -affirms simultaneously. Nothing is rarer in these times than a -true unbeliever, placing credence in literally nothing, combating -the faith of others, and wholly devoid of faith himself. The -unbelievers of the age all believe something: besides the -antipathy they have sworn to entertain for Christianity--an -antipathy constituting a common faith--each has a belief of his -own; some acknowledge pantheism, others rationalism, positivism, -materialism, or the countless ramifications of these principal -doctrines, each of which has its faithful adherents. -{365} -We do not mean to advance that all antichristians have espoused -the doctrines of philosophy, that each has a sect, a banner, or a -_cred_o of his own. We shall even be convinced very shortly -that the most dangerous opponents are those who do not dabble in -philosophy, and who stand up against the progress of holy truths -by indifference and indolence; but the simultaneous birth of all -these antichristian systems is nevertheless a strange fact, and -one deserving of attention. Taken apart, they can pass by -unheeded their fundamental principles are neither novel nor -consistent! When seen together, however, theirs is a battle array -of a rather imposing magnitude. We understand, therefore, all the -more readily, that M. Guizot, wishing to estimate the strength of -the antichristian forces, should have taken these systems one by -one, and submitted each to a careful examination. We would, -however, misconstrue, we apprehend, his most obvious intention, -if we were to look upon his sketches as regular refutations and -_ex professo_ treatises. He has only proposed to give the -measurement of their different systems by comparison with the -measuring-rod of common sense. To enter into more thorough -discussions would have been unnecessary; better work was left -undone, and M. Guizot's preface has clearly expressed his views -on that point. It matters little, after all, how these systems -are criticised; the result is the same, whether one examine them -superficially, master their secrets, or fathom their scientific -mysteries. There can be little difference of opinion in regard to -their value. It is to their advantage if they be only glanced at. -The more searching the investigation, the more conclusive the -proof as to the frailty of their formations and deficiencies, -pettiness, impotence, and vanity. We repeat what we said, that we -have little to dread on this score. A few minds may be won over, -but the contagion, in this country, cannot spread. The darkness -of pantheism, the dreams of idealism, the dryness of positivism, -or the coarseness of materialism will never seduce the mass of -French minds. The alarm is greater than the real danger; yet, -when gathered together, these systems, however discordant among -themselves, however much opposed to each other, constitute, from -the very fact that all are equally hostile to Christianity, a -power which must be taken into account. They form a -_fasces_; theirs is a coalition, a league that belongs only -to our age. - -Is it to be supposed that we assert that Christianity has ever -lacked enemies, and enemies acting in concert in their attacks? -Without looking far back into its history, was not the -concentration of all the wits of the age clustered under the -leadership of Voltaire for the purpose of freeing the world from -religious superstition, an anti-christian league, if ever there -was one? Perhaps even the movement of the eighteenth century -seemed, at first, more violently antichristian than that -undertaken in our days. Its determination was more evident; it -proceeded direct to the objective point. Its weapons were light, -but they were ever in use, and there was no truce to the warfare. -It was a sharp fire of irony, a shower of sarcasm; nothing could -withstand it, no one could retort; the dread of ridicule silenced -the boldest; the panic was followed by a general rout, and terror -was engendered by laughter. And what sad results! what a -disaster! -{366} -The altars were overthrown, religion was annihilated, the clergy -scattered, hunted down, or put to death, a whole nation left -without temples, without pastors, without any perceptible -connecting link with heaven! Was not this enough? What more was -desired? - -There can certainly be extant no wish to do better; but it is -intended that the work shall endure, that the invalid shall be -finally disposed of, and that any chance of cure or resurrection -shall be done away with. Even as after 1848 the fiery demagogues, -who had thought an excellent opportunity had arrived to demolish -society, found consolation for their failure by proclaiming aloud -that, should a similar series of events ever occur, they would -know better how to act, and would not again be unsuccessful in -the accomplishment of their purpose, so the destroyers of -religion take great care not to imitate the example of their -fathers, whose work, they say, was only half done. Mockery and -irony are worn-out weapons that wound but do not kill; they are -useful in commencing a war, but other and more destructive -engines are needed to end it. Besides, within the past sixty -years the character and habits of the public have undergone a -decided change. The community has become, by lessons taught it at -its own expense, of a more reflective and sober turn of mind; it -is less easy to provoke its laughter, and it does not always -consider a jest an argument. Moreover, deriding all things -excites its suspicion, and, in lieu of being won over, it often -comes near being shocked. Its new mood must be complied with, the -public's foibles must be consulted, and its present foible is, -that it shall be treated as a man, and not as a child. - -Science is the great agency! Science is the only guide, the only -authority whose aid modern minds willingly accept. This can be -readily comprehended; each day science works so many miracles, -lavishes upon humanity such genuine gifts, opens to mankind so -vast a future, and confirms in so incontestable a manner its -right of sovereignty over this world, that men, in return, must -bow to its decrees, and do it all honor without blushing at the -homage rendered it. But, in the hands of those who would keep -mankind separate from any other belief, who would prevent the -recognition of any higher authority and of the invisible might of -the Creator, how terrible a weapon is a faith in science! -Therefore it is that nowadays to rank honorably with the -adversaries of Christian belief, to play an important part, to -act upon the minds and disturb consciences, it is not sufficient -merely to possess some talent and a graceful and caustic style. -It is necessary to be erudite, or, at least, to be held as such, -the latter alternative being less difficult to achieve, less -rare, and for that very reason, much more dangerous. For, if -Christianity had to deal with truly learned and truly great men -only, she and science would never be in absolute opposition to -each other. The so-called contradictions, the irreconcilable -facts 'disappear, when the disputants attain a certain height, as -soon as words being no longer taken in their literal sense, their -spirit is understood, and when analysis is brought to bear upon -the starting-point of the misunderstanding. Science, when applied -to such ends, is not only inoffensive to Christianity and the -Scriptures, but comes to their aid and proffers testimony in -their favor, sometimes giving to certain facts of fabulous -appearance an almost historical character. -{367} -Thus it came that Cuvier confirmed by a most rigorous process of -inductive reasoning based upon irrefutable facts, some Biblical -narratives which believers only had, until then, accepted out of -motives of pure obedience, and which indifferent persons viewed -with suspicion, and the great doctors of the eighteenth century -laughed to scorn. Evil fortune, however, wills it, that for every -one of these conciliatory, because clairvoyant minds, for a -Cuvier, a Kepler, a Leibnitz, and a Newton, there are thousands -of men who see the outward semblance only, who stumble over -inconsistencies, and who, often without ill-will, make use of -their small share of knowledge in accomplishing the ruin of the -holy truths. Indeed, they enjoy the credit of the masses as much -as, and perhaps more than, the real masters; the public is -continually brought into contact with them; they are numerous, -ubiquitous, and have associates in all professions; the race of -half-learned men is the foundation of humanity, without taking -into account the more skilful persons who, seeking to win success -at any cost, and even at the risk of scandal, borrow from science -the varnish required to give popularity to their productions. -These stratagems constitute a new fashion of checkmating -Christianity, a method rejuvenating the traditions of Voltaire. -Those whose intentions are worthiest are deceived by it; the lure -thrown out is that which they need, a sensible lure; their reason -alone is appealed to, and they fancy that they are surrendering -to proven evidence. What would you have them do? They are not -entertained with mere stories and epigrams, they are not made the -objects of jests or hoaxes; the facts submitted to them are -palpable. So much the worse for Christian beliefs if these facts -annihilate them! Can the laws of science be denounced as -forgeries? Is not science truth? - -Such are modern tactics; neither mockery nor impatience, and -great apparent impartiality; it is no longer a skirmish, a sudden -attack, but a siege in accordance with all the rules of war; the -citadel is surrounded, the enemy advances, with the authority and -under the protection of science. This is not all. The experience -of the past century has suggested other precautionary measures, -other strategic movements. It is now recognized that our poor -human nature has not made sufficient progress, not even in -France, to feel happy and proud because of a belief in absolutely -nothing. This is a weakness for which time will work a cure, but -one which must be taken into due consideration. For instance, can -it be brought about that most women's hearts will not yield to -the necessity of praying and believing? Does not man himself, -when bowed down by great affliction, feel that a woman's heart is -being born and awakening within him? When death separates him -from those he loves, when he survives and suffers, can it be that -he will not seek, with eyes upturned to heaven, a little strength -in hope? These inclinations and instincts may seem strange and -absurd, if you will; but they are indestructible, and to think of -doing away with them is a sheer loss of time. This is known in -our age, and the skilful profit by their knowledge. To make havoc -for a second time, to tear down the altars, and persecute the -priests, would be to enact the parts and do the work of dupes! -Such a course would prepare an inevitable reaction, and a certain -resurrection of all it was proposed to destroy. There are none -but a few madmen, a few lost children who would resort to such -superannuated measures. -{368} -Instead of attacking openly the need for belief, better to -conquer it by flattery and the tender of fascinating compromises. -Why these onslaughts on Christianity? Why overtly batter its -walls? To please the libertines? Is it not quite certain that -they will side with the antichristians? It is urgent to please -the simple-hearted Christians only. - -Instead of exhibiting the slightest after-thought of opposition -to Christianity, better to dwell upon its beauties, to draw an -admirable portrait of its Founder, to recognize him as the model -of all the virtues, as the type of all perfection, to speak of -him in impassioned and eloquent tones, and in exchange for these -gentle concessions to ask--what? A trifling sacrifice, a modest -_erratum_ to the text of the Evangels, a simple change of -the value of a word, or rather the politic and reasonable -yielding up of a valueless title, a worn-out parchment, a purely -nominal letter of nobility, the so-called divinity of that -admirable man? Why cling to that fiction? Renounce it, and we -shall all be agreed. Reason will have nothing more to say on the -subject. With yourselves we will do homage to that wonderful -mortal, and, if you will, call him divine without attaching too -much importance to the condescension. We will overlook the -epithet if you concede us the dogma. - -Thus, with skill and a certain commingling of philosophic -scepticism, mystic reveries, and a feigned zeal for Christian -ideas, men hope nowadays to undermine Christianity. The plan of -action is by no means novel. In that very year during which -Constantine, by his omnipotence, seemed to have ensured the peace -and security of the church, in that very year one single man, -with a few words, threw the church into far greater perils than -were indicated by the lictors and executioners of its fiercest -persecutors. He, too, pretended he only waged war against Jesus -Christ out of love for his doctrine, and despoiled him of his -divinity to guarantee his triumph, propagate his blessings, and, -while rendering faith less difficult to acquire, to satisfy -reason. The compromise was the same as that which is now put -forward. And such is the power of these enervating doctrines -that, even in the days when faith was still young and full of -life, the world fell a victim to the deception. Scarcely half a -century had gone by since the death of Arius and the contagion -had extended throughout the Orient, spread over a part of the -west, and reached, beyond the limits of the Roman empire of old, -all the recently converted barbarian nations. Look back to that -hour of crisis when the destiny of the world was at stake; seek -to guess what was to happen. After a consultation of human laws, -after a calculation of probabilities, did not Christianity appear -doomed? Its adversary had won for himself Constantine's favor, -the ardent adhesion of the emperor's son, the support of all the -forces of the empire, all the powers that still governed the -world. To preserve faith, to save from shipwreck the divinity of -Jesus Christ, a miracle, a new revelation, another preaching of -St. Paul were needed. The miracle was performed; what a man had -done a man undid; Athanasius conquered Arius. But Christianity -had, nevertheless, seemed about to perish, and modern Arianism -can well flatter itself that it will now have better fortune, and -that an Athanasius, a Basil, a Gregory, or a Jerome will not ever -be at hand to crush its arguments and conquer the world for the -benefit of truth. Its threats, its sinister predictions are not, -then, mere boasts; the danger is genuine; modern heresy has -auxiliary aids that double its might. -{369} -It no longer stands in the arena, face to face with orthodoxy, -and uses purely theological weapons; the struggle is general; -everybody participates in it; all weapons are effective. A -formidable coalition attacks faith most persistently; the natural -sciences when half understood, the metaphysical sciences -conducted with pride, historic criticism skilfully romanticized, -are forces that unite for the benefit of the new Arianism. Can it -not be readily seen that the league is far more powerful and -inflicts more serious wounds than the ironical frivolities -brought into play in the last century? The progress made is not -only evidenced in the tactics and armament; the ground of the -struggle itself has changed, to the enemy's advantage. From a -Christian stand-point, it may be said that Christianity is now -dismantled. Of all the places of shelter, of all the positions -which belonged to Christianity a hundred years ago, in the state, -in the institutions and customs, of all the means of credit, -influence, and legitimate resistance won for it by a right of -ages, and of which its adversaries, while deriding its belief, -had no thought of robbing it, nothing remains. The levelling -power of the times has passed over them. The attack must now be -withstood in an open field. If under such circumstances and in -presence of such perils Christians opened not their eyes, if an -instinct of self-preservation did not induce them to come to an -understanding upon the essential points of their faith, if they -sought to oppose so many joint efforts while divided and -disagreeing, we say, without hyperbole, that we would have to bow -our heads and consider this world at an end, and civilization, -despite its apparent triumphs and proud hopes, stricken to the -heart and menaced with a prompt decline. But have we reached that -point? No, a hundred times no, if our will be against it, and if -we understand the magnitude of the danger, its real novelty, and -the novelty and youth needed to conquer it. - -And at the outset let there be no misunderstanding between -Christians. Do not believe that Catholicism is alone involved, -and the sole excitant of anger and object of the warfare. It is -Christianity itself, Christian faith in its entirety, and in -every shape, that it is intended to annihilate. Any Protestant -sect that accepts the Evangels, without reserve or restrictions, -is at least as open to suspicion as pure Catholicism. Tolerance -and amnesty are withheld, save from that Christianity which -believes not in Jesus Christ, and in which certain pastors, from -evangelical pulpits, now profess a belief. Enlightened and -sincere Protestants entertain no longer any doubts on that point. -They have progressed since the sixteenth century: without being -less zealous or less ardent in their belief, they no longer -proclaim that Antichrist and the Catholic Church are one and the -same thing. In our age the Antichrist is the common foe; if you -would resist its onslaughts, close up the ranks; this is no time -for discord among brethren. The Protestants who are friendly to -the Evangels, however numerous they may be in certain states of -Europe, know what they lack as regards cohesion and unity; they -feel that that powerful church so persistently attacked nowadays, -will ever be the true rampart. While all the blows dealt fall -upon her, they breathe freely, for she protects them; if her -walls were overthrown, they would be left defenceless. -{370} -Hence arises among the more farseeing that solicitude which is -felt for all Christian interests without distinction, and that -defensive alliance which seems to be suggested in the minds of -those whose convictions as to the essence of things are -identical. Unfortunately, this wholly modern blessing, one of the -few conquests which, in the moral order of affairs, might do -honor to our age, is not yet very widely disseminated. Even in -the opinion of the persons who are horror-stricken at the -antichristian coalition, the idea of helping each other, of -forming an alliance, of postponing intestine strife and lending a -helping hand to each other, wakes but little headway. Habit, -prejudices, and a sectarian spirit are so powerful! If some men -cast off their yoke, if a chosen few who see events from a higher -stand-point take delight in putting into practice these tolerant -ideas, do the masses follow an their footsteps? and do the chosen -few themselves always set generous examples only? If it were only -among Catholics that the tendency to exclusion, the aversion to -schism carried to a forgetfulness of the actual interests of -faith, were observable, many persons would confess that they were -less surprised than grieved; for excuse can ever be found for the -Catholic, in whose defence it can be argued that, if he went too -far in that direction, it was because he may have believed that, -by holding aloof and avoiding the contact of error, he exhibited -his obedience and rendered himself more acceptable unto God! But -for the Protestant, what apology can be offered? He who asserts -so boldly his right to believe what he thinks cannot take offence -because his neighbor does likewise. The same intolerance that, in -the one case saddens us without causing astonishment, shocks us -in the other. Can you understand how it is that an educated, an -erudite Protestant, good-hearted, endowed with sound sense, -glorying in generous principles, and carrying to very energy his -love and respect for right, as soon as it is suggested that he -concede to Catholics that which he believes to be just and true -for all humanity, the privilege to worship with the liberty and -the surroundings their mode of worship requires, cries out in -dismay, appeals to brute force, admits unhesitatingly that it -decides all similar questions, and sanctions and renders -legitimate in advance all sentences which maybe passed? Though -his views are sensible on all other points, on this subject they -are devoid of reason, and the man speaks of the Catholic Church -in the nineteenth century as an inquisitor of the sixteenth would -have spoken of heresy! What a strange spectacle, and how -humiliating a lesson! Does there exist a more overwhelming proof -of the poverty of our intellect? - -Yet the part to be taken by a modern Protestant, who would serve -Christianity and combat its true enemies, is a glorious one! All -things unite to give him influence; everything is in readiness to -bestow upon his words an increase, as it were, of authority. He -would ignore and forget all petty passions and jealousy. He would -seek to bring about the triumph of the divine word, to -demonstrate its eternal truth, its transmission through -centuries. Why attempt to wrest from the Catholic Church the -rights to which she lays claim? Why beset her with invidious -questions and excite captious quarrels? Instead of giving -vitality to these endless suits, would it not be better to seek -to ascertain on what points an agreement subsists, what dogmas -have escaped all controversy and survived all strife? He would -become attached to these same dogmas; in his eyes they would be -the heart, the basis of a Christianity of peace and concord, -which no true Christian can avoid defending, since necessarily he -must profess allegiance to its doctrines. -{371} -Because there was alarm for the existence of the Reformation -three centuries ago, because the Reformation was the spur which, -to save faith, was to rouse the church from slumber, does it -follow that now, the times having changed, actions should be the -same? Must it be that, to preserve in the present that same -Christian faith, a Christian, because he chances to be a -Protestant, must espouse his fathers' hates, fight only against -the men and ideas with which they strove, and remain idle when -beholding the outbreak of the conflagration which threatens -Christianity, for the sole reason that Catholicism appears to be -especially imperilled by the flames? Let him repudiate that -absurd inheritance, let him break with such routine views. Not -only must he abstain from attacking, even indirectly, the -Catholic Church, and feel no bitterness toward her, for the -simple reason that he undertakes a campaign in cooperation with -her, and because we must not fire upon one's allies; he owes her -still more, more than respect, more than mere courtesies; he must -do her full justice. His duty be it to give prominence with -frankness and loyalty to the great features, the beauties, the -splendor of the traditions from which he stands apart. Strictures -and reservations will be mingled with his praises; better still, -for his testimony will be all the more valuable. Whether he -recall the services rendered or refute vigorously all calumny, by -telling the unalloyed truth, even if it be attenuated, he will do -more for Catholicism than a professional panegyrist. - -This is not all: to keep the false philosopher spirit at bay, no -position could be better than that which he holds. He has not to -struggle against the antipathy engendered by a supposed obedience -to the principle of authority; and when he confesses unreservedly -his belief in supernatural facts, his words are fraught with far -more importance than if he who uttered them were not trammelled -in the matter of free investigation. How different, too, the case -when to this superiority are added personal advantages, when the -Protestant is a man of powerful mind, accustomed to deal with the -most weighty matters, and retaining, in the autumn of life, -besides the treasures garnered by experience and learning, the -fecund ardor of youth. This explains the characteristic trait of -M. Guizot's _Meditations_; it is not a religious work like -so many others. The best priests, the most eloquent preachers, -the profoundest theologians are afflicted with a disability for -which there is no remedy; they are professional defenders of -religion; the truths they affirm seem to constitute their -patrimony, and, while pleading the holiest of suits, they seem to -argue in their own behalf; while a historian, a philosopher, a -statesman, and, above all, a free and independent mind, who, -after ripe examination and prolonged reflection, and not without -a struggle and an effort, has become a Christian, and who proves -in broad daylight that neither his intellect nor his reasoning -powers have suffered in the least, and that the thinker and -Christian live within him in perfect concord, by his testimony -gives courage to many men, dispels many doubts, and inspires the -faltering with firmness; his example is the best of sermons and -the most reliable mode of propagating faith. - -{372} - -Be assured, nevertheless, that remarks of disapproval will be -heard amid the kindly greetings. There will be opposition -manifested from the very first, and principally by the reformed -worshippers. The broad views and extreme tolerance of the author -will not be acceptable to all. The writer will be told, You -forsake us; you are a Catholic in spirit and intention, why not -be wholly a Catholic? A poor quarrel, indeed, a singular fashion -of returning thanks for the most faithful devotedness and the -most signal services! In the matter of ingratitude, the sectarian -spirit stands in the foremost rank. There is, therefore, no cause -for surprise that the Protestants of Paris, when occasionally -gathered about the ballot-box, should not always care to express -to M. Guizot, by a unanimous vote, their just and respectful -pride at numbering him among their forces. But then, let us not -forget that, if in the opinion of a few Protestants these -_Meditations_ are a trifle too Catholic, certain Catholics -would have them still less Protestant. We do not assert that the -Catholics, even the most exclusive, are not at heart filled with -esteem and gratitude for a work of such evident usefulness to the -cause of Christianity; the esteem and gratitude exhibited are, -however, wrested from them. They praise aloud the intentions and -courage of the author; as for the work itself, they do not -restrict themselves to prudently leaving in obscurity the points -in discussion, but involuntarily allow inopportune objections to -arise. We venture to state that in doing this they do not -appreciate the circumstances surrounding us, and the greatness of -the need of alliance and concord forced upon Christianity by the -formidable war waged against it. That in ordinary times, when the -only struggle in progress concerns the form and not the -foundation of things, believers should resolve only to accept and -extol the productions resonant with the pure and faithful echo of -their faith, nothing can be better; in such times each citizen of -the Christian republic may be permitted to be watchful of the -interests of his province rather than of those of his country; -but, when an invasion is imminent, other emergencies are to be -looked to: the common safety is the first law. Then is the time -to welcome recruits, whoever they are, provided their -reinforcement will be productive of good results. Do not deceive -yourselves; the Christian community, even if united and agreed on -all points, will only just be equal to the task: for its members -must not only repel the assailants a merely defensive attitude -would be equivalent to a partial defeat but must advance and -invade, and subjugate souls. The world is to be reconquered, and -a more giddy, frivolous, and somniferous world, perhaps, than the -world of nineteen centuries ago. Again, we say that we have not -to be alarmed at the antichristian war. Its horde of systems, its -dreams and chimeras, its wily contrivances and philosophic -disorder do not frighten us. The spectacle is a sad one, but it -is not a state of slumber. Upon feverish activity you can bring -to bear a healthful action; your very adversaries favor your -cause and deaden the weight of the blows they would deal you. -What timidity underlies their audacity! How they retreat before -the most direct and inevitable consequences of their doctrines! -How they complain of misrepresentation when shown a mirror -reflecting the deformity of their doctrines! Let them continue to -speak and write, they but call forth overwhelming replies; let -them alter history and the Scriptures, for they but alter their -own authority and credentials: they fall into the pit themselves -have digged. -{373} -All things that agitate and startle men's minds, and awaken even -in irritating them, aid the triumph of truth; indifference, -torpor, the numbness of souls only are profitable to error, and -constitute the true malady of the age. Let us not seek to conceal -it, its ravages are too plainly discernible. While impiety, -properly speaking, despite its apparent progress and the brazen -boasts of its cynicism, makes but few proselytes in our midst, -indifference increases, extends, and becomes acclimatized. It is -a contagion; whosoever is affected leads a mere earthly life, and -is engrossed by nothing save mundane cares, business, and -pleasure; the great problems of our destiny, the wondrous -mysteries constituting our torment and our honor, exist not for -him; he only recognizes and cultivates his coarse and frivolous -instincts; the divine portion of his being is in a state of utter -lethargy. Here and there, among the indifferent, you meet a few -agitated hearts and perplexed spirits. Perplexity is to -indifference as twilight to darkness, an uncertain light that -struggles with the gloom, sometimes conquering and sometimes -conquered. Nothing can be less decisive than a victory won over -such a spirit. The escape of perplexed minds is effected as -quickly as was accomplished their capture. Never mind; would to -God that even such a condition of souls were the greater evil! It -is toward indifference, that is to say, toward nothingness and -death, that all things incline our footsteps. - -Inquiry was made, a short time since, as to the present condition -of Christianity in France. Number those who occupy the two -hostile camps in which a remnant of life still asserts itself, in -one camp for the purpose of attacking, in the other for the -purpose of defending, Christian faith; then, beyond the limits of -the two, behold, what remains? There, are gathered crowds -unnumbered, inert, inanimate, forming, as it were, a great -desert, a Dead Sea uninhabited by any living thing. There lies -the world to be reconquered; such are the men who are to be -reclaimed. How act upon them? how move their hearts? how gain -mastery over them? In these questions lies the secret of the -future. - -Seek, then, and try to ascertain the most reliable means of -acting upon these thoughtless mortals. Is the work to be -accomplished by practices of high piety and by productions -intended for the edification of skilled believers? Think you that -at once you will change them into thoroughly faithful Christians? -that you will instantly inspire them with a holy fervor? Only to -speak the language of pure devoutness, to keep in unison with the -utterances of the vestry-room, is to waste time. Climb the -heights, display the brilliancy of those universal truths in -whose presence every being gifted with reason and accessible to -reflection feels compelled to bend the knee. It is by exhibiting -in all their grandeur, in all their primitive beauty, the bases -of our faith, that souls can be attracted to seek them for -shelter. The work to which we allude excels in this respect. M. -Guizot's _Meditations_ throw light upon the mysterious -summits which, in the eyes of the torpid, appear overhung by -thick and impenetrable fogs. They give these men a desire to -examine them more closely. In a word, though the work may not -satisfy simultaneously, in each communion, all who are possessed -of a definite belief, it is endowed with a more precious virtue -upon the excellence of which we can dwell the more -conscientiously, as having viewed its effects: it moves the -indifferent. - -{374} - -More than this, however, must be done. However powerful in style -and thought a book may be, it can only, in the present crisis, -clear the road. To make greater headway, to effect a more -decisive advance, to act upon the masses and rouse them from -their slumber, other agencies than books are necessary, and -deeds, examples, striking evidence, and incontestable proofs of -abnegation, devotedness, charity, and sacrifices are required. -These are the sermons that awaken souls; these the weapons that -triumph over the world, however careless, frivolous, and hardened -it may be. In days by-gone, they conquered the men who wore the -Roman toga and the rough habits of the barbarians; in this -century, they are still the only means of conquest.--What do we -ask? What are we thinking of? Preaching by deeds! The apostleship -of the early ages! Real apostles, heroic confessors, if needed, -martyrs! In our times! Is it possible?--Why not? What -contradiction and surprise but can be looked for nowadays? Is it -not the destiny of the age to carry everything to extremes, to be -zealous for evil and even for good, to be swayed in turn or -simultaneously by all currents, and to subscribe to the most -irreconcilable principles? Just because the world appears to have -fallen almost to the lowest degree of depression, just because it -sinks more deeply from day to day, there is a chance that a -sublime and immediate reaction may occur. Was imperial Rome less -corrupt, less effeminate, less docile while the avengers and -restorers of human dignity, the future masters of the world, were -at work beneath her foundations? Be reassured, even in these days -of doubt and egotism, a true and great resurrection of -Christianity in France is not a Utopian vision. Not only is such -a miracle possible, but we may declare it necessary. - -Either we must suppose that we are nearing the last phase of the -development of humanity; that the now commencing decadence will -be the last; that, unlike so many declines that have preceded it, -this latest decline will have no place of stoppage, no new birth; -that an unbroken slope is leading irresistibly to the ruin and -debasement of our race, or we must without delay find means of -restituting to the masses religious faith. What has democracy -gained by triumphing and being about to become the sovereign -mistress of the whole world, if it cannot maintain and hold sway -over its conquest simply because it cannot rule and govern -itself? Democracy, without the brake of religion, without other -protection than that afforded by independent morality, is a -swollen torrent, anarchy, despotism, and a return to barbarism. -But when the brake is old and shattered, how replace it? No one -can create a religious faith, it were folly to attempt it. Such -chimerically created things could never be aught but impotent -parodies. But why seek so far that which is near at hand? The new -faith whose advent is awaited, and hoped, and called for with -such eagerness is here; we possess it; it is Christianity itself, -ever novel if we but know how to comprehend its eternal light, -and if we know ourselves how to be novel. It is not the object of -the belief that is to be remodelled, but the routine of -believers. Christianity, in itself, is as youthful as at its -birth; that which is superannuated is that which does not belong -to it, that earthly rust with which it has been incrusted by its -interpreters, its ministers, and its servants in all ages. Of -this it must be rid; its original appearance and power must be -restored. By what process? By using for its reestablishment the -means which were formerly employed with success to lay its -foundation. -{375} -The determination is a violent one, yet there must be no half -measures; an attempt in any other direction would be illusory and -vain. To proceed halfway, to spare abuses, flatter habit, and -improve the surface of things only, would be to make Christianity -one of those edifices which are kept standing by props and by -cementing the cracks in the walls: it would be as well to let it -totter and fall to the ground at once. To give it back true -power, true stability, that it may defy the shocks of a long -series of years, there is but one course to adopt: to begin the -work anew. - -Let the church, then, be courageous; let her begin again, even as -she commenced, and with the same modesty and holiness; let her be -chaste, austere, laborious, learned, intelligent, and free; -without taste for honors, without care for wealth; lavish of her -pains, her blood, and her tears; as independent toward the mighty -as she is indulgent and tender for the weak. Let her advance, -thus armed, step by step, approaching souls, and souls only, and -the world will again be hers. There is no miscalculation to be -feared, the same causes will have identical effects; but hasten, -lose not an hour, the moment is a solemn one. Let the cry, "The -church is beginning anew," be not a vain word, and let not its -results be tardy. Think not of honoring God by raising to the -heavens proud cupolas, and making for him a dwelling in palaces -glittering with gold and marble; it is around the manger, in the -grotto of Bethlehem, that the pastors should be convoked. Let all -true Christians, all sons of the church, know and proclaim it: on -them everything depends, through them all things are possible, -upon them all things rest; in their hands lies not only the fate -of their beloved and venerated belief, but the future of the -civilized world. - --------- - - Ritualism And Its True Meaning. - - -We have had the pleasure of reading an article on the subject of -ritualism by the Rev. Dr. Dix, rector of Trinity church in this -city. This article, which appeared in the July number of the -_Galaxy_, suggested to our minds some very interesting and -practical reflections. It is understood that the respected doctor -who holds so important a position in his own church is one of the -principal supporters of the movement in regard to which he -writes. Although he does not yet introduce into Trinity church -and its chapels the external observances of the ritualists which -he commends, still it is his desire to do so at the first -practicable moment. The weight of his character and influence is -given to the restoration of those rites and ceremonies which were -dropped at the Protestant Reformation through the undue force of -Calvinism and what he calls religious radicalism. Whether he will -succeed is a question which the ministers and influential laymen -of his own church can better answer than we can. In examining his -article carefully, we think there is a slight want of candor on -one or two points, and some misunderstanding upon others. -{376} -For example, he disclaims the popular use of the word -"ritualism," and says, "It has lost its respectability, and has -become a slang expression. The unlucky word is bandied about till -it must have lost all perception of its own identity. Hence, we -respectfully decline the attempt to say what the word 'ritualism' -means, as now lost and merged in the category of cant and slang." -Now, as far as we are able to judge, we really believe that the -majority of people call things by their right names, and that the -public can have no end to gain by any other course. It may be -that the Episcopalians are not forbearing enough toward those of -their brethren who would innovate upon their established forms of -worship; but they cannot be found fault with if they are -surprised and offended at changes which are so radical. If they -use harsh language in the controversy, they are not to be -excused, for no good ever arises from acrimony, or the -forgetfulness of the decencies of life. Yet can any honest man -say that he does not know what they mean to attack, or that he -cannot explain what "ritualism" is? The definition which the -reverend doctor gives is hardly adequate, because it includes all -mankind, since, according to his terms, there is no one who is -not a ritualist. There is no necessity of proving that all -religions have had their rites and ceremonies, for there is no -one who will deny so well received a fact. We must take the word -in its popular acceptation; and it simply refers to those who are -now endeavoring to introduce great changes in the worship of the -Protestant Episcopal Church, who are using vestments never known -in their communion for at least three centuries, and who, in -doctrine and outward observance, are approaching as nearly as -possible the time-hallowed ceremonial of the Catholic Church. -Whether they are in the right or in the wrong is another -question; the name by which they are called may be appropriate or -not, but it has a plain signification. Every one can understand -it, and we do not see in it anything abusive or uncharitable. - -After objecting to the term "ritualist," Dr. Dix proceeds to -defend at some length the course of those who bear this name, and -his view is easily summed up, and we hear it now for about the -thousandth time in our life: - - "The Christian dispensation is bounded, on the one side, by the - magnificent ritualism of Israel, and, on the other, by the - analogous and not less glowing ritualism of heaven. For fifteen - hundred years (after Christ) there was no ritualistic - controversy deserving the name. In general features, divine - worship was the same throughout the world. But errors and - abuses crept into the church, and these became symbolized in - novel rites and practices, by which ritual became, in some - respects, defiled and corrupted. Then came the Reformation in - the sixteenth century. That movement did not affect the Eastern - portions of Christendom; in Greece and Russia the old - traditions may be traced, although under a load of useless - ceremonies, back to the commencement of the Christian era. ... - Looking about the world, we see, in the Eastern part of - Christendom, an ancient ritual in use, very ornate, very - symbolical, and full of reminiscences of the old church of - Israel; the mitre, the iconastasis, the veil, the lamps, the - incense, are direct heirlooms from that venerable past. In the - West, the Roman Catholic Christians exhibit in their ritual a - system essentially modified by later ideas, and expressing the - dogmas which by degrees have accumulated around their once pure - creed." - -Here the reverend doctor seems to labor under a strange -misunderstanding, and evidently has taken no pains to examine for -himself the oriental liturgies. There is no substantial -difference whatever between the liturgies of the East and those -of the West. All contain the same essential parts, and are -probably of apostolic origin. -{377} -Whatever corruption belongs to the Roman rite, in the Protestant -sense of the term, belongs likewise to the Eastern rites. As for -the ceremonies now in use in regard to the sacraments and popular -devotions, there may be some difference, but it is in favor of -the West, even from the Protestant point of view. The Eastern -churches pay as much honor to the Blessed Mother of God and to -the saints as we do, and in their expressions are fully as -fervent. The attempt, therefore, to make a distinction between -the East and West, as if the oriental churches were more in -sympathy with the reformed doctrines than the Catholic Church, is -singularly futile, because not supported by the least shadow of -fact. Besides, as we shall see in this article, the ritualists -draw all their own rites and ceremonies from us, and recommend -for the use of their own church the very words of the Roman -Missal. If in their view we had become so corrupt, why have they -taken for themselves the ritual which the doctor says is -essentially modified by later ideas? We are convinced that the -assertions we have quoted will never stand the test of -examination or of honest common sense. - -Again, Dr. Dix says that there was a perceptible variance of -opinion between the English reformers and the Lutheran and -Calvinistic communities. To use his own words: "The movement of -the Reformation in England was in the most cautiously -conservative channel. What they aimed at was, to retain all that -was truly Catholic, and to reject only what was distinctively -Roman." We do not believe that these assertions can be made good -by the most ingenious interpretation of history. The English -leaders of the reform were certainly in close connection with the -continental teachers, and drew their inspiration from them. That -in England more of the exterior of the ancient church was -retained was, we think, owing to the pertinacity of the court, -more than to the conservative views of Cranmer and his -co-laborers. Henry VIII. was inexorable on many points during his -singularly _exemplary_ life. Edward VI. was pliant enough, -but the church and parliament were not sufficiently advanced to -follow all lengths in the wake of Luther and Calvin; and the -truth, is that the English Church had nothing to do with the -Reformation but to bear it, and by it to lose all its liberties. -It is a patent fact that the voice of convocation, the only one -which could speak for the ecclesiastical body, was hushed by -Henry VIII., and that the reform was carried on by the king and -his parliament. If the first prayer-book of Edward VI. was so -perfect, why did not the "cautiously conservative" movement stop -with "that most perfect specimen of a _reformed_ Catholic -liturgy"? why are the poor Calvinists to be blamed for following -their own consciences, and for asking for a revision of the -liturgy? That they were successful is a proof, at least, that -they had great influence in the English Church, and that the -Reformation was not so cautiously conservative. - -As for the Protestant Episcopal Church, the doctor tells us that -it is in an inchoate state, where all its component elements are -in fusion. "Only eighty-two years have elapsed since the first -American bishop was consecrated; these years have been -_formative_; usages and customs have been undergoing -continual changes, and men have been feeling their way, under -circumstances in which, since the time of Constantine, no -national _branch_ of the Catholic Church has been placed." -Is this really the case? Have Episcopalians no settled forms of -worship, and no fixed creed? -{378} -We always were led to suppose that that conservative body of -Christians were decidedly fixed in their hostility of heart to -Romanism, and what may be called extreme Protestantism. Is it not -so? Is the Book of Common Prayer no established rule for the -order of divine worship? Are the Thirty-nine Articles, to which -every minister effectually subscribes, no rule of faith whatever? -Are all Episcopalians feeling their way to something settled in -faith and worship? If such is the case, we have been strangely -misinformed, and have singularly misinterpreted the decisions of -bishops and conventions. The Episcopalian clergy and laity can -settle this matter better than we can, and therefore we leave its -solution to them. But, to Catholic eyes, these "formative years" -seem only like the constant changes which are ever passing over -all Protestant bodies, and which inhere in every merely human -organization. And we must say that, as far as we know, though the -faith of Episcopalians may differ very much, their external -worship is plainly enough fixed by rubrics and canons whose -meaning can hardly be misunderstood. We pay the highest tribute -of respect to Rev. Dr. Dix and his friends, and we give thanks to -God for the light and grace he has given them; but truth obliges -us to say that their whole movement (if it be sincere, as we are -bound to believe) is away from their own church with its rites -and ceremonies, and toward the old faith and the old home of -Christians. May the divine mercy perfect that which has been -begun, and which gives such promise of conversion to the truth. -We deeply sympathize with the ritualists, and pray for them -continually, that they may not falter on the path they have begun -to tread, that they may persevere amid all discouragements and -temptations until they reach their Father's house, where the -light of faith shines without a shadow. - -Having made these preliminary remarks, we proceed to the object -of this short essay, and shall endeavor to make manifest what -ritualism is and what is its true meaning. We believe it to be a -most important movement, which by God's grace will lead many -souls to the full possession of the truth. We consider it as -simply an honest and sincere attempt to introduce into the -English Church and the Protestant Episcopal Church, the most -essential doctrines of the Catholic religion, and to restore the -worship which passed away at the Reformation with the rejection -of the ancient faith. It does not seem to us that any candid -person can long be a ritualist without becoming Catholic. Our -purpose is, then, to make this evident to the public by the -simple presentation of facts. It will be very interesting both to -Catholics and Protestants to know the real doctrine and practices -of the upholders of one of the most striking movements of our -day. We will, for the sake of order and clearness, speak in -detail of the sacrifice of the Mass and the blessed Eucharist, of -auricular confession, of other sacramental observances, and of -religious communities. Before proceeding to these subjects, -however, we reproduce and affirm the five points of Rev. Dr. Dix, -which we shall have in view as fixed principles: - - "First. There must be ritual of some kind where there is - religion. - - "Second. There is the clearest argument from Holy Scripture and - ecclesiastical history in favor of a beautiful and impressive - ritualism, as a powerful agency on men for their good. - - "Third. Such ritualism must be a teacher; it must symbolize - something, and express as forcibly as possible what it - symbolizes; a ritualism without a meaning, and representing no - truth which the intellect can grasp, is but a piece of trifling - and a sham. - -{379} - - "Fourth. Ritual must teach truth, pure and unadulterated truth; - God's truth, which he has revealed to man. - - "Fifth. People should try to discuss the subject with calmness. - They should not look at it in a party light; they had better - keep clear of the agitators, whose aim it is to excite vague - fears, and affright the uninstructed with awful disclosures of - conspiracy against the simplicity of their faith and the purity - of their worship; and especially should they remember that - there is superstition in defect as well as in excess." - - -1. Ritualists are believers in the sacrifice of the Mass and the -real presence of our Lord in the holy Eucharist. The Communion -service, instead, therefore, of being simply an affecting -memorial of Christ's death, is transformed into a true and proper -sacrifice, in which he is really present under the forms of bread -and wine, and is offered for the living and the dead. The -adaptation of the old forms of the prayer-book to a view so -Catholic as this requires many alterations in rubrics and in the -introduction of new matter. We shall quote from a book called the -_Notitia Liturgica_, which is the received order of service, -and contains, according to its title, "brief directions for the -administration of the sacraments, and the celebration of the -divine service according to the present use of the Church of -England." The introductory note explains that the book was drawn -up "in order to provide the clergy, sacristans, and others with a -small pocket-manual, by which such accuracy, care, and reverence -may be attained by those ministering at, or serving the altar, as -has been so constantly recommended by such eminent standard -divines of our national church, as the _Venerable Bede_, -Archbishop Peckham, Bishop Wainflete, _Cardinal Pole_, -Bishop Cosin, and Archbishop Laud." The _Directorium -Anglicanum_ contains more ample directions; but the present -work, being briefer, is more suited for our purpose at this -moment. It commences with the remark that, "in the -interpretations of the Book of Common Prayer, the following -cardinal maxim should never be lost sight of, namely, that what -was not legally and formally abandoned at the Reformation by -express law is now in full force, and should be carefully, -judiciously, and firmly restored. This key unlocks many -difficulties which would be otherwise both theoretically and -practically insurmountable." Then follow the directions for the -building and dressing of the altar, and for a "Low and High -Celebration." We cannot do better than give them at length: - - "The greatest care should be invariably bestowed upon the altar - of the church. It should be well raised, of proper proportions, - and of costly materials. In size it should never be less than - seven feet long, and three feet and a half in height. It should - always be raised on a substantial and solid platform of at - least three steps. Behind it there should be a reredos of wood - or stone, either carved or decorated, or else a hanging of - cloth, velvet, satin, damask, or embroidery. Green is the best - color for a hanging--unless the church is dedicated in honor of - Our Lady, when blue may be used--which can be changed on high - festivals for white. The carpet upon the sanctuary floor should - invariably be green, as it is a good contrast to the altar - vestments. The altar vestments should fit accurately, and not - be allowed to hang loosely. On a shelf or ledge behind the - altar--sometimes called a retable, and sometimes, but - inaccurately, a super-altar--should be placed a metal cross or - crucifix; or a painting of the crucifixion should be fixed over - the centre of the altar, against the east wall. At least two - large and handsome candlesticks for the Eucharistic celebration - should be placed one on either side of the cross. Other branch - candlesticks for tapers may be affixed to the east wall on each - side of the altar, and standards for the same may be added on - festivals. Flower vases may be also used for the adornment of - the retable of the altar, and pots of flowers and shrubs for - the sanctuary floor, which should be carefully but closely - grouped against the north and south ends of the altar. - -{380} - - "The following order should be observed both in the use of the - vestments of the clergy and of the altar: - - "_White_.--From the evening of Christmas Eve to the - Octave of Epiphany inclusive, (except on the two feasts of - St. Stephen and the Holy Innocents;) at the celebration on - Maunday Thursday, and on Easter Eve, from the evening of - Easter Eve to the Vigil of Pentecost, on Trinity Sunday, on - _Corpus Christi Day_ and its Octave, on the feasts of - the Purification, Conversion of St. Paul, Annunciation, St. - John Baptist, St. Michael, All Saints, on all feasts of Our - Lady, and of Saints and Virgins, not Martyrs, at weddings, - and on the Anniversary Feast of the dedication of the church. - - "_Red_. Vigil of Pentecost to the next Saturday, Holy - Innocents, (if on a Sunday,) and all other feasts. - - "_Violet_. From Septuagesima Sunday to Easter Eve, from - Advent to Christmas Eve, Ember week in September, all vigils - that are fasted, Holy Innocents, (unless on Sunday.) - - "_Black_. Good Friday and funerals. - - "_Green_. All ferial days. - - - "PLAIN DIRECTIONS FOR A LOW CELEBRATION. - - (BY A PRIEST WITH ONE SERVER.) - - _Vestments for the Celebrant_--Cassock, amice, alb, and - girdle, with maniple, stole, and chasuble, of the color of - the day. - - _Vestments for the Server_--Cassock and surplice. - - "The altar candles being lighted, and the cruets of wine and - water being on their stand upon the credence, as well as the - altar breads, basin, and towel, the priest, bearing the sacred - vessels, duly arranged and covered, preceded by the server, - proceeds from the sacristy to the altar. - - "Having bowed to the cross, and then spread the corporal and - placed the chalice on the centre of the altar, he steps back to - the foot of the altar, and begins by saying privately: '+ In - the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. - Amen.' - - "He then recites Psalm xliii., (which should be learned by - heart.) - - "Then, going up to the altar, according to the Rubric, he says - the 'Our Father' and collect at the 'north side' or gospel - corner; after which, turning to the people, and standing in the - middle of the altar, he recites the Ten Commandments, the - server making the appointed responses. - - "Then he turns to the gospel corner, as the Rubric directs, and - says the prayer for the Queen, and the collect for the day. - - "Then the server moves the book-rest to the epistle corner, - where the priest reads the epistle; and then the server - replaces it, as before, at the gospel corner, where the priest - reads the gospel, at the commencement of which all present - cross themselves on the forehead, mouth, and breast. - - "Custom sanctions the responses, _'Glory be to Thee, O - Lord,'_ and _'Praise be to Thee, O Christ,'_ before and - after the Gospel: both of which are said by the server. - - "The creed is said by the priest _junctis manibus_ in the - middle of the altar facing the cross. The server, therefore, - should move the book toward the priest. From the words _'and - was incarnate'_ to _'was made man,'_ the celebrant bows - profoundly; and at the words _'life everlasting'_ makes - the sign of the cross on his breast. - - "The offertory sentence is read in the same position. The alms - (if any) are presented standing. At the offering of the bread, - the priest should use privately the following prayer from the - Salisbury Missal: - - "_'Suscipe, Sancta Trinitas, hanc oblationem quam ego - indignus offero in honore tuo et Beatae Mariae, et omnium - sanctorum tuorum, pro peccatis et offensionibus meis; pro - salute vivorum et requie omnium fidelium defunctorum. In - nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.'_ - - "And at the offering of the chalice: - - "_Offerimus tibi, Domine, calicem salutaris, tuam - deprecantes clementiam, ut in conspectu divina majestatis - tuae, pro nostra et totius mundi salute, cum odore suavitatis - ascendat. Amen._' - - "Here the server should bring from the credence-ewer, water, - and towel for the priest to wash his hands. During this - symbolical ceremony, the celebrant will say Psalm xxvi., which - may be learnt by heart. - - "At the _'Ye that do truly,'_ which should also be learnt - by heart, and said without the service-book, the priest turns - to the people, still standing in the midst of the altar. - - "The server, or 'minister,' as the Rubric terms him, says the - confession in the name of the people, the priest standing - facing eastward. At its conclusion, he turns round _junctis - manibus_, and gives the absolution, which should also be - said without the book, making the sign of the cross with his - right hand at the words, _'pardon and deliver you,'_ etc. - - "The _'Comfortable Words'_ are said in the same position. - - "The preface, _'Lift up your hearts,'_ with its response, - is said with hands extended and eyes uplifted. At the words, - _'Let us give thanks,'_ etc., the priest joins his hands, - and at _'It is very meet, right,'_ etc., he turns to the - altar, bending down at the words, _'Holy, holy, holy.'_ - -{381} - - "The celebrant kneels in the midst of the altar at the prayer - of humble access, _'We do not presume.'_ - - "In the prayer of consecration, the priest reverently - genuflects after the consecration of the bread, to worship - Jesus Christ, truly present under a sacramental veil, and again - after the consecration of the chalice. - - "Here the following extract from the ancient Sarum Canon, to be - said privately, may, according to the suggestion of Bishop - Wilson, be profitably introduced: - - "_'Unde et me mores, Domine nos servi tui, sed et plebs tua - sancta, ejusdem Christi Filii tui Domini Dei nostri tam - beatae Passionis, necnon et ab inferis Resurrectionis, sed et - in caelos gloriosae Ascensionis, offerimus praeclarae - Majestati tuae de tuis donis ac datis Hostiam + puram, - Hostiam sanctam + Hostiam, + immaculatam: Panem sanctum + - vitae aeternae, et + caliccem salutis perpetuae._ - - _"'Supra qua propitio ac sereno vultu respicere digneris: - et accepta habere, siculi accepta habere dignatus es munera - pueri tui justi Abel, et sacrificium patriarchs nostri - Abrahae: et quod tibi obtulit summus sacerdos tuus - Melchisedech, sanctum sacrificium, immaculatam Hostiam._ - - _"'Supplices te rogamus omnipotens Deus; jube hac perferri - per manus sancti angeli tui in sublime altre tuum, in - conspectu Divinae Majestatis Tua: et quotquot ex hac altaris - participatione, sacrosanctum Filii tui, + Corpus et + - Sanguinem sumpserimus: omni + benedictione coelesti et gratia - repleamur. Per eundem Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen._ - - _"'Memento etiam, Domine animarum famulorum famularumque - tuarum (N. et N.) qui nos praecesserunt cum signo fidei, et - dormiunt in somno pacis. Ipsis Domine et omnibus in Christo - quiescentibus, locum refrigerii, lucis et pacis, ut - indulgeas, deprecamur. Per eundem Christum Dominum nostrum. - Amen._ - - _"'Nobis quoque peccatoribus famulis tuis de multitudine - miserationum tuarum sperantibus, partem aliquam et societatem - donare digneris cum tuis sanctis apostolis et martyribus; cum - Joanne, Stephano, Matthia, Barnaba, Ignatio, Alexandro, - Marcellino, Petro, Felicitate, Perpetua, Agatha. Lucia, - Agnete, Caecilia, Anastasia, et cum omnibus sanctis tuis: - intra quorum nos consortium, non estimator meriti, sed - veniae, quaesumus, largitor admitte. Per Christum Dominum - nostrum._ - - _"'Per quem hac omnia Domine, semper bona creas, + - sanctificas, + vivaficas, + benedicis, et praestas nobis. Per - + ipsum et cum + ipso in + ipso est tibi Deo Patri + - Omnipotenti, in unitate Spiritus Sancti omnis honor et - gloria. Per omnia saecula saeculorum. Amen.'_ - - [Transcriber's note: Some of these words are illegible and - are guesses. The plus sign (+) indicates the sign of the - cross is to be made.] - - "The priest communicates himself standing. Genuflecting before - receiving our Lord's Body, he may say: - - _"'Ave in aeternum sanctissima Caro Christi; mihi ante - omnia et super omnia summa dulcede. Corpus Domini nostri Jesu - Christi sit mihi peccatori via et vita + In nomine Patris, et - Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.'_ - - "Genuflecting before receiving Christ's Most Precious Blood: - - _"'Ave in aeternum Caelestis Potus, mihi ante omnis et - super omnia summa dulcedo. Corpus et Sanguis Domini nostri - Jesu Christi prosint mihi peccatori ad remedium sempiternum - in vitam aeternam. Amen. + In nomine Patris,' etc._ - - "After all have communicated, the contents of the paten may be - carefully placed into the chalice, the paten placed on the - chalice, and the veil put over it. - - "The _'Our Father'_ and the following prayer are said with - hands extended, in the centre of the altar, facing eastward, as - also the intonation of the _'Gloria in Excelsis.'_ At the - words, _'we worship thee,'_ the celebrant will bow - profoundly; at the words, _'To the glory of God the - Father,'_ he signs himself with the sign of the cross. - - "In giving the benediction, in which the sign of the cross - should always be made with the right hand, care should be taken - by the priest not to turn his back upon the blessed sacrament. - The server will here kneel in the centre of the lower step. - - "Immediately after this--before the priest uses any private - devotions whatsoever and before the people attempt to go away-- - the consecrated species should be reverently consumed; and the - ablutions (1) of wine, (2) of wine and water mixed, and (3) of - water alone should be given to the priest by the server. - - "The greatest possible care should be taken that no single - particle remains on the paten; and it is always better that the - priest himself should consume all that remains of both kinds. - The officials of the church and members of the choir should be - expressly taught never to rise from their knees until the - ablutions have been taken and the priest is about to leave the - altar. - - "After the cleansing of the vessels, the corporal, purificator, - chalice-cover, etc., should be carefully put in their places; - and then, bowing to the cross, the priest should return to the - sacristy, preceded by the server, and say, according to the - Sarum rite, St. John's Gospel, cap. i. 1-14. - - "The priest, having taken off his vestments, says his - thanksgiving. - - PLAIN DIRECTIONS FOR A HIGH CELEBRATION. - - (BY A PRIEST WITH DEACON AND SUB-DEACON.) - - _Vestments for the Celebrant_--Cassock, amice, alb, and - girdle, with maniple, stole, and chasuble of the color of the - day. - - _Vestments for the Deacon_--Cassock, amice, alb, and - girdle, with maniple, stole, and dalmatic of the color of the - day. - - _Vestments for the Sub-Deacon_--Cassock, amice, alb, and - girdle, with maniple and tunicle of the color of the day. - - _Vestments for the Acolytes_ Cassocks, (black on ordinary - days, but purple or scarlet on great festivals,) with either - short surplices, girded albs, or rochets. - -{382} - - "The directions which have already been given in the case of a - 'Low Celebration' are equally appropriate here, as far as - regards the actual ceremonies of the Eucharist. Several - additional points, however, need to be particularly insisted - on: - - "(_a_) The normal position of the deacon will be on the - right hand side of the priest, standing on the first step from - the footpace; and that of the sub-deacon on his left hand, - standing on the second step. - - "(_b_) Both deacon and sub-deacon stand when the celebrant - stands, genuflect when he genuflects, and kneel when he kneels. - - "(_c_) At the epistle, the deacon and subdeacon change - places, the latter chanting the epistle on his own, the second - step from the footpace, from a good-sized book, held by one of - the acolytes on the epistle side, so that the sub-deacon may - face the east. - - "(_d_) At the gospel, the deacon chants the gospel from - his step, near the gospel corner of the altar--the book of the - Gospels being held by the sub-deacon, so that the deacon may - face the north. - - "(_e_) After the gospel, the celebrant, in the midst of - the altar--with the deacon behind him on his own step, and the - sub-deacon on his step, again behind the deacon--intones the - first sentence of the Nicene Creed. When the choir take up the - words, 'the Father Almighty,' the deacon and sub-deacon go up - to the altar footpace, respectively to the right and left of - the priest. - - "(_f_) During the sermon, the priest, deacon, and - sub-deacon occupy the sedilia, or seats placed for them on the - south side of the sanctuary, facing the north. - - "(_g_) At the offertory they return to the altar, and the - sub-deacon brings the sacred vessels from the credence. The - deacon, taking the corporal out of the burse, spreads the - corporal, and arranges the sacred vessels. The chalice should - be placed immediately behind the paten, in the centre of the - corporal and of the altar. - - "(_h_) The plate or box with the altar breads should be - handed to the deacon by the sub-deacon, who will receive it - from one of the acolytes, in order that the priest may be - supplied with the elements required. The same will be observed - as regards the cruets of wine and water, and also for the - ceremony of washing the priest's fingers. The priest-celebrant - should not leave his place at the altar, but should be - carefully served by his assistant clergy and the acolytes. - - "(_i_) The confession may be said in monotone, or with - suitable inflections, by either the deacon or sub-deacon. - During the preface and sanctus, the deacon and sub-deacon stand - behind the priest, respectively a little to his right and left. - - "(_k_) At the consecration, the deacon and sub-deacon, - standing respectively at his right and left, will reverently - genuflect when the priest genuflects, and bend themselves low - during the communion of the celebrant. - - "(_l_) At the _Gloria in Excelsis_, the celebrant--in - the midst of the altar, with the deacon behind him on his own - step, and the sub-deacon on his step, again behind the - deacon--intones the first sentence. When the choir take up the - words, 'And in earth peace,' the deacon and sub-deacon ascend - to the altar footpace, respectively to the right and left of - the priest. - - "(_m_) After the _Gloria in Excelsis_, one, two, or - three of the collects at the end of the communion service may - be said--according to the number of the actual collects of the - day--as a post-communion. - - "(_n_) In giving the 'pax' and blessing, the celebrant - should turn toward the people, being careful not to stand - before the blessed sacrament, and, stretching out his arms - during the first part of it--from the opening words to 'His Son - Jesus Christ our Lord'--will kiss the pax which is presented - to him by the deacon; and then, placing his left hand open on - his breast, will raise his right hand and bless the people with - the sacred sign of the cross. - - "(_o_) The deacon and sub-deacon will immediately serve - wine and water for the ablutions, and having rearranged the - sacred vessels and their coverings, will place them on the - credence, together with the pax and the service-book. - -Such is the external rite recommended and practised as far as -possible by the ritualists in what they do not hesitate to call -the celebration of Mass. That it is conformed, as far as can be, -to the Liturgy of the Catholic Church will be evident at first -sight to any one acquainted with the Missal. The ceremonies and -many of the integral parts are adopted without change from the -Western rite, and not from the Eastern, which Dr. Dix thinks more -pure. The vestments may be of the Greek pattern, but this is not -a material matter. -{383} -The priest, having placed the chalice on the altar, steps back to -the foot of the altar, and begins, according to the Catholic -order, by making the sign of the cross, and saying the Psalm, -"Judica me Deus." The epistle and gospel are read precisely as we -read them; then the creed is said, "junctis manibus," in the -middle of the altar, facing the cross. It is also said with the -same reverences as our service prescribes, and ends with the sign -of the cross. The offering of the bread is made in a Latin form, -said to be taken from the Salisbury Missal. The oblation is made -in the honor of the Holy Trinity and the Blessed Mary, for the -salvation of the living and the rest of the faithful departed. At -the offering of the chalice, the priest is directed to say the -identical prayer used in our Liturgy. Then follows the washing of -the hands, with the recitation of Psalm xxv., "Lavabo manus -meas," as in the Catholic rite; and the extracts in Latin from -our Missal are directed to be "written out, printed, or -illuminated, and then framed and placed against the super-altar -as altar cards." At the consecration, the priest reverently -genuflects to worship Jesus Christ truly present, after which he -is recommended to use privately the exact words of our canon in -Latin. It seems that they coincide with the Sarum Canon, and that -some years ago Bishop Wilson had the good thought to suggest -their use. The remainder of the service will speak for itself; -and we think any Episcopalian will find himself strangely puzzled -should he undertake to follow with the rubrics of his Book of -Common Prayer. He would, it seems to us, be as much at home in a -Catholic church. The directions for a "high celebration" are all -taken from our rubrics for a solemn Mass, with deacon and -sub-deacon, and are conformed to them as much as possible. The -saddest reflection which strikes us, is the thought that those -who go through with such real and meaning ceremonies have no -priestly character, and therefore no power to consecrate Christ's -Body and Blood. Such is not only the verdict of the Catholic -Church in regard to Anglican orders, but the opinion of every -Eastern church which has retained the traditions of the apostolic -succession. It is a fearful responsibility for any man to take, -to make himself a priest on his own private judgment; for, after -all, if the Catholic Church is good for rites and doctrines, she -is good for everything. - -So far the external observance of the ritualists is in favor of -the sacrifice of the Mass, and the real presence of our Lord in -the blessed Eucharist. We shall find that they do not hesitate to -teach the doctrine which their ritual symbolizes, according to -the principles of Dr. Dix. which exact that "ritual must teach -truth, pure and unadulterated truth." We have before us several -books which are recommended, and, as far as we have been able to -learn, in constant use. The books for devotion before hearing -Mass and receiving Holy Communion, such as _The Altar Book, The -Little Sacrament Book, The Supper of the Lord,_ contain the -plainest expressions of belief in the real and true corporeal -presence of Jesus Christ in the sacrament. We could quote many -pages, but we shall only give a few passages from _The -Churchman's Guide to Faith and Piety_, a work which is quite -comprehensive, and is published with directions for all -devotions, both in and out of the church. It bears a dedication, -by permission, to the Rt. Rev. H. Potter, D.D., LL.D., D.C.L., -the Bishop of New York, thus receiving the sanction of the -highest Episcopalian authority. -{384} -The "Instruction on the Holy Eucharist" contains very plainly the -doctrine of the Mass: "In this sacrament he (Jesus Christ) has -bequeathed to us his Body and Blood under the _forms_ of -bread and wine, not only to be received by us for the food and -nourishment of our souls, but as a means whereby the same -oblation of himself which he offers before the Father in heaven -might be offered also by his ministers on earth. They thus -commemorate his one atoning sacrifice by a perpetual memorial, -representing his death and passion before the Father. ... In this -sacrifice Christ himself is the real offerer, though he acts -through his priests, whom he appointed as his representatives -when he commanded his apostles, saying, 'Do this in remembrance -of me.' ... When, therefore, the priests of his church, in his -name and according to his commands, rehearse the words of -institution in the prayer of consecration, God the Holy Ghost -comes down upon the creatures of bread and wine, and _they -become_ the Body and Blood of Christ. The priest offers, -therefore, on God's altar a sacrifice commemorative of that -perfect and sufficient sacrifice once offered on the cross, and -at the same time Jesus Christ presents it before the Father, -pleading his wounds, and the merits of his passion for the pardon -and salvation of his people." During the communion many beautiful -devotions are given, all of which speak fervently of Christ's -real presence, and the Catholic hymn, "Ave Verum Corpus," is -translated for use at that great moment: - - "Hail! Christ's body, true and real, of the Virgin Mary born, - Truly suffering, truly offered on the hill of scorn. Hail! for - man's salvation pierced, gaping wounds and riven side, Whence - outflowed with love unstinting, Blood and Water, mingled tide; - Now upon that body feed we, now of that sweet fountain drink, - Lest, when death relentless seize us, 'neath the Judge's search - we sink." - -The beautiful hymn of St. Thomas, "Adoro Te devotè," is added: - - "Devoutly I adore thee, Deity unseen, Why thy glory hidest - 'neath these shadows mean? Taste and touch and vision in thee - are deceived, But the hearing only, well may be believed." - -The prayer "Anima Christi" is then recommended to be said with -the inmost affections and desires of the soul. The manner of -receiving is also worthy of notice: "Kneel reverently at the -altar, with the body upright and the head slightly bowed." Say to -yourself, 'Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldest come under -my roof.' Make thy left hand a throne for the right, which is on -the eve of receiving the King, and, having hollowed thy palm, -receive the Body of Christ, and convey it carefully to thy -mouth." The book called _The Supper of the Lord_ gives the -like directions: "When the priest gives you the sacrament, -receive it in the open palm of the right hand, and so raise it -reverently, lest any portion should fall to the ground; for St. -Cyril observes, 'Whosoever loses any part of it had better lose -part of himself.'" It is not necessary to quote any further -passages, although the same doctrine is contained in the entire -book. On page 86, vol. ii., there is the remark, "that the bread -and wine are unchanged in their substance;" but we are inclined -to think that this comes from inadvertence, prejudice, or bad -philosophy. Two substances cannot coexist in the same space; and -therefore, if the bread and wine become the Body and Blood of -Christ, they cannot still be simple bread and wine. And if the -presence of Christ is only in them without changing them, it is a -sin to adore them, since they are only creatures still. -{385} -To lose any part of them would, then, be no crime, as -Episcopalians have always believed. The language of the hymns -heretofore quoted would be strangely out of place. Lutherans have -tried their theories of consubstantiation, and eminent -Protestants have defended a kind of impanation; but all these -matters may safely be left to the criterions of good common -sense. We feel satisfied that any one who desires to hold -consistently the doctrine of a real presence of Jesus Christ in -the blessed Eucharist must approach the Catholic dogma, and admit -a _substantial_ change in the bread and wine. - -2. Auricular confession is taught and practised by the -ritualists. We say, auricular confession, because the term has -been used by Protestants, though it may be considered expletive, -since a confession heard by no one is hardly a confession in any -proper sense. The books of devotion put forth by the ritualists, -both in this country and in England, give the most plain and -explicit directions for confession. The ministers who follow -their views are always ready to hear their penitents, and, on -account of the spiritual relation they hold to their children, -call themselves, and love to be called, by the title of "Father," -as is customary in the Catholic Church. The Chapter IV. of _The -Churchman's Guide_, vol. ii., is entitled "Of -_Sacramental_ Confession." It gives the prayers and -questions for self-examination such as may be found in our -manuals. The form of confession is thus recommended: - - "As soon as the priest is ready, begin your confession after - this manner: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of - the Holy Ghost, Amen. I confess to God the Father Almighty, to - His only-begotten Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord, and to God the - Holy Ghost, before the whole company of heaven, and to you, my - father, that I have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and - deed, by my fault, my own fault, my own grievous fault. Then - confess the sins you have noted down as the result of your - self-examination, taking them in the order of the commandments, - or beginning with your besetting sins, and then proceeding to - the lesser sins. Do so simply, sincerely, earnestly, - unreservedly, in as plain a manner as possible, remembering - that no sin which you have discovered should be held back, that - any conscious omission will render the confession nothing - worth, and the absolution null and void. In accusing yourself, - be very careful not to mention another, unless it is necessary - to the completeness of your confession. Answer any questions - that the confessor may feel it necessary to ask truthfully and - unhesitatingly. When you have completed your confession, say as - follows: For these and all my other sins which I cannot at - present remember, I humbly beg pardon of Almighty God, and of - you, my spiritual father, penance, counsel, and absolution. - Wherefore I pray God the Father Almighty, His only-begotten - Son, Jesus Christ, and God the Holy Ghost to pity me and have - mercy upon me, and you, my father, to pray for me. The priest - will then remark upon the confession as he deems most fitting, - giving such ghostly counsel as to dispose the soul for the - receiving of the great gift. Listen to him with all reverence - and care, receiving the advice which he gives you as the - message of God to your soul, and determine punctually and - exactly to fulfil the penance which he may assign to you. After - such exhortation, the priest will pray with you and for you, - and then lay his hands upon your head, and pronounce the words - of absolution. Doubt not, but earnestly believe that, according - to God's sure promise, the sins that are so loosed upon earth - are loosed in heaven. After confession, spend, if possible, a - quarter of an hour in church, or in private, using one or more - of the following acts of devotion." - -Then follow some beautiful and fervent prayers and thanksgivings. -Catholics will see very little difference between this form and -that to which they have been accustomed from their childhood. We -have no means of judging how extensive is the practice of -confession among Episcopalians in New-York, but we earnestly hope -it will increase and become general. -{386} -Although there is no priestly character, no jurisdiction, and no -absolution, still the habit of confessing leads to -self-examination and strictness of life, and will in God's good -time open the heart to the light of the true faith. We are not -aware that confessionals have been erected in any Episcopal -church in this country, and do not know whether confessions are -heard in the church or at the houses of the ministers. English -ritualists are far beyond their American brethren, and therefore -we presume that everything will follow in due time. - -3. The ritualists are also approaching to the doctrine of the -church in regard to the sacraments, and certainly admit more than -two sacraments. A sacrament is, according to our catechism, "an -outward sign of inward grace, or a sacred and mysterious sign by -which grace is communicated to our souls." We need not speak of -baptism, in which regeneration is fully admitted, nor allude to -the holy Eucharist, already sufficiently spoken of, but will -simply mention penance, confirmation, and matrimony, which the -Episcopal Church denies to be sacraments. What we have quoted in -regard to "sacramental confession" will show that, to all intents -and purposes, they believe in penance very much as we do. -Confirmation is regarded as a rite having an external sign, and -conveying the gift of the Holy Ghost. Special preparation for so -great a gift is deemed necessary, and confession is recommended. -"White is the color of the vestments of both clergy and altar at -confirmation. At confession, the stole should be violet." - -The _Notitia Liturgica_ gives the following directions for -holy matrimony: "The service for holy matrimony consists of three -parts, namely, the address to the congregation, the betrothal, -(both of which are to take place in the nave or body of the -church) and the more _sacramental_ part, imploring the -graces needful for the married state, which is said at the altar. -The ring is evidently ordered to be laid on the service-book for -the purpose of being blessed. The following is a common form of -benediction. (It is the Catholic form.) 'Sanctify, + O Lord, this -ring which we bless + in thy name, that she who shall wear it, -keeping inviolable fidelity to her spouse, may ever remain in -peace and love; and live according to Thy law, through Christ, -our Lord, Amen.' In pronouncing the first benediction, the priest -should lay his hands upon the heads of the man and woman. -_White_ is the color for the vestments of both clergy and -altar at the celebration of holy matrimony. The priest should -wear cassock, surplice, and stole; and the assistants, clerks, or -ministers, cassock and surplices. If the holy communion be -celebrated, of course the clergyman will retire to the vestry to -assume the proper vestments. Only the bride and bridegroom and -their immediate friends should communicate." There can be very -little doubt that in all this there is the open profession of -belief in an inward sanctifying grace attached to the external -rite. - -In regard to holy orders, we have no direct evidence before us, -because we have only seen books of devotion for the people; but -we are quite persuaded that the ritualists believe in the -sacramental character of ordination, and that a special grace -attends the imposition of the bishop's hands when ministers and -priests are solemnly set apart to their office. As for the -sacrament of extreme unction, we are not aware that it is -practised in England or among the Episcopalians in this country. -But from all the advances they have made during the last few -years, we have reason to think that it will ere long be -introduced. -{387} -It was in use in the early days of the Reformation, and is very -plainly taught in Holy Scripture. (St. James v. 14.) - -4. The vast progress in Catholic ideas which has been made has -also led to the establishment of religious communities. In -England, there are, we are informed, quite a number of sisters, -who live by rule and devote themselves to the works of charity. -The Rev. Dr. Neale devoted his life and all his zeal to this most -important movement. We have seen some beautiful sermons which -were preached by him to the sisterhood of St. Margaret's, in East -Grinsted. In them will be found not only the belief of the -principal Catholic verities, but the most fervent descriptions of -the religious life, and the plainest directions for maintaining -its strictness. The movement has gone so far in England that it -can afford to defy public prejudice. In the United States there -has been a corresponding movement among Episcopalians, though -somewhat behind the footsteps of their brethren in the mother -country. The Rev. Dr. Muhlenberg was among the first in our city -to establish a community of sisters; but we believe that his idea -embraced more the relief of the sick and poor than the -consecration to God of those who should devote themselves to this -charity. Latterly, however, there has been established here a -sisterhood on more Catholic principles, under the auspices of -Rev. Dr. Dix, which contains now nine members, not counting -postulants, who bear the title of "Sisters of St. Mary." This -community was instituted three or four years ago, and placed -under rules similar to those of the Catholic convents. Postulants -to the community have a trial of six months, when they are -_received_ by the pastor. One year and a half from this -time, that is, after two years of probation, they are set apart -to their work by the bishop. The public will recollect the -account, which appeared in the journals, of a consecration of -sisters by Rt. Rev. Dr. Potter in one of the Episcopal churches. -At this service, though we believe they take no vows, the sisters -consider themselves set apart _for life_, and bound to the -community, except in special exigencies, when dispensation can be -obtained from the pastor or bishop. They have a religious dress -of black, with a large black cape, a large white collar, and a -white cap. They also wear a cross made of black work, with a -white lily in silver set in it, which is hung around the neck. -They live strictly, rise early, and work laboriously. They -observe several of the canonical hours, and for this purpose use -the book prepared and published by Dr. Dix. They have their hours -of silence, of recreation, and of community observances. They -seldom visit any one, but can go to their homes occasionally, by -special permission. They are expected to go to confession and -communion monthly, unless they obtain the privilege of going -oftener. Rev. Dr. Dix is their spiritual director, although some -are permitted to confess to one of the "fathers" at St. Alban's, -or to any other Episcopal minister. - -These sisters have charge of two houses, the "Sheltering Arms," -at One Hundredth street, on the Bloomingdale road, and the "House -of Mercy," in Eighty-sixth street, near the Hudson river. St. -Barnabas's House, in Mulberry street, near Houston, was at one -time under their care, but, as the managers were not sufficiently -Catholic in their ideas, they were constrained to leave it. On -Sundays and holydays, when there is no service in these private -chapels, they attend the neighboring Episcopal churches. -{388} -Once a month they have an especial service in one of their -houses, when their pastor is present, and the holy communion is -celebrated. After this service the sisters hold a meeting, which -is called a "chapter," in which the affairs of the community are -discussed and arranged. They often attend St. Alban's church, -where the holy communion is celebrated every Sunday, on all the -saints' days, and each day on the octaves of Christmas, Easter, -and Ascension. Here there is a "low celebration" on the week-days -above mentioned, or "Low Mass," as it is sometimes called by -them. - -5. In regard to other practical devotions of Catholics, the -ritualists have also made great progress. The "Way of the Cross" -is used and recommended by them. A beautiful form of this -devotion will be found in the book entitled _The Supper of the -Lord, and Holy Communion_. The _Churchman's Guide_ -contains some pious litanies, and some devotions to the sacred -wounds of our Lord, which are conceived entirely in the tone of -Catholic piety. The "Lenten Fast" is also recommended to be -strictly observed by abstinence from flesh meat, and even the -rules of our own diocese are quoted with favor. We have seen a -little book, called _The Rosary of the Holy Name of Jesus_, -to which is added the "Rosary of the Passion of our Lord," set -forth for the use of the faithful members of the English Church, -with an introduction by Charles Walker, author of _Three Months -in an English Monastery_. In the introduction, _beads_, -adapted to these rosaries, are approved, but how far they are in -use we have no means of knowing. - -The invocation of the saints certainly is not very prominent in -their books of devotion, but they have begun the good work. The -first part of the "Hail, Mary" is used in the rosaries, and this -is, at least, a step in the right direction. We have been -informed that private prayers to the Blessed Virgin and the -saints are in use by some; and, as this invocation is founded on -the simple principle of intercession, it will undoubtedly, ere -long, be generally practised. No objection can be found against -it which does not exist against asking each other's prayers in -this life. The work entitled _Prayers for Children_, by Rev. -F. G. Lee, gives Faber's beautiful hymn to Our Lady, to be said -on feasts of the Blessed Virgin Mary: - - "Mother of Mercy, day by day - My love for thee grows more and more; - Thy gifts are strewn upon my way, - Like sands upon the great sea-shore. - - "Get me the grace to love thee more; - Jesus will give if thou wilt plead; - And, mother, when life's cares are o'er, - Oh! I shall love thee then indeed." - -The hymn to the guardian angel is also given from the same -author: - - "Yes, when I pray, thou prayest too; - Thy prayer is all for me; - But when I sleep, thou sleepest not, - But watchest patiently." - -Prayer for the faithful departed may be found in nearly all the -prayer-books of the ritualists, and the burial service is -animated with that tender devotion which forms such a -characteristic of the Catholic rite. The holy Eucharist is -recommended to be celebrated at funerals, and directions for so -doing are given in the _Notitia Liturgica_. The -_Introit_ is, "Grant them eternal rest, and let light -perpetual shine upon them." The _Dies Ires_ is to be divided -and sung at different parts of the service, before the gospel, at -the offertory, during the communion, and after the blessing. - -The _Book of Hours_, by Rev. Dr. Dix, has a prayer for the -faithful departed, and the "low celebration," already quoted, has -the "Memento for the Dead," extracted from our Canon. -{389} -We give the following prayer from _The Supper of the Lord_. -"O God! by whose mercy the souls of the faithful find rest, grant -to all thy servants who have gone before us with the sign of -faith, and who now slumber in the sleep of peace, a place of -refreshment, light, and peace, through the same Jesus Christ our -Lord." At a funeral the following is recommended: "O Lord, look -graciously, we beseech thee, upon this sacrifice (the holy -Eucharist) which we offer thee for the perfecting of the soul of -thy servant N----, and grant that this medicine which Thou hast -vouchsafed to provide for the healing of all the living may avail -also for the departed, through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen." - -The sacred sign of the cross, as has been observed, is used -commonly, in the same manner as Catholics use it, both in private -and in public. - -The introduction of altar-boys took place some time ago, in this -city, when it was said that it was according to the use of the -English cathedrals and for the purpose of chanting the service. -It appears, however, that they are only a part of an attempt to -revive the "minor orders," as we have them in the Catholic -Church. At the "high celebration" the priest is attended by a -deacon and _sub-deacon_ and by _acolytes_. We do not -know if there be any form of ordaining sub-deacons and acolytes, -but it seems that there is a form for the admission of -_choristers_. How many of the boys serving in the Episcopal -churches here have been received by this form, we have no means -of ascertaining. It will be interesting, however, to Catholics, -to see the progress which has been made, and therefore we give -the whole form. - - - "A Form For The Admission Of A Chorister. - - "¶ _At a convenient time before morning or evening prayer, - all the members of the choir assemble in the vestry, robed in - their proper ecclesiastical habits: and range themselves on - their respective sides, 'Decani' and 'Cantores,' except that - the position of the officiating priest is at the upper end of - the room and facing the choir. The boy to be admitted remains - outside; all present kneeling down, the priest shall say:_ - - "Prevent us, O Lord, in all our doings with thy most gracious - favor, and further us with thy continual help; that in all our - works begun, continued, and ended in thee, we may glorify thy - holy name, and finally, by thy mercy, obtain everlasting life; - through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. - - "Our Father, etc. - - "¶ _Then, as previously instructed, the two senior choristers - go out, and bring in the probationer, who, vested in cassock, - coming in, and guided by them, stands in front of the priest - officiating._ - - "¶ _Then there shall be read the Lesson._ - - "I Samuel iii. 1-10; and ii. 18, 19. - - "¶ _The Lesson being ended, the priest shall proceed thus, - saying:_ - - "V. Our help is in the name of the Lord: - - R. Who hath made heaven and earth. - - V. Blessed be the name of the Lord: - - R. Henceforth, world without end. - - "¶ _And then, taking the boy by the right hand, the priest - shall admit him, using this form, the boy kneeling:_ - - "N. I admit thee to sing as a chorister in ------ In the name - of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. - - "¶ _Then shall he pronounce this admonition, at the same time - presenting him with the Prayer-Book, Psalter, and Hymnal he - will use in the choir:_ - - "See what thou singest with thy mouth thou believe in thine - heart, and what thou believest in thine heart thou prove by thy - works. - - "¶ _Then, putting the surplice on the new chorister, he shall - say:_ - - "I clothe thee in the white garment of the surplice, and see - that thou so serve God, and sing his praises, that thou mayest - hereafter be admitted into the ranks of those who have washed - their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb, and - are before the throne of God, and serve him day and night - continually. - - "¶ _Then, laying his hand upon the new chorister's head, the - priest shall pronounce the benediction, the boy still - kneeling:_ - -{390} - - "The Lord bless thee, and keep thee, and make his face to shine - upon thee, and be gracious unto thee; the Lord lift up his - countenance upon thee, and give thee peace now and for ever. - Amen." - -We have thus completed the task proposed to ourselves, and have -shown from the clearest testimonies what the true meaning of -ritualism is. No honest mind will, it seems to us, reject the -assertion which we made, when we defined it as a great and most -important movement from the doctrines and worship of Protestants -toward the ancient and unchangeable faith of the Catholic Church. -In other words, it is a return to the dogmas and ceremonies which -were cast away by the unsparing radicalism of the Reformation. As -such a movement, we look upon it with the greatest interest, and -earnestly pray God to bless it to the conversion of many souls. -And we say to our ritualistic brethren, be firm and fervent in -the profession and practice of what you believe to be true; -shrink not from the consequences of any doctrine you hold, and -follow on by prayer and perseverance until you reach the portals -of that temple which the God-Man erected on earth, wherein there -are no shadows. Catholics are your only friends; and when you -find that you believe almost every truth which we hold, and that -your own church repudiates nearly everything which is to you most -sacred, then come home to your Father's house, and take the Bread -of life for which your souls are famishing. May the infinite -mercy which has done so much for you perfect and accomplish its -gracious work. Here is all that you desire in its full -proportions, the length and breadth of divine love, in that one -mystical body which is the church of God, the fulness of him who -filleth all and in all. - -We have only one more remark to make. The view of ritualism which -we have given is, without doubt, the view of every disinterested -mind. The world is oftentimes harsh and sometimes unjust, but in -the end it calls things by their right names. Why, then, try to -stultify the common sense of mankind by talking of the -corruptions of Romanism, when all the time you admit every -substantial part of its creed? Why be so dishonest to yourselves -as to refuse to see that which is quite evident to every one -else? Why talk enigmas and profess devotion to the Eastern -churches, as if there were anything there more palatable to -Protestants than the undisguised creed of Rome? In this country, -the ritualists have endeavored to enlist some of their bishops on -their side. Would to God they could gain them all; but even this -would not remove Calvinism, Lutheranism, and what Dr. Dix calls -Radicalism from the prayer-book. Yet have they gained any? The -approbation of _The Churchman's Guide_, by Right Rev. Dr. -Potter, is the only quasi-Episcopal sanction which they have, and -this is very cautiously given, and no one can say how far it -goes. Several ministers some time ago addressed a letter to Right -Rev. Dr. Hopkins, presiding bishop of the Protestant Episcopal -Church, asking for his opinions on the subject in question. We -fancy the dismay of the advanced ritualists when he gives his -opinion in favor of changes in vestments, the introduction of -incense and other things of this kind, and then, with an -unsparing bitterness, attacks their much cherished doctrines, the -sacrifice of the Mass, and the real presence of our Lord in the -blessed Eucharist. -{391} -While this has been done on one side, a large majority of the -Episcopalian bishops on the other have delivered themselves of an -open protest against the whole movement, condemning it as nothing -less than an attempt to _Romanize_ the Protestant Church of -England. Is it really so, that the voice of the bishops is of no -weight, that it neither declares the sense nor speaks the -authority of the Episcopal Church? What thinks the world of the -high Anglican position at the present day? The world has said -harsh things enough of the Catholic Church, but yet has ever -given us the credit of consistency. If it condemn us, it does not -declare that we are illogical. On the contrary, there is not one -honest writer, disinterested in the question, who does not say -that the Anglican position is wholly untenable, that it is -neither Protestantism nor Catholicity, and that it can never -stand either the test of time or that of reason. - --------- - - Translated From The Historisch-Politische Blaetter. - - Peter Cornelius, The Master Of German Painting. - - -Peter Cornelius was born on the 24th of September, 1783, in -art-renowned Düsseldorf. Here had been collected for some time, -through the artistic taste of the nobles of the Palatinate, those -paintings and copies of antique sculpture known by the name of -the Düsseldorf Gallery, which was afterward transferred to the -Royal Palace of Munich. In the last century a school of art was -also connected with this gallery. - -Aloysius Cornelius, father of Peter, was inspector of the -gallery, and drawing-master in the art school. Thus the boy was -born in an atmosphere of art. It is said that, when little Peter -was attacked by fits of childish ill-humor and uneasiness, his -mother could quiet him by carrying him in her arms into the hall -of antique statuary, where the stern and striking forms of the -heathen divinities calmed his cries and dried his tears. If it be -not historically true, it is nevertheless a poetic fact recorded -in verse by his uncle, Peter Cornelius, a distinguished musician, -still in Munich, that the boy, on one occasion being offered his -choice of a piece of gold and a crayon, took the latter from his -mother's hand, and ran immediately to make figures on the wall. -This is a characteristic anecdote, though it may not be true; for -during his whole life the painter despised money. Mammon had no -charms for him; while his pencil, the instrument of his art, and -the art itself had for him irresistible attractions. Peter grew -up in the pious, stern Catholic family of his parents, and -preserved to the end of his life a simple, childlike belief in -his religion. Little was then known among the families of -Rhineland of opposition to the faith, or of the doubts and -objections of the philosophers against it. Cornelius himself, -later in life, confessed that he had never read a book of -philosophy. Such works were distasteful to him on account of -their abstract and unideal character. - -{392} - -His school education was short and simple. Peter Cornelius went -only four years to the primary school of his native city, as his -school-fellow, Clement Zimmerman, can still attest. He made -little progress; he never learned to spell correctly. Singular -phenomenon! Cornelius, who thought so profoundly, and wrote so -sublimely, and spoke so eloquently without preparation, like -Napoleon I., could never write without blunders! But perhaps -freedom from school restraint only made the genius of the artist -to take a wider scope. The very fact that he did not spend many -years of his life on the school-bench, filling his mind with -useless items of knowledge, allowed his nature to expand, and -gave him that sound freshness of mind and body, that purity of -imagination, that directness and rectitude of feeling and -character which are the causes of the beautiful creations of his -genius. - -Of the mathematics, the favorite science of modern times, he knew -almost nothing. He used to say, in his curt manner, of an -artistic dunce, "The booby knows as much of art as I do of -algebra!" His peculiar talent displayed itself even in the -primary school. When the professor of Scripture history described -the scenes and persons of the Old Testament, they became real to -the eyes of the boy, and on arriving home he was wont to cut -their forms out of black paper with a dexterity that astonished -every one. He was much in the studio of his father, who painted -altar-pieces and portraits; he cleaned the pencils, brought him -the colors, and performed other minor services. Soon he became a -pupil in his father's drawing academy. Here he rapidly acquired -the principles of art, and his father gave him Volpato's -engravings of Raphael's masterpieces as models. Hand and eye of -the young artist were thus early accustomed to the immortal works -of the prince artist of Urbino. At the same time, he visited -frequently the gallery of paintings, where the expressive and -lively colored pictures of Rubens captivated his fancy. Cornelius -copied at a later period several of these. In the year 1805, -before the transfer of the collection to Munich, besides others -he made a copy of "Diana and the Nymphs in the Chase," which was -so well executed that it was very difficult to distinguish it -from the original. - -Young Peter now passed to the Academy of Art. The Greek classic -style ruled in it at that time; and a distinguished artist, Peter -Langer, was its director. Here Cornelius prosecuted his studies -with the greatest diligence. He made a special study of the -_antiques_ which were extant in the collection. Still it -appears that even then he had more inclination for the awakening -national Christian and romantic school of Germany than for the -cold imitations of ancient art. - -But this very circumstance threatened to give an unlucky turn to -his life. His father, Aloysius Cornelius, died in the year 1809, -leaving a wife, five daughters, and two sons, with little -resources. The good mother despaired of being able to provide for -the support and education of her large family. The director, -Peter Langer, misunderstanding the genius of Peter, then advised -her to apprentice him to a goldsmith, saying that he would earn -his bread more quickly at a trade, for there were too many -painters. Cornelius thus experienced the same misjudgment of his -superiors as Carstens in Copenhagen, and Schwanthaler in Munich. - -{393} - -But the maternal eye was sharper than that of the learned -director. The mother recognized the decided vocation of her son, -and her maternal affection triumphed. She could not determine -from worldly motives to tear her son away from his high call and -so Cornelius was for ever wedded to his art. How grateful was the -youth of eighteen years for this determination of his mother! -Cornelius himself writes of it in his celebrated report to Count -Raczynski, in which he quotes a saying of his father Aloysius, -that, "if we try to make perfect everything that we do, we may -learn a lesson from things the most trivial." This expression is -like Raphael's: "No one becomes great in art who despises the -smallest detail." - -In this year, (1809,) Peter Cornelius was introduced into a new -society, which exercised great influence on his development and -history. He went frequently to the neighboring city of Cologne, -the splendidly artistic and Christian mediaeval city of the -Rhine. Here he became acquainted with the noble Canon Wallraf and -the two brothers Boisserée, who, at this period of Vandalic -ravage and destruction, saved all that was to be saved of ancient -art, and formed those precious collections which render Cologne -and Munich famous. By these means Cornelius obtained a knowledge -of the world of old German works of art hitherto unknown to him. -They appeared to him in all the simplicity, religiosity, and -freshness of the German middle ages, and he found himself drawn -toward them by a kindred feeling. He studied and copied them -zealously, and with greater affection than he had shown toward -the gorgeous masterpieces of Italy. His study of these German -works obtained for him his first appointment of any consequence. - -Wallraf, who was called by the mayor of Nyon to consult regarding -the restoration of the interesting church in that town, -recognized in Peter Cornelius, whom he loved, the man for -monumental painting. He was commissioned, therefore, to ornament -the cupola and choir of the church of Nyon with frescoes. -Wallraf, the theologian, who, as practical painter, also -possessed wondrous gifts, determined on the character of this -circle of paintings. - -Cornelius executed these pictures in 1806-1808 on a yellow -ground, with water colors. They represented the choirs of angels -in the semi-circle; then Moses and David of the Old Testament, -Peter and Paul of the New Testament, in the cupola; pictures well -expressed, living and characteristic, reminding one more of the -Italian than of the German school. Unfortunately these paintings, -spoiled by dampness, have been retouched by modern artists, so -that they may be considered as entirely lost to view. - -Besides the study of the old German masters, Cornelius missed no -occasion of making himself familiar with the -_chefs-d'oeuvre_ of classic antiquity. He read with avidity -Homer and Virgil, and endeavored to make use of the materials of -art supplied from these sources. He contended for the prize at -Weimar with works from ancient mythology, but without success. He -was not fitted to paint the smooth, external attributes of the -ancient forms. Hence came this criticism on his works. Through -the influence of Goethe he received the following note: -"Valuable, good talent, and excellent essays!" - -We pass over those episodes in the lives of all men--the first -love of Cornelius for Miss Linder, which was unsuccessful, and -made him vow never to wed any other than the muse of his art--a -vow which he did not keep; his friendship with the eldest son of -the merchant Flemming at Nyon, pledged under a linden-tree, and -lasting until death with a loyalty like that of David and -Jonathan, Orestes and Pylades, Don Carlos and Posa. - -{394} - -In 1809, we find him in Frankfort, after Napoleon had annexed the -Rhine provinces to France and the paintings at Düsseldorf had -been removed to Munich. In this centre of Germany, Cornelius -having read the _Faust_ of Goethe, and, penetrated with its -spirit, represented the creation of the poet's brain on the -canvas, Goethe wrote him a letter, thanking him and full of -appreciative compliments to his genius. The bookseller, Wenner, -in Frankfort, undertook to publish the painter's sketches; and -thus enabled him to realize a long-cherished desire of going to -Italy, the land of the fine arts. - -At this period, in Rome, there was a colony of German artists, -like an oasis of peace in a desert of trouble, who devoted -themselves to the unshackling of art from the chains of mannerism -and French insipidity. Karstens, the Dane, enthusiastically -partial to ancient art, may be considered the leader and pioneer -of this effort. Thorwaldsen, Koch, Schick, Wächter, and Reinhard -followed in his footsteps. Many an artist's noble heart was then -also possessed with the love of the romantic school, and inspired -with its spirit. Frederic Schlegel, Tieck, Novalis, and -Wackenroder aided the movement by proclaiming and teaching that -all Christian art was a symbol of the heavenly; that in it all -was mysterious and ideal, whilst ancient art merely represented -the external and real. They taught that severity, strength, and -modesty were to be sought, for in the works of pre-Raphaelite -masters, who alone were the true models of Christian art. In the -year 1801, the standard of this school was borne by Frederic -Overbeck, of Lübeck, who was joined by the two Schadows, Pforr, -Louis Vogel, and later by Philip Veit, Wach, Charles Vogel of -Vogelstein, I. Schnorr, both Eberhards of Munich, Rambour of -Cologne, and others. The artist world of Rome was then divided -into two groups, one of which absolutely followed the ancients, -and the other revived the Christian and national ideal with the -spirit of the Romantic school. - -When Cornelius went to Rome, he was immediately introduced to his -fellow-countrymen; and he became naturally attached to their -school as the illustrator of _Faust_ and Shakespeare. He -formed a friendship for Overbeck which lasted unbroken till -death, through a period of fifty years! Cornelius always -expressed his gratitude to Overbeck, and loved him as a brother. -King Louis I., of Bavaria, with his customary wit, likened the -pair of artists to two of the apostles: Overbeck, the pious and -sentimental, to John; Cornelius, the fervent conqueror of the -world of art, to Paul. Overbeck with several companions had -rented the old monastery of St. Isidore, behind Monte Pincio, and -lived there like a recluse. Cornelius, who boarded near him, was -a frequent visitor. They studied and worked together. They made -drawings of nature and from the antique, sat side by side at the -canvas, and communicated their future plans to each other. They -copied and imitated the old Italian masters Giotto, Masaccio, -Ghirlandajo, Lippo Lippi, Peter Perugino, and Fiesole. They made -excursions to the neighboring mountains, and relieved their -labors by many a pleasant evening or innocent conversation. - -{395} - -Cornelius, writing about this time of his life to Count -Raczynski, says: "It is impossible for me to tell you in a short -notice all the incidents of my happy sojourn in Rome. But I must -say we wandered over the paths of ages; I speak not only for -myself, but for our association of talent and character, who drew -from everything that was holy, great, and beautiful in Germany or -Italy the inspiration to oppose French tyranny and frivolity." - -The noble band had their battles and their sufferings. Their -means of sustenance, on the one hand, were limited. "For," said -Overbeck, "the fire of the enthusiasm of art does not kindle a -fire on the hearth." On the other hand, the Greco-German school -never failed to treat them with contempt and haughtiness. They -received the nickname of "Nazarenes," which has remained attached -to them ever since. The name was given partly because of their -innocent life, and partly because their pictures of saints after -the old Italian models had a mortified and spiritual look, as the -sect of the rigorous Nazarenes are represented among the Jews. - -When the war of freedom had again been renewed in Germany, the -artists in Rome were fully possessed with its spirit. Since all -could not take part in it, they sent substitutes to fight for -fatherland. Those who remained in Rome, or were too old to wield -the sword, used pencil and brush in aid of the national cause. - -Inflamed by patriotism, Cornelius painted in Rome his celebrated -illustrations of the _Niebelungen_, which had just been -published, and the reading of which did so much toward awakening -German self-consciousness. He painted the great heroes of those -Germans who for so many years had shamefully borne the yoke of -the French; and represented those natural giants of the German -race without fear or reproach, full of power, loyalty, modesty, -simplicity, and honor, all aglow with passion, irresistible in -love and hatred! Cornelius had, in his paintings for the -_Niebelungen_, which was henceforth seldom printed without -them, given personality to the heroes of the poem. His two -queens, Hagen the fierce, Sigfried, and King Günther will live -among Germans as long as the _Niebelungen_ will continue to -be read. Though the faces are harsh, rough, and ungracious, like -the German heroes of that time, they are nevertheless thoroughly -true, sound, and characteristic. - -The whole work was dedicated to the new Prussian ambassador in -Rome, the celebrated historian Niebuhr. For, after the fall of -Napoleon, Pius VII. returned in triumph to Rome, March 14th, -1814; the masterpieces of art taken away by the French were being -gradually restored; and the ambassadors of the European courts -took their stations as usual. Niebuhr came to Rome in 1816. No -sooner had he, who had such a love for art and science, -recognized the geniality, freshness, and imaginative power of -Cornelius, his fellow-countryman from Rhineland, than he became -warmly attached to the artist. Niebuhr often visited him and his -companions, called him friend, and divided his wonderful learning -with Cornelius. - -So far Cornelius had executed in Rome only a few drawings and oil -paintings. Among the latter may be named the picture of "The -Three Marys at the Sepulchre," "The Flight into Egypt," and "The -Wise and Foolish Virgins." But, in spite of their expressiveness -and excellence, these works show that the artist had not yet -found the special field for the display of his genius. His -powerful imagination was confined in these subjects, and could -only feel at home on the broad, high walls of fresco-painting. - -{396} - -Through a singular accident, he had soon a chance for his art. -The Prussian consul-general, Solomon Bartholdy, had rented the -old house belonging to the family of the painter Zucheri, near -Trinita di Monti, and wanted to ornament it with frescoes. -Cornelius was asked to undertake the task. Aided by his friends, -he agreed to paint the two rooms with frescoes. They asked no -fees, only scaffolding, mason work, colors, and support. The -noble offer of the poor artists--rich, however, in their love of -art--was accepted; and this was the origin of those renowned -frescoes almost universally known by copies and descriptions of -them. Cornelius, Overbeck, Philip Veit, and W. Schadow were -engaged in the work. On account of the Jewish religion of -Bartholdy, the artists chose the interesting story of Joseph in -Egypt as the subject of their art. Cornelius painted the -explanation of the dreams of Pharao and the meeting of Joseph and -his brethren; Veit painted the temptation of Potiphar's wife and -the seven years of plenty; Schadow, the complaint of Jacob and -Joseph in prison; and Overbeck, the seven years of famine. They -are beautiful, imaginative, expressive, graceful pictures, and -not surpassed in coloring by the later creations of the master. -All Rome, which had seen no frescoes for fifty years and was -taken with the Raphael taste, was astonished at the works of the -young German painter, and even yet the amateur turns with -reverence to this cradle of German monumental painting in Rome, -and the rooms so adorned are still rented by strangers for a high -price. - -Thus for the first time had Cornelius found the means of letting -out the flood of his genial thoughts. He had found his vocation -in fresco-painting, to which he remained attached thenceforth to -the end of his life. Soon he received a new commission for his -art. The rich Marquis Massimi, who had seen the frescoes in -Bartholdy's house, wished to have his villa at St. John Lateran's -similarly ornamented by scenes from the great classic poets of -Italy. Overbeck should select his subjects from Tasso, J. Schnorr -from Ariosto, Cornelius out of Dante's _Divine Comedy_, a -poem which, on account of its depth, grandeur, and mysteries, had -been a life-study of our artist. Cornelius undertook the work -with delight. He executed nine illustrations to the Paradise, -which show a profound knowledge of the poet and history; faces of -saints breathing piety and strikingly expressive. Unfortunately -these projects were not executed. Koch obtained the substitution -of his own rather coarse Dante pictures, in the stead of those of -Cornelius; and the latter received two calls from his own German -home. - -The Crown-Prince Louis, of Bavaria, who had conceived generous -plans for the spread of art in his own country, came to Rome in -January, 1818. Informed by his attendant physician, Ringseis, who -had seen the _Niebelungen_ pictures of Cornelius in Berlin, -the prince sought out the gifted artist. Louis saw the paintings -at Bartholdy's, and immediately perceived that Cornelius was the -man to make art flourish in Bavaria. The prince gave him two -galleries of the museum of statuary in Munich, to ornament with -frescoes taken from Greek mythology. A cry of joy passed through -the circle of artists; they looked on the Crown-Prince Louis as -the restorer of true art and the creator of a new era. When their -high patron left Rome, they celebrated his departure by a -glorious feast on the evening of April 29th, 1818. -{397} -Cornelius had ornamented the walls of the festival hall with -symbols of the artistic calling of the prince. There were -representations of Hercules cleaning out the Augean stable, and -of Samson putting the Philistines to flight. Rückert, in the name -of art and the artists, made the poetical address to the -crown-prince. He, full of delight and gratitude, offered a toast -to the German artists, and ended it, amidst loud applause, with -the words, "That we may meet again in Germany!" - -Cornelius now left everything else aside and devoted himself to -the study of Homer and Hesiod, and continually made sketches from -them. In order to have perfect leisure for this work, he spent -the summer in Ariccia. In the fall, he travelled with Passavanti, -the biographer of Raphael, to Naples, where he made several -copies, among others the bust of a woman after Perugino, which is -supposed to represent the mother of Raphael. - -The time for his departure for Munich approached. Niebuhr, who -became embittered against the artists and against everything -Roman, endeavored to get him to remain in Prussia and to live in -Düsseldorf. When Cornelius announced his departure for Munich, in -order to paint the frescoes of the museum, Niebuhr wept in anger, -and said, "Cornelius, why do you do this to me?" He conversed -with him for a long time, and received the artist's promise to -accept a call to Düsseldorf after the erection of the Academy of -Arts in that town. The heart of Cornelius throbbed for Germany. -He often felt homesick, and thought that, when a German artist -forgets his fatherland, he loses more in character than he can -gain in other respects. - -Some have doubted the faith and piety of Cornelius. But they are -wrong. Divisions sprang up among the German artists of Rome, and -every day party spirit increased in violence. Whilst many of the -romantic school in Germany looked on Christian truth, the life of -the church and Catholicism, as things merely to influence the -imagination and as helps to poetry, the majority of the Roman -artists called "Nazarenes" were carried away by the grandeur and -beauty of faith, and became fervent members of the Catholic -Church. Several of those born Protestants became converts; as, -for instance, Overbeck, the two Schadows, Veit, Vogel of -Vogelstein, and others. A cry was immediately raised against -them. Niebuhr became enraged, and sent for the works of Luther -against the papacy, in order to counteract the Catholic -tendencies of the artists. - -The question now arises, what part Cornelius took in these -quarrels. Some have called him a "free-thinker" and an enemy of -Christianity. They were induced to do so from certain things that -happened about this time. But it is certain that he was a firm -believer in revelation and a fervent Catholic. All his friends -attest the fact that he never failed to go to confession and make -his Easter Communion. He had, indeed, a large heart, was very -tolerant toward those who professed a different religion from his -own. He never aimed at a high degree of perfection or a complete -knowledge of theology. There are many degrees of the Christian -life, as there are in nature. Every baptized person who simply -believes the doctrines of the church and keeps the commandments -is a member of the Catholic Church. But he must take a low place -among her children if he does not aim at perfection, while other -souls avoid the smallest sins, mortify themselves, follow the -evangelical counsels, and perform acts of heroism. Cornelius -belonged to the former class of Catholics. -{398} -He acknowledged himself that he had never attained to a high -degree of perfection, and consoled himself by saying: "In God's -heaven there are many dwellings; there will be one there for a -poor artist." - -Cornelius, like mostly all artists, was an idealist in politics -as in his judgment of Christian life. As he saw in the actual -condition of Rome and the church many things which he could not -reconcile with his ideal of the church, he spoke his opinions -candidly and openly, like a true Rhinelander, against every -abuse. He spoke of the necessity of a general council, and told -the pope his views in frequent audiences. His advice was kindly -taken, and the pontiff answered him quietly by saying: "My son, -circumstances are often more powerful than ourselves.' We cannot -cast off all that weighs upon us through life." To accuse -Cornelius of being a Protestant because sometimes he expressed in -art or conversation very peculiar sentiments is ridiculous. On -this plea, Peter Damica, St. Bernard, and many other saints who -have spoken boldly against abuses in the church should be -considered as unorthodox. They say of Cornelius that he was -displeased at the conversion of his Protestant fellow-artists in -Rome. He is reported to have said: "If another becomes Catholic, -I shall turn Protestant." But this is a fiction. The whole -character of Cornelius proves it to be such. He who always -inculcated truth to his pupils, and despised all hollowness and -hypocrisy in life or art, cannot be supposed to have blamed men -for following out to the letter their religious convictions. It -is impossible. We have, besides, a testimony to prove it. When -his friend, Miss Linder, became a convert to Catholicism, in -Munich, in the year 1843, he wrote her a letter which is still -extant. In this he praises her instead of proposing objections to -her. "In Rome the news reached me," he writes, "that you had at -last taken courage to make the decisive step. I am not surprised. -God bless you and keep you free from spiritual pride and -rigorism, (in my eyes almost the only sins.)" He cannot, -therefore, have been offended at the conversion of his Protestant -friends, for we find him continuing his friendship with Overbeck -after the latter's entrance into the church. - -Finally, Niebuhr relates an anecdote which has given rise to a -doubt of Cornelius's orthodoxy. There was a supper-party of -artists and learned men, one evening, in the Casarelli Palace, on -the Capitol. When much wine had been drunk by the party, they -went out on the flat roof of the building, and beheld the planet -Jupiter shining with unusual brilliancy. Then Cornelius said to -Thorwaldsen, "Let us drink to the health of old Jupiter." "With -all my heart," answered Thorwaldsen. And they drank the toast. -This incident is adduced as a proof that Cornelius was then a -free-thinker; for he showed by his act a rejection of -Christianity and a belief in paganism. But this toast proves -nothing. It was a mere impulse; a jest of men over-heated by -wine. There is certainly in this anecdote nothing to show a -deliberate protestation against the truth of revelation. - -So much for the religious element of Cornelius's character at -that time. - -He was now no longer solitary. He had married a Roman lady, the -daughter of a dealer in works of art. She was called the Signora -Carolina, a noble and good maiden, simple and _naive_, like -the Marguerite of _Faust_. -{399} -She bore him a daughter, and with this small family he was about -to leave Rome and return to Germany. - -In Munich, Cornelius became the director of a world-renowned -academy, a centre of art, a friend of the king, esteemed and -visited by all classes. But in Berlin he was a mere private -individual, without position, thought little of, without occasion -for the proper display of his artistic powers, working quietly in -his studio. To use his own expression, he was "a solitary sparrow -on the house-top." But this trial was necessary for the spiritual -welfare and true greatness of the master. On the 12th of April, -of the year 1841, Cornelius, with wife and children, had left -Munich, where a farewell dinner was given him. In Dresden, he was -honored by a torchlight procession of artists. On April 23d, he -reached Berlin. All received him with honor and applause. He -visited the celebrated men of the city, Humboldt, Grimm, Rauch, -and Schinkel, who received him into their circle. Testimonials of -esteem from abroad reached him. The Queen of Portugal wrote to -request him to send artists to Portugal to introduce -fresco-painting; and Lord Monson requested him to ornament his -castle with frescoes. Cornelius travelled to England, but the -sudden death of the lord and an ophthalmia of the artist -necessitated his return to Berlin. - -Now days of gloom began to dawn for him. The aristocratic society -of the city did not suit him. He preferred his Bavarian beer to -the insipid tea of the Berlin aristocracy. He could not flatter -the affected connoisseurs of art. He was too independent to be a -toady. "He does not approach us!" was the complaint, and men -began to criticise himself and his works harshly. - -Cornelius had executed a painting in oil for Count Raczynski in -1843. It was placed on exhibition. It represented the liberation -of the souls in limbo by the Saviour. Though the coloring is -heavy and disagreeable, still the grouping of the patriarchs and -their countenances are highly characteristic and almost -unsurpassable. But the cry was immediately raised by the whole -crowd of art critics, "How can we call these bodiless, unnatural -forms artistic, or those heavy colors painting?" They treated the -artist with contempt and looked on him as a fallen man. A -celebrated portrait-painter of Berlin gave expression to this -sentiment: "If I found in the street a picture executed by -Cornelius, I would not pick it up!" This opinion became general -in Berlin. This was fortunate for the salvation of the master and -for his art. He withdrew from the world, and became more -recollected and devoted more exclusively to his art. - -For some time he made little show. However, the king gave him an -order for a work in which he had an opportunity of displaying his -powers of imagination. It was the design of a shield which -William IV. wished to present to the young Prince of Wales as a -godfather's gift. Cornelius finished it in six weeks. It was a -round shield, in the middle of which Christ is represented on the -cross; in the corners appear the four evangelists, and over them -the four cardinal virtues; in the four arms of the cross, baptism -and the Last Supper, and their figures in the Old Testament, the -gushing of the water from the rock, and the rain of manna. Round -about the shield were carved the busts of the twelve apostles. On -its rim were depicted scenes from the passion and triumph of -Christ, from the entry into Jerusalem to the apostolic mission. -{400} -In order to show the connection of the ancient church with the -present, one of the apostles is represented as landing with the -distinguished guests from Prussia in order to administer baptism -to the prince. This little work breathes the spirit of the -artist; it is genial, severe, expressive, full of style; often -quaint and singular, by the induction of modern personages, Queen -Victoria, Wellington, and Humboldt. - -King Frederick William IV. determined, at this time, to erect a -church which should vie with that of St. Peter's in Rome and St. -Paul's in London. Stüler made the plan. Cornelius was to ornament -the walls with frescoes. He undertook this task in 1843. He felt -again all his powers revive. Exultingly he wrote to the academy -of Münster, which had given the great artist the diploma of a -doctor in philosophy in recognition of his ability: "A great, -holy field, _campo santo_, has been opened to me, through -the favor of Providence and the grace of my illustrious king and -sovereign, in order to execute upon it what God has put in my -soul. May he enlighten my spirit and penetrate my heart with his -love; open my eyes to the glory of his works, fill me with piety -and truth, and guide every motion of my hand!" - -In order to have the requisite quiet and leisure for this -gigantic work, Cornelius made a second trip to Rome, that -paradise of painters and head of Catholicity. From the spring of -the year 1843 to May, 1844, and again from March, 1845 to 1846, -he dwelt in the Eternal City. - -After his return from Rome, he labored incessantly at Berlin to -finish his great undertaking. In January, 1845, the first sketch -was ended; in 1846, the glorious, unequalled cartoon of the -horsemen in the apocalypse, which was exhibited in Rome, Berlin, -Ghent, and Vienna, and at the feet of which the whole school of -Belgian artists laid a laurel crown. The government also gave him -a house on the royal square, in which to prosecute his -undertaking. He finished the whole series of decorations in -twenty-five years. He worked with inexpressible pleasure and joy, -although none of those pictures really came to its destined -place. He labored without desire of fame. He painted as the bird -sings on the boughs. As none of his great works or frescoes were -exposed publicly at Berlin, he remained almost unknown to the -people; but he found his sole delight in the love of his art, and -in application to its expression. - -In the year 1833, he lost his first wife. He married again, in -Rome, a lady named Gertrude, distinguished for beauty and virtue. -She died in 1859. His daughter Marie also died at the same time, -who had been espoused to the Marquis Marcelli. Thus he drank of a -bitter chalice! When he went to Rome for the last time, on the -14th of April, 1861, although aged, he made a third' marriage in -espousing Theresa of Urbino, whom he had met and admired in the -house of his daughter! This wife attended the last years of his -life, and stood by his death-bed. - -The residence of Cornelius in Berlin had made him more and more -attached to the Catholic Church. He wrote in 1851 to a friend in -Munich: "The invisible church is the only one to be found among -German Protestants. I have tried to find a church among them -here, but so far my search has been in vain. In Rome, I am always -a half-heretic, but here I am more Catholic everyday." -{401} -When he made his last voyage to Rome, he passed through Munich on -his return, and paid a visit to his friend Schlotthauer, to whom -he spoke thus: "Friend, I am now entirely of your way of thinking -in religious matters. Berlin has made me entirely Catholic. Only -now do I prize Catholicism sufficiently. If the King of Bavaria -were here, I would seek him and say to him openly: 'Your majesty, -Bavaria is still a Catholic country, and this is the cause of its -strength and greatness. Try to keep it so. This is the best -policy.'" To his friend Ringseis he made a similar statement, -adding that he had travelled to Munich on purpose to inform them -of his thorough conversion. - -In another instance, also, the fervor of Cornelius's faith and -charity displayed itself. He presented the committee who were -engaged in erecting a Catholic hospital with a painting of St. -Elizabeth surprised by her husband in the act of nursing a sick -pauper in her own bed. The picture was sold, after having been -lithographed, and realized a large sum for the intended purpose. - -He was extremely hostile to the _Life of Jesus_, by Renan, -and considered the attempt to take away the members of divinity -from the head of Christ as highly injurious to Christian art. The -gray-headed prince of painting, on this account, painted the -"Resurrection," choosing for subject the very moment when the -hitherto incredulous Thomas exclaims, "My God and my Lord!" He -exhibited this picture with religious enthusiasm, and pointed it -out to visitors, saying, "That is against Renan!" He wished to -leave behind him a clear profession of his belief in the divinity -of Jesus. - -Cornelius spent the last six years of his life in Berlin, in a -kind of hidden life, continually occupied, like Plato, in his old -age, always lively, loquacious, and fond of society, so that he -gathered around him a host of young artists and _savans_. -The tranquillity of his life was only broken at this period by a -few excursions. In the year 1862, he went to Düsseldorf; in 1863, -to Trier on professional business. In 1864, he made his last -visit to Munich, toward which his heart always yearned. - -His visit to Munich shortened his life. The fatigues of the -journey, and the visits which he received and was obliged to -make, as well as the ovations tendered him, wore him out. He -became ill, and returned sick to Berlin. A disease of the heart -declared itself; in February, 1867, his case became hopeless. He -called for a priest, and received all the sacraments of the -church twenty-four hours before his death. He took leave of his -beloved wife and friends, seized his crucifix, and breathed his -last, uttering the words: "Pray! pray!" He died on the 6th of -March, at ten A.M., on Ash-Wednesday. Over his remains was hung -his own painting of Pentecost, as over those of Raphael the -picture of the Resurrection. He was buried on the 6th of March, -and all the nobility and talent of Berlin formed a part of his -funeral _cortége_. - -Death has taken from us this great master of German painting; -but, to use the language of St. Bernard, it has only taken his -cloak, for his spirit still lives! It lives in the heavenly -Jerusalem. It lives in his works, in the history of art, and in -the breasts of his pupils on earth, who bear aloft the standard -of pure, ideal, religious art. All will bear testimony that -Cornelius is the man who freed modern German painting from -foreign mannerism, opened the way for generous monumental -frescoes, which embraced with equal cordiality the three worlds -of the classic German, national, and Christian manifestations; -who portrayed the deepest thoughts in the most noble forms, and -whose works are unrivalled in colossal proportions, richness of -expression, and striking characterization, architectural -proportions and dramatic life, by any masterpieces of antiquity; -while, in the piety and sweetness of the countenances portrayed -and the harmonious coloring of the whole, they exceed anything in -modern art. - -{402} - -The news of his death brought sadness everywhere. In Munich, -Mozart's solemn Requiem was sung for his soul. Professor Carriere -pronounced a panegyric on him in the evening. A few days after, -Professor Sepp pronounced another eulogium on him, calling him -the Shakespeare of painting, whilst Overbeck he called the -Calderon of the art. - -In Stuttgart, when the news of his death was heard, the halls of -the church, where a requiem was sung for his soul, were hung with -copies of his own paintings. Lübke spoke on the occasion, and -drew a parallel between Cornelius and Phidias and Michael Angelo. -In Dresden, Hettner made the funeral discourse. Finally, in Rome, -the Eternal City, from which Cornelius had gone forth to conquer -a new world of art, and to which he had returned in order to draw -inspiration from its associations and have a perfect intuition of -the ideal, a solemn requiem was sung for him in the German -national church of the "Anima," at which King Louis I., of -Bavaria, who had opened the path of immortality to the artist, -Overbeck, who had loved him for fifty-six years, and all the -artists of Rome, assisted. A few days before, King Louis had -written a letter to the widow of Cornelius, who lived in Berlin. -In it occurred these words: "Be assured of my profound sympathy -in your great loss; but not alone your loss, but our common loss. -The sun of heaven became dark when he who was the sun of art was -extinguished. But the sun will shine again in the heavens, but we -shall hardly ever see another Cornelius!" - -The whole world on both sides of the Alps have united in -rendering homage to the genius of Cornelius, and laying crowns on -his sepulchre at Berlin. But the last monument to his glory would -be the ornamentation of the cathedral in that city with his -wonderful compositions. That such an event should happen there -was given to Cornelius the word of a king. - -We who admired and loved the artist and his genius only pray that -he may enjoy now an eternal, happy rest in the bosom of the -Author of beauty, from whom he always drew the inspiration of his -art. - --------- - -{403} - - What shall we do with the Indians? - - -The Commissioners whom our Government recently sent out to the -Plains to negotiate treaties with the hostile Indians, have -patched up a truce with some of the most dangerous of the tribes, -and the people are congratulating themselves that the warfare is -over. We might have been on good terms with the savages any time -this last half-century, if we had been honestly so minded and had -known how to govern ourselves and the red man too. Yet the record -of our intercourse with the aborigines has been nothing but a -history of long wars and short truces. Years of the most terrible -hostilities have been followed by a few months of precarious -quiet, and the Western pioneer has been almost invariably -obliged, like his New-England ancestors, to till his acres with -one hand on the plough and the other on his gun. He has never -known a month of security. He has never left his log cabin in the -morning without reasonable fear that he would find it in flames -when he returned at night. He has learned to look upon the Indian -as a noxious beast, whom no promises could bind, no good -treatment could mollify; as a pest which every honest man was -justified in conscience, if he was not bound in duty, to do his -utmost to exterminate. A war of races between the red and the -white has long been a cardinal doctrine in the creed of the -prairie settler, and his chief social principle has been, War to -the knife with the Indian, and no quarter. - -Here is a dreadful state of things for a Christian people to -contemplate; and the fault of it, to speak plain English, is all -our own. Managed as we manage them, Indian affairs can be nothing -else than a perpetual affliction. Treated as we treat them, the -aborigines of the West cannot help being our cruel and implacable -foes. The devil himself could hardly invent a wrong which we have -not done to the primitive owners of our territory. They once -stood in awe of us as superior beings; we have committed every -conceivable baseness that could belittle us in their estimation. -They had noble traits of character; we have done all we could to -obliterate them. They had the common faults of uncivilized -pagans; we have intensified them. They are proud; we insult them. -They are revengeful; we aggravate them. They are covetous; we rob -them. They have a natural tendency toward drunkenness; we keep -them supplied with liquor. They are cruel; we tempt them to -murder. The "noble savage" of the novel and the stage, we grant, -is a fiction; but he is not more unreal than the irredeemable -brute who is popularly depicted as the terror of the frontiersman -and the western emigrant. The Indians, after all, are not so very -different from other human beings. Like all mankind, they have -great virtues and great faults; and if a fair balance could be -struck, we are by no means certain that their credits would not -exceed our own. There is many a vice which they never would have -known if they had not learned it from us; but we can think of no -species of crime which the Indians have taught to white men. It -is an insane piece of wickedness to treat any race of human -beings as vermin, whom it is a mercy to the rest of mankind to -sweep out of existence. -{404} -God never made tribes of men to be slaughtered. All creatures -with human souls are capable of moral and mental improvement; -capable of a greater or less degree of civilization; capable of -being brought under the rule of law, and being made useful to the -rest of the world. If we have failed sensibly to improve the -condition of the Indians, or to teach them anything more of -civilization than some of its worst vices, the fault is our own. - -We have to deal with two classes of Indians in the West, and our -system with both is as bad as any system can be. As settlements -have encroached upon the prairies and forests where the savages -roamed in pursuit of game, we have, as a rule, gone through the -form of buying the territory from the tribes which claimed it. -These tribes have then been removed further westward, or have -been assigned certain lands called reservations. The -consideration for which the lands are bought is not a sum of -money, paid to the savages in hand, but a fixed annuity, given to -them in form of merchandise, clothing, blankets, implements of -the chase and of husbandry, trinkets, and other goods chiefly -prized by the red men; and to oversee the forwarding and -distribution of these articles, as well as to look after the -general interests of the tribes, to protect them from oppression -on the part of the whites, and to check crimes and outrages, we -send out into the Indian country a number of officers called -Indian Agents and Superintendents. On the reservations, where -some effort has been made to teach the savages the habits of -civilized life, there are schools, farms, and workshops. The -wandering tribes of the far West, however, subsist wholly by the -chase, and preserve all their primitive wildness. The Indian -Agent in their territory has little to do but distribute their -annuities, and when they commit any outrage upon the settlers try -to have them punished. Now, there is nothing very objectionable -in our way of dealing with these two classes of Indians, -_provided_ the agents and superintendents are honest and -competent men; but experience has proved that, as a rule, they -are neither, though, of course, there are honorable exceptions. -One unprincipled adventurer in power over these fierce tribes can -raise a tumult which years of warfare cannot subdue. One -swindling agent can upset a treaty which has cost the government -hundred of lives and millions of dollars. How often has not this -been done! It is notorious that most of the men who receive -appointments in the Indian country are persons of no character, -who demand an opportunity of enriching themselves at the red -man's expense, as a reward for political services rendered to the -party in power. It is probably a rare thing for any tribe of -Indians to receive the whole amount of the annuity to which they -are entitled, and for which the government pays. They are -swindled first in the price which government pays for the goods, -and then they are swindled again by the agents, who deliver just -as many of the articles as they please, and no more, or by the -teamsters who "lose" packages on the road. Worse still are the -traders who sell the poor savages whisky and gunpowder, and -collect their "debts" from the distributors of annuities. How -many of these debts do our readers suppose are just? And when -there is a corrupt understanding between the trader and the -agent, what chance has the poor Indian for justice? -{405} -It is in this atrocious manner that the original owners of our -soil have bartered away their birthright for a mess of pottage-- -sold their rich acres for a glass of rum. It is in this way that -the treaties with the tribes are continually broken. The Indians -gave up their lands for a certain annual consideration. The -consideration is not paid them in full, and often is hardly paid -at all. How are they to know whether we are all swindlers alike, -or are only in the habit of appointing swindlers to positions of -trust and responsibility? - -These, however, are not the only wrongs of which the Indian has -to complain. The testimony of missionaries and other trusty -witnesses, is unanimous in saying that the frontier settlers as a -general rule are perfectly unscrupulous and lawless in all their -dealings with the tribes. Contact with the whites always means -demoralization, drunkenness, and domestic infamy for the Indian. -His property is appropriated, his cabin is invaded, his house is -defiled, and if he resists he is murdered, and the murderer never -is punished. He has no rights which the white man is bound to -respect. He is nothing but a brute, to be hunted as men hunt the -buffalo, or killed off like the wolves, with a price set upon his -scalp. No wonder we have war; it is a wonder we ever have peace. - -The commissioners who were recently sent out to the plains by the -national government to investigate the troubles and try to devise -a way out of them, are understood to favor the removal of all the -Indian tribes to reservations where they will be out of the way -of the great routes of travel across the continent, and where -white men will have no excuse to interfere with them. That is to -say, their plan consists merely of an enlargement of the -superintendent system. Cut off from a great part of their -hunting-grounds, the savages will become more than ever dependent -upon the liberality of the United States government, and more -than ever in the power of the agents and traders through whose -hands the national _largeness_ must pass. Moreover, it is -evident that the boundaries of the reservations cannot be -permanently fixed. As the white settlements expand, the Indian -territories must contract. Nobody can for a moment suppose that -the proprietary rights of the Indians will long be respected when -the Yankee emigrant wants their lands. What will happen when the -boundaries are broken through? Unless the Indians have learned by -that time to support themselves by labor and to conform to a -civilized mode of life, they will infallibly be crushed out of -existence. There will be another horrible war which will have no -end until the red men are virtually exterminated. Now, the -serious duty of preparing these rude tribes for the changed -conditions of life which must soon come upon them, and fitting -them for a gradual and peaceable absorption into the rest of the -community--which is their only hope of existence--must fall, if -the plan of the commissioners be adopted, upon the Indian agents -and superintendents. The power of these men for good or for -mischief will be enormously increased. Hence, unless some -effective measures be taken to fill these important offices with -men of a better class than have hitherto secured them, our -present evils will be correspondingly increased. The government -swindler will come back to the savages with seven other devils -more wicked than himself, and the last state of those poor -wretches will be worse than the first. - -{406} - -Is there any reason to expect improvement? We see not the -slightest so long as these offices are distributed on the same -principle as other government appointments, and rated among the -political spoils that belong to the party in power. An Indian -agent ought to be a man of superior abilities; but men of -superior abilities will not banish themselves to the desert -except for one of two reasons: either they must be animated by -disinterested charity, or they must expect to make a good deal of -money out of the office over and above their trifling salaries. -Charity is not one of the characteristics of political hacks. As -for the other motive, we know pretty well how often it operates. -To find capable persons to undertake this work; men of -incorruptible integrity, of lofty purpose, and of _moral -force;_ men whom the Indians will respect and obey, and who -will be likely to persevere in their arduous task, we must go -outside the partisan ranks. Where shall we find them and how -shall we recognize them? - -There are such men, who have been at work in this very enterprise -ever since the discovery of America, and there are numerous -communities of Indians whom they have almost entirely reclaimed -from savage life and made quiet and useful members of society. If -they have not done more, it is because they have never been free -from interference. The unruly settler has invariably broken in -upon their work and brought into the communities which they were -laboriously civilizing the fatal disturbances of drunkenness and -license. If the missionaries could be left alone, they would soon -not only Christianize the savages but reduce them to order. -Scattered all over the West there are thriving little settlements -where the dusky hunter has turned his spear into a ploughshare, -and under the directions of the priest has learned more or less -of industry and peaceful arts, and forgotten the fierce impulses -which once made him a terror to the plains. In these quiet -villages the school-house and the chapel are crowded with zealous -learners, the fields and gardens bloom with the evidences of -thrift. So long as the white man keeps away, there is quiet and -prosperity. The great mission of St. Mary's, among the -Pottawattomies in Eastern Kansas, is a notable example of what -the missionaries can do toward civilizing the poor wretches whom -we have so long been trying to tame with gunpowder. And the -testimony of travellers, army officers, and government -functionaries generally is unanimous as to the complete success -of the Catholic priests in dealing with the great problem which -perplexes our national legislature. - -Why then should we not leave to these missionaries the task in -which they have made such satisfactory progress? If we let them -alone, their progress will be tenfold more rapid than it has ever -been yet. Their conquests will soon be numbered not by villages -but by nations. The mission of St. Mary's will be repeated in -every corner of the West; and if the government can only devise -some means of keeping away from these nurseries of Christianity -the corrupting influence of white thieves, drunkards, and -adventurers, the Indians in the course of a single generation -will be ready for absorption into the rest of the population, -will be fit to live side by side with us, to till the land as we -do, and earn their bread by honest labor, and then all the -trouble will be over. If this policy could be adopted, the -reservation plan of the peace commissioners would be a very good -one. -{407} -White men should be strictly forbidden to trespass upon the -territory thus set apart, and the military might be employed to -enforce the prohibition. Let the whole machinery of agencies, -etc., be utterly abolished, as useless and demoralizing. Then let -the money now spent in the purchase of beads and similar toys, -which the Indians themselves are learning to despise, be devoted -to the establishment, stocking, and support of schools, farms, -and industrial establishments, under the charge of any authorized -missionaries of good standing who are willing to serve _without -pay_. Of course, we anticipate little success from any -missionaries except Catholic priests; but we cannot expect a -non-Catholic government to restrict its confidence to them, and -we ask no more than to have the field thrown open to volunteers -of all denominations on equal terms. We know well enough, if this -be done, that the great majority of the laborers will be those of -our own household. The purchase of annuity goods should be made -in accordance with the recommendations of the superiors of the -missions; but their distribution, lest there should be even a -suspicion of unfair dealing, might be arranged through the -nearest military commanders. We would not have clergymen mixed up -with government money matters, and army officers would probably -manage them honestly. Visitors should be appointed periodically -by Congress to inspect and report upon the condition of the -missions, and those which were not properly ordered should be put -into other hands. - -Under this arrangement the missionaries would ask nothing from -the government but a free field and no interference. They would -receive none of the public money. They would ask for no power -except what the Indians chose to confer upon them. The domestic -government of the tribes could be managed just as that of all -other American settlements is managed, by the settlers -themselves. The missionary would be merely their guide and -teacher. He would desire no power over them beyond what he has -already. The Catholic priest never fails to secure an ascendency -over the savage mind by the legitimate influence of his personal -character and of the message which he comes to preach. Of course -it would be many years before the whole field could be occupied; -but if the United States government would invite the cooperation -of all religious denominations in the great work of civilization, -we are persuaded that scores of zealous priests would offer -themselves for the labor, that the Jesuits and other great -missionary orders would be prodigal of their subjects, and that a -generous and earnest spirit would be aroused among the Catholic -people and would lead to the collection of an ample fund for the -support of the enterprise. - -We are not sanguine that the government will adopt this plan. -There are too many opposing influences; it is too hard to do -right; and it is so easy to oppress an inferior people when you -can make money by doing it, and get public applause at the same -time. But we see no other hope for the Indian except in the -protection of the missionary, and no prospect of peace on the -frontier until in our dealings with the aborigines we take as our -motto, Justice and Benevolence. - --------- - -{408} - - - Translated From The German. - - Bellini's Romance. - - -I was a guest at a pleasant country festival at Eisenberg, a few -hours' ride from Dresden, at the close of September, 1835. The -post-boy brought me a letter that caused me to order my horse -saddled immediately. It was a brief note from my friend J. P. -Pixis, informing me that _La Sonnambula_ was to be performed -that evening; my favorite songstress, Francilla ------, in the -part of Amina. I was more than half in love with that -enchantress, and trembled with delight at the prospect of seeing -her, while I took a hasty leave of my rural entertainers. - -I arrived in time, but would not call upon Francilla till after -the opera; not until the next morning, for I wished to see her -alone. I was early at the door of her lodgings in Castle street. -When she came into the drawing-room and advanced to greet me, I -was startled to see her pale, with eyes red with weeping. I gazed -anxiously on her face, pressing the hand she held out to me in -silence, for my emotion was too great for speech. She asked -quietly if I had witnessed the last evening's representation. I -assured her I had, and endeavored to express my rapturous -appreciation of her singing. But my praises were dashed with -gloom as I saw her so sadly altered. "It is no wonder I am -dejected," she replied to my questioning looks. "We have all -cause to mourn." - -"What has happened?" - -"Alas!" she faltered, weeping afresh, "Bellini is dead!" - -I had not heard the fatal news. Bellini! the glorious composer of -the noble work that had so delighted me a few hours before! So -admirable an artist--so young--so much honored and beloved! I -could have wept with Francilla. - -After a few moments' silence, she wiped her eyes, then rose, and -took a volume from the table. It was her album, for which I had -sent her a drawing--a sketch of her fair self as Romeo, at the -moment when Juliet calls on his name in the tomb, while he thinks -it the voice of an angel from the skies. - -We turned over the leaves of the album, lingering as we came to -the different autographs. Francilla's soft, languishing eyes -kindled with haughty fire as we noted the bold, rude characters -traced by the hand of Judith Pasta; and when we came to the -signature of Countess Rossi, her expressive features were lighted -with a tender smile. - -One letter was written by her Uncle Pixis in Prague. She stopped -to give me an account of his family. Turning the leaves and -talking rapidly, she paused of a sudden, and I saw two names -recorded opposite each other--those of Vincenzo Bellini and Maria -Malibran. Bellini had written a passage from the -_Capuletti_. - -Francilla signed for me to give her my pencil--it was one she had -given me--and drew a large cross under Bellini's signature. Her -look was intensely significant. Her silence was strangely -prolonged. At last I asked, merely to say something: "Why is it, -Francilla, that, in the last act of the _Capuletti_, you use -Vaccai's music instead of Bellini's? Bellini's composition, as a -whole, is superior, and the close far more touching. -{409} -I never could understand why a celebrated vocalist like yourself -should prefer the tamer close of Vaccai." - -Francilla looked earnestly in my face, but did not answer for -some time. At length, fixing her eyes on the cross she had -pencilled, she said, in a tone of deepest solemnity: "I will tell -you a story, my friend, and you will see then how much our poor -friend suffered. Neither Maria nor I could sing his last act; you -shall know why." - -"Madame Malibran, too?" I exclaimed. - -She interrupted me with a gesture enjoining silence. "You know," -she said, "though of fair complexion and blue eyes, Bellini was -born at the foot of Etna. You have yourself described him to me -as effeminate and a little foppish; but he was a genuine son of -Sicily, and he glowed with the warmth of the south, -notwithstanding his gentleness and weakness. That was a wonderful -nature of his! It was not, like Sicily's volcano, spread over -luxuriant meadows, through woods and snow-fields, across a lava -waste to the brink of the fiery abyss; nor was it like the Hecla -of your own land, where eternal fire burns under eternal ice. He -reminded me of an English garden tastefully laid out, with smooth -walks and quiet streams, delicate flowers and quaint shrubbery, -fountains and fluted shafts; beneath which glowed an abyss of -fire! That was Bellini; under his sentimental culture burned a -quenchless flame--the love of art, fed by another love--for -Malibran!" - -"You amaze me, Francilla," I exclaimed. "His passion for art was -one for Maria, too. How could he help it? Was it not she who -inspired his wondrous creations with their irresistible charm? -Was she not his soul of all other performers in the operas? 'What -will Malibran say to it?' was Bellini's question concerning -everything he composed. She was his queen of art, his muse, his -ideal! Life without her was gloom. How can Malibran survive him? -Your own imagination, Francilla," I said, "weaves this pretty -romance. You know Malibran married M. Beriot." - -"Do I not remember how the news of that marriage affected -Vincenzo?" she retorted. "How pale he grew, how he trembled, and -left the company in silence! Yet he could not have hoped to win -Malibran; for she always treated him as a boy, though he was a -year older than herself. But he could not have dreamed she would -marry M. Beriot, who was at one time distracted for Madame -Sontag." - -With a pause she went on: "Bellini avoided both Maria and her -husband after the marriage. If he saw M. Beriot, he went out of -the way--very wisely; for in case of an encounter he might have -been tempted--after the Sicilian fashion--you understand?" And -with flashing eyes she swung her arm as one who gives a -dagger-thrust. - -"I understand the pantomime, my pretty Romeo! But your fancy -carries the thing too far." - -"No one knows what might have happened," she said, "in spite of -Vincenzo's soft heart. It was well Malibran left Paris and went -to Italy. Bellini never confided his secret to any one; but it -became suspected among his friends. And Malibran must have heard -of it; for she suddenly became reluctant to sang in any of -Bellini's pieces. She continued, however, to represent Romeo; she -could not give up that part. -{410} -When the last representation of the _Capuletti_ was given in -Milan, it happened that, in the final act, when Romeo takes the -poison, such a death-like shuddering seized Maria's frame, it was -with great difficulty she could go through with the part. After -the performance was over, she was greatly exhausted; and with -emotion she declared that no power on earth should compel her to -sing again the Romeo of Bellini. She adopted the part as composed -by Vaccai. But she was not satisfied with that; and afterward she -returned to poor Bellini's music so far as to retain the first -acts of the opera. The last act she always sang as Vaccai wrote -it." - -"What said Vincenzo to this?" - -"When he heard of it, he fell into the deepest despondency. He -would neither write nor think anything more; he seemed at times -to forget himself, and smiled and talked like a man who had lost -his reason. All his friends noticed and lamented the change. - -"One day, Lablache came to see him. He found Bellini lying -listless on the sofa, pale, depressed, miserable, his eyes -half-closed, indifferent to every one. The giant singer went up -to him, opened his big mouth, and roared out: 'Halloa, Bellini! -what are you lying there for, like an idle lout of a lazzaroni on -the Molo, weary of doing nothing! Get up and go to work! Paris, -France, all Europe is full of expectation as to what you are to -give the world after your _Norma_, which your adversaries -silenced. Up, I say! Do you hear me, Bellini?' - -"'Indeed, I do hear you, my dear Lablache,' replied the composer -in a lachrymose voice. 'I have good ears, and, if I had not, your -brazen base pierces like a trumpet! Leave me, _caro_; leave -me to myself. I am good for nothing, unless it be the _dolce -far niente!_ I have lost interest in everything!' - -"'The mischief you have!' exclaimed Lablache, striking his hands -together, with a tone that caused the walls to vibrate. And -you--Bellini--talk thus? You, who have ever pressed on to the -goal, and reached it in spite of obstacles! Are you an artist? -Are you a man? _Amico mio!_ will you be checked midway in -your glorious career? Will you lose the prize fame holds out? -Will you spend your life whining out loverlike complaints, like -some silly Damon of his cruel Doris or Phillis? Shame on you! -Such womanish pinings are unworthy of you!' - -"Bellini interrupted him very gently. 'My good Lablache,' he -said, 'you do me injustice! I make no complaints; I am not -pining--' - -"'Silence!' roared Lablache. 'You are a fool! Do you think I do -not know where the shoe pinches?' - -"Bellini colored deeply and cast down his eyes. - -"'Have you nothing to say, Bellini?' continued Lablache. 'Don't -look so stupidly like an apprehended school-boy!' - -"Vincenzo sighed piteously. 'If you know all,' he replied, 'you -know that _she_ will sing nothing of my music!' - -"Lablache came closer, grasped the shoulders of the young -composer in his powerful hands, lifted him from the cushions of -the sofa to his feet, and gave him a good shaking! Then, as he -released him, he said, with flashing eyes: - -"'You shall hear _me_ sing something of yours.' He began the -_allegro_ to the duet from _I Puritani_, "Suoni la -tromba e intrepido." His stentorian voice rang like a clarion or -a martial shout. The flush of enthusiasm rushed to Bellini's pale -face; the tears sprang into his eyes; at length, he threw himself -into Lablache's arms, and joined his voice in the splendid song. -When it was ended, he thanked his friend, and pledged his word -that he would finish the composition of the entire opera in a few -weeks. - -{411} - -"The promise was kept. Bellini worked diligently, and in the -stipulated time put the opera into the hands of Lablache, who -undertook to see that it should be worthily represented. - -"All Paris was delighted at the announcement of the -representation. The opera was splendidly cast, and the rehearsals -commenced. Bellini was present at the first rehearsal; at the -second, he was absent, and word came that he was ill at his -country-seat at Porteaux, near the capital. They hoped he would -recover in time to attend the first performance of the opera. - -"All went on successfully; and a large audience attended the -opening representation. The famous duet Lablache had sung was -repeated and encored amid thunders of applause. Just then a -murmur went round the theatre, and the applause was silenced. The -news was: - -"'Bellini died an hour ago, at his country-seat.'" - -Francilla ceased. She closed the album, rose hastily, and went to -the window. I was deeply affected, and was leaving the room -quietly. But she turned round, and, bidding me stay, went and -seated herself at the piano. The song was a melancholy one, sung -with wonderful expression and feeling. It was a farewell to the -dead. - -My friend Pixis came into the room at its close, and asked what -it was we were so mournful about. - -I replied, "Francilla has been telling me of Bellini's unhappy -love for Malibran." - -"Do not believe a word of it!" cried Pixis, laughing. "She will -get you up a fine romance on that chapter." - -I had my doubts of its truth; yet the fact is indisputable that -Bellini was always in love. - -Here the pretty artist, Maschinka Schneider, came in, and the -conversation was of the representation of the _Capuletti_, -already announced. I gave advice as to improvements in the -arrangement of the scenes. - -I could not help remembering the sad tale my little friend had -told me. I thought of it again when, a year afterward, I read in -the newspapers that Malibran had died at Manchester, on the 23d -of September, the same day on which Bellini had expired a year -before. - ------- - -{412} - - - Translated from the French of Souvestre. - - The Inside of a Stage-Coach. - - -One of the last days of September the rain had fallen all day in -torrents, but finally, having ceased, left the sky so enveloped -in fog that, though scarcely four o'clock, night seemed already -to have overspread the earth. - -A heavy diligence, with its relay of horses, ascended with -difficulty one of the hills which separate Belleville from Lyons, -while the postilions walked on each side of the team, pausing -about every fifty steps to breathe and recover themselves. The -wearied passengers had descended by invitation of the conductor, -and were trudging along in no amiable mood, scolding the horses, -the rain, and the miserable roads. Two of them, who came last, -stopped suddenly at the turning of the ascent One was a man -nearly fifty years old, with a mild and smiling countenance; but -the other, much younger, had an air of gloom and dissatisfaction. -Throwing his eyes over the surrounding country, half enveloped in -fog, he said to his companion: - -"What weather and what a year, Cousin Grugel! The Saône has -hardly entered its bed, and the valleys are again inundated." - -"God preserve us, Gontran!" replied the man with the mild -countenance; "the rainbow can appear any moment above the -deluge." - -"Yes," replied the other traveller, with slight irony; "I know -your mania of hope, Jacques." - -"And I yours of discouragement, Darvon." - -"Well, I am right when I examine how this world goes. Where do -you see peace, order, or prosperity? I only hear of incendiaries, -contagion, deluge, and murder. What man's wickedness spares, the -wickedness of nature annihilates, for even brute matter seems to -possess the instinct of destruction; and the elements, like -kings, cannot remain neighbors without warring against each -other." - -"That is only one side of things, my cousin--the sad side; but of -the other you never speak. Your eyes are riveted on the volcano -which dims the horizon, but you cannot lower them to the fields -of ripe corn undulating at your feet. There is happiness in the -world, if you can make up your mind to believe it." - -"Well, I know nothing of it," replied Darvon, in a tone of -vexation. - -"But, yourself considered, may you not be placed among the most -favored?" - -"True, Jacques, and yet I have not been able to find, in all the -good accorded me, either peace or contentment." - -"What have you to wish for? You are rich, honored, and have a -family who love you." - -"Yes," replied Gontran; "but this same fortune has cost me the -lawsuit for which I have just made the third voyage to Macon; my -good reputation has not deterred the opposing lawyer from -slander; and as to my family--" - -"Well?" inquired Jacques. - -"Well! my sister, with whom I always lived so affectionately, has -just quarrelled with me." - -"It will be a short quarrel." - -{413} - -"No, no; I am tired of working without profit to establish order -in her affairs. I have been too much annoyed by her want of -system and reason." - -"Think of her excellent heart and you will forgive her." - -"Oh! I know that you will always find a good reason for me to -bear my sorrows patiently; you have a recipe for every wound of -the soul, and if I press you a little, you will prove me in the -wrong to complain, and that all is quite right here below." - -"Pardon me," replied Grugel; "in the government of this world I -find much to wound me, but I am not sure I am the best judge. -Life is a great mystery, of which we comprehend so little. Must I -own it to you, there are hours when I persuade myself that God -has not afflicted men with so many scourges without intention. -Happy and invulnerable, they could be endured; each one would -count on his individual strength, delight in his own isolation, -and refuse all sympathy to his fellow-being. But weakness has no -such resource; on the contrary, it forces men to be friendly, to -aid and love one another. Grief has become a bond of sympathy, -and we owe to it our noblest and best sentiments, gratitude, -devotion, and piety." - -"Well done," said Darvon, smiling; "not being able to sustain the -good in all things, you give me the bright side of evil." - -"Perhaps so," said Grugel; "only be sure that evil itself is not -absolute. Science borrows its remedies from the sap of venomous -plants; why, then, may we not from passion, misfortune, or -inequality draw much that is good? Believe me, Darvon, there is -no human dross, however poor, without its particles of gold." - -"In good faith, then, I would like to know what could be found in -our travelling companions," cried Gontran. "Let us see, cousin; -suppose we put to the test these curious patterns of our race, as -we proclaim it so intelligent." - -"It is very certain," said Jacques, smiling, "fate has not -favored us." - -"Never mind, never mind," replied Darvon, whose misanthropy was -niggardly in its character; "disengage the gold from the dross, -as you say. But first, how many grains do you expect to find in -this cattle-merchant before us?" - -Grugel raised his head and saw, a few steps in advance, the -traveller who had called him cousin. A coarse man in a blue -blouse, following with heavy steps the side of the road, while -finishing his well-picked chicken-bone. - -"I declare, that is the seventh repast I have seen him make -to-day," continued Darvon, "and the coach-pockets are still laden -with his provisions. When he has eaten enough, he goes to sleep, -then he eats again, then goes to sleep in order to recommence his -programme. He is a mere digesting machine, too imbecile to draw -from him either response or information." - -"Our companion with the felt hat can sufficiently acquit himself -in that respect." - -"Ah! yes, let us consider him and try also to extract his gold. -He joined our party only this morning, and already the conductor -has sent him from the _impériale_ to the travellers in the -_coupé_, who again have sent him to the _intérieur_. We -have had him but two hours, and he has already given us his own -and his family history to the fifth degree. I know his name is -Peter Lepré, that for twenty years he has been commissioner of -colonial produce in the departments of the Saône and Loire, of -Ain, Isère, and of the Rhone, and he has been married three -times. -{414} -Then if you did not have to bear his questioning; but he is -equally talkative and curious, and when his confession is -finished, he awaits yours. If you are reflecting, he speaks to -you; if you speak, he interrupts you. His voice is like a rattle -in constant motion, the noise of which ends in making you -nervous." - -"Poor Lepré!" said Grugel; "at heart, after all he is a worthy -man." - -"He has one merit," replied Darvon, "that of annoying -Mademoiselle Athénaïs de Locherais; for we almost forgot this -amiable fellow-traveller, who, after recommending us all to get -out to lighten the coach, remained in herself so as not to dampen -her feet." - -"You must forgive her," observed Jacques; "isolation has made her -forget all ease of others; her heart is contracted." - -"Contracted!" repeated Gontran, "you are deceived, cousin; -Mademoiselle Athénaïs has a great deal of love for herself. The -whole world seems to have been made for her special ease, and she -can imagine nothing in it that does not bear upon her in some way -or other. She is one of those sweet creatures who, hearing the -cry of the midnight assassin, returns to her pillow complaining -of having been awakened." - -Grugel was going to reply, but they had arrived at the top of the -hill. The conductor, calling the passengers, urged them to -remount, as a courier had just appeared with an announcement, -that, owing to the overflow of the Saône, the passage by -Villefranche would be impossible, and that in order to reach Anse -they would be obliged to turn more to the right, passing the -Niseran higher up and taking another road. The coach which had -just preceded them, not having taken this precaution, had been -surprised by the waters, and some of the passengers were reported -to be drowned. Happily this last intelligence was not -communicated to the travellers, but they vociferated loudly when -apprised of the by-road they were obliged to take. - -"There is a malediction on us," said Gontran, already peevish -with the length of the journey. - -"I knew it would be so, sir," cried Pierre Lepré, with -volubility. The two postilions had just escaped from him, so he -fell back on his travelling companions. "I was told on my way -that the Ardiere and Vauzarme had risen considerably; indeed, we -cannot tell if we can pass to Anse, where we may encounter the -waters of the Azergnes and the Brevanne. Where in the world are -you taking us, conductor? Shall we pass the woods of Orrigt? -Well, I know the mayor, a thin man, always smoking. But, speaking -of this, can we not stop again before we come to Anse?" - -"Impossible," replied the conductor brusquely; "I am now eight -hours behind time." - -"Gracious! where will we sup, then?" cried the fat -cattle-merchant. - -"We won't sup at all, sir." - -"I declare, I wish I had some broth," interrupted Mademoiselle -Athénaïs, in a shrill voice, with her head out of the coach door; -"I always take my broth at five o'clock." - -"We have had nothing since morning," cried all the travellers. - -"Get in, gentlemen," called out the conductor; "one hour's delay -may prevent us from reaching there. You can't joke with an -overflow, and I don't want my coach drowned." - -"Drowned!" cried Mademoiselle Athénaïs's. "Why, this is horrible. -You shall be informed against, conductor! I demand that you leave -the valley. Why don't you answer me, conductor? I will complain -to your chief." - -{415} - -The diligence starting, cut the old lady's sentence in two, so -she fell back in her corner with an exclamation of -dissatisfaction. - -Jacques Grugel felt himself obliged to tell her that the route -they were taking would lead them away from the Saône and avoid -the danger. - -"But where will I get my soup?" inquired she, slightly reassured. - -"We will not stop till we reach Anse," resumed Lepré; "the -conductor has said so, and God only knows what kind of roads we -will meet with. Roads of the department; that says everything. -And then I know the engineer, a talented man; his son was married -the same day as my eldest. But we won't arrive till to-morrow, -mark my words." - -There was a general cry from the passengers. They had eaten -nothing since morning, calculating on the lunch usually obtained -at Villefranche, and Gontran had already proposed, with his usual -vivacity, to make a descent on the first village and force them -to serve up a supper, when the cattle-merchant cried out: - -"A supper! I have one at your service." - -"What! for everybody?" asked Lepré. - -"For everybody, citizen. I can offer you three courses, with your -dessert, and something for a heeltap." - -While speaking he drew from the pockets of the carriage a -half-dozen packets, and, rolling his tongue around his mouth, -proceeded to open them; they contained provisions of every kind, -properly enveloped and tied with care. - -"Won't we have a feast?" said Lepré, who had asked the -cattle-merchant, in his inventory, "my friend, what _is_ -your name?" - -"Barnau." - -"Good, Mr. Barnau; but what good care you take of yourself." - -"How can a man be at his ease," said the fat merchant, with a -certain pride, "if he can't eat the best of everything? However, -these gentlemen and mademoiselle can judge of my victuals." - -Grugel turned to Gontran, and gave him a significant look. - -"Truly," said he smiling, and in an under-voice, "here are the -_grains of gold_ you looked for." - -"_Grains of gold!_" repeated Barnau, who did not understand -him; "why, man, that's a sausage with truffles." - -"And these gentlemen would have us believe grains of gold are -good for famished people," resumed Pierre Lepré, laughing; "that -is a figure of speech, Monsieur Barnau. I have a son who studied -these figures in rhetoric. He explained it all to me; but, pardon -me, let us first help mademoiselle." - -They presented the food to Mademoiselle de Locherais, who -returned each piece, but finally ended by choosing the most -delicate, complaining, as she ate, of the privations of -travellers. To console her, Barnau offered her some old brandy; -but mademoiselle cried out with horror: - -"Brandy to me! What do you take me for, sir?" - -"You like sherry better, perhaps," said the cattle-merchant, in a -careless way. - -"I drink neither sherry nor brandy," cried Mademoiselle Athénaïs -fiercely. "I take water only," she said, turning toward Grugel. -"Did you ever hear anything like this rustic?" she murmured; -"offer me cognac, as if the spices he has given us were not -sufficient to burn one's blood. I shall surely be ill from it." -{416} -Finishing what she had to say, she arranged herself in her -corner, so as to turn her back on the cattle-merchant, picked up -a pillow she had with her, leaned her head on it, and fell -asleep. - -The diligence continued its tedious route. Though humid, the air -was cold, and not a star was to be seen. Relieved by the repast -which the gastronomical foresight of Barnau had permitted him to -make, Lepré resumed his loquacity, and, although his -fellow-travellers had long since ceased to answer him, he -continued to talk on without being in the least concerned to know -if he was listened to. - -This noise of words, the slowness of their progress, the -darkness, and the cold combined to render the passengers -nervously impatient, and every few moments might be heard yawns, -shudderings, or subdued complaints. Darvon, particularly, seemed -more and more excitable; a prey to nervous irritation. He had -already opened and shut for the tenth time the blind of the -coach-door, leaned his head to the right, to the left, and back -on the cushion, fixed his legs in every possible position that -the narrow space of which he could dispose allowed him; and, -finally, at the break of day, his patience was entirely -exhausted. - -"I would give ten of the days which remain of my life to be at -the end of this journey," cried he. - -"Here we are at Anse," replied Grugel. - -"True, upon my word," said Lepré, who had been asleep an instant. -"Hallo, conductor, how long do you remain here?" - -"Five minutes." - -"Open the door; I am just going to say good day to the -post-master." - -The door was opened, and Barnau got down with Lepré to renew his -provisions. Nearly at the same moment the clerk came forward to -see if there were any vacant places. - -"Only one," replied Grugel. - -"How!" cried Mademoiselle de Locherais, who had just awakened -with a start; "would monsieur by any chance ask any one to come -in here?" - -"A traveller for Lyons." - -"But it is quite impossible," resumed the old maid; "we are -already frightfully crowded. Monsieur, your coaches are too -small; I will complain to the administration." - -"Ah! without doubt here is our new companion," said Grugel, who -was looking out of the door. "M. Lepré has already seized upon -him." - -"He is a military man," cried mademoiselle. - -"A non-commissioned officer of the Chasseurs." - -"Oh! is he coming in here? Why don't they make soldiers go on -foot?" - -"In such a time as this it would be hard and fatiguing for them, -mademoiselle." - -"Is it not their trade? Such people are never fatigued. These -public conveyances do give you such disagreeable neighbors! .... -The derangement of your usual habits, to have nothing warm, pass -the night without any sleep, be crowded, choked! .... I don't see -why one of these gentlemen don't get up in the imperial." - -"Notwithstanding the fog?" - -"What does that signify, for men?" - -"Mademoiselle would be less incommoded," added Darvon ironically. -"She had better make the proposition herself to our companion." - -"What! I speak to a soldier!" said Mademoiselle Athénaïs -fiercely; "I prefer being incommoded, sir!" - -"Well, here he is," said Jacques. - -{417} - -The non-commissioned officer had indeed just appeared before the -door, followed by the clerk with whom he was quarrelling. He was -a spruce, dapper-looking young man, but his bragging and -soldierly manners disgusted Darvon at first sight. He complained -of the delay of the coach, having waited for it since the night -preceding, and with words abused the clerk of the office, whose -responses were timid and embarrassed. At last, the conductor -declaring they must start, he came to the coach-door and looked -inside. - -"Magnificent collection," murmured he, after having cast an -impertinent look on the travellers; "I wonder if the _coupé_ -and the _rotonde_ are as well furnished. Have you no women -aboard, conductor?" - -"The insolent creature!" murmured Mademoiselle. - -"Well," resumed the soldier, "one must not be too particular in -the country." And he took his place. - -Gontran leaned toward Grugel, and said, in a low voice, "This one -completes our collection of absurdities." - -"Take care he don't hear you," replied Jacques. - -Darvon shrugged his shoulders. - -"Bragging people inspire more disgust than fear," said he, "and -this one certainly needs a lesson in politeness." - -Meanwhile, Barnau returned without Lepré. After having looked for -the latter at the inn, and waited for him some minutes, the -diligence started without him, to the great joy of mademoiselle, -who hoped to be more at her ease. But her joy was of short -duration, for the non-commissioned officer, who had located -himself at first on the other bench, got up and took the seat -next to her. The angry old maid adjusted herself brusquely, and -pulled down her veil. - -The military man turned toward her. - -"Ah!" said he, in a mocking tone, "madame seems afraid of being -looked at." - -"Perhaps so, sir," said she, dryly. - -"I quite understand the reason," resumed the soldier. "But she -can calm her nerves. I can deprive myself of the pleasure." And -as he noticed the movement of indignation of Mademoiselle de -Locherais, continued, "I speak solely for the interest of her -health; and to allow her to breathe with her face uncovered, as -we want air in this box, I think I had better lower the window." - -"I object to it," said mademoiselle quickly; "my doctor has -forbidden any exposure to the morning air." - -"And mine has forbidden me to smother," replied the young man, -putting out his hand to open the sash. - -But the old maid cried out. The window was on her side, she had a -right to have it closed, and appealed to the other travellers. - -However little disposed Darvon had been in favor of Mademoiselle -de Locherais, he considered it right to defend her, and the -result was a sharp discussion between him and the soldier, which -would have ended in trouble had not Grugel ceded his place at the -other window. - -The soldier accepted it with a bad grace, preserving a strong -feeling against Darvon. - -Now, the reader has already perceived that Gontran's predominant -qualities were neither resignation nor patience. The -contrarieties of the journey had excited his sickly inability, -therefore the disagreement which had already broken out between -them was renewed several times, and only awaited a favorable -opportunity to become a later quarrel. - -{418} - -Some of the smaller baggage had been placed by Darvon in a net -suspended from the top of the diligence; the soldier pretended -that it incommoded him, and wished it removed. Gontran refused to -do it. - -"You have decided it shall remain where it is?" cried the -soldier, after a discussion in which he had grown more and more -animated. - -"Decidedly!" replied Darvon. - -"Very well. I will get rid of it by the coach-door," replied the -young man, while extending his hand toward the net. - -Gontran seized the hand, and said, "Take care what you do, sir," -in a changed voice. "Ever since you came in here, you have tried -to make me lose my patience; your whole course has been one of -abuse and tyranny, but you may as well understand I am not the -man to put up with your tyranny." - -"Is this a challenge?" asked the soldier, throwing on Gontran a -disdainful look. - -"By no means," interrupted Grugel, annoyed by the turn affairs -had taken; "my cousin merely wished you to observe--" - -"I don't accept the observations of snarlers." - -"And snarlers don't accept your insolence," replied Gontran. - -At this word insolence the soldier shuddered, a deep redness -suffused his features. - -"Where do you stop, sir?" asked he of Darvon, in a voice -trembling with anger. - -"At Lyons," replied the latter. - -"Very well, we will finish our explanation there." - -"So be it." - -Jacques, alarmed, wished to interpose, but his cousin and the -soldier spoke at the same time, and repeated they would terminate -this affair at Lyons. - -At the same instant great cries were heard, and the diligence was -overtaken by a wagon entirely covered with mud. Mademoiselle de -Locherais put her head out of the coach-door. - -"O Lord! what a misfortune," said she; "Monsieur Pierre Lepré has -overtaken us. Now we will be completely filled up." - -As soon as they reached the public conveyance, the commissioner -of colonial produce jumped out of the wagon, and presented -himself at the coach-door, which the conductor had just opened. - -"Is this the way you go off without waiting for the passengers?" -cried he, furious. - -"I warned you three times," interposed the conductor. - -"Six times is customary, sir, or even a dozen; you are very -miserly with your words. Does it cost anything to speak? I could -not leave the post-master while he was telling me what happened -to the diligence yesterday; for you did not know, gentlemen, that -the one that preceded this was drowned." - -"Drowned!" repeated every one. - -"Very good," interrupted the conductor; "but get in." - -"Anything but good," responded Pierre Lepré; "everybody is -frightened enough." - -"I beg of you to get up immediately." - -"And what will our families think when they learn this disaster?" - -"Be quick, then." - -"Again, there was I trying to obtain these details, when they -came to tell me you had gone on without me." - -"And we are going to do the same thing again," said the impatient -conductor. - -"Bless me," cried Lepré, who hastened to get up. "I have had -enough of wagons; here I am, conductor, lift me up." - -{419} - -The commissioner of provisions was overwhelmed with questions, -and he soon related all he had heard; then, interrupting himself, -according to his usual habit, and recognizing the young officer, -he cried out: - -"Oh! this is the gentleman I had the honor of seeing at Anse." - -"The same," replied the soldier. - -"Delighted to meet you again," said Lepré. "Whatever you may -think of me, I am the born friend of all the military. I should -have had to serve myself if they had not found a substitute for -me." - -He was interrupted by Mademoiselle Athénaïs, who just perceived -that he was quite wet. - -"It is this abominable fog," said he, while wiping the water off -with his handkerchief. - -"But people don't come into a carriage in such a condition," -replied mademoiselle, in a discontented way. "When you are -covered with fog, you might as well remain out." - -"To dry one's self?" asked Lepré, laughing. "Great goodness, I -had enough of it; then my coachman was drunk, and just missed -turning the wagon over into the river." - -"The deuce!" said Gontran. - -"We would have been added to the diligence of yesterday, unless -we had found some good soul brave enough to fish for us. But such -things have been. Three years ago, after a great inundation, a -workman alone saved five persons who were drowning near the -Guillotière." - -"We knew of him particularly," said Grugel, "as my cousin's best -friend was one of the saved." - -"True?" asked the soldier. - -"And he owed his safety to the devotion of that young man." - -"Oh! all the details of that action were admirable," said Darvon, -with great warmth; "the frightened horse had pulled the carriage -into the strongest of the current; on the shore the crowd looked -on, without daring to go to their relief; there seemed to be no -hope for the five persons in the carriage." - -"Bah!" interrupted the soldier, "perhaps some of them could swim, -and have got nicely out of the scrape." - -Gontran disdained a reply. - -"The carriage commenced to sink," continued he, "when a workman -appeared with a small boat, which with difficulty he guided into -the midst of the Rhone. Three times it was on the point of -upsetting. The people who looked on from the shore cried out, 'Do -not go any further; come ashore; you are going to perish.' But he -did not listen to them--still advancing toward the carriage, -which by dint of skill and courage, he finally reached." - -"And most happily," the military man replied. - -"Without doubt," replied Grugel, who remarked Gontran's movement -of impatience, "but only good-hearted people find happiness in -such acts." - -"It was a beautiful incident," interrupted Mademoiselle de -Locherais, "and one that should have benefited its author." - -"Pardon me, madame," said Darvon. "The workman no doubt -considered that the true recompense for any generous action is in -ourselves; for, after having saved these people, he retired -without wishing to receive either reward or praise." - -"Humph! perhaps he thought it useless to demand payment," said -the officer. - -"And is his name unknown?" said Pierre Lepré. - -"Pardon me, he was called Louis Duroc." - -"What! what do you say, Louis----" - -"Duroc." - -Lepré turned towards the officer. - -{420} - -"Why, that is your name?" cried he. - -"This gentleman's name!" repeated all the travellers. - -"Louis Duroc, called the African; I asked him his name at Anse, -while we were talking at the inn, and I have seen it, besides, on -his portmanteau." - -"Well, what next?" asked the officer, laughing. "It certainly is -my name." - -"Can it be!" interrupted Gontran; "and you are--" - -"The workman in question; yes, gentlemen. There would have been -no use in telling it, but now there is no use in concealing it. I -entered the service a week after the accident, and my regiment -had to leave for Algeria, so that I never again met my friends of -the carriage; however, I hope to see them again at Lyons." - -"I will take you to them," said Darvon quickly, while offering -his hand to the officer; "for I wish we may be friends, Monsieur -Louis." - -"What, we!" replied the military man, regarding Gontran with -hesitation. - -"Oh! please forget all that has passed," replied the latter; "I -am ready, if necessary, to acknowledge I have been wrong--" - -"No!" interrupted Duroc, "no, indeed; I was the wrong-headed one, -and I regret it, I give you my word of honor. Bad habits of the -regiment, you see. Because we have no fear, we like to show it on -all occasions, and to each new-comer, and so play the bully, but -at heart good children; so without malice, monsieur." - -He had cordially pressed Gontran's hand, Lepré seizing his at the -same time. - -"Good!" cried he; "you are a true Frenchmen, and so is Monsieur. -Between Frenchmen, people should always agree. I am delighted to -have made your acquaintance, M. Louis Duroc. But, _à -propos_, do you know it was a most happy coincidence that I -obliged you to tell me your name, that you did not want to give -me? Without me, no one would have known what you were worth." - -"It is true," replied Grugel. "If this gentleman had talked less, -this explanation would not have taken place, and my cousin would -have mistaken the true character of Monsieur Louis. You see, -chance seems to have taken the task of supporting my theory, and -all the honor of the journey is mine." - -As he finished these words, the coach stopped; they had arrived. - -The travellers found the diligence-yard crowded with relations or -friends awaiting their arrival. The misfortune of the day before -was known, and had awakened all possible anguish. - -Darvon no sooner stepped down, than he heard his name pronounced, -and, turning, saw his sister hastening to him with cries of joy. -Her anxiety on his account had caused her to forget their -quarrel. - -They embraced over and over again; their eyes moistened with -tears as they looked at each other, smiling. They were -reconciled. - -As they went together from the diligence-yard Gontran met his -travelling companions. Barnau and Lepré saluted them; Louis Duroc -renewed his promise to visit them; Mademoiselle Athénaïs de -Locherais alone passed without any sign of recognition. She was -too much occupied watching her baggage. Jacques Grugel turned -then to Gontran. - -{421} - -"There is the only objection to my doctrine," said he, pointing -to the old maid. "All our other companions have more or less -redeemed themselves in our eyes: the _gourmand_ procured us -a supper; the babbler revealed a useful secret; the quarrelsome -one gave proof of his generous bravery; but of what use has been -to us the selfish egotism of Mademoiselle de Locherais?" - -"To make me realize the value of true devotion and tenderness," -replied Gontran, who pressed his sister's arm more closely to his -heart. "Yes, from to-day, cousin, I will adopt your system. I -firmly believe there is a good side to everything, and that it is -only necessary to know where to look for the _vein of -gold_." - --------- - - Sayings Of The Fathers Of The Desert. - - -He who remains alone by himself, and maintains a state of -tranquillity, is saved the waging of three wars; that is to say, -the warfare of hearing, of speech, and of sight; and he will have -but one to carry on, and that is the warfare of the heart. - - -Abbot Arsenius, while he still dwelt in a palace, prayed to the -Lord one day, and said, "O Lord! point out to me the way to -salvation." And a voice came to him saying, "Arsenius, avoid the -society of men, and you shall be saved." Thereupon he went away -to lead a monastic life, and it happened that he again made the -same prayer. And he heard a voice saying unto him, "Arsenius, -flee, remain silent, be tranquil." - - -Abbot Evagrius said: Cast from thee affection for many things, -lest thy mind be full of trouble and lose its tranquillity. - - -A certain brother once went to Scythia, to ask advice of Abbot -Moses. And the old man said to him, "Go sit in thy cell, and thy -cell will teach thee all things." - - - -Abbot Nilus said: He who loveth quiet shall be impenetrable to -the darts of the enemy; but he who mingleth with the multitude -shall receive many wounds. - - -A certain father told this story: Three persons who loved their -souls became monks. One of them chose as his task the making up -of quarrels, according as it is written, "Blessed are the -peacemakers." (Matt, v.) The second determined to visit the sick. -The third went away into the desert to remain in solitude. Now, -the first, who busied himself about the quarrels of men, could -not always succeed in bringing about a reconciliation. Sick at -heart, he went to see how he fared who was visiting the sick, and -found that he also was growing weary, and was quite unable to -carry out his purpose. These two then went together to see the -one who had gone into the desert, and told him all their -troubles. And then they asked him to tell them how he himself had -got along. After a short pause, he poured some water into a basin -and said to them, "Look at the water." And it was troubled. After -a little while he again said to them, "Now look at the water, and -see how clear it has grown." And they, looking in the water, saw -their faces reflected as from a mirror. -{422} -And then he said to them, "Thus it is with him who lives among -men; for from the turbulence of his life he sees not his own -sins; when, however, he is become tranquil, and especially when -he lives in solitude, then he clearly perceives his faults." - - -Abbot Elias said: Three things I fear. One is, the separation of -soul and body; the second, my meeting with God the third, the -sentence which shall be pronounced upon me. - - -Abbot James said: As a light illuminateth a room, even so doth -the fear of God, when it shall have entered the heart of man, -illuminate and teach him every virtue and the precepts of God. - - -Syncletica, of holy memory, said: The wicked who are converted to -God have to toil and struggle much, but afterward their joy is -ineffable. For as those who wish to kindle a fire have first to -bear the smoke, and are ofttimes forced to shed tears before they -succeed for it is written, "Our God is a consuming fire"--so -ought we also to kindle within us the divine flame amid toils and -tears. - - -A father said: As we carry our shadow about with us everywhere, -even so ought we always to weep and be contrite. - - - -They tell of Abbot Agatho that he kept a pebble in his mouth -three years, and thus acquired silence. - - -Abbot Agatho was once making a journey with his disciples, when -one of them found a little bundle of green vetches lying on the -roadside, and said to his master, "Father, if you wish it, I will -take them." The old man looked at him in astonishment, and asked, -"Didst thou place them there?" And the disciple said "No." And -then the father replied, "Why, then, do you desire to take away -what you have not placed there?" - -Abbot Evagrius tells that a father once said: I deprive myself of -carnal delights, in order that I may the more readily avoid -occasions of anger. For I know that this passion always attacks -and disturbs my mind and clouds my intellect according as I -indulge in carnal delights. - - -Epiphanius, Bishop of Cyprus, once sent for Abbot Hilarion, that -he might see him before he died. When they had met and were -dining, a fowl was set on the table which the bishop offered -Hilarion. And then Hilarion said, "Pardon me, father, for ever -since I have worn this habit I have never eaten of anything -slain." And then Epiphanius replied, "And I, since I have worn -this habit, have never allowed any one to sleep who had anything -against me, nor have I ever slept having aught against any one." -"Pardon me," replied the old man, "your life is more perfect than -mine." - - - -They tell of Abbot Elladius that he lived in his cell twenty -years without ever lifting his eyes to the ceiling. - - -Abbot John the Small said: If a king should wish to take a -hostile city, he would first intercept supplies of water and -provisions, and thus the enemy, being in danger of starvation, -would fall into his hands. So it is with the inordinate desires -of the stomach. If a man fast well, the enemies of his soul grow -weak. - --------- - -{423} - - New Publications. - - - Language, And The Study Of Languages. - In Twelve Lectures on the - Principles of Linguistic Science. - By William Dwight Whitney, Professor of - Sanskrit and Modern Languages in Yale College. - New York: Scribner & Co. 1867. 12mo, pp. 489. - -Professor Whitney, with a full knowledge of the chief results -thus far obtained in linguistic science by philologists, appears -to be passably free and independent in his judgments, and -cautious and sober in his inductions. His book is, however, -rather an introduction to the study of linguistics than a full -statement and vindication of its principles as a science. Its -chief merit is in its correction of the exaggerations of -enthusiastic and hasty philologists, and in brushing away -numerous false theories and hypotheses unsustained and -unsustainable by the facts in the case. - -For the most part, the principles laid down by the author are -sound and incontrovertible; but in some instances his application -of them, and the conclusions he draws, may be disputed. Even his -definition of language, as the medium by which men communicate -their thoughts to one another, maybe objected to as superficial -and inadequate, and as really including only one of its -functions. Language is better defined: the sensible sign or -representation of the ideal or the intelligible, and is as -indispensable to the formation of thought in one's own mind as to -the communication of thought to the minds of others. For -intuition, no matter of what sort, language indeed is not -necessary; but intuition is the _à priori_ condition of -thought, as necessary to it as creation is to contingent -existence, not thought itself. Without intuition there is no -thought; but thought itself is the action of the mind on the -intuition--an action not possible without the sensible sign -which holds and represents--re-presents--the intuition. What -could we do in algebra or the calculus without sensible signs; or -in philosophy or theology, or anything that belongs to the noetic -or intelligible order, without the words which hold and represent -the noetic object? There is a more intimate connection of thought -and the word than the professor admits--a deeper significance, a -profounder philosophy, a more inscrutable mystery in language, -than most philologists dream of, and he who masters its secret -masters the secret of the universe. He who is no theologian, no -philosopher, can at best be only a sorry philologist. The part -can be fully understood only in its relation to the whole, nor -the effect without its cause, and hence it is that man and the -universe cannot be understood without the knowledge of God. - -The author regards linguistics as a moral science, dependent -wholly on moral causes, and denies that it is a physical science, -or that physical causes have anything to do in producing the -dialectic changes, modifications, or differences of language, -which the science notes. Here he is too sweeping in both his -assertion and his denial. Moral causes operate in the changes -language undergoes; and so do physical causes, especially in its -phonetic change. At any rate, linguistics is to be classed with -the inductive sciences, and, therefore, is a subordinate science, -and can never without foreign aid be raised to the dignity or -certainty of science itself. None of the inductive sciences are -complete in themselves, or sufficient for themselves, and they -all do and must, consciously or unconsciously, borrow from -philosophy or theology, which has been very properly called -_scientia scientiarum_, the science of sciences. Facts are -facts always and everywhere; but facts are the matter of science, -not science itself. The science is in their explication, or their -reduction to the principles from which they proceed, and the law -of their procession or production. -{424} -The inductive philosophers seek to obtain the law by induction -from the facts observed, and the principle by induction from the -law, which is unscientific; for the principle determines the law, -and the law the facts. Hence their inductions are never science, -or anything more than empirical classifications. Till the law is -referred to its principle, it is not a law, but simply a -congeries of facts. The reason why the inductive philosophers -fail to perceive this is in the fact that the mind is already in -possession of the principle, and simply supplies or applies it to -the facts observed; while they, finding they have it, take it for -granted that they have obtained it by induction. But he who lacks -intuition of the ideal or the universal can never from the -observation and analysis of facts rise scientifically above the -phenomenal. Here, under the point of view of science, is the -defect of all the inductive sciences; and hence, the tendency of -all inductive philosophy, as any one may see in the writings of -the Positivists, Auguste Comte, E. Littré, J. Stuart Mill, -Herbert Spencer, and Sir William Hamilton and his school, is to -restrict all science to the phenomenal, and, therefore, to -exclude principles and causes, and consequently laws. - -We do not mean by these strictures to exclude the inductive -sciences, so-called, to condemn the inductive method, or to -maintain that the sciences are to be created by way of deduction -or _à priori_. The inductive method is censurable only when -it insists on being exclusive, and that it needs for its -application only bare phenomena; and we value as highly as -anybody does the inductive sciences when completed by the -principles and laws which are neither obtained nor obtainable by -induction. There is no way of constructing linguistics but by -observation of facts and induction therefrom. The error as to -principles and method of Professor Whitney is, that he forgets -that all inductions of any value are made by virtue of a -principle not obtained by induction, and, therefore, controllable -by the science of sciences, that is, by faith, and universal -science or philosophy. - -The professor proves very satisfactorily that what are called -dialects are the result of development, growth, or modifications -of the original language, and, therefore, that the unity of the -language precedes diversity of dialects. Hence, he maintains that -the various languages of the Aryan, Indo-Germanic, or, as he -prefers to say, Indo-European group, have all sprung from a -common original now lost, but of which perhaps the Sanscrit is -the best representative now remaining. Why not, then, conclude -that all the languages of mankind, extinct or extant, have sprung -from one common original? If we suppose the unity of the species, -this must be so; and the professor says that, while linguistics -is not and never will be able to confirm it, it cannot, by any -means, deny it. The diversity of tongues, then, cannot be alleged -as disproving the unity of the species; and as we know the -species is one, and that all men have sprung from one original -pair, we know that all the diverse tongues of men are but so many -dialects of one and the same original language. This is not an -induction from linguistic facts, nor can linguistics, in its -present state, confirm it; but it is a scientific truth, and also -a truth of faith which controls air linguistic inductions. The -professor himself goes too far when he says linguistics will -never be in a condition to confirm it. That it will not is -possible, not certain. His whole work proves that as yet the -science of linguistics is in its infancy, hardly a science at -all, and that it is not safe to conclude what it may one day do, -or not do. - -The professor proceeds throughout on the assumption that language -is conventional. We do not agree to this, for there can be no -convention without language, and language, as he himself shows, -is traditional. I speak English because I was born, brought up, -and live in a community that speaks English, and because I have -learned or been taught it. It is my mother tongue, the tongue of -my mother, and taught me by her. Particular words, and particular -senses of words already in use, may have been conventionally -introduced, but not language itself. -{425} -These words, whether newly coined or borrowed from other tongues, -do not make up the language or modify its laws; they add to its -vocabulary, but are subjected to its regimen. We have borrowed -largely from the Latin, but we cannot construct a sentence with -words so borrowed till we have made them English words. Nobody -can talk Latin in English, though we can talk English in words -wholly of Latin origin. The vocabulary is of various origin, but -the language is English, and has remained so through all the -changes the vocabulary has undergone; and this English language -defies all conventions, and the influence of both the learned and -the unlearned. - -Professor Whitney, who appears never to have understood the -relation of the inductive sciences either to science or to faith, -denies the divine and supernatural origin of language, supposes -man to have commenced his career on this earth without language, -and to have formed for himself voluntarily but irreflectively -language, by attempting to imitate the various cries of animals -and the more striking sounds of nature, among which there is not -a single articulate sound, the distinguishing mark of human -speech. He does not represent men as saying to one another, "Go -to, now; let us construct a language, so that we can tell each -other our thoughts;" but he represents them as listening to the -growl, barking, and howling of dogs, the bleating of sheep, the -mooing of cows, the chirping of birds, the crowing of the cock, -the hissing of the serpent, the roaring and whistling of the -winds, the rattling of the shower or pouring of the rain, the -bellowing of the storm, and, by way of imitation, forming out of -these inarticulate sounds language in which we praise God and -communicate with men. He adopts the onomatopoetic or bow-wow -theory, so contemptuously dismissed by Max Müller. There is no -doubt that in all dialects there have been introduced vocables in -which there is an attempt in the word itself to imitate the sound -or cry of the object named; but, supposing men had no language -and were unable to converse, how were they to agree on the -meaning to be given to these imitated sounds, or construct these -words into sentences composed of subject, predicate, and copula, -inflected according to the demands of number, gender, case, mood, -and tense? There may have also been vocables formed from -interjections, and there may be some truth in the interjectional -or pooh! pooh! theory; but how form them into words, and these -words into language with its grammatical laws and inflections -before any knowledge of grammar or language, and bring about a -general understanding as to the sense they are to bear? The same -objections may be urged against the ding-dong theory, or that man -is so constructed that, when touched in a certain manner, he -involuntarily emits a certain sound. These theories explain the -origin of certain vocables, but not of language. - -Professor Whitney is not willing, by any means, to admit the -supernatural origin of language, for the inductive sciences -recognize nothing above nature. But none of the facts treated by -any one of the inductive sciences are explicable without God, and -God is supernatural. Man has his origin in the supernatural, -though the species is developed by natural generation. In like -manner, language, though developed, modified, or changed -structurally or phonetically by natural causes according to -natural laws, has its origin in the supernatural, or the direct -act of God infusing it along with the ideal truth it signifies -into the first man. Its origin is divine, as is the origin of -man. This is evident because it requires in man the possession of -language to be able to invent language, as we have already seen. -It is from God, because it can come from no other source; and -immediately from God to the first man, though traditionally to -us, because there is no natural medium through which its -origination is possible; yet not the entire vocabulary of -language, but language in the respect that it is the sensible -sign or representation of the ideal or the intelligible, whence -proceeds the sensible, which copies or imitates it. - -{426} - - I. Grammatical Synthesis: - The Art of English Composition. - By Henry N. Day. - New York: Scribner & Co. 1867. - 12mo, pp. 356. - - 2. The Art Of Discourse: - A System of Rhetoric. - By Henry N. Day. - New York: Scribner & Co. 1867. - 12mo, pp. 343. - -We know Mr. Day only as the author of these two books, and these -do not give us a very high opinion of him either as a master of -English grammar or of English composition. His volumes are -elaborate, and evidently have cost him much time and hard study; -he has aimed to make them profound, logical, philosophical, -attractive, and profitable to the student; but their depth is -less than he believes, their logic is more pretentious than real, -and their philosophy is borrowed from a bad school. - -The first work purports to be a grammar of the English language, -and aims, while teaching the art of composition or the -construction of sentences, to make the study of grammar -attractive by exercising the thought and reasoning faculty of the -pupil. The aim is commendable, but is rarely successful. The -author lacks simplicity, ease, and grace as a writer, and a -thorough mastery of his subject; and his grammar, by its attempt -at logic and philosophy, is better fitted to discourage than to -quicken thought. As far as we can discover, the work is no -improvement on Lindley Murray's well-known English grammar; it is -less simple, and not a whit more logical or philosophical. It -departs widely from the old grammatical technology, but with no -advantage, that we can discover, to the pupil. What is gained by -calling adjectives and adverbs _modifiers_, a name -appropriate to adverbs only? Adjectives _qualify_; adverbs -_modify_. Murray defines the verb, "A word that signifies to -be, to do, or to suffer." What do we gain by rejecting this -definition, and defining it to be the word in a sentence that -asserts? The author makes a sentence, as a judgment, consist of -three parts, subject, predicate, and copula, which is correct. He -identifies the verb with the copula, which is also correct; but -he makes its essence consist in assertion, which is not correct. -There is, indeed, no assertion without the copula; but the copula -alone does not make the assertion. The assertion is made by the -whole sentence; and the three terms, subject, predicate, and -copula, are each equally necessary to the assertion or judgment. -The author is right in making the verb the copula, but not when -he makes its essence consist in assertion. The verb, the author -says, is the copula, and essentially the copula merely expresses -the identity or non-identity of the subject and predicate; but -the copula, in a judgment, distinguishes as well as unites the -subject and predicate, and the predicate is never identical with -the subject; for, if it were, it would be subject and not -predicate. When an author attempts to make grammar, logic, and -philosophy correspond, he can escape censure only by success. -Murray's definition of the verb is sufficient for us and for all -the purposes of grammar. As such, it is enough to say a verb is a -word that signifies "to be, to do, or to suffer;" but, if you -insist on running grammar into logic, and making the verb express -the copula of the judgment, we insist that you shall make it -represent, as it does philosophically, the creative act, the real -copula between being and existence, in which case the predicate -is connected by the copula to the subject as its product, as when -we say, Two and two make four. The verb, then, while it expresses -the union of the predicate with subject, distinguishes it from -the subject, as the effect from the cause. - -The details of the book are frequently objectionable. The author -makes _as,_ when it follows _some, such, so,_ and -_as,_ a relative pronoun, and _that_, in the clause, -"The last time that I saw him," a relative pronoun, and in other -locutions, exactly similar, a conjunction. _As_ is never a -relative pronoun in any correct speaker, but an adverb or -conjunction of comparison. We doubt if _as_ ever properly -follows _same_. "It is the same _as_ a denial" is not -good English, although sometimes met with; but, if so, the -sentence is elliptical. "It is the same as a denial would be." -Ordinarily, _same_ requires _that, which,_ or -_who_ after it; and where it will not take one or another of -these terms, it requires _with_; for _same_ expresses -identity not comparison, and, therefore, can never be properly -followed by _as_. -{427} -The _same as_ seems to us no better than _equal as_. -_So_, when it must be followed by a relative pronoun, -demands _that_. "He went as far as the gate" is good -English, but neither _as_ is a relative pronoun. The phrase, -"Such men _as_ these" is elliptical for, "Such men _as_ -these men are," where _as_ is clearly an adverb or -conjunction of comparison, and no relative pronoun at all. -Wherever _as_ is used as a relative, the phrase or sentence -is a vulgarism; as, in the phrase mentioned by Mrs. Trollope, -"The lady _as_ takes in washing over the way," though not a -Yankee vulgarism. - -The second work should, by its title, _The Art of -Discourse_, be a work on logic, not on rhetoric. -_Discourse_ is from the Latin _discursus_, and means -reasoning as distinguished from intuition, if taken -etymologically, and it is only in a neological sense that it -stands for an oration. We see no gain in exchanging the old term -_rhetoric_ for that of _discourse_, which in the sense -used is a pure neologism. In the first work, the author to a -great extent confuses grammar with rhetoric, and in this second -work he confuses rhetoric with logic. The arts of grammar, -rhetoric, and logic are undoubtedly three kindred arts, but yet -distinguishable by well-defined lines of difference. Grammar -treats of words and their formation into sentences; rhetoric, of -the arrangement of sentences in an oration, essay, dissertation, -or treatise; logic, of the construction, arrangement, and -relation of propositions or judgments. Grammar teaches to speak -and write correctly; rhetoric, to speak or write pleasingly and -persuasively; logic teaches us to reason justly and conclusively. -Grammar makes us acquainted with language; rhetoric addresses -language to the affections, passions, and sentiments; logic -addresses the reason and judgment. Though they must all three -unite in forming what Mr. Day would call a perfect discourse, -they should be taught separately. Sentences may be correctly -formed, and yet the discourse be heavy and dull; the sentences -may be rhetorically arranged so as to move the feelings, without -instructing or convincing the understanding; but still, in -teaching, each art should be kept distinct, and prevented from -encroaching on the province of either of the others. - -Mr. Day's treatise on rhetoric is not, in our judgment, superior, -or, as a whole, equal to that of Campbell or even that of Blair. -Yet it is not without value, though better adapted to private -study than to colleges and academies. No man can treat the art of -rhetoric well who does not understand well the science both of -language and of logic. Mr. Day is well aware of this, and -attempts to connect the art with the science of which it is the -application. This is well and praiseworthy; but, unhappily, he -understands the science neither of language nor of logic. He does -not understand the relation of the word to thought any more than -does Professor Whitney; and no one can understand the science of -logic until he has mastered philosophical science, which Mr. Day -is very far from having done. The science neither of language nor -of logic can be mastered by one who holds Sir William Hamilton -was a philosopher, whose pretended philosophy is substantially -that of the Positivists. The school Sir William Hamilton founded, -and of which Professor Ferrier and Mr. Mansel are distinguished -disciples, avowedly maintains that philosophy cannot rise above -the sensible, and that the supersensible as well as the -superintelligible must be taken, if at all, on the authority of -faith or revelation. - -Mr. Day belongs to this school, and adopts, to a great extent, -its manner of writing English, which is hardly more intelligible -to us than Choctaw or the dialects of South Africa. His example, -if not his precept, is likely to encourage the distortion, we may -say corruption, of plain, simple, and nervous English, which we -see coming into fashion with our English as well as Scottish -writers. The present race of Englishmen, when treating -philosophical or theological subjects, seem to mistake obscurity -for depth, and darkness for sublimity. Undeniably Jeffrey is -dead. We wish the authors of school-books would show that they -know and love our real English tongue, and are aware that -simplicity and clearness of style are merits that should be -retained. - ------- - -{428} - - Short Studies On Great Subjects. - By James Anthony Froude, M.A., late - Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford. - Crown 8vo, pp. 534. New York: - Charles Scribner & Co. - -Mr. Froude is a very startling instance of the truth of a -statement often made during the last few years--and made by men -within the Church of England as well by men outside her -pale--that the Anglican establishment is rapidly losing all hold -upon the most thoughtful and best educated of those who profess -to be her subjects. Time, which tries all things, is -demonstrating beyond cavil the insufficiency of Anglicanism not -only to content the soul but to satisfy the intellect. There are -fashions of thought just as there are fashions of dress, and the -church which Henry VIII. made to fit as well as he could the -prevailing style of mental activity in his day has been getting -more and more antiquated ever since, until now it will no more -suit the intelligence of the present century than King Harry's -hose and doublet would accord with a modern fine gentleman's idea -of dress. In the sixteenth century, the mass of men knew very -little; and so, when the king's clergy told them to believe this -or to believe that, they were ready enough to obey, not because -they heard the church as the voice of God, but because it was -only the churchmen who had learning enough to know anything about -it. Now all this is changed. The relative positions of the -Protestant clergy and laity have been reversed. The education of -the former is for the most part narrow and superficial. The best -class of laymen, on the contrary, receive a broad and liberal -schooling; they sound the remotest depths of science, and -penetrate recesses of nature to which the clergy, as a general -thing, never approach. Taking the average of all the educated -classes, the laity know more than the churchmen. The obedience, -therefore, which ignorance once paid to learning has vanished. -What is there to substitute in its stead? The Anglican -establishment claims no direct authority from heaven to teach and -direct, or, if she does assert any such prerogative, she asserts -it in so loose a manner, claiming and disclaiming in the same -breath, that her disciples cannot help feeling themselves at -perfect liberty to obey or not as they please. - -What is the natural consequence of this state of things? Why, -earnest, thinking men are driven away from the English -establishment in constantly increasing numbers. In a few years, -if matters go on as they are now going, the regular old humdrum -Episcopalian or Anglican will be as great a curiosity as the last -soldier of the Revolution. Some are taking refuge in ritualism, -and trying to supplant their cold and cheerless establishment by -a counterfeit Catholicism, which may, and we hope will, lead them -ultimately to the one true faith, but which is at present only a -pretty sham. Others, and among these is Mr. Froude, rush to the -opposite extreme, and profess an extravagant rationalism which is -nearly equivalent to no creed at all. Mr. Froude has been -regarded as in some sense the champion of the English -establishment. He is the admiring chronicler of its infancy, the -apologist and biographer of its earliest apostles and prophets, -Henry and Elizabeth, Cromwell and Cranmer. He has made the -history of its foundation the study of his life, and has told -that history in a strain of enthusiasm such as has inspired no -other reputable writer. If there is any man from whom we might -have expected a vigorous defence of the claims of Anglicanism, a -recognition of its right to command our obedience, it is Mr. -Froude. Yet he has given us just the reverse of this. His volume -is at once a startling indication of the mental unrest which has -kept thinking Anglicans disturbed of late years, and a strong -protest against the right of the Church of England to seek to -quiet that uneasiness by the exercise of ecclesiastical authority -or the bold promulgation of clerical dogmas. In his "Plea for the -Free Discussion of Theological Difficulties," reprinted in the -present volume from _Fraser's Magazine_, he calls for a -reopening of all the fundamental questions of religious belief, a -subjection of every article of every creed to the most searching -discussion. -{429} -The clergy, he says in effect, are not to be our instructors in -matters of theology. We are quite as competent to judge as they -are. Theological truth is not different from any other truth. The -Holy Spirit does not guide the Church, and there is no tribunal -but public opinion which is competent to decide disputed -questions of religious belief. In a word, the great truths of -theology are all to be declared open problems, and the world is -to be turned into one great debating society for their free -discussion. - -This is not the place to show the tendency of Mr. Froude's -principles, nor to Catholic readers is there much need of showing -it. We only refer to them as a remarkable example of a state of -feeling which prevails among a large party of the most -intellectual members of the Church of England, and what the -result of that state of feeling must be it is not difficult to -tell. - -Of the other essays in this volume we have little to say. The -three lectures on "The Times of Erasmus and Luther" are not very -pleasant reading for us, but they are counterbalanced by a paper -on "The Philosophy of Catholicism," in which the writer pays an -eloquent tribute to "the beautiful creed which for 1500 years -tuned the heart and formed the mind of the noblest of mankind." -His admiration, of course, stops short of its logical term, and -is but a coldly intellectual sort of appreciation at best--not -that emotional comprehension which must accompany the grace of -faith; but, such as it is, we thank him for it. - -------- - - Life And Letters Of Madame Swetchine. - By Count de Falloux, of the French Academy. - Translated by H. W. Preston, - 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 369. - Boston: Roberts Brothers. - New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1867. - -It can hardly be necessary to inform our readers who Madame -Swetchine was, or what are the claims of her life and career to -the interest and attention of the public. A sketch of her -remarkable history has been already given in _The Catholic -World_ for July, 1865. Her biographer was one of her most -intimate friends--a member of the distinguished coterie of French -ecclesiastics and laymen with whose aims and aspirations she most -deeply sympathized--a witness of her dying hours, and the -executor of her last will and testament. He is the Count de -Falloux, and that is more than any eulogium we could pronounce on -his qualities as a writer. Mr. Alger, under whose auspices this -life has been translated and published, has done a great service, -and has added no little to the value of the book, in its English -dress, by the short preface with which he introduces it to the -American public. The following passage shows what has been the -intention and the spirit with which he has been animated: - - "It may seem strange that a work so eminently Catholic in its - quality as this biography should be introduced to a Protestant - people by a Protestant translator and Protestant publishers. - But, on further consideration, will not this be found - especially fit and serviceable? In this country, a traditional - antipathy or bigoted repugnance to the Catholic Church prevails - in an unjustifiable extreme. Whatever is repulsive in the - Catholic dogmas or rule is fastened on with unwarrantable - acrimony and exclusiveness. The interests alike of justice and - of good feeling demand that the attention of Protestants shall, - at least occasionally, be given to the best ingredients and - workings of the Catholic system. In the present work, we have - the forensic doctrine and authority of Catholicity in the - background, its purest inner aims and life in the foreground. - We here have a beautiful specimen of the style of character and - experience which the most imposing organic Symbol of - Christendom tends to produce, and has, in all the ages of its - mighty reign, largely produced. If every bigoted disliker of - the Roman Catholic Church within the English-speaking race - could read this book, and, as a consequence, have his - prejudices lessened, his sympathies enlarged, the result, so - far from being deprecated, should be warmly welcomed. This is - written by one who, while enthusiastically admiring the - spiritual wealth of the Catholic Church, the ineffable - tenderness and beauty of its moral and religious ministrations, - is, as to its dogmatic fabric and secular sway, even more than - a Protestant of the Protestants. Finally, this book is - especially commended to women as a work of inestimable worth. - The character and life of Madame Swetchine, her lonely studies - and aspirations, her sublime personal attainments, her - philanthropic labors, her literary productions, her sweet - social charm and vast influence, her thrice-royal friendships - with kings and geniuses and saints, the sober raptures of her - religious faith and fruition, form an example whose exciting - and edifying interest and value are scarcely surpassed in the - annals of her sex." - -The translation has been well done, and the typographical -execution is unexceptionable. We desire for the book as wide a -circulation as possible. - ------- - -{430} - - The Catholic Crusoe. - Adventures of Owen Evans, Esq., Surgeon's Mate, - set Ashore with Five Companions on a Desolate - Island in the Caribbean Sea, 1739. - Given from the original MS. - By Rev. W. H. Anderdon, M.A. - 12mo, pp. 344. - London: Burns, Lambert & Gates. - New York: The Catholic Publication Society. - -The name of Dr. Anderdon's interesting story is so well indicated -by the title that we have only to add that it seems admirably -adapted both to amuse and instruct young people, is full of -incident, and is written in a pleasant and simple style. A -supplement entitled "Don Manuel's Narrative," a marvellous -relation purporting to have been picked up at sea, is a second -story of a nature similar to the first. We commend the book to -parents and teachers as a very acceptable present for lads of a -somewhat advanced age. - ------- - - Aner's Return; or, - The Migrations of a Soul. An Allegorical Tale. - By Alto S. Hoermann, O.S.B. - Translated from the Original German by - Innocent A. Bergrath. - 12mo, pp. 294. New York: P. O'Shea. - -This is an allegory of human life, sin, repentance, and -forgiveness, the idea of which seems to have been inspired by -Bunyan's _Pilgrim's Progress_. The excellence of the -author's intentions and the soundness of his theology must plead -in excuse for a great many shortcomings, the most serious of -which is that the book is not very readable. The ambitious style, -we fear, will repel a great many readers from a story which -displays considerable ingenuity, and, as we are assured by the -translator, has proved very popular in Europe. It is very neatly -printed and prettily bound, and will serve well as a holiday -present or school premium. - ------- - - Memoirs And Correspondence Of Madame Récamier. - Translated from the French, and edited by - Isaphene M. Luyster. - 12mo, pp. 408. - Boston: Roberts Brothers. - -We published in an early number of _The Catholic World_ a -sketch of the remarkable and brilliant woman whose life forms the -subject of this attractive little volume. The French work, from -which Miss Luyster's translation is made, appeared in Paris in -1859. It was from the pen of Madame Lenormant, the adopted -daughter of Madame Récamier, and niece of her husband. The lady -seems, from all accounts, to have performed her task in a rather -loose and confused manner, so that Miss Luyster's part has been -not only to turn it into readable English, but to prune, -condense, and arrange it in readable form; and this we judge she -has done in a very satisfactory manner. The correspondence is -strangely deficient in Madame Récamier's own letters; but the -lack of these is well compensated for by numerous ones from -Chateaubriand, Matthieu de Montmorency, and Ballanche, and a few -from Madame de Staël, La Harpe Bernadotte, Louis Napoleon, Victor -Hugo, and Béranger. - ---------- - - The Galin Method Of Musical Instruction. - By C. H. Farnham. - New York: American News Company. 1867. - -Mr. Farnham gives us a very concise comparative view of the -common system of musical notation and the new one known as the -Galin Method, which has already received so much consideration in -Europe, and must soon attract the attention of the musical world -in this country. In France, many distinguished musicians have -advocated the general adoption of the Galin method, and it is the -only one now used at the Polytechnic and superior normal schools -in Paris and in the government schools of Russia. It aims at -simplifying the system of musical signs, now certainly somewhat -complicated, by the substitution of a uniform series of figures -for the old staff, with its different clefs and many-shaped -notes. - -It is claimed that by this method nine persons out of ten can be -taught the whole theory of music in a few months, and learn at -the same time to sing at sight and to write under dictation, -independently of an instrument, music of ordinary difficulty. -{431} -We have very little doubt that this system possesses immense -advantages over the old one for learning the theory of music and -for the execution of a vocal score. But we are not quite sure -that a page of instrumental music written according to the Galin -method would be any less difficult to read than one written in -the old style. We have already simplified matters a good deal by -the abandonment of several of the clefs formerly in use, and we -do not see why a still further reformation might not be made. We -had the pleasure of assisting at one of Mr. Farnham's classes, -given in this city, and can testify to the remarkable facility of -reading and writing music according to this method, as exhibited -by his pupils. Our musical readers will not fail to find much to -interest them in a perusal of this essay. - ---------- - - St. Ignatius And The Society Of Jesus: - Their Influence on Civilization and Christianity. - A Sermon delivered in the Church of the - Immaculate Conception, in Boston, on Sunday, - August 4th, 1867. By Rev. G. F. Haskins, - Rector of the Home of the Angel Guardian. - Boston: Bernard Carr, Printer, 5 Chatham Row. 1867. - -Father Haskins is one of our most eloquent preachers and most -graphic writers, although he seldom favors us with any published -productions. His eloquence is that eloquence of realities which -flies off like a glowing stream of sparks from the energetic -action of a soul on fire with zeal, incessantly occupied in -practical works of charity. The sermon before us is a panegyric -pronounced in the church of the Jesuits in Boston, on the -occasion of the celebration of the feast of St. Ignatius. It -recounts in a succinct but forcible and thorough manner the -services rendered to religion and humanity by the Society of -Jesus. Although the language is glowing and the eulogium of the -highest kind, yet, in point of fact, Father Haskins has not -exaggerated the reality. History bears out all that he so warmly -claims for this great religious order, which has equalled in its -history the greatest orders of past ages, while far surpassing -all others in modern times. The hatred and calumny which the -Jesuits have encountered on the part of anti-Catholics were never -more gratuitous and undeserved. The whole sum of the accusations -which Catholic writers have been able to bring against them -merely show that some portions of the society have at times -degenerated from its true spirit; that individuals have erred in -doctrine, or committed faults in administration; that a mistaken -policy has sometimes been adopted; and that the order has not, -any more than the other great orders, transcended that limited -though elevated sphere to which every order is confined by the -law of its being. The Jesuits were constituted as one of the -_corps d'élite_ of the church militant. As such they have -rendered the most signal services, which will ever cover their -names with imperishable glory; and we ascribe their success, in -subordination to the grace of God and the unfailing vigor of the -Catholic Church whose offspring they are, to the genius elevated -by sanctity of their founder, and the admirable constitutions -which he bequeathed to the institute. - ------- - - Meditations Of St. Thomas, etc. - For a Retreat of Ten Days. - Followed by a Treatise on the Virtues, etc. - By Father Massoulie, O.P. - Translated from the French. - London: Richardson. - New York: The Catholic Publication Society. - -These Meditations have been taken, as to their substance, from -the writings of St. Thomas, but arranged and supplemented by the -learned Dominican whose name is given in the title. Their great -advantage lies in the fact that they embody the doctrine of one -who was not only the most consummate theologian the world has -ever seen, but also a contemplative saint of the highest order. -This gives one who wishes to use them for his own profit a secure -warrant that they will furnish his mind and heart with the most -choice as well as wholesome nutriment they can possibly feed -upon. The works of saints are always to be preferred to all -others. -{432} -We recommend, therefore, this work, derived from the writings of -a most illustrious saint, to all; especially to thoughtful and -educated men who can relish, and who, therefore, desire and need, -the most solid spiritual food to promote the growth of -intelligent, solid piety and virtue in their souls. - -------- - - The Heiress Of Killorgan; - or, Evenings With The Old Geraldines. - By Mrs. J. Sadlier. - New York; D. & J. Sadlier & Co. - -The author of this very interesting novel has given to our -literature a great number of works of various kinds, intended not -only for our amusement but for our instruction; and the present -volume is perhaps the very best specimen of her productions, -combining, as it does, the interest of a romance with many -genuine historical and personal reminiscences of the celebrated -Anglo-Norman family of Fitzgerald, with which is associated so -much of the history of Ireland from the English invasion until -the present time. It cannot be said that there is any plot in the -tale, being a simple narration of the incidents occurring in the -household of a refined family reduced in fortune, but still -retaining its native dignity and pride of ancestry; but the -characters, though few, are clearly, gracefully, and vividly -drawn. The heiress of the decayed house of Killorgan is admirably -sketched with a pencil which aims less at personal description -than at those delicate lines of thought and feeling which, after -all, give us the truest idea of the excellence of the female -character. The greatest merit, however, of the work rests in its -historical descriptions, which, being taken from the best -authorities, are thoroughly reliable and presented in a very -attractive and concise form. - --------- - - Affixes In Their Origin And Application. - Exhibiting the Etymological Structure of English Words. - By S. S. Haldeman, A.M. - Philadelphia: Butler & Co. 1865. 12mo, pp. 271. - -Professor Haldeman has few if any superiors in the science of -language, and he has also the modesty that always accompanies -real merit. He pretends to no more knowledge than he really has, -and he never undertakes to explain what in the present state of -linguistic science is not explicable. His chief fault is his fear -of saying on any point more than is necessary, which leaves him -in his brevity sometimes obscure. We should find his work more -easily understood if he allowed himself to enlarge a little more -on the independent meaning of the prefixes and suffixes to -English words. But perhaps he is full enough for others. - -The importance of affixes in the construction of English words -may be gathered from the fact that there are in English only -about three thousand two hundred monosyllables, and that many of -these even are not primitives, but have a prefix, a suffix, or -both. It is evident that affixes must be concerned in the -formation of by far the greatest part of the English vocabulary, -and that an accurate knowledge of English words is to be obtained -only "through a distinct appreciation of the modes used to vary -them according to the exigencies of thought and speech." This -appreciation in the case of our mother tongue becomes the more -difficult because it is a composite tongue, and, unlike the Greek -and Welsh, for instance, has not its chief etymological materials -in itself, and its words cannot in general be analyzed -independently of other languages. To have a scientific knowledge -of our language we must know the languages from which its words -are derived, and the derivation, meaning, and use of their -affixes in those languages as well as in our own. Professor -Haldeman has in this small but compact volume attempted to give -us the derivation, meaning, and use of all the affixes, divided -into prefixes and suffixes, in the English language, from -whatever language taken, and he has done it in as satisfactory a -manner as possible in the present state of comparative philology. -No English scholar should fail to obtain and master it, if he -wishes really to understand his own language. - --------- - -{433} - - The Catholic World. - - Vol. Vi., No. 34. January, 1868. - - - - The Catholic Doctrine Of Justification. - - -The remarks we are about to make in this article grow out of the -discussion of the philosophy of conversion between this magazine -and the _New-Englander_. Nevertheless, those who expect a -continuation of personal controversy on the topics suggested in -our last article, and a formal rejoinder to the respected writer -in the _New-Englander_ who replied to it, will be -disappointed. Our views on the subject matter of discussion were -expressed, as we think, clearly enough to be understood, and as -fully as our purpose required. We leave them, therefore, to the -judgment of those of our readers who are really in earnest, that -they may give them whatever weight their intrinsic value may -demand in the court of conscience; and as for the opinion of -others, we care nothing. Controversy upon minor topics and side -issues is of its very nature interminable, as well as of little -comparative utility. The controversy between the Catholic Church -and Protestants on the great, fundamental principles and -doctrines at issue, has been so ably and thoroughly argued out -that there is little left to be done in that department of -theology. For those who desire information, there are plenty of -books to be had treating of every topic in a much more -satisfactory manner than it is possible to treat them in the -short compass of magazine articles. The great controversy of the -day, in our opinion, and the one which interests us most deeply, -is the one which is waging between Christianity and infidelity, -in its various phases of rationalism, scepticism, and atheism. So -far as Protestants of the more orthodox schools are concerned, -the aspect of the question we feel most disposed to present to -them is that which Guizot and others of their own number have -seen with more or less distinctness--namely, that in the great -conflict of the age their real interest is at stake in the -success of the Catholic side; that, as Christians, they belong to -us, and ought to make with us common cause against the enemy. -That method of removing the difficulty in the way of their doing -so which recommends itself to our judgment and feelings is one -which brings into strong relief the grand, fundamental principles -of Christianity in which we agree; and with these principles as a -point of departure, endeavors to explain and develop the complete -Catholic system in such a way as to remove misunderstandings and -to show how the several, particular portions of revealed truth, -held by our various bodies of separated brethren in a fragmentary -state, are integrated in a grand, universal whole in this -Catholic system. -{434} -In this line, as we conceive it, lie the richest and least -worked-out fields, where new writers may enter in and follow up -the labors of their predecessors. One special need, moreover, is -to clothe thought in a language which is familiar to the persons -we are addressing, and to translate or explain in their own idiom -what may be strange or unintelligible in the forms of other ages, -countries, and schools of philosophy and theology. What little -the writer of this article is able to do he prefers to do in this -line, and thinks it best to restrict himself to single and -specific topics in the short essays which are the only suitable -ones for a magazine. We have no wish to abjure general -controversy in the abstract, or to lay down a rule of conduct in -this matter for others. Nor would we seem to slight or treat with -indifference what may be written on the other side. We desire to -give due attention to all that candid and courteous opponents may -have to say, and to keep it in view when we are arguing our own -cause. It suits better, however, with the time and strength we -have at our command, and our other avocations, to keep ourselves -free from the obligations of formal controversy, and to be at -liberty to take up such single topics as may be opportune -according to circumstances. At present, we propose to touch a -little more at length upon the topic of justification, one of -those we have before now briefly remarked upon, dropping -altogether the attitude and style of personal controversy. - -The real objection against the Catholic doctrine of justification -by _fides formata_, or faith informed by charity, as well as -the reason for insisting that faith alone justifies, exclusively -of the charity which accompanies it, is grounded in a notion that -the former doctrine subverts the gratuitous character of -salvation by the grace of God through the merits of Jesus Christ. -We propose, therefore, to make a brief exposition of the Catholic -doctrine, with a view of showing what it really teaches -respecting the gratuitousness of grace, and the work of Christ as -the meritorious cause of its being conferred. - -Catholic theology teaches, what even sound philosophy -demonstrates, that all created existence proceeds from a -gratuitous act of the Creator. But it teaches, moreover, against -the Pelagians, that the original state of supernatural justice -and sanctity in which the angels and Adam were constituted was an -additional gratuitous boon, or grace conferred by God. It is -evident, then, that the Catholic doctrine excludes the -possibility of holding that the first principle of the -beatification and glorification of a creature is in the nature of -the creature itself. This principle, as supernatural, is not due -to nature, cannot be merited by any acts proceeding from the -principles of nature, and must therefore be a pure, gratuitous -grace. That is, the creature is justified by grace, and owes the -capacity of attaining beatitude, consequently beatitude itself -when attained, radically to a pure act of the divine goodness. It -is plain, therefore, that the angels and Adam could not have -merited their own justification. They were obliged either to -receive it passively, or to accept it, as Billuart holds, by an -active concurrence with grace. -{435} -The grace being given, constituting its subjects in the state of -justice and sanctity, what was it? It was not a mere forensic and -exterior modification of their relation to God, but an interior, -sanctifying grace, making them subjectively, holy, like to God, -affiliated to him, united to him in an inchoate union whose final -term is beatitude. It is evident that this sanctifying grace, -which in act was the love of God, made them fit and worthy to be -the friends of God, and to be admitted to the fellowship of his -glory. It is also certain that they were placed in probation. -What was that probation? Was it not a trial of obedience, in -which certain definite acts of free-will were prescribed as the -conditions of being confirmed in grace and consummated in glory? -Eternal life was therefore proposed to them as the reward of good -works, as a premium of voluntary obedience, and as such is -actually possessed by the holy angels in heaven. It is, -therefore, true that the angels were justified by grace, -justified by charity, justified by good works; that their -salvation proceeds from the pure goodness of God, and has been -obtained by their own good acts: nor is there the least -contradiction in any of these statements. - -There being no intrinsic, necessary contradiction between the two -propositions, the creature is justified and beatified by the -gratuitous grace of God; and, the creature is justified and -beatified by his personal sanctity--there is no necessary -logical deduction derivable from the premise that man in his -present state is justified by gratuitous grace to the conclusion -that he is not justified by his intrinsic sanctity. The -redemption has repaired the fall, has restored the human race to -the condition from which it fell by the sin of Adam. There is no -reason, therefore, why man should not be justified now, in -essentially the same manner as before; no reason why the order of -grace, repaired by redemption, should not follow the same -essential laws as before the fall. If a change has taken place, -it must be proved that it is so. If this change was required by -the fact that the restoration of man is due to the merits of -Christ, the reason of it must be shown. It must be shown that the -recovery of justification through the merits of Christ is -incompatible with justification by intrinsic sanctity and -glorification as the reward of good works done from the principle -of charity. If this cannot be shown, no argument can be derived -from the doctrine that the work of Christ is the meritorious -cause of the justification of fallen man to prove that the formal -cause of his justification is any other than the formal cause of -the justification of the angels and of man in his original state. - -The Catholic doctrine teaches that the sacrifice of himself which -Jesus Christ offered up on the cross is the meritorious cause of -justification through the expiation which it made of original and -actual sin, and the new title which it obtained to the lost -inheritance of everlasting life. This includes in itself the -grant of all those graces which are necessary in order to the -remission of sins, the sanctification of the soul, and its -complete preparation for the state of beatitude and glory. -Consequently, all Catholic theologians teach that the initial -movement of the sinner to return to God, the faith which disposes -him for justification, the sanctifying grace which makes him -really just and the friend of God, the actual graces which enable -him to perform salutary acts, the special aid which enables him -to persevere, all proceed from the grace of God, which is -gratuitous in reference to the original provision of a plan of -redemption, gratuitous toward each individual who receives it so -far as he is personally concerned, and due as a reward, under the -title of justice, solely to Jesus Christ himself on account of -his own personal merits. -{436} -It is, therefore, through the merits of Christ that a sinner -receives the grace which justifies and sanctifies him in the -first instance. Through the same merits he receives the remission -of his sins, if he falls into any afterward. Through the same -merits he receives all the actual graces which he obtains by -prayer. And, finally, it is through the same merits that the -kingdom of heaven has been prepared for him, as the ultimate term -to which he is permitted to aspire. The effect of the merits of -the death of Christ upon the cross is therefore to put fallen man -back again, essentially, where he was before the trial in -Paradise, and where the angels were when they were created. It -does not affect the case at all whether the angels and Adam were -placed in that state in view of the Incarnation, or by the mere -goodness of God, without any reference to the Incarnation. If -they were created and elevated to the divine filiation, -_intuitu Christi_, they received a boon motived upon the -extrinsic glory which God would receive from his deific humanity. -If not, they received the same boon motived upon the glory which -God would receive from their elevation to beatitude. The boon was -equally gratuitous in either case, for the decree of the -Incarnation, whether included in the decree of creation or in -that of redemption--whether antecedent or subsequent to the -foresight of redemption--was perfectly gratuitous. Nay, more: -because it was gratuitous it was fitting and just that God should -condition it with any terms that were possible and reasonable. He -did actually condition it upon obedience to certain precepts, -unknown to us as regards the angels, but known as regards Adam. -The original grace conceded to them, therefore, merely placed -them in a condition to obtain everlasting beatitude by -corresponding to this grace with their free, voluntary acts, or -by fidelity to the obligations of their probation. They were -justified, that is, placed in the state of justification, by the -act of God which gave them sanctifying grace. They were -constituted just in act by this personal quality of sanctifying -grace, which made them fit and worthy to be the sons of God; and -they were commanded to retain the state of justice, to augment -it, and to obtain confirmation in it, with the consummation of it -in glory, as a premium of obedience to the divine precepts. The -holy angels are now in heaven actually the object of the divine -love of complacency on account of their inherent sanctity and in -proportion to the degree of it which each one possesses. They -enjoy heaven as a reward gained by the right exercise of their -free-will; and yet, it is no less true that their state of glory -is due to the gratuitous grace of God, nor is there any -contradiction in supposing that the grace was given to them -_intuitu Christi_. - -The fact that man is now placed under an order of grace, based on -the merits of Christ, cannot therefore be shown to be -incompatible with the position that he is also placed in a state -of probation essentially similar to that of angels and of Adam. -He may be constituted just by sanctifying grace, as well as they; -obliged, as well as they, to remain just, and to attain perpetual -justice and its complement of glory by the right exercise of his -free-will in producing acts which proceed from the principle of -sanctity within him. - -{437} - -The Catholic doctrine teaches that man is actually placed in this -state of probation under the law of grace established in Christ. -This probation implies that the initial, inchoate principle of -the divine everlasting life to which he is destined should be -implanted within him, as the centre of the supernatural force -giving him a movement toward his prefixed end. It implies, also, -that a series of acts impelling him forward should proceed from -this principle by the effort of his free-will. This principle can -be nothing else than sanctifying grace, and sanctifying grace, in -its essence, can be nothing else than the love of God. Love is -the only principle capable of uniting the soul with God. Faith -alone cannot do it. It is further evident that faith cannot be -the essential principle which makes the soul just, for two -reasons: First. That infants are capable of justification, which, -we suppose, no one will deny, but are not capable of an act of -faith. Second. That faith is a temporary virtue, ceasing in the -beatified state, whereas the principle of justification is -permanent and eternal. - -Moreover, the sphere of probation is necessarily identical with -the sphere of free-will, and the sphere of free-will is -coextensive with all the precepts which God has given as the -matter for free-will to exercise its choice upon, by selecting -the good and rejecting the evil. The acts which must proceed from -the principle of love, in order to bring the soul to God as its -ultimate term, must, therefore, cover the whole ground of the -divine law, and include the fulfilment of all its commandments. -It is impossible, therefore, that faith alone should justify, -unless probation, free-will, and the law of God are strictly -confined to the sphere of faith. No one will pretend that they -are. If they are not, it is impossible that a mere habit of -faith, or the mere exercise of faith in act, should alone -constitute a man just before God. God is not bound to place a -creature on probation. He can justify, sanctify, and glorify him -immediately, without leaving him any liberty of choice between -good and evil. But he cannot elevate him to the high state of -personal union and friendship with himself without giving him -that love which fixes the will immovably in God as the supreme -good, and includes in itself all virtue and sanctity. Union -between the soul and God requires likeness. The soul must be made -like to God in order that it may love God, and that God may love -the soul. Although, therefore, God is not bound to place a -creature on probation--that is, to require of him the particular -exercise of love which consists in a voluntary obedience to -certain precepts--yet he cannot dispense with love itself, which -is the sole and indispensable requisite to a state of perfect -justification; and although he is not bound to place a creature -in a state of probation, yet if he does so, he cannot dispense -with those acts of love which are suitable to such a state. The -very notion of a state of probation requires that certain -precepts should be given to a rational creature, who is free to -keep them or violate them as he may choose, and who is to receive -the favor of God during his probation and an eternal reward at -the end of it if he keeps them, forfeiting both if he fails to do -so. On any other supposition, the state of probation is entirely -illusory and unreal. The attributes of God require him to carry -out the terms of the probation to which he has subjected man. -{438} -When he imposes precepts, he must from his very nature withdraw -his friendship from the transgressor. He may still regard him -with the love of benevolence, and offer him forgiveness; but he -cannot actually forgive him and look upon him again with the love -of complacency until he has regained his lost sanctity and -returned to the love of God. Sin of its own nature turns the soul -away from God as its supreme good to some created object. It is, -therefore, a contradiction in terms to say that a man can be in -the state of sin and the state of justification at the same time; -for it is equivalent to saying that he can at the same instant be -turned toward God as his supreme good, and away from him. Love is -therefore the _conditio sine quâ non_, at least, of -justification. Faith alone cannot, therefore, formally justify. -If it did, there would be no need of love in order to constitute -a man just before God. A man might be completely justified while -in the very act of the most grievous sin, as, for instance, -blasphemy, murder, or suicide, and might die without having -changed his will to commit those sins, yet pass immediately to -heaven. These sins are not incompatible with faith, though they -are with charity. If they are incompatible with faith, all mortal -sins--that is, all those which, in the strict and proper sense, -alienate the soul from God, and destroy charity--must be -incompatible with faith. Why is this? Does faith, of its own -nature, produce charity? If it does, it must contain within -itself the radical principle of charity, and while it exists in -the soul it must exclude all sins which are directly contrary to -charity and incompatible with it. Then, one who has faith cannot -commit a mortal sin. If faith is inamissible, and a man once -justified can no more lose his justification, then, as soon as -one has obtained faith, he has obtained also exemption from all -mortal sins for the future. If faith is not inamissible, then -every sin against charity, or every mortal sin, destroys faith -and justification. Such a definition of faith, however, including -love and sanctifying grace, makes faith to be the _fides -formata_ of Catholic theology. - -If it is said that faith does not, of itself, produce charity, -yet is always accompanied by charity, it must be, then, that -faith gives one a title to sanctifying grace and charity, so -that, whoever makes an act of faith, receives an additional gift -which makes him holy. In that case, every one who was once -justified would be exempt from mortal sin while his faith lasts. -If the first act of faith justifies once for all, then the -believer can never again commit a mortal sin. If it justifies -only for the time being, then while it lasts it preserves the -soul from sin, and whoever sins proves that he has already lost -faith. This is contrary to reason and experience. It is certain -that men who have had faith and grace have afterwards sinned -mortally. Therefore, faith does not, by its first act, bring with -it an inamissible gift of charity. It is also certain that men do -not always lose faith when they sin, or sin against faith first -before they sin against charity. Many a man who believes firmly -in Jesus Christ as the Son of God and the Saviour of men, and who -hopes for salvation through his merits, commits mortal sin, and -even lives for years in the habitual state of sin. It may be said -that such persons have no _saving_ faith, never did have it, -or have lost it. But what is saving faith? What is the -_differentia_ of that faith which really justifies? -{439} -It is evident enough that a certain kind of habitual belief in -Jesus Christ and his doctrines, accompanied by a desire and hope -of being saved through his merits and mercy, does frequently -exist in persons who are living in habitual sin. If this is not -genuine faith, or saving faith, there must be in saving faith -some additional quality which distinguishes it from that faith -which produces no fruits of sanctity. Is it made saving by its -quality of supernaturalness, or as proceeding from the grace of -the Holy Spirit? This is the same as saying that supernatural -faith, as such, or because it is a grace of the Holy Spirit, -necessarily brings with it sanctification. This is not so. The -Holy Spirit may and does give men a firm belief in revealed -truths, and a hope of obtaining mercy from God through Christ -before they are actually forgiven and justified. This remains in -them, often, after they have lost sanctifying grace by sin, as a -disposition which facilitates their return to God. It does not, -however, _per se_, produce the fruits of sanctity, or -implant the principle of love, from which these fruits proceed, -which is the very principle of union with God, and, therefore, -the formal cause of justification. That quality which faith must -have, in order to render it justifying faith, cannot be, -therefore, anything else but charity, or the love of God, which -makes it _fides formata_. - -We are convinced that a great number of Protestants substantially -hold the doctrines we have laid down. They believe that man has -free-will; is bound to believe and obey the doctrine and precepts -of Jesus Christ; is made the friend of God by sanctifying grace -brought into the active exercise of Christian virtue by his own -voluntary cooperation; is placed here to work out his own -salvation; will receive heaven as a reward if he serves God -faithfully, and will be damned if he lives in sin. Even those who -hold the Calvinistic tradition either modify its tenets or hold -more sound and rational opinions in juxtaposition with them, -which really control their sentiments and conduct. It would be -easy to show this by a multitude of citations. So far as -metaphysical opinions and technical statements are concerned, we -judge every work and every formula of doctrine by its obvious, -objective sense, and accept every individual writer's statements -respecting his own opinions. But in regard to the real, genuine -ideas which form the true intellectual and spiritual life of men, -we take the liberty of judging them more by the language they use -in common life, by their indirect statements, and by the general -spirit and scope of what they say and write, when not immediately -intent upon stating their technical formulas, than from their -technical formulas themselves. We have heard it said of the -illustrious President Dwight that his real sentiments and conduct -toward his fellow-men indicated a belief in the goodness of all -men, whereas he held theoretically that all men were totally -depraved. We have no doubt that President Edwards always acted on -the belief that his children possessed the self-determining power -of the will, against which he wrote so acutely, or that Bishop -Berkeley was persuaded of the reality of the external world. -Therefore, we still think that a large number of non-Catholics -are more Catholic in their belief than they are aware, and that -their rejection of what they suppose to be Catholic doctrine is -frequently only a rejection of opinions attributed by mistake to -the Catholic Church. -{440} -In regard to this special question of justification, it is our -opinion that the objection prevalent among the more orthodox -Protestants is based on the supposition that the Catholic -doctrine ascribes a justifying and saving efficacy to a mere -intellectual submission to church-authority, and a mere external -compliance with its precepts, without reference to the interior -disposition of the soul toward God, or recognition of the merits -of Christ as the source of all the supernatural excellence and -value of good works. It is believed that the Catholic substitutes -the merits of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the merits of the saints, -and his own merits, as an independent ground of justification, in -lieu of the merits of Christ. Also, that merit is ascribed to -mere external works, such as fasting, hearing mass, and -performing ceremonial rites or penitential labors, on account of -the mere physical nature and extent of the works done, without -reference to the motive from which they proceed. The vague and -timorous pastoral of the late Synod of Lambeth is explicit and -bold only on this one point, of condemning the substitution of -the Virgin Mary as a mediator in the place of Christ. For this -reason, we think that the simple statement of the genuine -Catholic doctrine is the surest way to remove objections against -it, and that most of these objections fall away of themselves as -soon as the misapprehensions of the doctrine are removed. This is -no private fancy of our own, but the judgment of some of the -ablest theologians of the world, Protestant as well as Catholic. -Leibnitz, the greatest philosopher among Protestants, found -nothing to object to in the doctrines of the Council of Trent -respecting justification. Dr. Pusey, one of the most learned men -of the age in scriptural and patristic theology, has publicly -expressed his adhesion to the same doctrine. It is easy to -ridicule that movement in the Anglican church, of which he is the -head; but it would be much more sensible for those who do it to -study his elaborate and profound writings, and much more -difficult to refute them. Protestantism has produced nothing, at -least in the English language, which can approach the great works -of the High-Church divines of England. These works contain the -elements of all the theology of Catholic doctrine respecting the -justification of man, in the ascetical, spiritual, and -sacramental aspects of the question. All the life of -Protestantism in England is centred in the Catholicizing -movement. On the continent, that orthodox Protestantism which is -derived from Luther and Calvin is a nullity. The real issue of -the world, as we have repeatedly said, is about the fundamental -principles of Christianity. The question between Catholics and -those Protestants who hold with us these fundamental principles -is not, as many of them suppose, respecting the first principles -of the doctrine of Christ, but respecting the deductions to be -derived from them and their due development. That God is revealed -in Jesus Christ, as our sovereign teacher, our sovereign Lord, -our sovereign redeemer and mediator, the sovereign author of our -spiritual and everlasting life; that we are bound to render him -the absolute homage of our faith and our obedience, is admitted -by all. The only question is, by what method or means can we -ascertain with certainty the exact and complete sense of the -doctrine he has commanded us to believe and the law he has -commanded us to keep. This is a question to be decided by -evidence. The sooner the _prohibentia_ in the way of -examining carefully and candidly this evidence are removed the -better. This is the only point we have been aiming at--the only -result we desire to reach. -{441} -We have endeavored to remove some of the obstacles in the way of -a fair hearing of the claims of the Catholic Church, arising from -_à priori_ conceptions of her doctrine, which are thought to -authorize a foregone conclusion against them. We have also -presented some of the reasons specially urgent at present, why -the basis for unity which the Catholic Church offers should be -carefully and studiously considered by all those who desire the -union and welfare of Christendom, its victory over every form of -anti-Christianity, and its universal extension in the world. The -_fides formata_, or faith working by love, which we have set -forth as the vital principle of spiritual life in the individual, -must also be the principle of unity in the Christian society. -Whoever has faith implicitly believes all those revealed -doctrines which, without his own fault, he does not explicitly -know to be revealed. Whoever has love has the principle of -obedience to those laws whose existence he does not know. -Therefore, we say that whoever has _fides formata_ is -justified, and, of course, spiritually united to the true church. -But whoever remains culpably in error respecting essential -doctrines and precepts, or refuses to believe and obey what is -fairly presented to him as the revealed truth and will of Jesus -Christ, cannot have _fides formata_. It is evident, -therefore, that we are all bound to strive after as great a -certitude as possible respecting the important question at issue -between the Catholic Church and Protestants. - --------- - - Translated From The French. - - The Story Of A Conscript. - - - VI. - - -The mairie of Phalsbourg, that Thursday morning, January 15th, -1813, during the drawing for the conscription, was a sight to be -seen. To-day it is bad enough to be drawn, to be forced to leave -parents, friends, home, one's goods and one's fields, to go and -learn--God knows where "_One! two!_ one! two! halt! eyes -left! eyes right! front! carry arms!" etc. etc. Yes, this is all -bad enough, but there is a chance of returning. One can say, with -something like confidence: "In seven years I will see my old nest -again, and my parents, and perhaps my sweetheart. I shall have -seen the world, and will perhaps have some title to be appointed -forester or gend'arme." This is a comfort for reasonable people. -But then, if you had the ill-luck to lose in the lottery, there -was an end of you; often not one in a hundred returned. The idea -that you were only going for a time never entered your head. - -The enrolled of Harberg, of Garbourg, and of Quatre-Vents were to -draw first; then those of the city, and lastly those of Wéehem -and Mittlebronn. - -{442} - -I was up early in the morning, and with my elbows on the -work-bench I watched the people pass by; young men in blouses, -poor old men in cotton caps and short vests; old women in jackets -and woolen skirts, bent almost double, with staff or umbrella -under their arms. They arrived by families. Monsieur the -Sous-Préfet of Larrebourg, with his silver collar, and his -secretary, had stopped the day before at the "Red Ox," and they -were also looking out of the window. Toward eight o'clock, -Monsieur Goulden began work, after breakfasting. I ate nothing, -but stared and stared until Monsieur the Mayor, Parmentier and -his coadjutor, came for Monsieur the Sous-Préfet. - -The drawing began at nine, and soon we heard the clarionet of -Pfifer-Karl and the violin of great Andrès resounding through the -streets. They were playing the "March of the Swedes," an air to -which thousands of poor wretches had left old Alsace for ever. -The conscripts danced, linked arms, shouted until their voices -seemed to pierce the clouds, stamped on the ground, waved their -hats, trying to seem joyful while death was at their hearts. -Well, it was the fashion; and big Andrès, withered, stiff, and -yellow as boxwood, and his short chubby comrade, with cheeks -extended to their utmost tension, seemed like people who would -lead you to the churchyard all the while chatting indifferently. - -That music, those cries, sent a shudder through my heart. - -I had just put on my swallow-tailed coat and my beaver hat to go -out, when Aunt Grédel and Catharine entered, saying: - -"Good morning, Monsieur Goulden. We have come for the -conscription." - -Then I saw how Catharine had been crying. Her eyes were red, and -she threw her arms around my neck, while her mother turned to me. - -Monsieur Goulden said: - -"It will soon be the turn of the young men of the city." - -"Yes, Monsieur Goulden," answered Catharine, in a choking voice; -"they have finished Harberg." - -"Then it is time for you to go, Joseph," said he; "but do not -grieve; do not be frightened. These drawings, you know, are only -a matter of form. For a long while past none can escape; or if -they escape one drawing, they are caught a year or two after. All -the numbers are bad. When the council of exemption meets, we will -see what is best to be done. To-day it is merely a sort of -satisfaction they give people to draw in the lottery; but every -one loses." - -"No matter," said Aunt Grédel; "Joseph will win." - -"Yes, yes," replied Monsieur Goulden, smiling, "he cannot fail." - -Then I sallied forth with Catharine and Aunt Grédel, and we went -to the town place, where the crowd was. In all the shops, dozens -of conscripts, purchasing ribbons, thronged around the counters, -weeping and singing as if possessed. Others in the inns embraced, -sobbing; but still they sang. Two or three musicians of the -neighborhood--the Gipsy Walteufel, Rosselkasten, and George -Adam--had arrived, and their pieces thundered in terrible and -heart-rending strains. - -Catharine squeezed my arm. Aunt Grédel followed. - -Opposite the guard-house I saw the peddler Pinacle affar off, his -pack opened on a little table, and beside it a long pole decked -with ribbons which he was selling to the conscripts. - -I hastened to pass by him, when he cried: - -{443} - -"Ha! Cripple! Halt! Come here; I have a fine ribbon for you; you -must have a magnificent one--one to draw a prize by." - -He waved a long black ribbon above his head, and I grew pale -despite myself. But as we ascended the steps of the mairie, a -conscript was just descending; it was Klipfel, the smith of the -French gate; he had drawn number eight, and shouted: - -"The black for me, Pinacle! Bring it here, whatever may happen." - -His face was gloomy, but he laughed. His little brother Jean was -crying behind him, and said: - -"No, no, Jacob! not the black!" - -But Pinacle fastened the ribbon to the smith's hat, while the -latter said: - -"That is what we want now. We are all dead, and should wear our -own mourning." - -And he cried savagely: - -"_Vive l'Empereur!_" - -I was better satisfied to see the black ribbon on his hat than on -mine, and I slipped quickly through the crowd to avoid Pinacle. - -We had great difficulty in getting into the mairie and in -climbing the old oak stairs, where people where going up and down -in swarms. In the great hall above, the gendarme Kelz walked -about, maintaining order as well as he could, and in the -council-chamber at the side, where there is a painting of Justice -with her eyes blindfolded, we heard them calling off the numbers. -From time to time a conscript came put with flushed face, -fastening his number on his cap and passing with bowed head -through the crowd, like a furious bull who cannot see clearly and -who would seem to wish to break his horns against the walls. -Others, on the contrary, passed pale as death. The windows of the -mairie were open, and without were heard six or seven pieces -playing together. It was horrible. - -I pressed Catharine's hand, and we passed slowly through the -crowd to the hall where Monsieur the Sous-Préfet, the Mayors, and -the Secretaries were seated on their tribune, calling the numbers -aloud as if pronouncing sentence of death in a court of justice; -for all those numbers were really sentences of death. - -We waited a long while. - -It seemed as if there was no longer a drop of blood in my veins, -when at last my name was called. - -I advanced, seeing and hearing nothing; I put my hand in the box -and drew a number. - -Monsieur the Sous-Préfet cried out: - -"Number seventeen." - -Then I departed without speaking, Catharine and her mother behind -me. We went out into the _place_, and, the air reviving me, -I remembered that I had drawn number seventeen. - -Aunt Grédel seemed confounded. - -"And I put something into your pocket, too," said she; "but that -rascal of a Pinacle gave you ill luck." - -At the same time she drew from my coat-pocket the end of a cord. -Great drops of sweat rolled down my forehead; Catharine was white -as marble, and so we returned to Monsieur Goulden's. - -"What number did you draw, Joseph?" he asked, as soon as he saw -us. - -"Seventeen," replied Aunt Grédel, sitting down, with her hands -upon her knees. - -Monsieur Goulden seemed troubled for a moment, but he said -instantly: - -"One is as good as another. All will go; the skeletons must be -filled. But it don't matter for Joseph. I will go and see -Monsieur the Mayor and Monsieur the Commandant. It will be -telling no lie to say that Joseph is lame; all the town knows -that; but among so many they may overlook him. That is why I go, -so rest easy; do not be anxious." - -{444} - -These words of good Monsieur Goulden reassured Aunt Grédel and -Catharine, who returned to Quatre-Vents full of hope; but they -did not affect me, for from that moment I had not a moment of -rest day or night. - -The emperor had a good custom: he did not allow the conscripts to -languish at home. Soon as the drawing was complete, the council -of revision met, and a few days after came the orders to march. -He did not do like those tooth-pullers who first show you their -pincers and hooks and gaze for an hour into your mouth, so that -you feel half dead before they make up their minds to begin work: -he proceeded without loss of time. - -A week after the drawing, the council of revision sat at the town -hall, with all the mayors and a few notables of the country to -give advice in case of need. - -The day before Monsieur Goulden had put on his brown great-coat -and his best wig to go to wind up Monsieur the Mayor's clock and -that of the Commandant. He returned laughing and said: - -"All goes well, Joseph. Monsieur the Mayor and Monsieur the -Commandant know that you are lame; that is easy enough to be -seen. They replied at once, Eh, Monsieur Goulden, the young man -is lame; why speak of him? Do not be uneasy; we do not want the -infirm; we want soldiers." - -These words poured balm on my wounds, and that night I slept like -one of the blessed. But the next day fear again assailed me; I -remembered suddenly how many men full of defects had gone all the -same, and how many others invented defects to deceive the -council; for instance, swallowing injurious substances to make -them pale; tying up their legs to give themselves swollen veins; -or playing deaf, blind, or foolish. I had heard that vinegar -would make one sick, and, without telling Monsieur Goulden, in my -fear I swallowed all the vinegar in his bottle. Then I dressed -myself, thinking that I looked like a dead man, for the vinegar -was very strong; but when I entered Monsieur Goulden's room, he -cried out: - -"Joseph, what is the matter with you? You are as red as a cock's -comb." - -And, looking at myself in the mirror, I saw that my face was red -to my ears and to the very tip of my nose. I was frightened, but -instead of growing pale I became redder yet, and I cried out in -my distress: - -"Now I am lost indeed! I will seem like a man without a single -defect, and full of health. The vinegar is rushing to my head." - -"What vinegar?" asked Monsieur Goulden. - -"That in your bottle. I drank it to make myself pale, as they say -Mademoiselle Selapp, the organist, does. O Heavens! what a fool I -was." - -"That does not prevent your being lame," said Monsieur Goulden; -"but you tried to deceive the council, which was dishonest. But -it is half-past nine, and Werner is come to tell me you must be -there at ten o'clock. So, hurry." - -I had to go in that state; the heat of the vinegar seemed -bursting from my cheeks, and when I met Catharine and her mother, -who were waiting for me at the mairie, they scarcely knew me. - -"How happy and satisfied you look!" said Aunt Grédel. - -{445} - -I would have fainted on hearing this if the vinegar had not -sustained me in spite of myself. I went upstairs in terrible -agony, without being able to move my tongue to reply, so great -was the horror I felt at my folly. - -Above, more than twenty-five conscripts who pretended to be -infirm, had been examined and received, while twenty-five others, -on a bench along the wall, sat with drooping heads awaiting their -turn. - -The old gendarme, Kelz, with his huge cocked hat, was walking -about, and as soon as he saw me exclaimed: "At last! At last! -Here is one, at all events, who will not be sorry to go; the love -of glory is shining in his eyes. Very good, Joseph; I predict -that at the end of the campaign you will be corporal." - -"But I am lame," I cried angrily. - -"Lame!" repeated Kelz, winking and smiling; "lame! No matter. -With such health as yours you can always hold your own." - -He had scarcely ceased speaking when the door of the hall of the -Council of Revision opened, and the other gendarme, Werner, -putting out his head, called, "Joseph Bertha." - -I entered, limping as much as I could, and Werner shut the door. -The mayors of the canton were seated in a semi-circle, Monsieur -the Sous-Préfet and the Mayor of Phalsbourg in the middle, in -arm-chairs, and the Secretary Frélig at his table. A Harberg -conscript was dressing himself, the gendarme Descarmes helping -him. This conscript, with a mass of brown hair falling over his -eyes, his neck bare, and his mouth open as he caught his breath, -seemed like a man going to be hanged. Two surgeons--the -Surgeon-in-Chief of the Hospital, with another in uniform--were -conversing in the middle of the hall. They turned to me, saying, -"Take off your coat." - -I did so. The others looked on. - -Monsieur the Sous-Préfet observed: - -"There is a young man full of health." - -These words angered me, but I nevertheless replied respectfully: - -"I am lame, Monsieur the Sous-Préfet." - -The surgeons examined me, and the one from the hospital, to whom -Monsieur the Commandant had doubtless spoken of me, said: "The -left leg is a little short." "Bah!" said the other; "it is -sound." - -Then placing his hand upon my chest he said, "The conformation is -good. Cough." - -I coughed as freely as I could; but he found me all right, and -said again: - -"Look at his color. How good his blood must be!" - -Then I, seeing that they would pass me if I remained silent, -replied: "I have drank vinegar." "Ah!" said he; "that proves you -have a good stomach; you like vinegar." - -"But I am lame!" I cried in my distress. - -"Bah! don't grieve at that," he answered; "your leg is sound. -I'll answer for it." - -"But that," said Monsieur the Mayor, "does not prevent his being -lame from birth; all Phalsbourg knows that." - -"The leg is too short," said the surgeon from the hospital; "it -is doubtless a case for exemption." - -"Yes," said the Mayor; "I am sure that this young man could not -endure a long march; he would drop on the road the second mile." - -The first surgeon said nothing more. - -I thought myself saved, when Monsieur the Sous-Préfet asked: "You -are really Joseph Bertha?" - -{446} - -"Yes, Monsieur the Sous-Préfet," I answered. - -"Well, gentlemen," said he, taking a letter out of his portfolio, -"listen." - -He began to read the letter, which stated that, six months -before, I had bet that I could go to Laverne and back quicker -than Pinacle; that we had run the race, and I had won. - -It was unhappily too true. The villain Pinacle had always taunted -me with being a cripple, and in my anger I laid the wager. Every -one knew of it. I could not deny it. - -While I stood utterly confounded, the first surgeon said: - -"That settles the question. Dress yourself." And, turning to the -Secretary, he cried, "Good for service." - -I took up my coat in despair. - -Werner called another. I no longer saw anything. Some one helped -me to get my arms in my coat-sleeves. Then I found myself upon -the stairs, and while Catharine asked me what had passed, I -sobbed aloud and would have fallen from top to bottom if Aunt -Grédel had not supported me. - -We went out by the rear-way and crossed the little court. I wept -like a child, and Catharine did too. - -Monsieur Goulden knowing that Aunt Grédel and Catharine would -come to dine with us the day of the revision, had had a stuffed -goose and two bottles of good Alsace wine sent from the "Golden -Sheep." He was sure that I would be exempted at once. What was -his surprise, then, to see us enter together in such distress. - -"What is the matter?" said he, raising his silk cap over his bald -forehead, and staring at us with eyes wide open. - -I had not strength enough to answer. I threw myself into the -armchair and burst into tears. Catharine sat down beside me, and -our sobs redoubled. - -Aunt Grédel said: - -"The robbers have taken him." - -"It is not possible!" exclaimed Monsieur Goulden, letting fall -his arms by his side. - -"It shows their villainy," replied my aunt, and, growing more and -more excited, she cried, "Will a revolution never come again? -Shall those wretches always be our masters?" - -"Calm yourself, Mother Grédel," said Monsieur Goulden. "In the -name of Heaven don't cry so loud. Joseph, tell me how it -happened. They are surely mistaken; it cannot be possible -otherwise. Did Monsieur the Mayor and the hospital surgeon say -nothing?" - -I told the history of the letter, and Aunt Grédel, who until then -knew nothing of it, again shrieked with her hands clenched. - -"O the scoundrel! God grant that he may cross my threshold again. -I will cleave his head with my hatchet." - -Monsieur Goulden was astounded. - -"And you did not say that it was false. Then the story was true?" - -And as I bowed my head without replying, he clasped his hands, -saying: - -"O youth! youth! it thinks of nothing. What folly! what folly!" - -He walked around the room; then sat down to wipe his spectacles, -and Aunt Grédel exclaimed: - -"Yes, but they shall not have him yet! Their wickedness shall yet -go for nothing. This very evening Joseph shall be in the -mountains on the way to Switzerland." - -Monsieur Goulden hearing this, looked grave; he bent his brows, -and replied in a few moments: - -{447} - -"It is a misfortune, a great misfortune, for Joseph is really -lame. They will yet find it out, for he cannot march two days -without falling behind and becoming sick. But you are wrong, -Mother Grédel, to speak as you do and give him bad advice." - -"Bad advice!" she cried. "Then you are for having people -massacred too!" - -"No," he answered; "I do not love wars, especially where a -hundred thousand men lose their lives for the glory of one. But -wars of that kind are ended. It is not now for glory and to win -new kingdoms that soldiers are levied, but to defend our country, -which had been put in danger by tyranny and ambition. We would -gladly have peace now. Unhappily, the Russians are advancing; the -Prussians are joining them; and our friends, the Austrians, only -await a good opportunity to fall upon our rear. If we do not go -to meet them, they will come to our homes; for we are about to -have Europe on our hands as we had in '93. It is now a different -matter from our wars in Spain, in Russia, and in Germany; and I, -old as I am, Mother Grédel, if the danger continues to increase -and the veterans of the republic are needed, I would be ashamed -to go and make clocks in Switzerland while others were pouring -out their blood to defend my country. Besides, remember this -well, that deserters are despised everywhere; after having -committed such an act, they have no kindred or home anywhere. -They have neither father, mother, church, nor country. They are -incapable of fulfilling the first duty of man--to love and -sustain their country, even though she be in the wrong." - -He said no more at the moment, but sat gravely down. - -"Let us eat," he exclaimed, after some minutes of silence. -"Midday is striking. Mother Grédel and Catharine, seat yourselves -there." - -They sat down, and we began dinner. I meditated upon the words of -Monsieur Goulden, which seemed right to me. Aunt Grédel -compressed her lips, and from time to time gazed at me as if to -read my thoughts. At length she said: - -"I despise a country where they take fathers of families after -carrying off the sons. If I were in Joseph's place, I would fly -at once." - -"Listen, Aunt Grédel," I replied; "you know that I love nothing -so much as peace and quiet; but I would not, nevertheless, run -away like a coward to another country. But, notwithstanding, I -will do as Catharine says; if she wishes me to go to Switzerland, -I will go." - -Then Catharine, lowering her head to hide her tears, said in a -low voice: - -"I would not have them call you a deserter." - -"Well, then, I will do like the others," I cried; "and as those -of Phalsbourg and Dagsberg are going to the wars, I will go." - -Monsieur Goulden made no remark. - -"Every one is free to do as he pleases," said he, after a while; -"but I am glad that Joseph thinks as I do." - -Then there was silence, and toward two o'clock Aunt Grédel arose -and took her basket. She seemed utterly cast down, and said: - -"Joseph, you will not listen to me, but no matter. With God's -grace, all will yet be well. You will return if he wills it, and -Catharine will wait for you." - -Catharine wept again, and I more than she; so that Monsieur -Goulden himself could not help shedding tears. - -At length Catharine and her mother descended the stairs, and Aunt -Grédel called out from the bottom: - -"Try to come and see us once or twice again, Joseph." - -{448} - -"Yes, yes," I answered, shutting the door. - -I could no longer stand. Never had I been so miserable, and even -now, when I think of it, my heart chills. - - - VII. - -From that day I could think of nothing but my misfortune. I tried -to work, but my thoughts were far away, and Monsieur Goulden -said: - -"Joseph, lay labor aside. Profit by the little time you can -remain among us; go to see Catharine and Mother Grédel. I still -think they will exempt you, but who can tell? They need men so -much that it may be a long time coming." - -I went then every morning to Quatre-Vents, and passed my days -with Catharine. We were very sorrowful, but very glad to see each -other. We loved one another even more than before, if that were -possible. Catharine sometimes tried to sing as in the good old -times; but suddenly she would burst into tears. Then we wept -together, and Aunt Grédel would rail at the wars which brought -misery to every one. She said that the Council of Revision -deserved to be hung; that they were all robbers, banded together -to poison our lives. It solaced us a little to hear her talk -thus, and we thought she was right. - -I returned to the city about eight or nine o'clock in the -evening. When they closed the gates, and as I passed, I saw the -small inns full of conscripts and old returned soldiers drinking -together. The conscripts always paid; the others, with dirty -police-caps cocked over their ears, red noses, and horse-hair -stocks in place of shirt-collars, twisted their mustaches and -related with majestic air their battles, their marches, and their -duels. One can imagine nothing viler than those holes, full of -smoke, cobwebs hanging on the black beams, those old sworders and -young men drinking, shouting, and beating the tables like crazy -people; and behind in the shadow old Annette Schnaps or Marie -Héring--her old wig stuck back on her head, her comb with only -three teeth remaining, crosswise, in it--gazing on the scene, or -emptying a mug to the health of the braves. - -It was sad to see the sons of peasants, honest and laborious -fellows, leading such an existence; but no one thought of -working, and any one of them would have given his life for two -farthings. Worn out with shouting, drinking, and internal grief, -they ended by falling asleep over the table, while the old -fellows emptied their cups, singing: - -"'Tis glory calls us on!" - -I saw these things, and I blessed heaven for having given me, in -my wretchedness, kind hearts to keep up my courage and prevent my -falling into such hands. - -This state of affairs lasted until the twenty-fifth of January. -For some days a great number of Italian conscripts--Piedmontese -and Genoese--had been arriving in the city; some stout and fat as -Savoyards fed upon chestnuts--their great cocked hats on their -curly heads; their linsey-woolsey pantaloons dyed a dark green, -and their short vests also of wool, but brick-red, fastened -around their waists by a leather belt. They wore enormous shoes, -and ate their cheese seated along the old marketplace. Others -were dried up, lean, brown, shivering in their long cassocks, -seeing nothing but snow upon the roofs and gazing with their -large, black, mournful eyes upon the women who passed. They were -exercised every day in marching, and were going to fill up the -skeleton of the sixth regiment of the line at Mayence, and were -then resting for a while in the infantry barracks. - -{449} - -The captain of the recruits, who was named Vidal, lodged over our -room. He was a square-built, solid, very strong-looking man, and -was, too, very kind and civil. He came to us to have his watch -repaired, and when he learned that I was a conscript and was -afraid I should never return, he encouraged me, saying that it -was all habit; that at the end of five or six months one fights -and marches as he eats his dinner; and that many so accustom -themselves to shooting at people that they consider themselves -unhappy when they are deprived of that amusement. - -But his mode of reasoning was not to my taste; the more so as I -saw five or six large grains of powder on one of his cheeks, -which had entered deeply, and as he explained to me that they -came from a shot which a Russian fired almost under his nose. -Such a life disgusted me more and more, and as several days had -already passed without news, I began to think they had forgotten -me, as they did Jacob, of Chèvre-Hof, of whose extraordinary luck -every one yet talks. Aunt Grédel herself said to me every time I -went there, "Well, well! they will let us alone after all!" When -on the morning of the twenty-fifth of January, as I was about -starting for Quatre-Vents, Monsieur Goulden, who was working at -his bench with a thoughtful air, turned to me with tears in his -eyes and said: - -"Listen, Joseph! I wanted to let you have one night more of quiet -sleep; but you must know now, my child, that yesterday evening -the brigadier of gendarmerie brought me your marching orders. You -go with the Piedmontese and Genoese and five or six young men of -the city--young Klipfel, young Loerig, Jean Léger, and Gaspard -Zébédé. You go to Mayence." - -I felt my knees give way as he spoke, and I sat down unable to -speak. Monsieur Goulden took my marching orders, beautifully -written, out of a drawer, and began to read them slowly. All that -I remember is that Joseph Bertha, native of Dabo, Canton of -Phalsbourg, Arrondissement of Sarrebourg, was incorporated in the -sixth regiment of the line, and that he should join his corps the -twenty-ninth of January at Mayence. - -This letter produced as evil an effect on me as if I had known -nothing of it before. It seemed something new, and I grew angry. -Monsieur Goulden, after a moment's silence, added: - -"The Italians start to-day at eleven." - -Then, as if awakening from a horrible dream, I cried: - -"But shall I not see Catharine again?" - -"Yes, Joseph, yes," said he, in a trembling voice. "I notified -Mother Grédel and Catharine, and thus, my boy, they will come, -and you can embrace them before leaving." - -I saw his grief, and it made me sadder yet, so that I had a hard -struggle to keep myself from bursting into tears. - -He continued, after a pause: - -"You need not be anxious about anything, Joseph. I have prepared -all beforehand; and when you return, if it please God to keep me -so long in this world, you will find me always the same. I am -beginning to grow old, and my greatest happiness would be to keep -you for a son, for I found you good-hearted and honest. I would -have given you what I possess, and we would have been happy -together. Catharine and you would have been my children. -{450} -But since it is otherwise, let us resign ourselves. It is only -for a little while. You will be sent back, I am sure. They will -soon see that you cannot make long marches." - -While he spoke, I sat silently sobbing, my face buried in my -hands. - -At last he arose and took from a closet a soldier's knapsack of -cowskin, which he placed upon the table. I looked at him, -thinking of nothing but the pain of parting. - -"Here is your knapsack," he added; "and I have put in it all that -you require; two linen shirts, two flannel waistcoats, and all -the rest. Well, well, that is all." - -He placed the knapsack upon the table and sat down. - -Without, we heard the Italians making ready to depart. Above us -Captain Vidal was giving his orders. He had his horse at the -barracks of the gendarmerie, and was telling his orderly to see -that he was well rubbed and had received his hay. - -All this bustle and movement produced a strange effect upon me, -and I could not yet realize that I must quit the city. As I was -thus in the greatest distress, the door opened and Catharine -entered weeping, while Mother Grédel cried: - -"I told you you should have fled to Switzerland; that these -rogues would finish by carrying you off. I told you so, and you -would not believe me." - -"Mother Grédel," replied Monsieur Goulden, "to go to do his duty -is not so great an evil as to be despised by honest people. -Instead of all these cries and reproaches, which serve no good -purpose, you would do better to comfort and encourage Joseph." - -"Ah!" said she; "I do not reproach him, although this is -terrible." - -Catharine did not leave me; she sat by me and said, pressing my -arm: - -"You will return?" - -"Yes, yes," said I, in a low voice. "And you--you will always -think of me; you will not love another?" - -She answered, sobbing: - -"No, no! I will never love any but you." - -This lasted a quarter of an hour, when the door opened and -Captain Vidal entered, his cloak rolled like a hunting-horn over -his shoulder. - -"Well," said he, "well; how goes our young man?" - -"Here he is," answered Monsieur Goulden. - -"Ah!" remarked the captain; "you are making yourself miserable. -It is natural. I remember when I departed for the army. We have -all a home." - -Then, raising his voice, he said: - -"Come, come, young man, courage! We are no longer children." - -He looked at Catharine. - -"I see all," said he to Monsieur Goulden. "I can understand why -he does not want to go." - -The drums beat in the street and he added. - -"We have yet twenty minutes before starting," and, throwing a -glance at me, "Do not fail to be at the first call, young man," -said he, pressing Monsieur Goulden's hand. - -He went out, and we heard his horse at the door. - -The morning was overcast, and grief overwhelmed me. I could not -leave Catharine. - -Suddenly the roll beat. The drums were all collected in the -Place. Monsieur Goulden, taking the knapsack by its straps, said -in a grave voice: - -"Joseph, now the last embrace; it is time to go." - -{451} - -I stood up, pale as ashes. He fastened the knapsack to my -shoulders. Catharine sat sobbing, her face covered with her -apron. Mother Grédel looked on with lips compressed. - -The roll continued for a time, then suddenly ceased. - -"The call is about commencing," said Monsieur Goulden, embracing -me. Then the fountains of his heart burst forth; tears sprang to -his eyes; and, calling me his child, his son, he whispered, -"Courage!" - -Mother Grédel seated herself again, and as I bent toward her, -taking my head between her hands, she sobbed: - -"I always loved you, Joseph; ever since you were a baby. You -never gave me cause of grief--and now you must go. O God! O God!" - -I wept no longer. - -When Aunt Grédel released me, I looked a moment at Catharine, who -stood motionless. Then I turned quickly to go, when she cried, in -heart-breaking tones: - -"O Joseph! Joseph!" - -I looked back. Her strength seemed to leave her, and I placed her -in the arm-chair, and fled. - -I was already on the Place, in the midst of the Italians and of a -crowd of people crying for their sons or brothers. I saw nothing; -I heard nothing. - -When the roll of the drums recommenced, I looked around, and saw -that I was between Klipfel and Furst, all three with our -knapsacks on our backs. Their parents stood before us, weeping as -if at their funeral. To the right, near the town-hall, Captain -Vidal, on his little gray mare, was conversing with two infantry -officers. The sergeants called the roll, and we answered. They -called Furst, Klipfel, Bertha; we answered like the others. Then -the captain gave the word, "March!" and we went, two abreast, -toward the French gate. - -At the corner of the baker Spitz, an old woman cried, in a -choking voice, from a window: - -"Kasper! Kasper!" - -It was Zébédé's grandmother. His lips trembled. He waved his -hand, without replying, and passed on with downcast face. - -I shuddered at the thought of passing my home. As we neared it, -my knees trembled, and I heard some one call at the window; but I -turned my head toward the "Red Ox," and the rattle of the drums -drowned the voices. - -The children ran after us, shouting: - -"There goes Joseph! there goes Klipfel!" - -Under the French gate, the men on guard, drawn up in line on each -side, gazed on us as we passed at shoulder arms. We passed the -outposts, and the drums ceased playing as we turned to the right. -Nothing was heard but the plash of footsteps in the mud, for the -snow was melting. - -We had passed the farm-house of Gerberhoff, and were going to the -great bridge, when I heard some one call me. It was the captain, -who cried from his horse: - -"Very well done, young man; I am satisfied with you." - -Hearing this, I could not help again bursting into tears, and the -great Furst, too, wept, as we marched along; the others, pale as -marble, said nothing. At the bridge, Zébédé took out his pipe to -smoke. In front of us, the Italians talked and laughed among -themselves; their three weeks of service had accustomed them to -this life. - -Once on the way to Metting, more than a league from the city, as -we began to descend, Klipfel touched me on the shoulder, and -whispered: - -"Look yonder." - -{452} - -I looked, and saw Phalsbourg far beneath us; the barracks, the -magazines, the steeple whence I had seen Catharine's home, six -weeks before, with old Brainstein--all were in the gray distance, -with the woods all around. I would have stopped a few moments, -but the troop marched on, and I had to keep pace with them. We -entered Metting. - - - VIII. - -That same day we went as far as Bitche; the next, to Hornbach; -then to Kaiserslantern. It began to snow again. - -How often during that long march did I sigh for the thick cloak -of Monsieur Goulden, and his double-soled shoes. - -We passed through innumerable villages, sometimes on the -mountains, sometimes in the plains. As we entered each little -town, the drums began to beat, and we marched with heads erect, -marking the step, trying to assume the mien of old soldiers. The -people looked out of their little windows, or came to the doors, -saying, "There go the conscripts!" - -At night we halted, glad to rest our weary feet--I, especially. I -cannot say that my leg hurt me, but my feet! I had never -undergone such fatigue. With our billet for lodging we had the -right to a corner of the fire, but our hosts also gave us a place -at the table. We had nearly always buttermilk and potatoes, and -often fresh lard on a dish of sauerkraut. The children came to -look at us, and the old women asked us from what place we came, -and what our business was before we left home. The young girls -looked sorrowfully at us, thinking of their sweethearts, who had -gone five, six, or seven months before. Then they would take us -to the son's bed. With what pleasure I stretched out my tired -limbs! How I wished to sleep all our twelve hours' halt! But -early in the morning, at day-break, the rattling of the drums -awoke me. I gazed at the brown rafters of the ceiling, the -window-panes covered with frost, and asked myself where I was. -Then my heart would grow cold, as I thought that I was at -Bitche--at Kaiserslantern--that I was a conscript; and I had to -dress fast as I could, catch up my knapsack, and answer the -roll-call. - -"A good journey to you!" said the hostess, awakened so early in -the morning. - -"Thank you," replied the conscript. - -And we marched on. - -Yes! a good journey to you! They will not see you again, poor -wretch! How many others have followed the same road! - -I will never forget how at Kaiserslantern, the second day of our -march, having unstrapped my knapsack to take out a white shirt, I -discovered, beneath, a little pocket, and opening it I found -fifty-four francs in six-livre pieces. On the paper wrapped -around them were these words, written by Monsieur Goulden: - -"While you are at the wars, be always good and honest. Think of -your friends and of those for whom you would be willing to -sacrifice your life, and treat the enemy with humanity that they -may so treat our soldiers. May heaven guide you, and protect you -in your dangers! You will find some money inclosed; for it is a -good thing, when far from home and all who love you, to have a -little of it. Write to us as often as you can. I embrace you, my -child, and press you to my heart." - -{453} - -As I read this, the tears forced themselves to my eyes, and I -thought, "Thou art not wholly abandoned, Joseph; fond hearts are -yearning toward you. Never forget their kind counsels." - -At last, on the fifth day, about five o'clock in the evening, we -entered Mayence. As long as I live I will remember it. It was -terribly cold. We had begun our march at early dawn, and, long -before reaching the city, had passed through villages filled with -soldiers--calvary, infantry, dragoons in their short -jackets--some digging holes in the ice to get water for their -horses, others dragging bundles of forage to the doors of the -stables; powder-wagons, carts full of cannon-balls, all white -with frost, stood on every side; couriers, detachments of -artillery, pontoon-trains were coming and going over the white -ground; and no more attention was paid to us than if we were not -in existence. - -Captain Vidal, to warm himself, had dismounted and marched with -us on foot. The officers and sergeants hastened us on. Five or -six Italians had fallen behind and remained in the villages, no -longer able to advance. My feet were sore and burning, and at the -last halt I could scarcely rise to resume the march. The others -from Phalsbourg, however, kept bravely on. - -Night had fallen; the sky sparkled with stars. Every one gazed -forward, and said to his comrade, "We are nearing it! we are -nearing it!" for along the horizon a dark line of seeming cloud, -glittering here and there with flashing points, announced that a -great city lay before us. - -At last we entered the advanced works, and passed through the -zig-zag earthen bastions. Then we dressed our ranks and marked -the step, as we usually did when approaching a town. At the -corner of a sort of demilune we saw the frozen fosse of the city, -and the brick ramparts towering above, and opposite us an old, -dark gate, with the draw-bridge raised. Above stood a sentinel, -who, with his musket raised, cried out: - -"Who goes there?" - -The captain, going forward alone, replied: - -"France!" - -"What regiment?" - -"Recruits for the Sixth of the Line." - -A silence ensued. Then the draw-bridge was lowered, and the guard -turned out and examined us, one of them carrying a great torch. -Captain Vidal, a few paces in advance of us, spoke to the -commandant of the post, who called out at length: - -"Whenever you please." - -Our drums began to beat, but the captain ordered them to cease, -and we crossed a long bridge and passed through a second gate -like the first. Then we were in the streets of the city, which -were paved with smooth round stones. Every one tried his best to -march steadily; for, although it was night, all the inns and -shops along the way were open and their large windows were -shining, and hundreds of people were passing to and fro as if it -were broad day. - -We turned five or six corners and soon arrived in a little open -place before a high barrack, where we were ordered to halt. - -There was a shed at the corner of the barrack, and in it a -_cantinière_ seated behind a small table, under a great -tri-colored umbrella from which hung two lanterns. - -Several officers arrived as soon as we halted; they were the -Commandant Gémeau and some others whom I have since known. They -pressed our captain's hand laughing, then looked at us and -ordered the roll to be called. -{454} -After that, we each received a ration of bread and a billet for -lodging. We were told that roll-call would take place the next -morning at eight o'clock for the distribution of arms, and then -we were ordered to break ranks, while the officers turned up a -street to the left and went into a great coffee-house, the -entrance to which was approached by a flight of fifteen steps. - -But we, with our billets for lodging--what were we to do with -them in the middle of such a city, and, above all, the Italians, -who did not know a word either of German or French? - -My first idea was to see the _cantinière_ under her -umbrella. She was an old Alsatian, round and chubby, and, when I -asked for the _Capougner-Strasse_, she replied: - -"What will you pay for?" - -I was obliged to take a glass of _eau-de-vie_ with her; then -she said: - -"Look just opposite there; if you turn the first corner to the -right, you will find the _Capougner-Strasse_. Good evening, -conscript." - -She laughed. - -Furst and Zébédé' were also billeted in the -_Capougner-Strasse_ and we set out, glad enough to be able -to limp together through the strange city. - -Furst first found his house, but it was shut; and while he was -knocking at the door, I found mine, which had a light in two -windows. I pushed at the door, it opened, and I entered a dark -alley, whence came a smell of fresh bread, which was very -welcome. Zébédé had to go further on. - -I called out in the alley: - -"Is any one here?" - -Then an old woman appeared with a candle at the top of a wooden -staircase. - -"What do you want?" she asked. - -I told her that I was billeted at her house. She came -down-stairs, and, looking at my billet, told me in German to -follow her. - -I ascended the stairs. Passing an open door, I saw two men at -work before an oven. I was, then, at a baker's, and this -accounted for the old woman being up so late. She wore a cap with -black ribbons; her arms were bare to the elbows; she, too, had -been working, and seemed very sorrowful. - -"You come late," she said. - -"We were marching all day," I replied, "and I am fainting with -hunger and weariness." - -She looked at me and murmured: - -"Poor child! poor child!" - -"Your feet are sore," said she; "take off your shoes and put on -these sabots." - -She put the candle upon the table and went out. I took off my -shoes. My feet were blistered and bleeding, and pained me -horribly, and I felt for the moment as if it would almost be -better to die at once than to continue in such suffering. - -This thought had more than once arisen to my mind in the march, -but now, before that good fire, I felt so worn, so miserable, -that I would gladly have laid myself down to sleep for ever, -notwithstanding Catharine, Aunt Grédel, and all who loved me. -Truly, I needed God's assistance. - -While these thoughts were running through my head, the door -opened, and a tall, stout man, gray-haired, but yet strong and -healthy, entered. He was one of those I had seen at work below, -and held in his hands a bottle of wine and two glasses. - -"Good evening!" said he gravely and kindly. - -I looked up. The old woman was behind him. She was carrying a -little wooden tub, which, she placed on the floor near my chair. - -{455} - -"Take a foot-bath," said she; "it will do you good." - -This kindness, on the part of a stranger, affected me more than I -cared to show. I took off my stockings; my feet were bleeding, -and the good old dame repeated, as she gazed at them: - -"Poor child! poor child!" - -The man asked me whence I came. I told him from Phalsbourg in -Lorraine. Then he told his wife to bring some bread, adding that, -after we had taken a glass of wine together, he would leave me to -the repose I needed so much. - -He pushed the table before me, as I sat with my feet in the bath, -and we each drained a glass of good white wine. The old woman -returned with some hot bread, over which she had spread fresh, -half-melted butter. Then I knew how hungry I was. I was almost -ill. The good people saw my eagerness for food; for the woman -said: - -"Before eating, my child, you must take your feet out of the -bath." - -She knelt down and dried my feet with her apron before I knew -what she was about to do. I cried: - -"Good Heavens! madame; you treat me as if I were your son." - -She replied, after a moment's mournful silence: - -"We have a son in the army." - -Her voice trembled as she spoke. I thought of Catharine and Aunt -Grédel, and could not speak again. I ate and drank with a -pleasure I never before felt in doing so. The two old people sat -gazing kindly on me, and, when I had finished, the man said: - -"Yes, we have a son in the army; he went to Russia last year, and -we have not since heard from him. These wars are terrible!" - -He spoke dreamily, as if to himself, all the while walking up and -down the room, his hands crossed behind his back. My eyes began -to close, when he said suddenly: - -"Come, wife. Good night, conscript." - -They went out together, she carrying the tub. - -"God reward you," I cried, "and bring your son safe home!" - -In a minute I was undressed, and, sinking on the bed, I was -almost immediately buried in a deep sleep. - - - IX. - -The next morning I awoke at about seven o'clock. A trumpet was -sounding the recall at the corner of the street; horses, wagons, -and men and women on foot, were hurrying past the house. My feet -were yet somewhat sore, but nothing to what they had been; and -when I had dressed, I felt like a new man, and thought to myself: - -"Joseph, if this continues, you will soon be a soldier. It is -only the first step that costs." - -The baker's wife had put my shoes to dry before the fire, after -filling them with hot ashes, to keep them from growing hard. They -were well greased and shining. - -Then I buckled on my knapsack, and hurried out, without having -time to thank those good people--a duty I intended to fulfil -after roll-call. - -At the end of the street--on the Place--many of our Italians were -already waiting, shivering around the fountain. Furst, Klipfel, -and Zébédé arrived a moment after. - -Cannon and their caissons covered one entire side of the Place. -Horses were being brought to water, led by hussars and dragoons. -Opposite us were cavalry barracks, high as the church at -Phalsbourg, while around the other three sides rose old houses -with sculptured gables, like those at Saverne, but much larger. -{456} -I had never seen anything like all this, and while I stood gazing -around, the drums began to beat, and each man took his place in -the ranks, and we were informed, first in Italian and then in -French, that we were about to receive our arms, and each one was -ordered to stand forth as his name was called. - -The wagons containing the arms now came up, and the call began. -Each received a cartouche box, a sabre, a bayonet, and a musket. -We put them on as well as we could, over our blouses, coats, or -great-coats, and we looked, with our hats, our caps, and our -arms, like a veritable band of banditti. My musket was so long -and heavy that I could scarcely carry it; and the Sergeant Pinto -showed me how to buckle on the cartouche-box. He was a fine -fellow, Pinto. - -So many belts crossing my chest made me feel as if I could -scarcely breathe, and I saw at once that my miseries had not yet -ended. - -After the arms, an ammunition-wagon advanced, and they -distributed fifty rounds of cartridges to each man. This was no -pleasant augury. Then, instead of ordering us to break ranks and -return to our lodgings, Captain Vidal drew his sabre and shouted: - -"By file right--march!" - -The drums began to beat. I was grieved at not being able to thank -my hosts for their kindness, and thought that they would consider -me ungrateful. But that did not prevent my following the line of -march. - -We passed through a long winding street, and soon found ourselves -without the glacis, and near the frozen Rhine. Across the river -high hills appeared, and on the hills, old, gray, ruined castles, -like those of Haut-Bas and Geroldseck in the Vosges. - -The battalion descended to the river-bank, and crossed upon the -ice. The scene was magnificent--dazzling. We were not alone on -the ice; five or six hundred paces before us was a baggage-train -on the way to Frankfort. Crossing the river, we continued our -march through the mountains. Sometimes we discovered villages in -the defiles; and Zébédé, who was next to me, said: - -"As we had to leave home, I would rather go as a soldier than -otherwise. At least we shall see something new every day, and, if -we are lucky enough ever to return, how much we will have to talk -of!" - -"Yes," said I; "but I would like better to have less to talk -about, and to live quietly, toiling on my own account and not on -account of others, who remain safe at home while we climb about -here on the ice." - -"You do not care for glory," said he; "and yet glory is a grand -thing." - -"Yes; the glory of fighting and losing our lives for others, and -being called lazy idlers and drunkards when we get home again. I -would rather have these friends of glory go fight themselves, and -leave us to remain in peace at home." - -"Well," he replied, "I think much as you do; but, as we are -forced to fight, we may as well make the most of it. If we go -about looking miserable, people will laugh at us." - -Conversing thus, we reached a large river, which, the sergeant -told us, was the Main, and near it, upon our road, was a little -village. We did not know the name of the village, but there we -halted. - -We entered the houses, and those who could bought some brandy, -wine, and bread. Those who had no money crunched their ration of -biscuit, and gazed wistfully at their more fortunate comrades. - -{457} - -About six in the evening we arrived at Frankfort, which is a city -yet older than Mayence, and full of Jews. They took us to the -barracks of the Tenth Hussars, where our Captain, Florentin, and -the two Lieutenants, Clavel and Bretonville, awaited us. - - - X. - -At Frankfort I began to learn a soldier's duty in earnest. Up to -that time I had been but a simple conscript. I do not speak -merely of drill--that is only an affair of a month or two, if a -man really desires to learn; but I speak of discipline--of -remembering that the corporal is always in the right when he -speaks to a private soldier, the sergeant when he speaks to the -corporal, the sergeant-major when speaking to the sergeant, the -second lieutenant when he orders the sergeant-major, and so on to -the Marshal of France--even if the superior asserts that two and -two make five, or that the moon shines at midday. - -This is very difficult to learn; but there is one thing that -assists you immensely, and that is a sort of placard hung up in -every room in the barracks, and which is from time to time read -to you. This placard presupposes everything that a soldier might -wish to do, as, for instance, to return home, to refuse to serve, -to resist his officer, and always ends by speaking of death or at -least five years with a ball and chain. - -The day after our arrival at Frankfort I wrote to Monsieur -Goulden, to Catharine, and to Aunt Grédel. I told them that I was -in good health, for which I thanked God, and that I was even -stronger than before I left home, and sent them a thousand -remembrances. Our Phalsbourg conscripts, who saw me writing, made -me add a few words for each of their families. I wrote also to -Mayence, to the good couple of the _Capougner-Strasse_, who -had been so kind to me, telling them how I was forced to march -without being able to thank them, and asking their forgiveness -for so doing. - -That day, in the afternoon, we received our uniforms. Dozens of -Jews made their appearance and bought our old clothes. The -Italians had great difficulty in making these respectable -merchants comprehend their wishes, but the Genoese were as -cunning as the Jews, and their bargainings lasted until night. -Our corporals received more than one glass of wine; it was policy -to make friends of them, for morning and evening they taught us -the drill in the snow-covered yard. The _cantinière_ -Christine was always at her post with a warming-pan under her -feet. She took young men of good family into special favor, and -the young men of good family were all those who spent their money -freely. Poor fools! How many of them parted with their last -_sou_ in return for her miserable flattery! When that was -gone, they were mere beggars; but vanity rules all, from -conscripts to generals. - -All this time recruits were constantly arriving from France, and -ambulances full of wounded from Poland. Klipfel, Zébédé, Furst, -and I often went to see these poor wretches, and never did we see -men so miserably clad. Some wore jackets which once belonged to -Cossacks, crushed shakos, women's dresses, and many had only -handkerchiefs wound around their feet in lieu of shoes and -stockings. They gave us a history of the retreat from Moscow, and -then we knew that the twenty-ninth bulletin told only truth. - -{458} - -These stories enraged our men against the Russians, and we longed -for the war to begin again. I was at times almost overcome with -wrath after hearing some tale of horror; and even the thought -that these Russians were defending their families, their homes, -all that man holds most dear, could scarcely recall me to a right -frame of mind. We hated them for defending themselves; we would -have despised them had they not done so. But about this time an -extraordinary event occurred. - -You must know that my comrade, Zébédé', was the son of the -gravedigger of Phalsbourg, and sometimes between ourselves we -called him "Gravedigger." This he took in good part from us; but -one evening after drill, as he was crossing the yard, a hussar -cried out: - -"Halloo, Gravedigger! help me to drag in these bundles of straw." - -Zébédé, turning about, replied: - -"My name is not Gravedigger, and you can drag in your own straw. -Do you take me for a fool?" - -Then the other cried, in a still louder tone: - -"Conscript, you had better come, or beware!" - -Zébédé, with his great hooked nose, his gray eyes and thin lips, -never bore too good a character for mildness. He went up to the -hussar and asked: - -"What is that you say?" - -"I tell you to take up those bundles of straw, and quickly, too. -Do you hear, conscript?" - -He was quite an old man, with mustaches and red, bushy whiskers. -Zébédé seized one of the latter, but received two blows in the -face. Nevertheless, a fist-full of the whisker remained in his -grasp, and, as the dispute had attracted a crowd to the spot, the -hussar shook his finger, saying: - -"You will hear from me to-morrow, conscript." - -"Very good," returned Zébédé; "we shall see. You will probably -hear from me too, veteran." - -He came immediately after to tell me all this, and I, knowing -that he had never handled a weapon more warlike than a pickaxe, -could not help trembling for him. - -"Listen, Zébédé," I said; "all that there now remains for you to -do, since you do not want to desert, is to ask pardon of this old -fellow; for those veterans all know some fearful tricks of fence -which they have brought from Egypt or Spain, or somewhere else. -If you wish, I will lend you a crown to pay for a bottle of wine -to make up the quarrel." - -But he, knitting his brows, would hear none of this. - -"Rather than beg his pardon," said he, "I would go and hang -myself. I laugh him and his comrades to scorn. If he has tricks -of fence, I have a long arm, that will drive my sabre through his -bones as easily as his will penetrate my flesh." - -The thought of the blows made him insensible to reason; and soon -Chazy, the _maitre d'armes_, Corporal Fleury, Klipfel, -Furst, and Leger arrived. They all said that Zébédé was in the -right, and the _maitre d'armes_ added that blood alone could -wash out the stain of a blow; that the honor of the recruits -required Zébédé to fight. - -Zébédé answered proudly that the men of Phalsbourg had never -feared the sight of a little blood, and that he was ready. Then -the _maitre d'armes_ went to see our Captain, Florentin, who -was one of the most magnificent men imaginable--tall, -well-formed, broad-shouldered, with regular features, and the -Cross, which the Emperor had himself given him at Eylau. The -captain even went further than the _maitre d'armes_; he -thought it would set the conscripts a good example, and that if -Zébédé refused to fight he would be unworthy to remain in the -Third Battalion of the Sixth of the Line. - -{459} - -All that night I could not close my eyes. I heard the deep -breathing of my poor comrade as he slept, and I thought: "Poor -Zébédé! another day, and you will breathe no more." I shuddered -to think how near I was to a man so near death. At last, as day -broke, I fell asleep, when suddenly I felt a cold blast of wind -strike me. I opened my eyes, and there I saw the old hussar. He -had lifted up the coverlid of our bed, and said as I awoke: - -"Up, sluggard! I will show you what manner of man you struck." -Zébédé rose tranquilly, saying: "I was asleep, veteran; I was -asleep." - -The other, hearing himself thus mockingly called "veteran," would -have fallen upon my comrade in his bed; but two tall fellows who -served him as seconds held him back, and, besides, the Phalsbourg -men were there. - -"Quick, quick! Hurry!" cried the old hussar. - -But Zébédé dressed himself calmly, without any haste. After a -moment's silence, he said: - -"Have we permission to go outside our quarters, old fellows?" - -"There is room enough for us in the yard," replied one of the -hussars. Zébédé put on his great-coat, and, turning to me, said: - -"Joseph, and you, Klipfel, I choose you for my seconds." - -But I shook my head. - -"Well, then, Furst," said he. - -The whole party descended the stairs together. I thought Zébédé -was lost, and thought it hard that not only must the Russians and -Prussians seek our lives, but that we must seek each other's. - -All the men in the room crowded to the windows. I alone remained -behind, upon my bed. At the end of five minutes the clash of -sabres made my heart almost cease to beat; the blood seemed no -longer to flow through my veins. - -But this did not last long; for suddenly Klipfel exclaimed, -"Touched!" - -Then I made my way--I know not how--to a window, and, looking -over the heads of the others, saw the old hussar leaning against -the wall, and Zébédé rising, his sabre all dripping with blood. -He had fallen upon his knees during the fight, and, while the old -man's sword pierced the air just above his shoulder, he plunged -his blade into the hussar's breast. If he had not slipped, he -himself would have been run through and through. - -The hussar sank at the foot of the wall. His seconds lifted him -in their arms, while Zébédé, pale as a corpse, gazed at his -bloody sabre. - -And so, for a few thoughtless words, was a soul sent to meet its -Maker. - - - XI. - -The events of the preceding chapter happened on the eighteenth of -February. The same day we received orders to pack our knapsacks, -and left Frankfort for Seligenstadt, where we remained until the -eighth of March, by which time all the recruits were well -instructed in the use of the musket and the school of the -platoon. From Seligenstadt we went to Schweinheim, and on the -twenty-fourth of March, 1813, joined the division at -Aschaffenbourg, where Marshal Ney passed us in review. - -The captain of the company was named Florentin; the lieutenant, -Bretonville; the commandant of the battalion, Gemeau; the -colonel, Zapfel, the general of brigade, Ladoucette; and the -general of division, Sonham. These are things that every soldier -should know. - -{460} - -The melting of the snows began about the middle of March, and on -the day of the review the rain did not cease falling from ten in -the morning until three in the afternoon. The water ran over our -shoes, and every moment, to keep us brightened up, the order rang -out: - -"Carry arms! Shoulder arms!" - -The Marshal advanced slowly, surrounded by his staff. What -consoled Zébédé was, that we were about to see "the bravest of -the brave." I thought that if I could only get a place at the -corner of a good fire, I would gladly forego that pleasure. - -At last he arrived in front of us, and I can yet see him, with -his chapeau dripping with rain, his blue coat covered with -embroidery and decorations, and his great boots. He was a -handsome, florid man, with a short nose and sparkling eyes. He -did not seem at all haughty; for, as he passed our company, who -presented arms, he turned suddenly in his saddle and said: - -"Hold! It is Florentin!" - -Then the captain stood erect, not knowing what to reply. It -seemed that the Marshal and he had been simple soldiers together -in the time of the republic. The captain at last answered: - -"Yes, Marshal; it is Sebastian Florentin." - -"_Ma foi_, Florentin," said the Marshal, extending his arm -toward Russia, "I am glad to see you again. I thought we had left -you there." - -All our company felt honored, and Zébédé said: - -"That is what I call a man. I would spill my blood for him." - -I could not see why Zébédé should wish to spill his blood because -the Marshal had spoken a few words to an old comrade. - -At Schweinheim, our beef and mutton and bread were very good, as -was also our wine. But many of our men pretended to find fault -with everything, thinking thus to pass for people of consequence. -They were mistaken; for more than once I heard the citizens say -in German: - -"Those fellows, in their own country, were only beggars. If they -returned to France, they would find only potatoes to live upon." - -And the _bourgeois_ were quite right; and I always found -that people so difficult to please abroad were but poor wretches -at home. For my part, I was well content to meet such good fare. -Two conscripts were billeted with me at the house of the village -postmaster, when, on the evening of the fourth day, as we were -finishing our supper, an old man in a black great-coat came in. -His hair was white, and his mien and appearance neat and -respectable. He saluted us, and then said to the master of the -house, in German: - -"These are recruits?" - -"Yes, Monsieur Stenger," replied the other; "we will never be rid -of them. If I could poison them all, it would be a good deed." - -I turned quietly, and said: - -"I understand German; do not speak in such a manner." - -The postmaster's pipe fell from his hand. - -"You are very imprudent in your speech, Monsieur Kalkreuth," said -the old man; "if others beside this young man had understood you, -you know what would happen." - -"It is only my way of talking," replied the postmaster. "What can -you expect? When everything is taken from you--when you are -robbed, year after year--it is but natural that you should at -last speak bitterly." - -{461} - -The old man, who was none other than the pastor of Schweinheim, -then said to me: - -"Monsieur, your manner of acting is that of an honest man; -believe me that Monsieur Kalkreuth is incapable of such a -deed--of doing evil even to our enemies." - -"I do believe it, sir," I replied, "or I should not eat so -heartily of these sausages." - -The postmaster, hearing these words, began to laugh, and, in the -excess of his joy, cried: - -"I would never have thought that a Frenchman could have made me -laugh;" and bringing out a bottle of wine, we drank it together. -It was the last time we met; for while we chatted over our wine, -the order to march came. - -And now the whole army was moving, advancing on Erfurt. Our -sergeants kept repeating, "We are nearing them! there will be hot -work soon;" and we thought, "So much the better!" that those -beggarly Prussians and Russians had drawn their fate upon -themselves. If they had remained quiet, we would have been yet in -France. - -These thoughts embittered us all towards the enemy, and, as we -meet everywhere people who seem to rejoice only in fighting, -Klipfel and Zébédé talked only of the pleasure it would give them -to meet the Prussians; and I, not to seem less courageous than -they, adopted the same strain. - -On the eighth of April, the battalion entered Erfurt, and I will -never forget how, when we broke ranks before the barracks, a -package of letters was handed to the sergeant of the company. -Among the number was one for me, and I recognized, Catharine's -writing at once. Zébédé took my musket, telling me to read it, -for he, too, was glad to hear from home. - -I put it in my pocket, and all our Phalsbourg men followed me to -hear it, but I only commenced when I was quietly seated on my bed -in the barracks, while they crowded around. Tears rolled down my -cheeks as she told me how she remembered and prayed for the -far-off conscript. - -My comrades, as I read, exclaimed: - -"And we are sure that there are some at home to pray for us, -too." - -One spoke of his mother, another of his sisters, and another of -his sweetheart. - -At the end of the letter, Monsieur Goulden added a few words, -telling me that all our friends were well, and that I should take -courage, for our troubles could not last for ever. He charged me -to be sure to tell my comrades that their friends thought of them -and complained of not having received a word from them. - -This letter was a consolation to us all. We knew that before many -days passed we must be on the field of battle, and it seemed a -last farewell from home. - - - To Be Continued. - --------- - -{462} - - Bethlehem--A Pilgrimage. - - -Bethlehem, where was born the Redeemer of the world, is one of -the holiest spots of earth, and to it the thoughts of the -Christian turn with constant delight. The events in the life of -our Lord which give to Jerusalem its supreme interest are mostly -of a saddening character, bringing to recollection the sufferings -of Jesus for the salvation of his people; and, wherever we turn -in the city of the Great King, we are reminded of the Man of -Sorrows, and the contradiction of sinners which he endured. But -Bethlehem has other associations; and the pilgrim to the sacred -shrines can here pour out his soul in joyful gratitude and love, -for he is where God's infinite mercy was made evident to Jew and -Gentile, and the Saviour of the world was first seen by those he -came to redeem. - -On the 30th of January, 1866, I reached Jerusalem in company with -my friend the Reverend Father Wadhams, of Albany. We had brought -letters from Rome to his excellency the Patriarch of Jerusalem, -and to the reverendissimo superior of the Franciscans at the -convent of San Salvador. The Franciscan monks have charge of all -the sacred places in the Holy Land. We were most kindly received -by the patriarch and the superior of the convent; and the latter -not only offered us the hospitality of the Casa Nuova, (where all -the Catholic pilgrims lodge,) but gave permission for one of the -priests to be our companion and attendant every day. The company -of this good father, with which we were constantly favored during -our stay in Jerusalem, was of inestimable value. He knew all -about the sacred localities, having been six years a resident in -the Holy Land. He was from Ireland, and the only one in the -community who spoke English, the others being Italians. - -On Sexagesima Sunday, Father Wadhams, Father Luigi, and the -writer of this sketch walked to Bethlehem, a distance of six -miles. Leaving Jerusalem by the Jaffa gate, we turned southward. -Having crossed the valley of Gihon, after a short distance the -pathway was on level ground, over the plain of Rephaim, where -King David gained his victory over the Philistines. Beyond this, -in the middle of the road, is a well or cistern, having around it -some large rough stones. There is a tradition that, as the wise -men from the east were going from Jerusalem to Bethlehem in -search of the new-born King of the Jews, the star which had -guided them in the early part of their journey from home, but had -disappeared as they drew near the former city, was seen reflected -in the water at this spot. Certain it is that, either here or -within a short distance, they were favored once more with the -guidance of the star which led them to the place, and stood still -over where the child Jesus was. - -About half-way between Jerusalem and Bethlehem is the Greek -monastery of the Prophet Elijah. It is said he once rested here. -From this neighborhood we can see Jerusalem on the north and -Bethlehem on the south; and thus the two holiest places in the -world are visible to the pilgrim at once. Before we go on to the -city of the Nativity, let us pause a few moments to recollect the -history of the place and observe its appearance from a distance. - -{463} - -Bethlehem is one of the oldest cities in the world, having a -history of more than three thousand six hundred years. The name -signified the House of Bread; now its Arabic form, Beit Lahm, -denotes the House of Flesh. Either name is suitable for the place -in which the true bread of life, whose flesh is the food of -immortality, was to be born. It is called Bethlehem-Judah, to -distinguish it from another Bethlehem in the region of Zebulun; -it is also called Bethlehem Ephratah, or _the fruitful_. The -earliest mention of it is in the book of Genesis, (xxxv. 1 8,) in -the description of the death and burial of Rachel. Six hundred -years afterward occurred the events narrated in the book of Ruth. -A century after the marriage of Boaz and Ruth, David was born -here, who, at the age of seventeen years, was anointed king over -Israel--and hence it obtained the name of the city of David, and -is thus called in the holy Gospel. - -For a thousand years the history of Bethlehem is obscure, until -the place starts into prominence and immortal glory as the scene -of the wondrous events attending the birth of Christ. With this -narrative every Christian is familiar; and each year, under the -guidance of the church, we renew, at Christmas and Epiphany, the -joy which its telling brings. An edict of the Roman emperor -required all the people of Judea to present themselves for -enrolment in the cities where they belonged, even should they be -residing in other and distant places. In obedience to this -injunction, Joseph, the espoused husband of the Virgin Mary, -accompanied by her, repaired to his own city, Bethlehem, he being -of the house and lineage of David. A long journey of eighty miles -from Nazareth in the north, where he lived, to Bethlehem in the -south was thus imperative; for Roman rulers were strict in -demanding obedience to their laws on the part of conquered -peoples. By the time they reached Bethlehem, the town was already -full, and there was no room for them in the inn or public place -for the reception of travellers. They were thus compelled to do -the best they could, and found shelter in a rude place where some -cattle were kept. This was not only better than none, but was -such as many travellers since that time have been obliged to -content themselves with. Even now, it is sometimes found in the -East that the house and stable are together, being the same -apartment; a floor somewhat raised above the ground being the -place for the people, while the other part is tenanted by cattle, -sheep, or goats. There was no evidence that it was cruel -indifference on the part of the Bethlehemites which led to the -choice of this place by the holy ones who came there. That they -were poor is more certainly known from the offering made in the -temple in Jerusalem, when the Divine Infant was presented there, -at the purification of his stainless mother. - -It was in this cheerless place that Christ was born of the Holy -Virgin, according to the prophecies of Isaias and Micheas. Now, -indeed, was it true that "Thou, Bethlehem Ephrata, out of thee -shall he come forth unto me that is to be the ruler in Israel; -and his going forth is from the beginning, from the days of -eternity." Shepherds were keeping watch over their flocks by -night; and the angel of God appeared to them, and the brightness -of God shone round about them; and while they feared, the angel -said to them: "Fear not; for behold I bring you good tidings of -great joy that shall be to all the people; for this day is born -to you a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord, in the city of David. -{464} -And this shall be a sign unto you: you shall find the infant -wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger. And suddenly -there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, -praising God and saying, Glory be to God in the highest, and on -earth peace to men of good will." The shepherds went to -Bethlehem, and found these things so, and they and others -wondered thereat. - -So was the Messiah made known to the Jews, as, in a few days -afterwards, he was manifested to Gentiles in the persons of the -magi, or wise men from the East. - -Standing at the place where we have the first good view of -Bethlehem, at the point midway between Jerusalem and the city of -the Nativity, the eye ranges over an extensive region. Before us -is the city to which our steps are directed. It is on very high -ground, on a ridge projecting from the mountain range. The Church -of the Nativity, a large building with the convents attached, is -on the left of the view, the houses of the village being more to -the right and three or four hundred yards from the church. From -three sides there is a descent, in places very great, so that on -the north, east, and south, there are deep valleys at the foot of -the hill on which the buildings stand. All the land near the -church and houses is cultivated, and the hill is completely -terraced and covered with olive and fig trees, and vines, which -are carefully tended. Every foot of available ground is thus -brought into use; and the fine condition of the trees and vines -shows that nothing is wanting to restore the ancient fertility of -the region but security for labor--something miserably wanting -throughout the East. The convents are built up against the -church, and give it the appearance of an enormous castle. The -houses of the town are grouped somewhat closely, and have a -compact look. Like all edifices in this part of the world, they -are built of a grayish limestone, the roofs being of stone, -generally flat, but sometimes with a small dome. We are standing -about three miles north of Bethlehem, and the eye ranges over a -wide extent of hill country, especially to the left. The hills of -Judea are near us, the mountains of Moab beyond and to the east. -On the hither side of these last is the Dead Sea, filling the -sunken basin where once stood the wicked cities of the plain. -Under our feet, and all the way to Bethlehem, the ground is -covered with immense numbers of stones about four inches in size, -so that travelling, whether on foot or horseback, is neither easy -nor pleasant. - -Let us now go forward to the city. One mile this side of -Bethlehem, at a short distance to the right of the path we -follow, is the tomb of Rachel. This spot is one of the most -interesting of its kind in the world. Rachel was the wife of the -Patriarch Jacob, and she died and was buried here, "on the way to -Ephrah which is Bethlehem." Her memory has always been held in -respect by the Jews and Christians, and even now the former go -there every Thursday, to pray and read the old, old history of -this mother of their race. When leaving Bethlehem for the fourth -and last time, after we had passed the tomb of Rachel, on our way -to Jerusalem, Father Luigi and I met a hundred or more Jews on -their weekly visit to the venerated spot. A small square -building, with a dome, covers the grave of one whose name will -never perish from the remembrance of the people of God. - -{465} - -As we stand at the tomb of Rachel, at our right is the village of -Beitjala, Bethlehem being a mile or more to our left. Beitjala is -a thriving place, having many beautiful olive-trees, the finest I -ever saw. The Catholic Seminary for Priests of the Patriarch of -Jerusalem is there, and a fine large church has just been -completed. The Rector of the Seminary was consecrated Bishop of -Beitjala in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre some weeks after our -departure. - -Entering Bethlehem to go to the convent, we pass through a large -part of the city, the church being at the left of the ridge. -There are about three thousand residents in the city, who are -all, or nearly so, Christians. The streets are few, and, like all -Eastern cities, narrow and dirty--very narrow and very dirty, -indeed. Many of the people are out of doors. As we pass along, we -see some small, rude shops or dens, in which various articles are -exposed for sale. We look in other rooms, and find men at work -sitting on the ground, turning beads for rosaries. The work is -done rapidly, and great quantities of these are made. Also, -crosses and medals are carved from the mother of pearl shell. As -every one who goes to the Holy Land makes some purchases of these -articles, there is quite a brisk trade at Easter time, when the -pilgrims most resort to the shrines. These beads, medals, and -crosses are taken to Jerusalem and blessed in the most Holy -Sepulchre of our Lord, and are thus in just estimation among the -holy things of earth. A cross made in Bethlehem, where Christ was -born, and blessed in the most Holy Sepulchre where he was buried, -and from which he rose triumphant over death, is surely a -precious thing for any Christian to have. In going through some -of the streets of Bethlehem, I have seen the scraps of pearl -which were left in the manufacture of crosses and medals, and had -been thrown out as refuse, sparkling and glistening in the bright -sunshine, reminding one of the city above, whose gates are pearl. -But the place where Christ was born is so holy that not even -pearls are too precious to pave its streets. - -The Latin convent is on the north side of the great church, and -to the left, as one approaches the venerable pile. We knock at -the iron door, which is opened quickly, and enter the -reception-room of the house. This is a pleasant and comfortable -place; and the pilgrim, fatigued by the long walk or ride, finds -it a cheerful place of rest. The good fathers of the monastery -are hospitable and kind, and give such welcome as the traveller -would wish to receive at this holy place. The convent is old, and -the walls are of great strength, being ten feet thick, which -makes a deep recess at every window. A long table covered with a -green cloth is in the middle of the room, and there are -comfortable divans or cushioned seats along the wall by the -windows. Portraits of a king and queen, who were benefactors of -the convent many years ago, hang at the farther end of the -apartment; while among the later decorations of the walls are -good portraits of the present Emperor and Empress of Austria. -Some photographs and engravings of religious subjects are also -here; and there is a homelike and cheerful appearance which is -most grateful to the weary traveller from other and distant -lands. - -Let us glance at the buildings and their history. The grotto or -cave in which Christ was born is covered by the large church. Of -this spot, as being the very place where the infant God was born, -there never has been a doubt. -{466} -The identification of it goes back to the very next century after -the Ascension of Christ. The church was built by Saint Helena, -the mother of the first Christian Emperor, Constantine the Great, -and it is the oldest place erected for Christian worship in the -world. It was solidly and well built, and even now bids fair to -last when many of the slight structures of modern times shall -have fallen into ruin. It is fifteen hundred years old; in length -one hundred and twenty feet, the breadth being one hundred and -ten. There are four rows of large marble columns, taken, -probably, from the porches of the temple in Jerusalem. Each row -contains twelve columns, each one being of a single stone, twenty -feet high and thirty inches in diameter; they are smooth, and -have handsome capitals of the Corinthian order. The roof of the -church was originally of the cedars of Lebanon, but was repaired -about four hundred years ago with oak. The columns were once -richly ornamented, and the walls were inlaid with mosaics; these -are nearly all gone, and whitewash is in their stead. The -Sanctuary was very beautiful, and yet retains much of the -adornment of better days; but we can only see the top of the -altar screen as we stand in the body of the church, for a large -wall now runs entirely across the upper end of the nave, dividing -it from the sanctuary. In consequence of this, the whole church -looks desolate, empty, and cold. There are some cheap and mean -glass lamps, a few ostrich eggs, and other trifling objects in -the way of decoration, but the whole of this once beautiful and -magnificent interior is desolate and neglected. Being common -property of the Latins, Greeks, and Armenians, it receives care -from none; or, rather, the jealousies of the Christians prevent -any attempt at restoration. The stone pavement is broken and -irregular. The main door of entrance from the village has been -partly walled up, so that one can only enter by stooping low. -This was done a long time since, to hinder the Turks from riding -in on horses, mules, or camels; and the barrier against this sort -of desecration is effectual enough. - -The sanctuary of the church is directly over the spot where our -Lord was born; and was once, as it should be, rich and gorgeous -as loving devotion could make it--a brave sight in the day of its -perfection. Raised six steps above the level of the floor of the -body of the church, it is nearly square, and is large enough to -accommodate the congregations who gather there. This sanctuary is -in the possession of the Greeks and Armenians; for they, being -richer than the Latins, have bought from the Turks the largest -share in all the holy places in Bethlehem and Jerusalem. - -The church, with its sanctuary described above, is _over_ -the crypt or grotto, which is the glory of Bethlehem, the place -where Christ was born. Let us now go down to this most holy and -blessed spot. It is reached by a flight of steps on each side of -the great sanctuary, about thirteen in number, much worn by the -thousands of feet which have pressed them. Language fails to -convey the sentiments and emotions of the pilgrim as he descends -these old steps. In a moment more he is to be -_there_--there, where his Redeemer was born--there, where -his heart has yearned to be thousands of times, through many long -years, in the far distant land which is his home. Carefully he -descends, and, when nearly at the bottom, he sees, at the right -hand, a silver star fastened in the marble floor; over it a -number of small lamps burning; three steps more--he kneels and -flings himself prostrate--he is _there_! Blessed is the -pilgrim to whom God has given this joy, the holiest and sweetest -ever known on earth! - -{467} - -Doubtless we have all known, at some time or other, a gladness of -heart whose power and intensity have caused it to be remembered -in after-years, as marking the brightest day in our lives. With -many it is that of the first communion; with others, something -else has caused it. But the pilgrim to the holy places has a -peculiar joy in addition to that shared with his brethren at -home. And he will be forgiven if he say, as he feels, that there -is no joy like that he has when he kneels where Christ was born. -The superior of the convent at Jerusalem told me, on my first -interview with him, "Jerusalem est locus crucis et spinarum." The -superior of the convent at Bethlehem said, "Bethlehem est domus -laetitiae." Both these excellent fathers spoke truly, and justly -described the character of their respective cities. I -subsequently found that Jerusalem was indeed the _place of the -cross and of thorns_; but it needed only this day--only this -hour--to prove to me, with all fulness of absolute certainty, -that Bethlehem is indeed _the house of joy_. Think you that -there is on earth another place so blessed and joyful as this? I -know of none. Whoever has prayed at Bethlehem will say the same. -The good tidings of great joy to all people _from this -place_ have been spread over the world. - -Let us now look around and observe with carefulness the objects -about us. We are in a grotto, apparently hewn in the rock, -thirty-eight feet long, eleven feet wide, and nine feet high. The -floor and walls are of large slabs of marble, once white, but -grown dark by age and lamp-smoke and droppings of olive oil, for -hundreds of years. The hangings are old, and in some places -(especially the ceiling, which is covered with a blue stuff) -dropping to pieces. Twenty-nine lamps, suspended from the roof, -burn continually. The Holy Place is at the east end of the -grotto; the two flights of stairs mentioned above land very near -it. Imagine a semi-circular recess or apse, some four or five -feet across, raised four inches above the floor. A marble slab, -six inches in diameter, marks the spot where our Lord was born. -Around this stone is a large silver star, which lies flat, as -would a plate laid on the floor. The body of the star is cut out, -so that it makes a rim around the stone in its centre. The star -has fourteen rays or points, each about seven inches long, so -that it is about twenty inches across the stone from one point to -the opposite one. On the star is the inscription--the letters -forming a circle around the marble centre--"Hic de Virgine Maria -Jesus Christus natus est." Over the star hang sixteen silver -lamps which ever burn; they are carefully tended day and night. -There are eleven small and rude Greek pictures around the recess -behind the lamps. Immediately over the star is an altar, used by -the Greeks and Armenians, but not by the Latins; for the reason -that Greek and Armenian gold has been largely given to the -Turkish rulers for the privilege they possess. The Catholics are -comparatively few in numbers and poor in money throughout the -Holy Land; and to this circumstance is owing the melancholy fact -that what ought to be our exclusive possession, is enjoyed by -schismatics, or grudgingly shared with us by them. This altar is -quite without decoration during the day. -{468} -When the Greeks say their mass, they dress it up, removing the -things immediately afterward. The Armenians do the same. - -Just at the foot of the stairs, as we came down to the shrine, at -our _left_ hand--the star being at our _right_--is a -little recess two feet below the floor of the grotto, perhaps -seven feet square, a spot of great interest, which happily -belongs to the Catholics or Latins. A stone raised eight inches -high above the floor of this little chapel marks the spot where -the crib stood. Over and behind the stone is an excellent -painting in a frame of silver. A screen of silver wire is in -front of the painting and of the five silver lamps which hang -over the stone. Opposite this, and in the same little chapel, is -an altar standing in the spot where the wise men from the East -offered their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the -newborn King. It was my happiness to have said Mass three times -on this altar. The painting over this altar is very good; and a -screen of wire is put up at the end of Mass, to protect the -painting and the top of the altar during the day. In this little -sunken chapel there is only just room for the celebrant and for -the brother who serves the Mass; but, as it opens into the grotto -on two sides, many persons can assist at the divine mysteries. Of -all the shrines in Bethlehem this is the most favorable to -devotion. Only a very little daylight comes down the stairs. The -grotto is dimly lighted by the lamps, which are all like -sanctuary lamps, with a small flame. The eye is attracted to the -place of the nativity. All is silent, disposing to recollection -and meditation. There are no crowds as in Jerusalem, and no Turks -are seen here. - -Beside these objects of chief interest, there are several others -adjoining the sacred grotto. A passage leads from the rear of the -grotto, at the opposite end from the shrine, past the tombs of -St. Eusebius, the tombs and altar of Santa Paula and Santa -Eustachium, her daughter. Opposite is the tomb of St. Jerome, -with a painting representing him resting on a lion. A short -distance from this is a square vault, about twenty feet in length -and breadth, and nine feet high, lighted from above by a window. -A stone seat or dais is around the apartment. This was the study -of the great St. Jerome. It is now a chapel, and over the altar -is a painting representing the saint with a lion at his feet. For -more than thirty years did this great Father live in this cell. -Here he made the translation of the Holy Scriptures into Latin, -which we yet use--the Latin Vulgate, as it is called. Here, also, -he wrote his treatises, letters, and commentaries, which are of -such value and estimation in the church. Here, also, he wrote -those remarkable words concerning the day of judgment, which are -sometimes appended to his picture: "Quoties diem illum considero, -toto corpore contremisco; sive enim comedo, sive bibo, sive -aliquid aliud facio, semper videtur illa tuba terribilis sonare -in auribus meis: Surgite mortui, venite ad judicium." This is the -reason why he is sometimes painted with a trumpet, _illa tuba -terribilis_, blown by an angel over his head. He was one of -the earliest and certainly the most illustrious of pilgrims from -Europe to Bethlehem, and is justly honored as a doctor and father -of the church. He died A.D. 420, and was buried here in his -monastery; but his remains were subsequently removed to Rome, -where they now are in the magnificent church of St. Mary Major. - -{469} - -In another place, some forty feet from the study of St. Jerome, -is the tomb of the Holy Innocents, where were buried many of -those so cruelly murdered by order of the wicked Herod, who hoped -that in their number would be the new-born King of the Jews. With -a single exception, the slaughter of the Holy Innocents is the -only sad memory associated with Bethlehem. That exception is the -poverty, fearful and extreme, in which some of the Catholics at -this time live. Their desolation is great, and their appeals for -assistance are urgent and painful to the traveller. - -In Bethlehem, as in Jerusalem, there is a procession daily made -to the sacred places in the church. The plan and idea of the -office is the same in both places, that is, a hymn with antiphon -and prayer at each station. There is a difference in the subject, -of course. It was touching, when we came to the place where is -the silver star, to listen to the words in the prayer, -"_Here_ Jesus Christ was born." Also, when we next went to -the place where the wise men made their offerings, one of the -acolytes stood at the corner of the altar and, pointing with his -finger, chanted "_Hic_ magi offerabant munera." Few things -in life can equal in impressiveness this daily visit to the holy -places. - -At night I went up on the convent roof to see the stars shining -on Bethlehem; to be in Bethlehem and see the stars look down on -the spot where I stood. The sky was clear and pure. Countless -thousands of the heavenly bodies were there, each in its -brilliancy. Starlight is always beautiful; especially is it -grateful to the eye which has been pained with the dazzling and -blinding power of the Eastern sun. How often, at home, had I -thought of Bethlehem and the stars, not alone _that one_ -which is so memorable in the gospel history, but also of those -which may now be seen; for, ever in the future, Bethlehem and the -starlight are intimately associated. I looked up with a thankful -heart. Countless as these lights had been God's mercies to -myself. Another was added in its being granted me to come to -Bethlehem to see it, to pray there, to look up to the sky and -recall the sacred events belonging to the place. That night I -went to rest in joy. - -The next morning, Monday, February 5th, I said mass at the altar -of the Magi or Three Kings. In the afternoon, Father Wadhams, -Father Luigi, and myself went out to visit a place of great -interest, a mile or so from the convent. We passed through the -village of the shepherds--yet retaining that name--where dwelt -those who kept their flocks. Beyond this we walked over the plain -and fields of Boaz and Ruth to the place where the shepherds were -abiding, keeping watch over their flocks by night, and where the -angel came upon them in glory, saying, "Fear not: for behold, I -bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be to all people. -For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Saviour -who is Christ the Lord." And suddenly there was with the angel a -multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, "Glory -to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men of good will." - -We recalled this history with joy, and, taking off our hats, -chanted the _Gloria in Excelsis_ on the spot where those -holy words were first heard by men. How often has not that grand -and touching chant been sung throughout the world, melting the -hardest hearts into penitence, and subduing the roughest natures -into gentleness and love! - -{470} - -The place where the shepherds rested while watching their flocks -was a grotto, of which there are very many throughout the Holy -Land, and in it they would be sheltered from the night air, -needing less protection in the day time, as the winter is not -very cold. The grotto had long ago been converted into a chapel -by the Greeks, and we went into it and prayed. The -neighborhood--especially the place were the shepherds heard the -angel's message--is planted with olive trees; and I broke a few -leaves from the tree under which we stood while singing the -_Gloria_ to keep as a memorial of the place. A Catholic -priest is now building a church in the village of the shepherds. -Returning, we saw the place where Santa Paula lived and died; it -is a mile or less from the Church of the Nativity toward -Jerusalem. We came home in time to join the procession which is -daily made. - -Later in the evening, and when there was no one present but -ourselves, we went into the sacred grotto. Perfect silence -reigned. Prostrate on the marble floor, I passed an hour close to -the very spot where our Lord was born. Over and over again did I -pray for the good people of Nativity Church at home, and for all -who were commended to my prayers. Then, in this unbroken silence, -which not even our breathing disturbed, I meditated on all that -had taken place here, and on the mercy from God of which the -birth of the Divine Infant was the seal. Repeatedly I kissed the -stone which marks the spot, and the silver star by which it is -surrounded. God has often in time past been gracious to me; but I -say it with a thankful heart, that this one hour was the most -blessed and happy of my whole life. - -I have thus attempted to describe the holy city of David, and the -objects of interest within and near it. My fourth and last visit -was made on the return from Hebron; and I had more difficulty in -tearing myself away from Bethlehem than in leaving any other -place in the Holy Land. At the Greek convent of Elijah, of which -mention has been made, I turned to take my last look at the city -where Christ was born. Gazing long and earnestly, the whole scene -was stamped indelibly on memory, and I said "Good-bye, Bethlehem, -dearest city of holy mercy, house of joy, good-bye. Peace be with -thee, and peace with them who love thee!" - --------- - -{471} - - - Lines on the Ceremonial Sandal of his Holiness. - - Preserved At Burton Manor, Staffordshire, - The Seat Of Francis Whitgreave, Esq. - - - "How beauteous on the hills the feet of him" - ('Tis thus Isaias sings) - "Who preaches heavenly peace, and brings to man - Glad tidings of good things!" - - Christ first, his vicar now, to us fulfils - _This_ gracious work of God; - No land by seas or mountains so concealed - But Peter there hath trod. - - Hail, dearly-prized memorial, in late days - By our loved Pius worn! - Hail, emblem of the foot that walked the waves - In our redemption's morn! - - Before the little cross embroided here - Princes have bended low, - And owned the presence of a greater power - Than the proud world can show. - - Here love hath left a kiss; here guilt hath been. - Nor dropped her tear in vain - At his dear feet who can absolve all sins, - Or, when he wills, retain! - - Here learning to the truthful Roman See - Hath noble homage paid; - Here to religion's lovelier majesty - Beauty hath bowed her head. - - Oh! by this sacred relic here I swear, - As all my life shall prove, - To him who sits in Peter's holy chair - True loyalty and love. - - - E. Caswall. - Oratory, Birmingham. - --------- - -{472} - - - The Labor Question. - - Translated From Le Correspondant. - - Address Of Rev. Father Hyacinthe - Before The Catholic Congress Of Malines. - - -Your Eminence, My Lords, And Gentlemen: - -I will not attempt to conceal from you the emotion which thrills -me. I behold and am dismayed. I am abashed before this assembly, -which will presently give me inspiration. I speak before a prince -of the church, who is also a prince of wisdom and virtue; before -this illustrious circle of bishops, my fathers in the faith; -before these eminent statesmen, masters of science and of -eloquence, and I find this tribunal still warm and palpitating -from the hands which have touched it and the words which have -made it tremulous. I speak before this grand assemblage, convened -from the four quarters of the world to discuss, upon this little -spot of free ground that we call Belgium, the religious interests -of the Catholics of two worlds. Gentlemen, I was alarmed at -first, but I will fear no longer. I feel that I am not a stranger -here; I meet brothers. Your acclamations I accept, for they are -not addressed to the individual, who is nothing, but to the -cause, which is grand; I had almost said, which is every thing. -This cause I can define in two words--the Catholic Church, and -the Catholic Church in the nineteenth century. - -On that day which no priest forgets--on that day when, lying -upon the pavement of the temple, I took for my only and virginal -spouse the Holy Church of Jesus Christ; my lips in the dust, my -eyes in tears, my heart in ecstacy and in thrills of rapture--I -vowed in silence to love her well, and, if I could, to serve her -well, not only in her grand past, which is no more, and in her -glorious future, which is not yet come, but in her present, so -sorrowful and so grand also; in her present, which is the product -of the past ages of her history, and, consequently, the work of -God. - -Those who undertake to serve the church in the nineteenth century -have one especially profound and threatening question to -encounter: I mean the Labor Question. - -This question is one which transcends all fixed limits, but I -will limit my treatment of it to one especial point of view--the -education of the laboring classes. The hope of the harvest is in -the seed, and Leibnitz was right in saying, "Give me the -instruction of the youth during one century and I will change the -face of the globe." This transformation cannot be accomplished -until the working classes shall be educated under the conditions -designed by the nature of man and the general harmony of the -divine plan. - -There are three degrees in this education--the primary education -by the family, the professional education by the workshop, the -religious education of the Sunday. - - - I. - - Family Education. - -I place the family in the first rank. It occupies it in the order -of time; it ought to occupy it in the order of influences. - -Among the many elevated minds occupied with the fate of the -working classes, I am astonished that there are so few who -comprehend their real wants. -{473} -The remedy for the evils which they suffer, the means of the -progress that they wish to realize, are vainly sought for in new -inventions and combinations, in specious theories, or even in -private or public charitable institutions. They are in the -family; that institution which is as ancient and universal as the -world, and which has its roots in the inmost depths of the -strength and tenderness of humanity; that institution which came -from the hands of God himself, a vestige of the primal order of -Eden, which Christ has empurpled with his blood, and raised to -the dignity of a sacrament, making it one of the seven pillars -destined to uphold for ever the edifice of regenerated human -society. (Applause.) - -It is, then, the family that embodies the strength to sustain or -to restore in all classes of society; but above all in the -working class of our cities. It is especially to the family that -the first education of the child must be entrusted. - -In primary education, there are two things which need especial -consideration--the place and the agent. The place is the -domestic hearth; the agent is the mother. - -The domestic hearth! There it is that the cradle of the child -ought to be, there that its first years ought to be passed. Has -not Providence implanted this instinct in the heart of all his -creation, even in the species inferior to ours? Does not the bird -build its nest in the soft moss, under the shelter of the hedge -and among the branches of the tree? Is there not in all the -orders of nature a special place, a sacred spot, where the first -hopes, the first joys, and the first sufferings of life should be -experienced? Ah, well! among all these other cradles, the human -race has a right to a sacred cradle, too; it has a right to a -domestic hearth which shall be free from the infection of filth -and disease, and whose atmosphere shall not be fatal to the life -either of the body or of the soul of the child. - -It is at this fireside that must first begin the education of -this young soul, of its imagination and budding perceptions. -These walls are not merely walls, this roof is not alone a -collection of shingles and slate, this furniture is not merely -collection of common objects: I say that all this speaks a deep -language, that all this exercises a powerful influence in the -moral order. Have not we Catholics, in our divine religion, -sensible signs that are called sacraments, water, wine, bread, -oil; in short, matter--but matter which reveals and communicates -in different degrees invisible things! In the order of nature, -and in what I will call the religion of the fireside, there is -also a mysterious influence of places and of things--a secret -communication of the habits, of the virtues, of the soul of the -family by these material objects themselves. The child will see -what its parents have seen; it will mingle its life with objects -filled with recollections of them, and, so to speak, penetrated -by their souls; he will receive some impress from it, and as an -indelible character that he will carry through the errors of -youth and even under the white hairs of the old man. If there be -poetry in this, gentlemen, it is practical poetry; it germinates -in facts; it has its roots in the nature of things. It makes us -feel, besides, of what importance it is for the child to be -reared with its father and mother, and not under a strange roof. - -I have said that the mother is the principal agent in the -fireside education. It is not that I disregard the part of the -father; and if it were appropriate for me to say all I think, I -should reproach some Catholic writers, who fail to make -sufficient account of it. -{474} -We are in danger of forgetting the father in the presence of the -mother--this type so pure, so gracious, so Christian. - -But I cannot give here an exhaustive treatise upon family -education, and I insist above all upon the importance of this -primary education of which the care devolves almost exclusively -upon the mother. At this period of life, the body and the heart -of the child must be formed; reason will have its turn later, but -it will only develop itself upon the double soil, physical and -moral, a body and a heart worthily prepared. Now, the hands of -the wife are alone capable of this divine field-culture, -_agricultura Dei_; they alone are pure enough and tender -enough to touch this virginal and suffering body that an -imprudent touch might bruise or blight; they alone are powerful -enough to awake in him that organ of the heart which is, -according to science, the first to be born and the last to die, -_primum saliens et ultimum moriens_, the power to love which -remains so often stifled or corrupted in its germ. As the hands -of the priest are consecrated to touch the body of Christ upon -the altar--this body glorious but subjected to the fragile -conditions of the sacrament--so the hands of the Christian woman, -by the benediction of marriage and through the graces of -maternity, are sanctified to touch worthily the body of the -child, a body infirm but glorious, because it contains a soul; I -had almost said because it contains a god. By baptism it has been -made a living member of Jesus Christ. (Applause.) - -The fireside and the mother! Where are they to-day for the people -of our great cities? Ah! I touch two great, hideous sores of our -contemporaneous society: the pitiable condition of the working -part of the community, and the absence of the mother from the -domestic hearth. Here is one of the most unrecognized and most -active principles in the evil which we suffer; it is here, in -this disorganization of the family, in this demoralization of the -people, that are formed those black spots which finally rise in -the atmosphere, and become there an ever-increasing cloud which -at last bursts in a great tempest. - -Is it a fireside or is it a den, this damp, dark, infected cellar -from which the poor are absent all day, and in the evening return -only to horrible poverty and disorder? Is this the dwelling of -the living or the tomb of the dead, this narrow, suffocating -garret, where, in order to extend himself upon his bed--I cite a -fact recently come to my knowledge in Paris--the fatigued workman -is obliged to open the garret window during the night and to put -his feet upon the roof? I ask, are such dwellings tolerable for -the free citizens of France or Belgium; for men redeemed by the -blood of Jesus Christ? (Applause.) - -If at least the mother were there, her look and her smile would -illumine the clouds, transform the ugliness, and make a joyous -festival in the midst of this sadness. But labor, barbarous -labor, has deprived her of performing the sacred duties of the -mother, and has drawn her, weak and tottering, into the great -workshop, full of the noise of work and the sound of blasphemy, -whence she can not hear the cry of her son carried far from her -to an indifferent or covetous stranger, who will restore him to -her dead or at least blighted. - -{475} - -I do not exaggerate, gentlemen; these are but too common facts, -and which are tending to become the law in these great industrial -masses. Ah! well, it is the duty, the imperious duty of Catholics -to unite among themselves and with the Christians of all churches -and feeling men of all opinions, to make one supreme effort in -favor of the working classes. Let us work to restore to them the -family which has been taken away from them. Let us work to -restore the fireside, modest and poor undoubtedly, but decent and -pleasant, where the mother remains with her children and gives -them those cares of the heart and the body in which no one in the -world can replace her. (Applause.) - -I do not wish to be a Utopian, and I have not the credulity to -believe that these things can be accomplished in a day. Whatever -assistance may be rendered, it will require years and still years -before the family life, so deeply violated among the people of -our cities, retakes its vigor and beauty. In the meantime, -gentlemen, what shall we do? Charity has marvellous inventions. -To those who are homeless, it has opened children's homes and -asylums; to those who have no mother, it has prepared devoted -hearts of teachers, whatever may be the dress and name they bear. -It has prepared, above all, three centuries ago, through the -heart of Vincent de Paul, that extraordinary woman whose mission -was reserved especially for the nineteenth century, for the great -crisis of the laboring classes, the helper of the workman as of -the soldier, upon the field of battle, of labor, and of -suffering--the sister of charity. If any one could replace the -mother at the cradles of the people, it would be the sister of -charity, (applause;) it would be this nun, unsecluded and -unveiled, who, not being of the world, yet lives in the world, -and who unites, in an unexampled combination, the heart of the -virgin and the feelings of the mother. (Prolonged applause;) Let -us leave the child to the sister of charity; we will leave it to -the instructor and instructress who fill to it the place of -parents, to the infant-asylum and school that supplies to it the -place of home. Let us not permit that any hand, under any -pretence, snatch it from this cradle-education, and give us that -spectacle, which would be loathsome if it were not lamentable-- -the workman eight years of age. I feel the need of speaking the -truth with regard to this grand industry, that has been flattered -even to baseness by some, and disparaged even to abuse by others. -I belong neither to the class of courtiers nor to that of -traducers, and I estimate that the best homage one can render to -a power of this world is to believe it great enough to hear the -truth. I will say, then, to trade, that it has never a right to -put its hand upon a child before the age denoted by nature and by -religion. To do this is to commit a crime more odious than that -which has so long stained America, and that she has been obliged -to wash out in waves of blood. Among those men who owned other -men there were those who were just and good, who were more the -benefactors of their slaves than their masters. But there were -also those who were without conscience and without feeling. They -saw in the negro only an instrument, and they required of him -unmeasured labor without repose. This was the oppression of the -body. But all oppression, as all liberty, passes from that of the -body to that of the soul. If the truth could come in them, the -truth would deliver them! No communication, then, with those who -possess science, with men who speak too high, nor with books that -teach too thoroughly. And, finally, to intellectual oppression, -these cautious and cruel tyrants added moral oppression. -{476} -They were doubly right, for, of all the accessories of liberty, -the most dangerous is not science but virtue. No virtue, then, -for the slave! He has been deprived of the gospel; he must also -be deprived of nature! And because in the absence of the gospel, -and even in the ruins of human nature, when this nature has not -entirely perished, there yet dwell two noble sentiments, two -powerful roots, whence all can spring up again and -flourish--conjugal love and paternal love--family life was -rendered impossible, and in these horrible cases men could no -longer embrace, in honor as in tenderness, the companion of their -misfortunes and the fruit of their love. - -You shudder, gentlemen, and you are right. But nothing which has -been lost, however great may be the evil, is ever entirely -without remedy. This negro is an adult, a man grown; and if, in a -childhood more happy than his maturity, he has been warmed upon -the bosom of a black but Christian mother, _nigra sed -formosa_, and has drawn the chaste and healthful milk of -virtue; if he has known the gospel, and if he has loved Jesus -Christ, he holds in his innermost life concealed resources; he -will feel the sudden and powerful awakenings of an honest -conscience and of Christian truth, and against the triple tyranny -of the body, of the intelligence, and of the heart there will be -victorious rebellions. - -Gentlemen, the being most effectually oppressed, the victim -irremediably crushed, is not the man; it is the child. It is the -little white slave of our Europe, who has known neither his -cradle nor his mother, and who has awakened to life in the dark -workshop, a kind of hell on earth, of which we may write-- - - "You who enter here leave all hope behind." - -His active lungs breathe in full draughts of air which are simply -draughts of poison; his little limbs, bent under the work before -being formed, are dedicated from infancy to decrepitude. His -intelligence, too, arrested in its early budding, is sadly locked -in darkness. It is in vain that, later, in fruitless remorse, we -would attempt to imbue him with some truths. The negro will -recollect himself after years of brutishness; the child will -learn no more after a few months of this odious system. He will -never hold in his hand the three keys, at once common and -sublime, which open so many things in life and in the -soul--reading, writing, and arithmetic. He will never possess -those rudiments of science which ought to be the portion of -all--something of the form and life of this globe that he -inhabits, and much of the glory and destinies of that country -which he ought to love and to serve. Never, above all, will he -have the clear and strong revelation of his own soul and of God. -His soul and God! it is not only ignorance which steals them from -him, it is vice. What has taken place in this dark workshop, in -this hell, precocious but not the less hopeless? I will not -attempt to speak it, but will listen to the words of a poet -[Footnote 46] of our age, eloquent interpreter of the frenzies -and anguishes of evil in the depths of the human soul: - - "The heart of man, unspotted, is a vase profound; - If the first water poured into it be impure, - The sea may pass over without washing away the stain, - For the abyss is unfathomable and the spot in its depths." - - [Footnote 46: Alfred de Musset.] - -{477} - -(Applause.) O hands that have abused the child! you will be -cursed in spite of all your splendor, in spite of all your -science, and in spite of your riches! Hands of a relentless -industry, you will remain dry and withered as the hand of the -tyrant of Israel under the malediction of the prophet of Judos, -"The hand of Jeroboam withered and he was not able to draw it -back again to him, because the Lord had cursed it." You have -committed the most cowardly, the most revolting, and the most -irreparable of crimes. (Prolonged applause.) - - - - II. - - The Education Of The Workshop. - - -I have been too diffuse upon the primary education of man. The -fault, gentlemen, is in your attention and sympathy; and then in -the empty cradle, the absent mother, this gloomy fireside, where -I had need to weep and hope with you. - -The home education is concluded by that grand religious ceremony, -the first communion, which serves as the first emancipation of -the child. More precocious in that than the sons of the rich, the -sons of the workman enter from there a sort of public life; from -the family, they pass to the workshop. Am I mistaken, gentlemen; -is there not a school between the family and the workshop, the -primary school first and the professional school afterward? No; -the school is not between the family and the workshop, it is -beside them. It does not form, in connection with them, a third -degree in the popular education. In a word, its part is not -principal and independent, but secondary and subordinate. I am -full of sympathy and respect for those modest and courageous -teachers of the people, to whatever corps of instructors they may -belong, whether they wear the religious or the layman's dress, -provided they remain at the height of their profession. I will -never associate myself with the gross and unmerited injuries of -which they are the objects, in different senses, on the part of -all extreme parties. But grand as is their mission, I repeat it, -it is secondary; and practical reason fails to see in the school -what a large number of our contemporaries see in it--the most -efficacious instrument for the elevation of the laboring classes. -Permit me, gentlemen, to cite the words of an economist, a -patient, impartial, and wise observer, whose name and works I -would wish to popularize among Catholics. "With a free and -prosperous people," says M. Le Play, "the instructor occupies -only a subordinate position. The true education is given by the -family, aided by the priest; it is completed by apprenticeship to -a profession, and by the observance of social duties." [Footnote -47] - - [Footnote 47: _Social Reform in France_, by M. Le Play, - author of _European Laborers_, Commissioner-General to - the Universal Exhibitions of 1855, '62, and '67. 3d edition, - vol. ii. p. 369.] - -The workshop is, then, after the family, the second centre, the -second home, for the education of the people. But what is a -well-planned and well-organized workshop? It is one where the -dignity and rights of personal being are recognized in the -workmen, and especially in the child. A personal being is always -an end, never a means; it cannot be used as an animal without -reason, nor as an instrument without consciousness. If one expect -services of it, and receive profit from it, it is necessary to -dispose of it, as God does of us, with a great respect; _cum -magna reverentia disponis nos_. What is a well-appointed -workshop? It is one which has at its head a patron who is an -honorable man, a patron truly worthy of the name he bears. Some -have seen something ridiculous and disagreeable in this name; -but, for my part, I find it very grand, very elevated, and, above -all, very Christian. -{478} -I see in it the idea of paternity, and in this very idea the -practical solution of our problem, by the relations of mutual -affection in a free but, nevertheless, close and durable -association between the masters and the workmen. In such a -workshop, under this father of the laborer, an immediate gain -will be sacrificed, however great it may be, to the formation of -intelligent and virtuous apprentices. It is not proposed to -produce only much and quickly; it is desired that trade may be -grand by its workmen as well as by its works; from its moral as -well as its material side. The kingdom of God and his -righteousness is sought first; and all the rest is added, for -righteousness and utility have more bonds between them than we -think, and science has recently stated that in the products of -labor not only the degree of intelligence, but also the degree of -morality of the workmen, may be recognized. - -Aided by devoted and qualified foremen, such a patron will make -the workshop he directs the best of professional schools. The -good workman is made, like the good soldier, less by precept than -by example, less by general and theoretical knowledge than by a -practical struggle with the realities of his trade. - -Come, then, young conscript of labor! I would have many more of -this kind and many fewer of the other. (Applause.) Yes, the -conscripts of agriculture, in these vast open workshops that we -call the fields, and the conscripts of trade, in the more -confined but not less fruitful workshops of our cities--the -great, peaceful army which forms the true power and superior -influence of a nation. (Renewed applause.) Come, conscript of -labor! Enter upon the field of battle of the workshop! Fight -those combats which are not always without dangers, never without -courage and glory! And you, inured foreman, captain of this noble -militia, follow it, guide it, exercise it by look, and word, and -gesture! See how it avenges its first defeats by valiant -exploits; how it puts its victorious hand upon this wild beast, -this matter, revolted against man. It seizes it, it twists its -mane, and finally curbs it, subdued, pliant, and docile, to carry -on the inventions of science and the creations of genius. -(Applause.) - -Gentlemen, yet a word with regard to the workshop. It is a place -which ought to complete the formation of the moral and religious -character, at the same time that it perfects the intelligent and -qualified workman. It is not alone the school of excellence in -the profession; it is also the school of life. The family, with -its auxiliaries, the school and the catechism, has provided the -theory of life more than it has given the practice. The good -precepts have fallen upon the consciousness of the child in the -form of a mysterious revelation, of which he has felt the power -and the beauty, but of which he has not been able to seize all -the significance. Every theory, so far as it remains abstract, -differs more or less from the reality; it is essential that it -descend into the region of facts, and that it enter into a -contact with them which, far from destroying, confirms, but at -the same time modifies and fructifies, it. This is the true -tendency of practical life. - -When, then, the mother and the priest have grounded this sublime, -true, and eternal theory of religion and of virtue, it belongs to -the workshop to submit it to its necessary and decisive proof, to -give or refuse it citizenship in practical existence. -{479} -If, finally, everything in this new school says to the young -apprentice, Your teachers have deceived you or are themselves -deceived; the great movement of men and things is not, and cannot -be, what they have told you; if this contradiction of the faith -of his childhood penetrate his mind and heart through the -constant teachings of word and example, by all the influences of -these moral mediums, which act upon us with far greater force -than physical mediums, it will come to pass that he will abandon -the principles of his parents and instructors as a weak support, -and will allow himself to glide down the seductive declivities of -doubt and pleasure. But if, on the contrary, he find one of these -workshops too rare to-day, which are the continuation of the -school and fireside experience; if he hear and see the practical -commentary on all he has believed and loved; if he breathe the -pure air of healthful souls which refreshes and fortifies the -conscience and the heart; you will soon see developed to manly -stature those virtues of childhood instilled in him by the sacred -influence of home and of religion, warmed by the contact of those -two hearts which are equal--I dare not say that one surpasses the -other; God has clothed them with so nearly the same tenderness -and the same piety, for the cradle of mankind--the heart of the -mother and the heart of the priest. (Applause.) - - - III. - - Education By Means Of The Sunday. - -I have just compared the priest and the mother. And indeed, -gentlemen, if I have spoken separately of the family and the -workshop, I have not intended by that to separate them from -religion. With these two primordial laws of love and of labor of -which I have indicated the double home--the family and the -workshop--is connected, and, as it were, interlaced, a third -still grander law, which forms with them the divine net-work of -human existence--prayer. - -We cannot be the disciples of an independent morality, because we -are not participators in an impersonal deity. We have a morality -which comes from the living God and which returns to him, and in -this golden chain which binds the earth to heaven all the links -are not the duties of man in respect to man; and when one desires -to be an honorable man in the fulness and holiness of this term, -so often profaned, he must not disregard in his practical respect -the most living and sacred of all personalities. Now, this -intercourse of the living and personal soul with the living and -personal God is what we call prayer, in the fullest and most -comprehensive sense of the word. It is not sufficient to think of -God; it is necessary to pray to him. When one habituates himself -to reach him only by thought, he finishes by no longer believing -in God; he vanishes, or at least he transforms himself into a -mass of confused and icy clouds--_evanuerunt in cogitationibus -suis_--and of the Being of beings there remains only a -sublime but chimerical ideality. It is necessary to have a heart, -to have the arts and movements of a soul which looks up with -respect and tenderness to the God who makes it to live upon the -earth, to the Father who awaits it in the heavens. Not even -individual prayer suffices; collective prayer is necessary--the -meeting and communion of souls in the same illumination and -fervidness of love. This prayer has a sacred day and place--the -Sunday and the temple. It is of this day and this place, -gentlemen, that it remains to say to you that they are, after as -before the first communion, the highest school of the child, of -the youth, and of the man. - -{480} - -This is why the first and most essential of all popular liberties -is the liberty of keeping the Sunday. There are men who do not -comprehend this need of repose for the soul and for the body. -They are usually those who direct work, but who do not perform -it; who receive the profit without knowing the fatigue. They are -those who have not pricked their hands on the hard asperities of -labor, with the thorns and briers of the workshop, and who have -not been bowed down during six days over the earth with their -brows bathed in sweat and their souls exhausted with suffering. -As for such, I can conceive of their objections to the law of -repose. I can comprehend their repugnance to the liberty of the -Sunday. But the laborer, whenever he is not under the pressure of -material or moral violence, whenever he is left to his own -instincts; he claims as his most dear and sacred right the -enjoyment of this day which makes him truly free, truly husband -and father, truly a child of God. The sentiment of human dignity -requires it; it is the exigency of family life; it is the -religious need of souls; it is the cry of all that is most noble -and imperious in our nature. - -I still recollect what I experienced in my childhood. Permit me -this confession, which is yours as well, and which would be also -that of our workmen. In the morning, when I awoke, I felt -distinctly that it was Sunday! In the clump of trees near the -window, the birds sang more sweetly; the church-bells pealed more -joyously; the air was filled with more harmonies and perfumes; -the sky was so beautiful, the sun so brilliant! I did not -understand this mystery. I asked myself many times how nature -thus became transformed on a fixed day. Later, I understood it. -Child, still warm from the waters of thy baptism, throbbing from -the caresses of thy mother, it is a reflection of thy religious -soul which passes over nature and makes it more beautiful and -more like thyself. (Applause.) - -The child will arise transported. It will go into the temple, -which is the house of God, but which is also the house of the -people. The rich have their palaces; they can content themselves -with a modest chapel. For the people we must have cathedrals, -(applause,) and festivals such as are not given to the princes of -the earth, such as religion alone can realize. The true popular -festival--let me speak the word so much abused, the true -_democratic_ festival--is Sunday. In the vast basilica, all -the arts, united around the altar, have mingled their -enchantments into one supreme enchantment--architecture, -statuary, painting, music, above all, eloquence. Yes, eloquence! -However unpolished the words of the priest may sometimes be, by -the nature of the truths he must announce, by the chords which he -is sure to touch in the human heart, the priest is necessarily -eloquent. (Applause.) The people enter, and they feel its -grandeur. And the little children, as they cross the threshold, -are welcomed like kings by the grand voice of the organ; they -breathe the perfumes of incense and of flowers; they listen to -those majestic and tender chants, those Latin words, which they -do not comprehend, and which nevertheless say to them so many -things--words of eternity dropped down into time, mysterious -secrets of the fatherland, a glimpse caught in exile. Transported -with faith, with hope, and with love, they come from the fireside -to the altar; from the altar to the fireside they recarry to the -mother the kiss of God, as they have carried to God the kiss of -the mother. - -{481} - -This is the day of which their friends wish to deprive the -people--false friends, who believe only in the body, who see in -it only material needs, the work and the pleasures of the beast -of burden! Courtiers of democracy, you who flatter the people and -despise it, believe in its soul, _crede animae_, and by that -begin to believe in your own. (Applause.) - -Yes, this law of Sunday, so religiously democratic, is to-day -everywhere unrecognized. Patriotism imposes upon me still greater -consideration for my country when I speak upon soil which is not -her own. I am mistaken; my country asks of me only equity, and I -know that if much evil can be said of France as she is to-day, -much good may also justly be said of her. I will speak, then, -freely; I will complain of the violation of the Sunday in the -great industrial cities of France. Sometimes I must pass through -the streets in going to the church to speak the sacred word. I -revolve in my heart the lessons of the Gospel and all along the -way are visions of hell; heavy wagons, axle-trees that groan, -pavements that reek, clouds of dust which hide from me the sun -and the face of God. I cover my eyes with my hands and say, -groaning, It is France that does this. - -The answer comes, Undoubtedly; but this is liberty. Respect the -liberty of France! Respect the conscience of your -fellow-citizens! Ah! I have nothing to say against liberty. I -speak of it with lips as much more sincere and fervent as they -are more Christian and more Catholic. The hour is not yet come, -gentlemen, but the hour will come, in which misapprehensions -shall cease, and it will be said before the end of this century -that the pontiff so great and so unappreciated, Pius IX., who has -most valiantly combated against revolution, is the same who has -opened the initiatives the most bold and most fruitful--yes, in -spite of apparent reverses, I say the most fruitful for the -liberty of Europe. Let us not do that with which St. Paul -reproaches the Christians of Corinth. We will not depart from -Christ; we will not divide ourselves from Pius IX., _divisus -est Christus!_ As for me, in all the extent of his glory I -accept him; from his prosperity so pure to his misfortunes so -touching; from the raising of the standard of reform and progress -in his royal and priestly hand, previous to 1848, to the -convocation of the ecumenical council which unites at this hour -to the applause of Catholics the sympathy of Protestants and -Rationalists. - -No! we will not lessen liberty. We will not wound the interests -of labor nor the exigencies of trade. What contemptible sophisms -these are! Do you not see two great free nations, two great -industrial nations, which are equal to yours, if they do not -surpass you--England and the United States? I have had the -happiness to visit London. I shall never forget the emotion which -filled me at the sight of this city, similar to the ancient -metropolis of the sea which the prophets paint; the woman who is -seated upon the waters, _mulier quae sedet super aquas_. And -in the deep waves I saw no abysses, but only an immense and -solemn fluctuation, and as the majesty of an ever moving but -firmly established throne. And the great queen of the seas was -there, commanding the islands and the continents, reaching out in -the distance over kings and peoples, no longer, as her -predecessors, the rod of oppression, but the beneficent sceptre -of her riches and her liberty. -{482} -And I heard the sound of her vast trade, and in the streets -passed the living flood of men and chariots. Then one day broke -as the days of my childhood; one day such as public life no -longer shows me in my country; one day which did not resemble -other days. No longer the noisy cars in the streets, no longer a -crowd full of business; the gigantic machine which muttered and -thundered the evening before had suddenly stopped, as before the -vision of God. The grand movement of English trade was arrested, -and I saw in the streets only those who went, collected and -happy, to the place of prayer, and I heard only the sweet harmony -of the Protestant bells, which remembered having been Catholic -while waiting to become so again. (Applause.) - -Let not any one say, England is an aristocratic and feudal power; -its Sabbath-rest is one of the remnants of the middle ages which -modern breath will soon have swept away. I look to the other side -of the sea, and I find again this Anglo-Saxon race which can -clothe the same grandeur under the most diverse forms; this time -it is not the middle age and aristocracy; it is the most advanced -prow of modern civilization, sailing across all glories and -indiscretions toward an unknown future. This is, I love to think, -the people chosen by God to renew things and to prepare for -truths and institutions which can no longer do without newer and -stronger vestments. Well, the United States observe the Sunday as -England does, and send back to us across the ocean this same -response of the silence of God to the blasphemies of men. -(Applause.) - -In praising these great countries, gentlemen, I do not intend to -recommend to you a servile imitation, and I do not ask that what -is not in our manners shall be inscribed in our laws. The law -exists in France, it is true, but in the state of a dead letter. -I do not desire to see it applied. I am persuaded that in such -countries as France and Belgium great inconvenience would arise -by this means. What I ask is not the obligation, it is the -liberty of the Sunday; liberty by the Sunday and the Sunday by -liberty. (Cries of Good. That is it.) Yes, I repeat, the liberty -of the people by the Sunday and the observance of the Sunday by -liberty. If I had the right to speak to governments, I should do -it with that respect which is their due even in their faults. -Even here, we have applauded the beautiful words of M. de Maistre -on the subject of Russia: "I respect all that is respectable, the -sovereigns and the people." I say, then, to them, Give your -example, and I ask of you no other support for the cause that I -defend. Let the public works scrupulously respect the Sunday, and -the state force the individual to blush before it. (Applause.) -And you, princes of trade, organizers, legislators, and monarchs -of labor and of wealth, you can do more here than crowned heads; -you have been powerful agents in suppressing the liberty of the -Sunday; you will be more powerful in restoring it. (Applause.) - -And now, gentlemen, before closing, suffer me to address one last -and earnest appeal to your zeal in favor of these three great -restorers in the bosom of the laboring classes--the family, the -workshop, and the Sunday. - -Yesterday, in language which belongs only to himself, but which -interprets our feelings as well, M. Le Compte de Falloux said to -the illustrious Bishop of Orleans, "My Lord, you have recommended -us to arise early; but you have joined example to precept; you -have ever been the standard-bearer in all good causes." -{483} -Well, what I could wish is, that each one of us could also be -among the standard-bearers; that we could have the honor, we -Catholics, of being in advance of others in the practical -knowledge of what is preparing in the approximate future. - -What is approaching? It is called by an illy-defined name, which -awakens passions and dissensions--democracy. Two years ago I -attempted to explain this word at Notre-Dame de Paris, [Footnote -48] and I have been blamed for it by some. I have since found a -similar definition in the recent writings of the honored bishop -whom I have just named. I retake it, then, with pride, and I say -to all those who invoke this name, There are two democracies in -the world. Which is yours? Is it radical revolution? Does social -hierarchy, entirely prostrated before the force of numbers, -constitute the grandeur of intelligence and virtue? Is it the -brutal level which passes over all things to crush and to lower? -If this be your democracy, it is the worst of barbarisms, and we -will combat it, if necessary, even to the shedding of our blood. -But if democracy be the gradual and peaceable elevation of the -laboring and suffering masses, who are called peasants in the -country and workmen in our cities; if it be their elevation to a -more extended knowledge, to a more secure well-being, to a more -efficient and refined morality, and by legitimate consequence to -a more extensive social influence; we are with this democracy, -not only because we are the sons of our century, but because we -are the sons of the Gospel. [Footnote 49] - - [Footnote 48: Advent Conferences of 1865. (3d conference.)] - - [Footnote 49: "If democracy be the rising of the common - people, of the peasants and the laborers, to a higher - standard of education, of well-being, of morality, of - legitimate influence, the church is with democracy." - --_Atheism and Social Peril_, by Monsignor the Bishop of - Orleans. 1866. p. 166.] - -I see it arise. I salute it in your name; this Christian -democracy, having its deep and solid foundations in the homes, -the workshops of trade, and in the sanctuary of our temples. It -will change history, which, in the past, has only recorded the -intrigues of the wily or the conquests of the strong, the -powerlessness of policy, the too frequent corruption of riches -and art. It will give to the sages a subject of meditation in the -intelligent and faithful working out of the laws of private life, -to which public life itself is subordinate when it is understood. -It will cause a great people to spring up who will seek the -practical welfare of their existence, as well as the inspiration -of their literature and art, in family affection, the struggles -and joys of labor, and in the chaste emotions of prayer and the -splendid festivities of religion. - -Undoubtedly, the crisis that we are passing through is one of the -most important and terrible that our race has known. Let us raise -our efforts, our courage, and our faith to the height of these -solemn events, but never doubt the final issue. I can explain the -ruins of pagan society; but the society which has touched Jesus -Christ, the humanity which has possessed for centuries the spirit -of the Gospel--in a word, Europe--she may suffer, she may be in -the pangs of death, but she cannot die. (Prolonged applause.) - --------- - -{484} - - Mater Filii. - - - Behind this vast and wondrous frame - Of worlds whereof we nothing know - Except their aspects, and their name,-- - Behind this blind, bewildering show - - Of shapes that on the darkness trace - Transitions fair and fugitive, - Lies hid that power upon whose face - No child of man shall gaze and live. - - As one that in broad sunshine stands - While minster organs near him roll, - Screening his forehead with his hands, - And following through the gulfs of soul - - Some memory that before him flies-- - Thus, power eternal and unknown, - We muse on thine immensities, - Yet find thee in thy Son alone. - - Immanuel--God with us--in him - The lineaments divine are glassed - Like mountain outlines, vague and dim - Upon the mists of morning cast. - - The "Word made Flesh!" O power divine! - Through him, through him, we guess at thee, - And deepliest feel that he is thine - When throned upon his mother's knee. - - "If I but touch his vesture's hem, - I shall be healed, and strong, and free--" - Thou wert his vesture, Mary;--them - His virtue heals that cling to thee! - - Aubrey De Vere. - --------- - -{485} - - The Sacrifice and the Ransom. - - - Introduction. - - -Among the various manifestations of Christian charity in the -middle ages--charity sometimes ill-understood perhaps, but always -sincere and enthusiastic--there are few that show more -expressively to what a degree the love of our fellow-creature can -suppress all egotistical instincts, than the Order of Mercy for -the redemption of captives. Sustained and encouraged by holy -charity, the Father of Mercy embarked each year at Marseilles, -braving plague, martyrdom, and slavery. In the name of that -heavenly King, of whom he considered himself the ambassador, he -demanded from the astonished tyrant of Algiers the liberty of the -Christian captives, until then apparently condemned never to see -again their homes. The savage Dey, awed by the heroic confidence -of the unarmed pilgrim--moved, perhaps, by some secret -compassion, accepted the gold offered as ransom; and the obscure -and humble father recrossed the sea, and returned again on foot -to his distant monastery. - -And what was the origin of this institution? No legislative -assembly, no council of ministers is entitled to the honor of -having conceived the idea of this pious enterprise. The loving -heart of a man who had devoted himself from his childhood to the -service of suffering humanity was the first to devise a plan of -carrying relief and consolation to misfortunes which, until then, -had seemed beyond the ordinary action of Christian charity. Peter -Nolasque, the founder of the Order of Mercy, was born in 1189, -near Castelnaudari, in Languedoc, France. His learning was as -remarkable as his piety, so that at the age of twenty-five, the -education of the son of Peter of Aragon was confided to him by -the celebrated Simon of Montfort. It was while at the court of -Barcelona, in this high and responsible position, that Peter -Nolasque resolved to devote his life and fortune to the ransom of -the Christian slaves who languished hopelessly, under the burning -sun of Africa. - -For this purpose he determined to establish a religious order for -the deliverance of captives. Several noblemen contributed large -sums of money toward the good work; the court of Rome gave its -supreme approbation, and on St. Lawrence's day, 1223, Peter -Nolasque was declared the first general of the new institution, -and invested with the monastic habit. He lived far from courts -during the rest of his life, travelling painfully on foot to -carry consolation and freedom to the wretched beings he pitied so -truly. More than four hundred Christians were delivered from the -hands of the Mussulman by his efforts alone. - -He died on Christmas-day, 1256, leaving behind him the memory of -a pure and generous life, and an institution which soon numbered -among its members many of the bravest and noblest chevaliers of -France. - - ---- - - -{486} - - The Sacrifice. - -It was in the year of our Lord 1363. The curfew bell had just -been rung, the doors of the village houses were all fast shut, -and within the castle wall the measured tread of the sentinel on -the battlements was the only sound that met the ear. If, -perchance, some belated traveller was still abroad, he hung his -rosary around his neck, and hurried onward muttering pious -ejaculations; for a heavy mist deepened the shades of night, and -the sad wailings of the wind and the hootings of the owl mingling -together, sounded ominously in his terrified ears. - -The only light visible was in the chapel of the monastery, where -the monks of the Order of Mercy were reciting their evening -prayers. They had just ended the last and solemn petition for -"_all Christians, captive and suffering in the hands of the -infidel,_" when the bell at the great gate of the holy house -rang loudly, and the brother-porter, rising from his knees, -hastened to reconnoitre by the wicket who it was demanded -admittance at such an unusual hour. - -Three persons were at the gate; one, a young man, wore a rich -emblazoned coat of arms; his head was uncovered save by the long -clustering curls of dark hair, now heavy with the night-damp, -that descended to his shoulders; a youth, apparently his page, -bore in his arms the knight's helmet. The third individual was an -old man, who kept himself in the background, and who appeared by -his plain steel cuirass to be an humble squire, grown gray in -harness. - -The page's youthful face was sad and timid; the elder man's -showed the traces of violent passions in the deep lines that -furrowed it, and his eyes even now seemed to flash in the light -of the torch that the monk carried. The chevalier's noble -countenance was pale and grave, and he stood leaning pensively on -his sword. "What wish you, Messire?" asked the brother-porter of -the knight, when, after a deep but sharp scrutiny, his doubts -were removed as to the quality of the strangers. - -"May it please the Reverend Father Prior to grant me a short -interview?" - -"May it be as you desire, Messire. I will seek the reverend -Father when you have entered with your followers." - -The heavy iron-bound gate of the convent turned on its massive -hinges, and closed the instant that the travellers were within. - -The golden spurs of the chevalier resounded on the cloister's -marble flags as he followed the monk, and he murmured to himself -the words of the Psalm, "_Haec requies mea in seculum -seculi_"--but his page and his squire knew no Latin, and his -conductor heard him not. - -They were introduced into a spacious ancient parlor lined with -high black oaken wainscot; the brother placed the torch he -carried in an iron claw that was fixed in the wall for that -purpose, and invited the strangers to seat themselves on the -bench that ran round the chamber, then bowing profoundly, left -them. - -The squire immediately drew nearer to his young lord who appeared -to be absorbed in thought. - -"How, my lord," cried he, "is it possible that you believe that -these monks can forward your plans? Why thus retard our journey? -A few days more and we should have reached our goal, and many a -good man and true would have made your quarrel his own. The brave -free companies would have served you as never a hooded priest in -France!" - -"Banish all such thoughts for the future, Michel," replied the -knight, "it is better to pardon than to revenge." - -{487} - -"Good Saint Denis! do I hear the Lord of Montorgueil aright! My -lord, pardon the frank speech of an old soldier, but never was -the escutcheon of your house dimmed without being washed in -blood--and would you be the first to let it lie soiled in the -dust?" - -"Alas! Michel, it is indeed true that too much blood has been -shed in the quarrels of our house!" - -"Holy Virgin! can it be possible that my liege lord has forgotten -the duties of a valiant knight?" - -"Friend," replied the young warrior sternly while his pale cheek -reddened with the emotion awakened by the squire's reproach, "I -have remembered that I was a Christian before I was made a -knight!" - -Michel drew back in silence, gazing on his master with a -countenance in which astonishment and grief were nearly equally -portrayed, while the Lord of Montorgueil silently proceeded to -take off his shoulder-belt and untie his silken scarf. - -The heavy oaken door at length opened and the venerable prior -entered. Quick as thought, the knight threw the sword he held in -his hands at the monk's feet; then, falling on his knees, -exclaimed in a loud, firm voice, "Reverend Father, in the name of -God and of the holy Virgin Mary, I, Raoul de Montorgueil, -chevalier, pray and conjure you to admit me into the religious -and devout observance of our Lady of Mercy, for the deliverance -of captives!" - -"Amen, my son, so be it, if it be God who sends thee," replied -the Prior. - -"My lord, my lord," cried Michel, "remember the Sire of Valeri! -Proud will he be, and loud his boast that fear of him has moved -you to this. You know his _outre-cui-dance!_" - -"O my worshipful lord!" exclaimed the timid page, bursting into -tears, "think of your lady-mother!" - -"I think of the salvation of my soul more than of all else," -replied the chevalier. - -"Silence, good friend!" said the prior, as Michel appeared about -to attempt another remonstrance; "and you, my son, seat yourself -here by my side, and tell me what has induced you to seek this -peaceful sanctuary." - -The young knight arose and placed himself on the wooden bench by -the monk; then, keeping his eyes steadfastly bent to the ground -as if to avoid the sight of his two weeping retainers, "Reverend -Father," he said, "most bitter is the remembrance of the past; -for the last time will I recount the evil thoughts and deeds that -once seemed so natural to me. For many a year all Brittany has -resounded with the feuds of the Lords of Montorgueil and the -Sires of Valeri; bitter has been the hatred and bloody the strife -between these two proud houses; but I will not recall past -outrages--let me relate only the last deadly wrong that filled my -heart with unspeakable thirst of vengeance. - -"Twelve days have not yet expired since the passage of arms at -Rennes; the Sire of Valeri was there at the head of a numerous -company of his partisans, and defied me to single combat, with -many a vain and bragging word. I accepted his challenge, resolved -to be the victor or die. The onslaught was terrible, for we were -equal in strength and skill, and we long parried each other's -thrusts. Forced at last to pause to take breath, the Sire of -Valeri proposed a truce. - -"'Let us meet a month hence,' he cried, 'with twenty good men -each, and end our quarrel.' - -{488} - -"'Why should we adjourn till another day what can be so well -ended now?' I replied; 'our swords will be no sharper and our -hate no hotter. No, may my spurs be hacked off my heels by your -basest varlet, ere I consent to sheathe again my sword before one -of us fall!' Then again fast and furious fell our blows until the -traitor knight making a feint, struck me before I had time to -cover and I fell. 'Yield!' cried my exulting foe. 'Never! Never!' -I replied. 'Then die the death!' and he raised his weapon. - -"At that moment my young brother--alas! alas! why did my -lady-mother bring him to those fatal lists!--my young brother -leapt over the barriers and sprang to the rescue--the heavy -blade descended on his fair head! Father, I saw the long hair of -the noble child red with his young life's blood, and I saw no -more. When I awoke from my deadly swoon, I found that my good -squire and gentle page had carried me from the lists and were -weeping over me while they swore vengeance on the enemy of our -house. - -"I, too, thirsted for vengeance, for vengeance on all the kith -and kin of the house of Valeri, and I resolved to seek fifty -lances and attack the miscreant in his stronghold. Vainly my -lady-mother prayed me to lay aside my sword and live for her. -'Leave vengeance to heaven,' she said, 'I have seen too much -blood--O my son! let me not weep over the mangled corpse of my -last child!' Vainly she prayed; I left her, reverend father, to -mourn over the grave of my brother, while I carried death to the -homestead of our enemy. - -"But as I journeyed toward the quarters of the Free Companions, -followed by these, my squire and page, intending to enlist some -good lances under my banner, the remembrance of my mother's grief -returned again and again, and my heart softened each time that I -thought of her, childless and alone in her sorrow. I was -meditating sadly this very day, when the sound of a bell ringing -the _Angelus_ reminded me that it was the hour of prayer, -and I alighted from my horse to repeat an Ave Maria. When I said, -'_Pray for us in the hour of our death_,' I asked myself for -the first time, if in that supreme hour the remembrance of my -revenge would be sweet to me, and if, when in the presence of him -who is the suzerain of the lord as well as of the vassal, I -should dare to vaunt me of the blood I had shed. Thus I continued -to reflect as I resumed my journey, until at last I found myself -before the gate of this holy house, and I heard echoing beneath -the arched cloisters the strains of that sweet _Salve -Regina_, that pilgrims say the angels sing at night beside the -fountains. - -"All the bitterness and anguish of my heart melted away as I -listened; 'O Mother of Mercy!' I cried, 'it is then here that -thou art awaiting me? Yes, I will henceforth be thy knight; it is -better, I feel, to wipe tears away, than to cause them to flow.' -I threw myself on my knees, and when again the holy strains -repeated _'O clemens! O pia! O dulcis Virgo Maria!'_ my -resolution was firmly taken, and I had vowed myself to the -service of the blessed Virgin. Receive me then, Father, as her -servant." - -Raoul threw himself once more on his knees before the venerable -priest, who raising his arms toward heaven, silently gave thanks -for this miraculous conversion; then turning toward the knight, -blessed him and gave him the kiss of peace. "How admirable are -the ways of God, my son," said he; "how little did my brethren -and I think while we were praying this night for all captives, -that there was one so near us being freed at that moment from his -bonds! Thou wast smitten on the road, my son, like Saint Paul; -like him thou art, perhaps, destined to become a chosen vessel of -grace. -{489} -In the name of God and of the blessed Virgin, I receive thee into -our holy order, and admit thee to the ordeal of our novitiate." - -The sobs of the two retainers had been the only sign of their -presence that they had given while the knight was speaking; but -now the old squire cast himself at his feet, and in broken -accents besought him to have pity on his poor vassals, and not -abandon them to the scoffs and outrages of the enemy of his -house. - -"Have pity on us," repeated the page, wringing his hands. - -"My friends, weep not like women," replied their master, "I have -thought of everything. God will comfort my lady-mother, and she -will rejoice to have her son a knight of the holy Virgin. My -kinsman Gaston will be your lord; he is worthy of the inheritance -I leave him, for he has a noble and generous heart. He is young, -it is true, but I will place him under the tutelage of Messire -Bertrand du Guesclin, and foolhardy will he be who shall then -attack our house or harm its vassals. Reverend Father, I crave -your hospitality for my two retainers, and I entreat you to -permit me now to seek peace and strength in prayer." - -The prior took his hand and conducted him in silence to the -chapel. A single lamp burnt before the sanctuary, and shed a -faint, solemn light upon the image of our Lady of Mercy. Raoul -prostrated himself at the foot of the altar and poured forth his -ardent soul in supplication. When he arose, the marble steps were -wet with tears. - -"Father," he said to the prior, "I am strong now--the sacrifice -is accomplished." - -The young convert passed that night in writing. He addressed a -long and loving letter to his mother, relating to her all his -struggle--his burning wish for vengeance, his fear of shame, the -tender mercy that had touched his heart: the parchment on which -he wrote was stained with many a tear. "I could not remain in the -secular world without revenging our injuries," said he in -conclusion, "I have left it that I may pardon. Honored lady and -dear mother, bless your son and pray for him." - -To Messire Bertrand du Guesclin he gave a rapid sketch of the -facts, and besought his protection for his young kinsman, now -Lord of Montorgueil. - -A third letter still remained to be written; how much it cost him -to break this last link with the outward world, was revealed by -the sobs that burst from his quivering lips, by the tears that -dropped heavily on the oaken table on which he leaned. "No," -cried he at last, "this tie _cannot_ be broken," and taking -his pen he traced some hurried words: they were addressed to his -brother-in-arms, his friend, his playmate in happy childhood, his -rival in his first feats of arms. - -"Dear Aymar," were his concluding words, "my heart can never -change toward you--oh! believe that it beats the same under the -monk's frock as under the knight's armor! _For love of me_, -Aymar, _avenge not my quarrel._" - -The ancient squire, who had passed the night in lamentations, -interrupted only by exclamations of indignant surprise at the -peaceful slumbers of his young companion, looked very sad and -weary when Raoul entered his chamber at break of day. - -"Michel," said the knight, "spare me your reproaches and tears; -they can avail nothing to change my purpose, but I have need of -all my fortitude. Here are divers messages; be heedful of them, -that they may reach their destination speedily." - -{490} - -He put into the squire's hands the letters he had prepared, each -fastened with a silken string, and impressed with his seal. - -"Give this rosary of golden beads to my lady mother," he -continued, "she hung it on my neck when we parted; henceforth -when she tells it, the remembrance of her Raoul will be mingled -with every prayer. This ring, that I won in my first tournament, -is for Aymar de Boncourt; beg him also to take my armor and my -war-horse. And now farewell, Michel, the matin-bell is ringing, -and I belong no longer to the world, but to God. Farewell, old -friend, farewell; be as faithful to Gaston as you have been to -me." He threw himself on the old man's breast and pressed him to -his heart, then tearing himself from his arms, he gazed an -instant tenderly on the still sleeping page. "Recommend this poor -child to the new Lord of Montorgueil, Michel, and be ever his -friend." He stooped and kissed the boy's smooth brow, then turned -softly away--the door closed, and the squire and the page never -looked on him again. - -When the morning prayers were ended, the prior summoned the -disconsolate retainers to his presence, and, after a discourse -full of consolation and good counsel, dismissed them with a -handsome largess from their beloved master. We will not follow -them on their journey; suffice it to say that when the lady of -Montorgueil received her son's unexpected letter, the first pang -of sorrow and regret was excruciating, but the Christian mother -was soon able to accept the sacrifice. She ceased to grieve, and -in a few months retired to a convent, where she passed the rest -of her peaceful and honored life. - -Du Guesclin, whose noble heart was full of generous sympathy, -loudly proclaimed his affection for Raoul, and his determination -to protect the house of Montorgueil. This was sufficient to -prevent all attempts of the Sire of Valeri against the vassals -and lands of the new lord; and he contented himself with -whispering accusations of cowardice against the knight who had -left the death of his brother unavenged, and his own quarrel -unvoided. - -Aymar alone could not be comforted for the loss of his -brother-in-arms, and it was long before he was seen to take his -wonted place in the feasts and tournaments that formed the -greater part of the occupations of the young chevaliers of his -time and country. - -Raoul meantime consummated his sacrifice; his long curls were -cropped close, and the monk's white woolen robe replaced the -knight's brocade and velvet. After a novitiate of a year and a -day, he pronounced the three vows of his order in the Chapel of -our Lady of Mercy, with an especial promise to give his life for -the ransom of captives. From this time forward he was only known -as the Brother Sainte Foi. - - - ------- - - The Ransom. - - -Time passed away, and France was once more at peace with England -for a brief space; at peace, but far from tranquil, for the Free -Companies, which at first consisted only of nobles, younger sons -of powerful lords, had been terribly augmented by the disbanded -soldiers of both countries, who found inaction intolerable, and -who now ravaged her defenceless provinces. In vain the outraged -people cried for help and protection; the state, without money or -men, was unable either to prevent or punish. -{491} -At length the brave du Guesclin imagined a means to employ these -fiery spirits. He sought the formidable band, then encamped on -the plains of Chalon, at the head of two hundred chevaliers, and -addressed them: "Most of you," said he, "were once my -companions-in-arms, you are all my friends. Your vocation is not -to ravage and destroy, but to conquer and save. Necessity, only, -I know, has forced you to such extremities. I come now to offer -you the means of living honorably and of fighting gloriously. -Spain groans beneath the yoke of the Saracen: would you not -rather choose to be the deliverers of a great nation than the -ruin of this fair country?" - -At these words the Free Companions surrounded the chief, and with -enthusiastic acclamations swore as one man to follow him -whithersoever he should lead. The noblest of the French chivalry -joined the enterprise, and Spain soon reechoed with the -well-known war-cry of "Notre-Dame Guesclin!" - -The Sire of Valeri and young Aymar of Boncourt were among the -bravest of du Guesclin's gallant band, and their exploits soon -became the favorite themes of the troubadours and trouvères of -tuneful, glory-loving France. But when the chief and his -victorious warriors returned to their native land, Aymar and the -Sire of Valeri were not among them. Had they fallen in the last -bloody encounter? Had they been traitorously ensnared and were -they now languishing in some Moorish dungeon? Several of the -adventurers affirmed that the two knights had embarked for -France, but no vessel from Gallicia had reached a port of -Brittany. - -The Fathers of the Order of Mercy were soon aware of the rumors -that circulated concerning the fate of the two bravest chevaliers -of the age; their continual efforts to collect funds for the -ransom of captives placed them in communication with all parts of -Christendom, and the news of the disappearance of the Sire of -Valeri quickly reached the ears of Brother Sainte Foi. The -mysterious fate of him who was Raoul's enemy saddened him, but -terrible indeed was the pang he felt when he learnt that his -friend Aymar was also lost. All his fortitude, all his -resignation, suddenly forsook him, and he wept bitterly. - -"My son," said the prior reproachfully, "I thought thou wast dead -to all earthly things." - -"O reverend father!" replied he, "earthly things are perishable, -but holy friendship comes from Heaven and dieth not. Let me weep -for my friend. David wept for Jonathan; their souls were one; -mine also was one with Aymar's." - -From this time forward the young monk seemed to waste away, his -cheek grew thinner and paler, his eyes were dim and tear-worn. In -vain, hoping to arouse him, his superior sent him without, to -seek funds for their work of charity; no change of scene could -dispel the melancholy languor that had taken possession of him, -and the whole fraternity deplored that so pious and ardent a -spirit would, in all probability, be so soon taken from among -them. After much anxious deliberation the chapter at last -resolved to invest him with the title and functions of -Redemptorist, and, on account of his youth and inexperience, to -associate him with an aged monk who had been several times sent -on the errand of love and mercy. - -Brother Sainte Foi was accordingly summoned one day before the -assembled fathers. - -{492} - -"Brother," said the prior, "don thy sandals, take thy staff, and -be ready to depart." - -"I am ready, reverend father." - -"Thou dost not enquire whither?" - -"Obedience questioneth not, reverend father." - -"It is well, my son; depart, then, and may God be with thee! Go -to the land of the infidel--go ransom the captives!" - -Brother Sainte Foi, transported with joy, threw himself at the -prior's feet, unable to speak his thanks, while his dim eyes -flashed, and his faded cheek reddened; youth, and health and -strength came back, as if by a miracle, and the good prior, -delighted to see the effect he had produced, entered into full -details for the guidance of the young Redemptorist during his -mission. The whole community assembled to pray for the happy -issue of his journey; and after receiving the blessing of the -elders, he set forth laden with the rich alms destined to relieve -so much misery. - -A long and wearisome journey on foot brought the Redemptorist -father to the port where he was to take ship for Algiers, and -here he was joined by the venerable monk who had been appointed -his guide and counsellor in the holy work. They embarked together -on a Genoese vessel they found ready to sail, and a favorable -wind soon carried them across the Mediterranean. The young -father's heart beat hard when he heard the cry of "land!" and saw -the cruel coast of Africa, where so many fellow-Christians were -groaning hopelessly beneath the yoke of the bigot Mussulman. - -"It is there that our brethren suffer. O father!" cried he to his -companion, "but we are going to succor, we are going to save!" - -And when, at last, the vessel entered the port of Algiers, the -Redemptorist knight knelt and kissed the soil of the wished-for -land, where he was about to make his first trial of arms in the -holy lists of charity. - -The two monks, whose errand was well known, were immediately -surrounded by a crowd of slave-merchants, who scoffingly taunted -them, "Have you plenty of gold, Christians? for we have plenty of -slaves; you may have a shipload of them." Father Antoine had -learned prudence and replied as guardedly and as briefly as he -could to the miscreants that pressed upon him. He hastily -directed his steps, followed by his companion, toward the -hospital which the Order of Mercy had with much difficulty -obtained permission to build at the entrance of the port. Arrived -there, without tarrying to rest, he commenced ringing the great -bell that never tolled but to announce the joyful tidings that -charity, holy charity that suffereth long and is kind, that -beareth all things, that believeth all things, hopeth all things, -endureth all things; charity that never faileth, had landed again -on those burning sands, to bring hope and aid to the followers of -the cross. - -At that signal a crowd of disheveled, ragged men, many wearing -chains at their wrists and ankles, were seen hurrying toward the -chapel. Alas! who would have recognized in those emaciated, -tear-worn spectres, the stalwart soldiers, the valiant -chevaliers, whose deeds the silver-tongued minstrels of France -were singing even then? - -Sobs and joyous cries, prayers and ejaculations, burst from them -as they threw themselves on their knees before their deliverers, -and kissed their garments. - -{493} - -"Brethren," said the venerable father, his voice troubled and -trembling, "we have come hither in the first place for the -salvation of your souls: during eight days we shall be here -waiting to listen to your confessions, and to give you ghostly -consolation, to preach to you the word of life, and to bestow on -you the sacraments of our holy mother church. In the second -place, we have come to work for your deliverance from captivity. -Pray for us, brethren, that we may worthily acquit ourselves of -our sacred tasks." - -The unhappy slaves, whose hopes and fears could be read in their -agitated features, gave a great cry when the good father ceased -speaking. It seemed as if despair was calling on heaven for -mercy, and then slowly withdrew. - -The next, and the following days, slaves and masters besieged the -hospital gate, and the two monks knew not a moment's rest while -daylight lasted. Each evening, when they were once more alone, -Father Sainte Foi would enquire eagerly of his aged companion if -he thought that they would be able to ransom all the captives. - -"We shall be able to save them all, father, shall we not?" he -would say with trembling anxiety; "I have so raised their hopes -to-day that I could not leave one now to despair." - -Father Antoine returned no answer to these enquiries; he seemed -rather to avoid the pleading eyes that tried to read his -thoughts. So passed the eight days allowed them by the infidel. -At length, on the eve of that fixed for their departure, a little -before the solemn hour, when all the slaves that the alms of the -faithful had been able to ransom were to be surrendered into the -hands of the Redemptorists, the old man sought his young -coadjutor. - -"There are two hundred and twenty, dear brother," cried he, with -a radiant look of triumph; "and we have ransomed them all!" - -"All, father! oh! thank God and our Lady;" and the monk cast -himself on his knees, and prayed silently; then rising, clasped -the good old father in his arms, in an ecstasy of joy. - -That night Father Antoine repeated the evening prayer, as usual, -with the captives, but his voice trembled, while Father Sainte -Foi could scarcely restrain his tears. All hearts beat hard, and -every face was pale and anxious. In the midst of the solemn -silence that followed the repetition of the last supplication to -the throne of grace, the priest arose slowly, and cast upon the -woe-begone crowd a look so pitiful and so loving, that -consolation seemed to fall like heavenly dew upon even the most -despondent. - -"Brethren," said he, "dear brethren! dear children! this is the -twelfth time that the honored title of Redemptorist has been -conferred on me; sometimes it has been the cause of much pain and -disappointment to me, sometimes too of great joy." - -Here the slaves stretched their trembling hands toward him, but -their lips uttered no sound. - -"My children, my dear children! at this moment my heart overflows -with joy!" - -A cry, a terrible, unearthly cry escaped from every mouth, as, -moved by one and the same impulse, the liberated slaves flung -themselves on their knees. - -"In the name of our omnipotent God and of the Mother of our -Redeemer, the Blessed Lady of Mercy, I, an unworthy priest, and -my companion here present, declare you to be all free! The alms -of the faithful have been sufficient to ransom you all. All of -you, Christian brethren, will see your native land again!" - -{494} - -Bursts of frantic joy, rapturous embraces again and again -repeated, succeeded to the silent anguish with which they had -awaited their doom. The venerable father endeavored to calm this -exhausting excitement, and then left to go pay the Moors the sum -stipulated. Father Sainte Foi remained behind to help remove the -fetters whose iron verily entered into his soul. - -"To-morrow!" he cried, as he knocked off the heavy chains, -"to-morrow, we shall quit this land of slavery and death!" - -"To-morrow!" echoed the pale victims, "to-morrow! Thanks, O Lord -God! Thanks, O well-named Lady of Mercy! Thanks Redemptorist -Fathers! We are going home to-morrow!" - -"Retire now, dear brethren," said Father Antoine, returning, "the -Moors are satisfied, and to-morrow at break of day we shall meet -again!" - -The now happy crowd left the chapel to seek repose in the -dormitories of the hospital until the wished-for morning light, -and the two monks prostrated themselves before the altar in -humble, hearty thanksgiving. - -At dawn, the next day, the ransomed slaves were already -marshalled on the open space before the hospital gate, waiting -the signal for embarking. Father Sainte Foi was in the midst of -them, full of ardor and energy, and as impatient for the happy -moment when they should quit the land of the infidel as the -unfortunate men he had saved. Father Antoine was there also, but, -more reserved in the expression of his joy, he could scarcely -repress a smile as he remarked the excitement and triumph of his -young companion. - -"But I was also once young," said he, "nay, to-day I could almost -fancy myself so again! And now, my son, see that all is ready, -that no one is missing; it is time to begin our march to the -ship." - -At this moment a cry arose from the assembled Christians. -"Slaves! more slaves! O God! they come too late--they have just -arrived from the desert with their master--there are two of -them--they are too late!" - -"There are two of them," repeated Father Sainte Foi, and his -cheek turned pale, "oh! if there had been but one!" - -"Alas! they arrive too late," cried the good old priest, "our -purse is empty. Go to them, my son. I cannot comfort them; -promise them that next year--but oh! hide from them, if possible, -the joy of the others!" Father Sainte Foi forced a passage -through the assembled multitude, and found himself before the two -unfortunate captives who had already learned their fate, and were -bewailing it in heartrending accents. One, a man already past the -prime of life, was wringing his hands and sobbing with a choking -voice, "My children, my children, shall I then never see you -again?" Overcome by his emotion he fell fainting to the ground; -the father rushed to his assistance, but started back as he -caught sight of his features. One moment, one single moment he -hesitated, then cast himself on his knees by the side of the -prostrate man, raised and supported the sinking head, and -impressed a kiss on the pale brow. "Thus do I seal my pardon!" -said he; "Sire of Valeri, you shall see your children again!" - -The other slave whom he had not yet remarked, at this instant -uttered a joyful cry, and threw himself into his arms, -exclaiming, "Friend, brother, dear Raoul!" - -{495} - -"Aymar--Sire de Valeri--O Blessed Virgin!" stammered the monk, -with a stifled voice as he fell back insensible. - -"Help! help!" exclaimed Aymar, for it was indeed he, "I have -killed my friend!" - -The unconscious father was carried into the hospital chapel, -Aymar supporting him in his arms, while tears of mingled joy and -grief coursed down his thin cheeks. Father Antoine desired him to -retire, but not until his friend gave signs of returning life -would Aymar leave him, to await in silence at the other end of -the chapel the effect of the aged monk's consolations and -admonitions. - -"Father Antoine," spoke the young priest at length, raising -himself on the bench on which he had been laid, "you know the vow -I made on the day of my profession? If gold I had none, to give -my body for the ransom of Christian captives. That time is come, -father, but I cannot choose between these two. One is--no, -_was_ my enemy, and the other is my dearest friend! O -reverend father, I fear to fail in my duty toward God if I refuse -to return good for evil, if I leave the Sire of Valeri in -captivity. And yet--how can I prefer him to my dear Aymar?--to -Aymar for whom I would gladly give my life! Venerable father, -help me in this terrible struggle and choose for me!" - -"Hold!" cried Aymar, coming forward; "there is no choice needful -here! Can you believe, Raoul, that I will accept your sacrifice? -What, you a slave in my place! _I_ return again to France at -the cost of _your_ freedom! Raoul, Raoul, do you know me so -little? If your noble heart prompts you to ransom the Sire of -Valeri at such a cost, let it be so, but never will Aymar consent -to it for himself!" - -"Generous friend!" exclaimed the young monk, seizing his hand. - -"Nay, Raoul, we have been brothers-in-arms, we will now be -brothers-in-chains; it is but a change of harness!" The two -friends threw themselves into each other's arms, and Father -Antoine blessed them while he wept. - -"I cannot prevent you from making this sacrifice, my son," said -he, at length, "it is according to our holy rules; but if God -grant me life, next spring will see me here again to deliver you -both. And now go, tell the Sire of Valeri what your charity has -inspired you to do for him." - -"No, no, father; I must not see him again. He is too proud--I -know him well--to receive a gift from the hands of Raoul de -Montorgueil; he would rather die a slave than be delivered by me. -Let him never learn, I entreat you, by what means he recovered -his freedom." - -"It is well, my brother; it shall be as you desire." - -Father Antoine hastened to the beach, where he found the Sire of -Valeri recovered from his swoon. Without further explanation the -good father told him simply that he was free, and invited the -Mussulman, his master, to accompany him back to the hospital, -where Father Sainte Foi, with a calm, clear voice, proposed to -the astonished unbeliever to take him, a strong, young man and he -showed his muscular, nervous arm--in exchange for the broken-down -and aged slave on the strand. - -The avaricious master willingly accepted an offer so advantageous -to himself, and Father Sainte Foi put on with a smile of -ineffable happiness, the chains that had weighed so heavily on -the once stalwart limbs of the enemy of his name and race. Father -Antoine pressed his lips reverentially to those chains, and then -seizing his cross, hastened to take his place at the head of the -long line of ransomed Christians. -{496} -But no chant of joy and triumph resounded as they bent their way -toward the ship that was to bear them to their homes--they -embarked silently, almost sadly--the sails spread, and the swift -vessel was soon lost to sight. - -The Moor took possession of his slaves. But we will pass over in -silence their toils and their sufferings: his living faith -sustained the Redemptorist father; hope was the life-spring of -Aymar; their mutual friendship was the consolation of both. Aymar -found his chains light to bear, since his friend was near him, -and the monk feared that he had received his reward in this -world, so sweet did their daily intercourse appear to him. - -The young knight related to his younger brother-in-arms, how, on -his return from du Guesclin's victorious expedition, the vessel -in which he and the Sire of Valeri were embarked, had fallen into -the hands of Moorish pirates, and how they had been sold together -in the slave-market at Algiers. He loved, too, to recount to his -sympathizing listener his feats of arms in Spain, until his -friend, reproaching himself for giving ear to such worldly -matters, would talk, in his turn, of heavenly things, of the -peaceful joys and aspirations of his convent life, and would -repeat the history of the Son of Man, who loved us so that he had -willed to bear poverty, hunger, and death for us. When he told -how he had not where to lay his head, "Oh! never more shall I -complain," cried Aymar, "for mine rests on the bosom of a -friend!" - -Thus the long days of slavery passed over the two captives, and -when at last the hour of deliverance arrived; when Father -Antoine, true to his word, came with the first days of the next -spring to unloose their chains, Aymar looked tenderly in his -friend's face, while Father Sainte Foi endeavored to hide a tear. - -"Can you believe that I will ever leave you again?" said Aymar, -replying to his friend's thoughts. "No, death alone shall -separate us henceforth! I will accompany you to your monastery. -The world smiled on me, but gave me pain and slavery; Heaven has -given me a true friend, and to Heaven I devote myself for ever!" - -Then turning toward Father Antoine, "Father," said he, "receive -me here, in the land of our cruel taskmasters, here, where we -have suffered together, as a novice of the Order of Mercy!" - -Father Antoine in answer threw his white mantle on the young -knight's shoulders, and the two friends, hand in hand, climbed -the side of the ship that was waiting to carry them back to -France. - -Here we will bid them farewell, in the full enjoyment of that -perfect friendship; we will not seek to know if other -vicissitudes came to try it; let us lose sight of them now, and -believe, that, retired from the strife and noise of the world, -they passed together the remainder of their quiet lives, busied -in the acquirement of heavenly wisdom, and in the practice of -those pure, simple, but sublime virtues which find in themselves -their own reward and glory. - -Can we doubt that Father Sainte Foi experienced that charity, -like mercy, "is twice blessed," - - "It blesseth him that gives, - and him that takes"? - --------- - -{497} - - - From The German Of Dr. J. B. Henry. - - Joseph Görres. - - - A Life-portrait Of - The Author Of Die Mystik. - - -The bells of Coblenz were tolling the Angelus at noon on January -25th, 1776, the feast of the Conversion of St. Paul, when John -Joseph Görres was born, the son of a timber merchant, of an old -Catholic family of the Rhineland. In this traditional land of -valor, beauty, poetry, and art Görres spent his childhood. Here -he made his first studies, devoting himself especially to -history, geography, and the natural sciences, which had for him a -peculiar attraction. This led him at the University of Bonn to -choose medicine as a profession. But his studies were hardly -begun than interrupted, so that Görres, who, later, had so many -disciples himself, never sat for any length of time at the feet -of a master. - -The torrent of the French revolution broke over his home, and -carried the youth along on its waves. At a period so exciting, -when all order seemed to be destroyed, and when good and evil -were so strongly marked, young Görres rose above his compeers, -remarkable for his uncommon political talent, a powerful -eloquence, and a determined, persevering character. Hardly twenty -years old, he had already great weight in the clubs; and his -influence became still more widely felt by the publication of a -political paper called _The Red Letter_, which, suppressed -by the republican directory, reappeared with the title of _Puck -in Blue_; and a pamphlet called _The Political -Menagerie;_ all distinguished for their historical and -philosophical depth of thought, as well as for a vigorous and -glowing style. - -At the age of twenty-four he was sent, at the head of a -deputation, in November, 1799, to Paris, to obtain from the First -Consul, in whom Görres already saw the future emperor and despot, -the cessation of the oppressive occupation of the Rhine province. -In a pamphlet entitled _Result of my Embassy to Paris in -Brumaire VIII._, A.D. 1800, he gave a full account of his -mission; but expressed a complete change in his political -opinions, after he had clearly perceived the abyss in which the -French revolution ended; and he never after this returned to the -errors of his youth. - -When, at a later date, Görres stood forth as the champion of the -rights and freedom of the Catholic Church, his enemies reproached -him with having proved a traitor to the cause of liberty, which -he had defended in his youth, and tried to represent him -sometimes as a revolutionist, and then again as a man of weak, -inconsequent, and vacillating character. He was thus severely -blamed for an enthusiastic aberration of youth, into which not -only Schiller but even the grave and aged Klopstock, as well as -many other distinguished Germans of the time, had fallen. - -{498} - -It was a time of such confusion that even the foundations of the -earth quaked and the stars from heaven fell. The glorious edifice -of the German empire, encircled with the halo of a thousand years -of glory, had crumbled in a day; the emperor became a mere -shadow; and the nobility, corrupted by despotism, became as -immoral as in the days of Louis XIV. and Louis XV. Religious life -was torpid; and religious indifference, through the influence of -both the French and German press, through liberalism and the aid -of the illuminati, had gained the mastery over not only the -Protestant but the Catholic mind. Even an Emperor, Joseph II., -had placed himself at the head of the most shallow liberals; the -principal churchmen sought even to surpass him; in short, so -great was the decay and blindness of those who should have been -the mainstay of the old Christian order, that God could choose no -gentler means of chastising the universal iniquity, than by -letting the fires of the mad revolution have full scope. How can -we be astonished, therefore, that a youth like Görres should have -been carried away with the spirit of the age? But even then he -displayed that straightforwardness and purity of character which -always distinguished him. In the latter half of his revolutionary -life, he had only sought to serve the welfare of the Rhine -province, by his struggle against the oppressions of the French -generals and officials who persecuted him as well as his country. - -But Görres was certainly not blamed most for having doffed his -bonnet to the spirit of the revolution; but because, as Paul was -changed from a jealous Pharisee into an apostle, the young -Jacobin became the great defender of the church and Christian -ideas. - -Görres gave up politics in the beginning of his twenty-fifth -year, and devoted himself exclusively to science and art for a -period of ten years. He occupied the chair of natural history and -science, in a college at Coblenz, and published during this time -many works, the product of his restless activity. Then came to -light his _Aphorisms on Art_, (A.D. 1802;) _Aphorisms on -Organic Laws_, (1803;) _Exposition of Physiology_, -(1805;) _Aphorisms on Organology_, (1805;) and his book on -_Faith and Science_, (1806;) writings composed under the -influence of the Schelling natural philosophy. Görres had not yet -reached a full and clear knowledge of Christian truth. In the -year 1806 he went on vacation to Heidelberg, where he gave -lectures on natural philosophy, metaphysics, and literature in -the university. Here he was also led more deeply into a study -that exercised great influence on his later development. He -studied the Christian middle age of Germany from an aesthetic and -poetic point of view. He was led in this direction by his -personal acquaintance and friendship with two men, Clement -Brentano and Achim von Arnim, who have deserved highly of their -country for having awakened the muse of German romantic poetry -from her slumbers. - -The reformation separated one half of Germany from the past; and -the rationalism of the eighteenth century completed the -separation. The German people were accustomed to despise, as a -period of darkness and barbarism, the most glorious age in their -history, when they were the first nation of the earth; when -Albert the Great taught divine philosophy, Wolfram of Eschenbach -wrote poetry, and Ervinius of Steinbach built cathedrals. This -entire schism of German consciousness from the past had much to -do in causing that deplorable decay of national feeling and -unity. The corruption had reached its height in the eighteenth -century, and Germany became the spoil and the contempt of the -foreigner. -{499} -In order that fatherland should be politically free, the German -conscience must be aroused. Nothing could have more power, in -this respect, than the revival of the hitherto despised -Christian-German middle age and its glorious ballad poetry. For -this purpose the _Pilgrim_, a journal, was started by Arnim, -Brentano, and Görres. The undertaking failed for the want of -cooperation; but produced fruit at a later period. Görres was -more successful in obtaining his purpose in the year 1807 by his -_German Books for the People_, in which he held up to the -eyes of his contemporaries the mirror of the middle ages. - -Plunging his mind more and more deeply into the Christian middle -age, his comprehensive intellect turned its attention to another -domain of history, namely, to the primeval times of the East. -After his return to Coblenz, in 1808, appeared in two volumes, -his _Mythology of the Asiatic World_, a work of great -importance, which influenced considerably the ideas of both -Creuzer and Schelling. At the same time he explained northern -mythology, as contained in the Edda; cultivated the German -mediaeval muse, and enriched the literature of the Nibelung Song, -by hitherto undiscovered fragments. - -While Görres was thus engaged, a great change had taken place in -France. The absolutism and godlessness of the revolution -naturally begot the unlimited despotism of Napoleon. His was not -the tyranny of mere brute force, as in the barbaric times, but a -despotism engendered by modern civilization and enlightened -egotism. Napoleon made all the forces of the revolution subserve -his will, and with them conquered all the degenerate nations of -Europe; for the corruption and infidelity of the age of Louis -XIV. and Louis XV., which caused the revolution, were more or -less extended and felt in the neighboring nations in the -eighteenth century. Hence, France was to be punished, first by -her own hands, and, through her, the other peoples were to be -chastised. - -Since Christianity had destroyed the universal monarchy of Rome, -God had never allowed another to arise and destroy the autonomy -of nations, and with it the independence of the church; for both -are inseparable. What was the empire Napoleon tried to found but -the same work which the Hohenstaufens failed in accomplishing; -what was it else but an attempt to revive the old Roman pagan -sovereignty of the world? His work seemed completed; the outside -power of all the states of the continent seemed broken; within, -minds were enslaved, and, under the appearance of liberal forms, -freedom was destroyed; the sciences, the whole instruction of -youth moulded, on military principles, to aid the imperial power; -religion even became the handmaid of worldly majesty, and a mere -affair of policy; the pope himself, the last refuge of religious -liberty, was in chains, for refusing to become the court chaplain -of the new Caesar. - -Thus stood matters, when the spirit of God, breathing over the -earth, destroyed the enchanter who had chained victory to his car -of triumph, and awaked the nations from the slumber of death. -That was a grand period in history, when the nations arose, and -above all Germany--Germany that had been the most enslaved and -dishonored, because she had betrayed, disgraced, and sold -herself. Peoples broke their gyves on the head of the conqueror. -The man who, at this time above all his contemporaries, felt the -chains of slavery in his very soul, and in whose heart the flames -of patriotism burned most brightly; whose genius made him the -spokesman, herald, and prophet of liberty against French -despotism, was Joseph Görres. -{500} -In the year 1814 he left his retirement, and, conscious of his -vocation by the spirit that quickened him, he spoke out for all -in the name of God and fatherland. He edited the _Mercury of -the Rhine_, a journal which has never been equalled since. As -Menzel observes, he wrote it, not with ink, but with fire; and in -a short time this newspaper, full of Görres' best essays, became -universally received as the vehicle of public opinion. Napoleon -himself felt the influence of this powerful journal, and called -the man at Coblenz the fifth of the allied powers against him. It -was in the _Mercury of the Rhine_ that Görres wrote the -"Proclamation to the Peoples of Europe," which he puts into the -mouth of Napoleon after the escape from Elba. In this -proclamation the character of the great soldier is personified -with a creative power hardly surpassed by any production of -Shakespeare's genius. [Footnote 50] - - [Footnote 50: At the end of this fictitious proclamation - Napoleon is made to express himself thus: "I have conquered - the revolution, and then devoured and assimilated it to - myself, and worked through it and by its forces. But now, - tired out, I give it back to you uninjured, and spew it out - upon you. And you will continue in the condition in which I - found you; for my spirit rests upon you, though my body may - be absent." After a period of fifty-three years these words - seem still prophetic.] - -It was not enough, then, to crush the Napoleonic tyranny; but it -was also necessary to renovate the European states, especially -Germany, with an infusion of Christian and national principles; -and thus connect, in an enduring relation, the rights of princes -and the nobility with the liberties of the people. It was then -the conviction of many, and of the best men, that the unity, the -freedom, and the greatness of Germany could be placed on a solid -foundation only by a reinstallment of the old empire, under which -Germany had existed and flourished for a thousand years. Of this -conviction Görres wrote in the year 1819: "A glance at the -history of the past shows us that Germany was the true guardian -and refuge of Christianity, and a bulwark against internal and -external enemies, only when its stirring, living variety was made -unity under the direction of a sole emperor. It therefore becomes -almost an instinct with many, that the stone which the builders -rejected should become the head of the corner; that the old ideas -should be revived, quickened with an infusion of young blood, and -accommodated to the march of progress." Some of the ablest men -agreed with Görres in favor of a revival of the old Roman empire, -modified according to modern notions. - -This was the ideal for the realization of which Görres strove -with all the power of his genius and eloquence; while at the same -time he attacked with vigor the egotism and meanness of selfish -politics wherever he met them. On this account, as the most -independent and yet the most conservative publicist of his time, -he came into collision with both statesmen and governments. Hence -the _Mercury of the Rhine_ was suppressed; but Görres, in a -pamphlet called the _Future Condition of Germany_, still -argued for the reestablishment of the old empire. In 1817, during -the famine, he went from Heidelberg to his own home, where he -became president of a relief society, and thus was a benefactor -of the Rhine province. At the same time he found leisure to -publish _Old German Ballads and Classic Poetry._ Appointed -director of public instruction by Justus Grüner, governor of the -middle countries of the Rhine, he was soon removed from his -position by the Prussian government and offered a large pension -if he would agree to write nothing hostile to the existing order. -{501} -But money and personal interest never had the slightest influence -over Görres. By an address to the city and province of Coblenz; -and more especially by a pamphlet published in 1820, on -_Germany and the Revolution_, he drew on himself the hatred -of the prime minister Hardenberg, escaped imprisonment in a -fortress only by flight, and not being able to succeed in -obtaining a trial by the ordinary civil judges, he never more -returned to his birthplace. - -He spent almost a year in Strasburg, where he occupied his -leisure, hours in translating from the Persian the epic poem of -Shah Nameh of Ferdusi. It is called _The Heroes of Ivan;_ -and was published in two volumes in 1820. From Strasburg he went -to Switzerland which he travelled on foot; and from the Alpine -summits he studied and looked down upon the past and present of -Europe, and saw with a prophet's eye the history of its future. -He wrote in twenty-seven days the fruits of his meditations on -European society, and printed them under the title of _Europe -and the Revolution_. This was in 1821. Finding that all -efforts to have the decree against him revoked by Hardenberg were -vain, he wrote in 1822 his work on _The Condition and Affairs -of the Rhine Province;_ and gave a full account of his -thoughts, hopes, and resignation in another work written on the -eve of the Congress of Verona in 1822, entitled _The Holy -Alliance and the People in the Congress of Verona._ After this -he resided in Strasburg. - -It cannot be denied that Görres had been carried away in his -youth by the spirit of the French revolution; and that his faith, -if not entirely destroyed, was then of a very uncertain and -slippery character. Still, we never find in him that poisonous -hate and contempt for religion and the church, which the spirit -of sect is apt to infuse into its votaries, and which renders -their minds almost impervious to truth. He was also saved by God -from moral corruption. We even perceive in his early writings -traces of that deep religious feeling which he had imbibed with -his mother's milk, and of love for the religion of his race and -fathers. In the _Mercury of the Rhine_ he often raised his -voice in defence of the rights and interests of the abused -Catholic Church. When he began to study more closely the dogmas -and history of Christianity, he learned to appreciate it better, -and grew less confident in the reigning German philosophy, which -had captivated his youth. It was not the triumph of his system, -but of truth that he sought with all the love of his heart, and -the force and clearness of his penetrating genius. When he found -truth, no one could be a more ardent and able champion of it. -There was no half-way in his character. He trampled on human -respect. Undoubtedly it was at Strasburg that he became -thoroughly catholicized. Maria Görres, the heiress of her -father's talents, thus beautifully and appropriately writes of -his religious life: "As in the legend of St. Christopher, he -would obey only the strongest; so can it be truly said of my -father that he was the slave of truth and of truth alone. With -great rectitude of heart he strove ever to attain it, and came -nearer to it as he increased in years; new prospects of it, and -new insights into it, developing gradually before his mind's eye. -Principles were not for him the limits of science, but secure -foundations on which he could build further without fear or -deceit. He never wanted to systematize truth; but rather to make -systems subservient to it. -{502} -Hence he never thought that his own discoveries were absolute -truths, or that dogmas were erroneous because they did not chime -with the result of his investigations; but sought the fault in -his own work, renewed his arduous studies until he found them -agreeing with the received doctrines, and thus discovered where -his error lay." [Footnote 51] - - [Footnote 51: Görres, _Politische Schriften_, - Bd. i. p. 9 of the Preface.] - -When Görres acknowledged the Catholic Church to be the church of -the living God, it was in a state of slavery and abasement in -Germany; where it was the object of a hateful and shallow -persecution fomented by Vossius, especially since the conversion -of Count Frederic Leopold Stolberg, and since the celebration of -the Reformation Jubilee in 1817. - -In the year 1820, two young professors in the episcopal seminary -at Mayence, urged by an earnest faith and supernatural courage, -started _The Catholic_, a magazine intended to defend the -almost defenceless church from external attacks and internal -dangers which were threatened by the introduction of false -science into the Catholic mind. To escape the illiberal -opposition and censure of Prussia, _The Catholic_ was -published for some time at Strasburg, where Görres, then in -exile, wrote much for it in the year 1826. With his invincible -humor and sarcasm he lashed the authors of the stories told about -the formulas of excommunication in the church, exploded the -_Monita Secreta_ of the Jesuits, and scourged the -contemptible prejudices and falsehoods brought to bear against -catholicity. He raised the cry of freedom for the church; showed -her influence on the hearts of the people; portrayed in striking -colors the internal truth and moral rectitude of Catholic -principles, and taught Catholics to respect themselves, to trust -in their cause, to despise the hollow phrases of the sham -liberals, and fight their adversaries with that security which -truth alone can give to its champions. - -In the mean time a favorable change took place in his external -relations. King Louis of Bavaria, a prince of great talents, -devoted to the church and fatherland, appointed Görres professor -of history in the University of Munich, A.D. 1827. Here he became -the centre of that group of distinguished Catholic thinkers whom -the king had gathered together, in order to create a powerful and -free development of the hitherto debased and despised spirit of -Catholicism. The efforts of Görres and his friends and colaborers -in Munich form a brilliant epoch in the history of the revival of -catholic life in Germany. It was for him the glorious evening of -an eventful life of battle. - -The patriotic hopes and ideas of his early life were more and -more baffled, and he at last saw that any mere political efforts -are fruitless; for the decay of peoples and states is not caused -so much by political degradation, as by religious and moral -corruption. The more he dived into the history of mankind, the -more clearly did he perceive that Christianity, which brings -redemption to the individual and true freedom to the children of -God, is the only source of a people's salvation. When living -Christian faith becomes a stranger in the public and private life -of citizens; when self-interest and worldly wisdom take the place -of Christian charity and justice, then will the interest of the -ruler and the subject, of the church and state, of private wealth -and corporations, which should all conspire to the common weal, -collide, become hostile, and engender confusion and revolution. -{503} -Görres learned by experience that, since religion had lost its -authority, and the Gospel ceased to command respect, the civil -power had also lost force, and the liberty of the people had -become unstable and undefined, so that Europe wavered with -feverish restlessness between despotism and anarchy, revolution -and reaction. Men in this doubtful conflict b the egotism of -princes and the egotism of subjects, become wrapped up in the -natural and earthly, and supernatural. - -Investigating the causes of this decline of Christianity, Görres -discovered that the faith of Christ is not a dead letter, but a -thing endowed with divine life; and as political and social life -has stability and force only in the state, so Christian life is -only in the church, the kingdom founded by Christ; and as a sound -social system depends on the autonomy and freedom of the state, -so religious life rests on the liberty of the church. Hence the -chief cause of the decay of religion is in the dependence and -subjection of the church to the state. The eighteenth century, -that age of tyranny and unbelief, had enslaved the church; the -revolution and Napoleon made the slavery complete. True, the -animus of the war of freedom was a religious as well as a -national one; the Holy Alliance, formed in the name of the -Trinity, proclaimed Christianity as the groundwork of politics -and popular rights; but this religious enthusiasm of 1813 and -1814, not resting on the solid basis of faith, being rather a -vague feeling than a conviction, soon cooled off, and the -Christian principles of the Holy Alliance were only written on -paper, not on the hearts and minds of the high contracting -parties. In reality, religion and church remained in the -oppressed and debased condition in which Josephism and -Napoleonism had placed them. Educated the school of the 18th -century, and under Napoleonic influence, statesmen, even after -the restoration, continued to mistrust the church, to keep her in -the leading-strings of high policy, and repress every one of her -free motions. To cap the climax of evil, the church herself, -especially in Germany, was so poor and powerless, that she could -make no valid opposition to the insulting guardianship of the -state; and even churchmen were found weak and selfish enough to -become the willing tools of the civil government in destroying -their own rights. The curse and plague of the church has ever -been cowardly or renegade churchmen. This enslavement of the -church was most oppressive and dangerous in those districts of -Germany which had been governed by catholic, and, as long as the -empire lasted, by spiritual lords, but were now controlled by -Protestant rulers. These, accustomed to Protestant teaching, -which admitted an unlimited civil surveillance in ecclesiastical -affairs, were only too willing to exercise their power over the -Catholic Church. They wished and hoped to sever her connection -with Rome; change her into a national church, and, uniting her -with Lutherans and other sectaries, form one state church. Such a -thought will not appear strange to us, if we consider that -religious indifference reigned supreme, particularly among the -educated classes. A fierce battle, not with the material sword, -but with the weapons of faith and talent, was to be fought in -order to free the church from the shackles of state control. The -standard-bearer in this great conflict was, again, Joseph Görres. - -{504} - -The 11th of November, 1837, marks the turning-point of the career -of the modern church in Germany. From that date it revived and -began to be independent. To Clement Augustus von -Dröste-Vischering, the great and pious Archbishop of Cologne, -belongs the glory of opening the battle, and of bearing the first -brunt of the onslaughts of the state. The civil government wished -him, in contradiction to the laws of the church, to impart her -blessing to mixed marriages; and also to give over the chairs of -theology and the education of the young clergy to the Hermesians, -whose coryphaeus, Hermes, had invented a half-way system between -faith and rationalism. Clement Augustus, the Athanasius of our -times, unarmed and alone, bravely entered the lists against the -spirit of indifferentism and the whole power of the Prussian -government. But Gregory XVI., in his memorable allocution of -December 10th, 1837, made the cause of the archbishop his own; -for it was the cause of religion, and the church. The Catholics -of the Rhine province, awakened from their slumbers, rallied with -unexpected ardor to the support of their chief pastor. But their -cause needed the aid of the press, and Görres was the man to -wield that power in their defence. He who had been standing so -long on the watch-tower, observing and noting the signs of the -times, saw that the moment had arrived to strike a blow for the -liberty of the church. In January, 1838, appeared his -_Athanasius_. It fell like a thunderbolt from an unclouded -sky among all those who had expected, with the power of the state -and an enlightened press, to make short work of the mediaeval -archbishop. It came like a ray of divine light into the minds of -the despised and intimidated Catholics, a ray that shone in their -hearts, and enkindled in them faith and courage. There now arose -in Germany a powerful catholic public opinion, which enforced -respect from its adversaries. In vain did opponents swarm. -Pietists, Hegelians, politicians, jurists, professors, and -journalists wrote against _Athanasius_, which was spread -over all Germany by four large editions. Görres answered the -critics of _Athanasius_ by another work, called _Die -Triarier_, printed in 1838, and which achieved the spiritual -victory of his first book. - -The further history of this cause is known. The innocence of the -archbishop and the right of the church were acknowledged; and the -noble ruler, who then sat on the Prussian throne, confessed the -justice of the principles which Görres had so ably explained and -defended. The battle between Protestantism and Catholicity for -the future should be on even footing; carried on no longer by -force or cunning, but by spiritual weapons alone. This is all -that truth requires to disarm her enemies--a fair field and no -treachery. At the same time with the _Athanasius_ of Görres, -catholic public opinion found a vehicle in the -_Historisch-politische Blätter_, edited at Munich. Görres -was its chief of staff. His last article in this magazine, which -exercised the greatest influence throughout Germany, and which -still flourishes, appeared in the January number of 1848, shortly -before his death. - -Freedom of the church is the condition of its beneficent and -working life, but not the life itself. Faith is the basis of -religious and church life; faith in the supernatural ideas and -facts of revelation, whose centre is Christ, the incarnate Son of -God and Redeemer of the world. This faith seemed to have -disappeared with the freedom of the church. Protestantism, which -began by denying the church, logically ended with a denial of the -existence of Christ. Strauss wrote his _Life of Jesus_ with -this intention. -{505} -Even among the Catholics, indifferentism, rationalism, and -infidelity had made ravages, and men asked, Where was the faith -of the Catholic populations? A striking answer to this question -was the Pilgrimage to Trier; the extraordinary spectacle of over -a million of free men attesting their living belief in Christ the -Son of God; a proof that the Catholic people despised sham -liberalism and sham enlightenment, set revolutions at defiance, -and professed the same faith as in the days of their fathers. -This was the meaning of that remarkable event, which Görres -explains in his last published pamphlet, called the _Pilgrimage -to Trier._ - -Görres now ceased to be a publicist. He had written countless -works; he had aided truth with word and work. No one had done -more. No one had seen so clearly into the future. He had attacked -selfishness in high and low. His enemies were countless. No man -received so much abuse as he; no one was the object of greater -hate and more fierce persecution. _Yet you will seek in vain -for one word of invective against his adversaries in any of his -works. His blood boils; his words rush; his lips quiver; his pen -runs nervously along the paper; his sentences glow and thrill in -defence of truth; but he is never abusive or personal._ He -chastises wickedness, carves iniquity with the knife of satire, -and scourges folly by his wit; but in the midst of the battle he -has ever a friendly hand to stretch out to his opponent. Would -that all our modern journalists might take a lesson from him in -this respect! - -Viewing things from the standpoint of divine providence, and -having no desire but that of seeing the divine plans realized, he -was always tranquil in the midst of storms and confusion. His -writings as a publicist are consequently not merely ephemeral, or -of passing importance but contain the most profound views on the -relations of church and state, on the dogmas of religion, the -principles of philosophy, politics, and history. - -But the influence of Görres was not confined to mere journalism; -he studied and developed science and art. Görres possessed -immense knowledge; yet little of it was school learning. He had -aided to free his fatherland and the church; he also helped to -free science and art from their shackles. The learned almost -despised the supernatural. The lives of the saints were looked on -as so many myths; their miracles absurd; and everything that was -not rational or natural was considered as the result of -superstition and ignorance. In order to counteract this tendency -of the age, and bring out boldly the belief in the supernatural, -Görres wrote in 1826, his _St. Francis, a Troubadour;_ in -1827, _Emmanuel Swedenborg, his Visions, and Relation to the -Church;_ an introduction to Diepenbrock's edition of the works -of Blessed Henry Suso; and in 1842, his greatest work, in five -volumes, entitled _Christian Mysticism_. - -The foundation and source of all mystic theology is the -incarnation of God, the union of the divine with the human, in -order that the latter should be united with the divine. But what -took place in Christ is not merely a passing event, but a living, -enduring act of God; who continues the incarnation in the most -holy sacrament of the altar, the mystery of mysteries; through -which the wonderful life and works of Christ, according to his -promise, are continued in the saints of his church. Hence come -the supernatural phenomena of visions and ecstasies in the -corporal and spiritual life of the saints. - -{506} - -Görres sought to give not a bare, dry history of those marvels, -but to explain and prove them scientifically. But, as to the -kingdom of the good, of grace, and of the celestial, there is -opposed a kingdom of evil, which is controlled by the fallen -angels; Görres has also endeavored in his _Mystik_ to render -intelligible this _night-side_ of the supernatural. - -"As the eyes of the Spaniards," he writes in the beginning of -this wonderful book, "on crossing the ocean, whose dangers, -unconquered for so many centuries, they had braved and escaped, -were struck with admiration and astonishment at the spectacle of -a new world, whose chains of mountains, mighty lakes, and rivers -murmuring with strange voices, primeval forests, unaccustomed -flowers, birds, beasts, and another race of men speaking a -hitherto unheard language, greeted their arrival; so will it -happen to the majority of those who cast a glance over the -marvellous world, which is here exposed to their vision; and -whose existence and comprehensibility have been unknown to them -by their own fault, and through the neglect and calumny of -others; just as the Atlantis of the ancients had been well-nigh -forgotten through the inattention of mankind. I call it a world -of marvels, and, as no one will contradict this assertion, I -further ask, When has a book appeared in these later days, which, -leaving higher considerations aside, has, in the interests of -science alone, sought to explain such a variety of the most -remarkable and important events; facts, acts, and experiences -which give us an insight into the interior recesses of the soul; -which lay open its most hidden nature, and throw the greatest -light on metaphysiology and metapsychology? These materials have -lain scattered about publicly, yet no one has thought it worth -while to stoop down and collect them. In vain has the rich -harvest presented its nodding ears, no one would take the trouble -to apply the sickle. For the learned put their heads together and -decided that the miraculous phenomena were all false, mere -jugglery, or the hallucinations of superstitious imaginations; -and that it would be ridiculous and contemptible in any one even -to give them a thought." - -Another remarkable writing of Görres is his introduction to the -_Life of Christ_, composed against Strauss by Sepp. His -historical works while occupying the chair of professor of -history were few. In 1830, appeared his _Basis, Connection,_ -and _Chronology of the History of the World;_ in 1844, he -printed _The Sons of Japhet and their Common Origin in -Armenia,_ in which he tried to clear up the difficulties of -the Mosaic account of the races of men; and in 1845, came forth -from the press, _The Three Roots of the Celtic Race in Gaul, -and their Immigrations._ He had conceived the idea of -composing a universal history; but he never accomplished this -intention. - -Wolfgang Menzel, one of the ablest of German critics, in his -_History of Literature,_ p. 157, thus ably judges the -character of Görres as a writer: "I know not what better -expresses the character of his mind than to compare it to the -Strasburg Minster or the Cathedral of Cologne. It is said that -Winckelmann was an interior artist, and Tieck an internal -tragedian; so Görres may be called an interior architect. At -least all his writings, by their logical design and their -gorgeous ornaments of imagination, remind us of the art of -Ervinius. In all his works of natural philosophy, of mythology, -politics, and history, we perceive the deep feeling and reverie -of the Gothic mason. -{507} -Görres's works are to be aesthetically regarded as churches -wonderfully planned, thoroughly executed from deep foundations to -spire-top; rich and finished masterpieces; but entirely distinct -and different from other creations of the human mind by their -Christian, holy, and ecclesiastical character. Hence arises their -unpopularity in our time. Those who are able to understand and -love art, as a rule, admire only the superficial, and are -incapable of fathoming the depth of a work of Görres, and -comprehending, in all its grandeur and vastness, his spiritual -architecture. Even persons who have genius enough to think deeply -are inspired by too profane a spirit to contemplate properly and -feel the force of Görres' writings, which the incense of the holy -of holies is ever wreathing with its delicious aroma. The -literati, therefore, call him bombastic; and the philosophists -say he is mystical; and thus one of the richest and deepest -intellects of the nation remains a stranger to them, if not -actually an object of their contempt." Thus Menzel. - -The last observation is not, however, entirely true. As Catholic -Germany awakes from its lethargy, and rises gradually higher over -the materialism and frivolity of the present, bringing with it -again into notice the lofty and eternal ideas of religion and -history, recalling the glories of its artistic days, attested by -its grand monasteries and cathedrals, the fame of Görres will -grow, his merits be disclosed, his mind and services be better -appreciated. Men will say of him in the future what he himself -has written of the architect of the Cathedral of Cologne in his -little book on _The Cathedral of Cologne and the Minster of -Strasburg:_ "The Cathedral of Cologne is the work of one of -the greatest minds that ever left a trace of its power on earth. -The dizzy height of the building, which we cannot contemplate -without awe, gives us an idea of the profundity of the genius -that planned it. In the conceiver of such a work were -harmoniously blended the most singular and exceptional mental -faculties. A creative imagination, productive as nature, which -takes pleasure in the generation of manifold forms of being; -power of intellect, which penetrates the very essence of things, -and comprehends the whole ideal realm without effort; a clearness -of apprehension, which, like a flash, lays bare the darkest -objects; a reason which grasps the relation of things with -perspicuity; arranging with ease their synthetic and analytic -connections; finally, a deep feeling and sentiment of the -beautiful, of the most pure and exalted character; all united to -make their possessor capable for his undertaking. Besides, had he -succeeded in completing it, he must have possessed a persevering -will, a most extensive technical knowledge of the arts and -trades; and an amount of practical knowledge which alone would -make him an extraordinary genius." Görres, in thus describing the -architect of the Cologne Cathedral, leaves us his own portrait. - -The private life of Görres was free from blame; and in this -regard he is a model among so many distinguished men, who are not -always free from reproach in their domestic relations. Even his -youth was marked by no follies. His domestic life was pure, and -he brought up his children not only with a high intellectual -training, but also in the fear of God and in the principles of -Christian morality. - -{508} - -His house was the picture of a German farmer's. It was open to -every good man, and closed only to the wicked and false. Its -master was pleasant, jovial, and fond of gayety and innocent -amusement. Görres was not a mere theoretical Catholic; but a true -son of the church in his practical conduct, full of piety and -Christian charity. He was generous to the poor and needy. He -feared God, loved the church, and obeyed the pope. He was -edifying at divine service, assisted daily at the holy sacrifice, -and received holy communion frequently. - -He was a short, thick-set man, able to bear labor and fatigue. -Always healthy, he had hardly ever spent a day in bed. He had a -broad brow and brilliant eyes. His hair was auburn, streaked with -grey in his old age, hanging loosely about his head, so that -Clement Brentano compared his appearance to that of an old lion -shaking and pulling his mane caught in the bars of his cage. - -Görres died as he had lived, well, pious, and happy. It is a -remarkable fact, that great men have at last often to undergo -great trials. Moses died before entering the promised land; Peter -and Paul, in the midst of a fierce persecution excited against -the young church they had founded; St. Augustine, while African -Christianity was being destroyed by the Vandals; Gregory VII., -dying, exclaimed, "I have loved justice and hated iniquity, -therefore do I die in exile." In our time, O'Connell saw his -beloved island a prey to famine, while he breathed his last far -away from her. Görres, too, saw all that he had contended for -well-nigh ruined, and the labor of years appeared to be in vain. -Eight days before his death, he took to his bed, and received the -blessed Eucharist. On January 25th, 1848, his children and -friends celebrated his seventy-second birthday. He received holy -communion again two days before his departure, which took place -on January 29th, at half-past six in the morning, whilst his -children and friends knelt at his bedside repeating the Litany -for the dying; and while his friend and pupil, Professor -Haneberg, was saying Mass for him. A letter, written just after -his death by an eye-witness, contains this passage: "The corpse -was beautiful. It became like alabaster. The head, face, and -broad brow were calm, clear, and peaceful, as if freed from the -cares of this life, and awaiting the resurrection of the just." -Thus died, uttering holy sentiments, one of the greatest -intellects of this or any other age. - -An extraordinary remark of Görres, just before his death, is -preserved. His mind wandered among the scenes of his former -studies, and, recalling the dead nations of history, he said, -"_Let us pray for the peoples that are no more!_" - -Görres has been frequently called the O'Connell of Catholic -Germany. There is some truth in the parallel. It is true he could -not address a hundred thousand of his countrymen from the -rostrum; yet his _Mercury of the Rhine_ and his -_Athanasius_ could effect as much as his living voice. He -was not, like O'Connell, the recognized leader of his people; yet -all good men regarded him as their master; and all who had -witnessed his patriotism in 1814, and his faith in 1837, trusted -him as Ireland did her O'Connell. O'Connell's work was indeed -more rapid and exciting in the present; but more efficacious in -the future was what Görres had done, and more fruitful the seed -which he planted. -{509} -Görres had not to free the Catholics of Germany from a yoke, such -as England had put over the neck of her sister isle; still he was -a real liberator, a liberator of Germans from foreign manners; -for every nation is ordained of God, and it is a shame and a -disgrace, by aping foreign manners, to deny the fatherland to -which we belong by speech and nativity; a liberator of the church -from state tutelage, which injured the civil as well as the -ecclesiastical power; a liberator of the sciences from the -shackles of rationalism and infidelity; a liberator of the -catholic spirit and of catholic self-consciousness from the -slumber of indifferentism and the chains of the spirit of the -age; an agitator and excitator was he in the cause of truth and -virtue; he dragged Catholic Germany out of the miry dungeon of -pusillanimity, taught her self-respect, and made the blood, which -had been stagnant, flow again in her veins. As O'Connell loved -his country, his church, and liberty, so did Görres; especially -that true liberty which is as distinct from the false as God is -from idols. May Germany and the church never want geniuses like -Görres in their need; and may God send a shower of such men to -our own United States! - --------- - - - Nature And Grace. - - -In the article on _Rome and the World_ in the Magazine for -November last, it was shown that there is an irrepressible -conflict between the spirit which dominates in the world and that -which reigns in the church, or the antagonism which there is and -must be between Christ and Satan, the law of life and the law of -death; and every one who has attempted to live in strict -obedience to the law of God has found that he has to sustain an -unceasing warfare between the spirit and the flesh, between the -law of the mind and the law in the members. We see the right, we -approve it, we resolve to do it, and do it not. We are drawn away -from it by the seductions of the flesh, our appetites, passions, -and carnal affections, so that the good we would do, we do not, -and the evil we would not, that we do. This, which is really a -struggle in our own bosom between the higher nature and the -lower, is sometimes regarded as a struggle between nature and -grace, and taken as a proof that our nature is evil, and that -between it and grace there is an inherent antagonism which can be -removed only by the destruction either of nature by grace, or of -grace by nature. Antagonism there certainly is between the spirit -of Christ and the spirit of the world, and in the bosom of the -individual between the spirit and the flesh. This antagonism must -last as long as this life lasts, for the carnal mind is not -subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be; but this -implies no antagonism between the law of grace and the law of -nature; for there is, as St. Paul assures us, "no condemnation to -them who are in Christ Jesus, who walk not according to the -flesh." (Rom. viii. 1.) Nor does this struggle imply that our -nature is evil or has been corrupted by the fall; for the Council -of Trent has defined that the flesh indeed inclines to sin, but -is not itself sin. It remains even after baptism, and renders the -combat necessary through life; but they who resist it and walk -after the spirit are not sinners, because they retain it, feel -its motions, and are exposed to its seductions. -{510} -All evil originates in the abuse of good, for God has never made -anything evil. We have suffered and suffer from original sin; we -have lost innocence, the original righteousness in which we were -constituted, the gifts originally added thereto, or the integrity -of our nature--as immunity from disease and death, the subjection -of the body to the soul, the inferior soul to the higher--and -fallen into a disordered or abnormal state; but our nature has -undergone no entitative or physical change or corruption, and it -is essentially now what it was before the fall. It retains all -its original faculties, and these all retain their original -nature. The understanding lacks the supernatural light that -illumined it in the state of innocence; but it is still -understanding, and still operates and can operate only _ad -veritatem;_ free-will, as the Council of Trent defines, has -been enfeebled, attenuated, either positively in itself by being -despoiled of its integrity and of its supernatural endowment, or -negatively by the greater obstacles in the appetites and passions -it has to overcome; but it is free-will still, and operates and -can operate only _propter bonitatem_. We can will only good, -or things only in the respect that they are good, and only for -the reason they are good. We do not and cannot will evil as evil, -or for the sake of evil. The object and only object of the -intellect is truth, the object and only object of the will is -good, as it was before the prevarication of Adam or original sin. - -Even our lower nature, _concupiscentia_, in which is the -_fomes peccati_, is still entitatively good, and the due -satisfaction of all its tendencies is useful and necessary in the -economy of human life. Food and drink are necessary to supply the -waste of the body and to maintain its health and strength. Every -natural affection, passion, appetite, or tendency points to a -good of some sort, which cannot be neglected without greater or -less injury; nor is the sensible pleasure that accompanies the -gratification of our nature in itself evil, or without a good and -necessary end. Where, then, is the evil, and in what consists the -damage done to our nature by original sin? The damage, aside from -the _culpa_, or sin and consequent loss of communion with -God, is in the disorder introduced, the abnormal development of -the flesh or the appetites and passions consequent on their -escape from the control of reason, their fall under Satanic -influence, and the ignoble slavery, when they became dominant, to -which they reduce reason and free-will as ministers of their -pleasure. All the tendencies of our nature have each its special -end, which each seeks without respect for the special ends of the -others; and hence, if not restrained by reason within the bounds -of moderation and sobriety, they run athwart one another, and -introduce into the bosom of the individual disorder and anarchy, -whence proceed the disorder and anarchy, the tyranny and -oppression, the wars and fightings in society. The appetites and -passions are all despotic and destitute of reason, each seeking -blindly and with all its force its special gratification; and the -evil is in the struggle of each for the mastery of the others, -and in their tendency to make reason and free-will their -servants, or to bring the superior soul into bondage to the -inferior, as is said, when we say of a man, "He is the slave of -his appetites," or "the slave of his passions," so that we are -led to prefer a present and temporary good, though smaller, to a -distant future and eternal beatitude, though infinitely greater. -{511} -Hence, under their control we not only are afflicted with -internal disorder and anarchy, but we come to regard the pleasure -that accompanies the gratification of our sensitive appetites and -passions as the real and true end of life. We eat and drink, not -in order to live, but we live in order to eat and drink. We make -sensual pleasure our end, the motive of our activity and the -measure of our progress. Hence we are carnal men, sold under sin, -follow the carnal mind, which is antagonistic to the spiritual -mind, or to reason and will, which, though they do in the carnal -man the bidding of the flesh, never approve it, nor mistake what -the flesh craves for the true end of man. - -The antagonism here is antagonism between the spirit and the -flesh, not an antagonism between nature and grace--certainly not -between the law of nature and the law of grace. The law of nature -is something very different from the natural laws of the -physicists, which are simply physical laws. Transcendentalists, -humanitarians, and naturalists confound these physical laws with -what theologians call the natural law as distinguished from the -revealed law, and take as their rule of morals the maxim, "Follow -nature," that is, follow one's own inclinations and tendencies. -They recognize no real difference between the law of obedience -and the law of gravitation, and allow no distinction between -physical laws and moral law. Hence for them there is a physical, -but no moral order. The law of nature, as recognized by -theologians and moralists, is a moral law, not a physical law, a -law which is addressed to reason and free-will, and demands -motives, not simply a mover. It is called natural because it is -promulgated by the Supreme Lawgiver through natural reason, -instead of supernatural revelation, and is, at least in a -measure, known to all men; for all men have reason, and a natural -sense of right and wrong, and, therefore, a conscience. - -Natural reason is able to attain to the full knowledge of the -natural law, but, as St. Thomas maintains, only in the -_élite_ of the race. For the bulk of mankind a revelation is -necessary to give them an adequate knowledge even of the precepts -of the natural law; but as in some men it can be known by reason -alone, it is within the reach of our natural faculties, and -therefore properly called natural. Not that nature is the source -from which it derives its legal character, but the medium of its -promulgation. - -The law of grace or the revealed law presupposes the natural -law--_gratia supponit naturam_--and however much or little -it contains that surpasses it, it contains nothing that -contradicts, abrogates, or overrides it. The natural law itself -requires that all our natural appetites, passions, and tendencies -be restrained within the bounds of moderation, and subordinated -to a moral end or the true end of man, the great purpose of his -existence; and even Epicurus, who makes pleasure the end of our -existence, our supreme good, requires, at least theoretically, -the lower nature to be indulged only with sobriety and -moderation. His error is not so much in the indulgence he allowed -to the sensual or carnal nature, which he was as well aware as -others, needs the restraints of reason and will, as in placing -the supreme good in the pleasure that accompanies the -gratification of nature, and in giving as the reason or motive of -the restraint, not the will of God, but the greater amount and -security of natural pleasure. The natural law not only commands -the restraint, but forbids us to make the pleasure the supreme -good, or the motive of the restraint. -{512} -It places the supreme good in the fulfilment of the real purpose -of our existence, makes the proper motive justice or right, not -pleasure, and commands us to subordinate inclination to duty as -determined by reason or the law itself. It requires the lower -nature to move in subordination to the higher, and the higher to -act always in reference to the ultimate end of man, which, we -know even from reason itself, is God, the final as well as the -first cause of all things. The revealed law and the natural law -here perfectly coincide, and there is no discrepancy between -them. If, then, we understand by nature the law of nature, -natural justice and equity, or what we know or may know naturally -is reasonable and just, there is no contrariety between nature -and grace, for grace demands only what nature herself demands. -The supposed war of grace against nature is only the war of -reason and free-will against appetite, passion, and inclination, -which can be safely followed only when restrained within proper -bounds. The crucifixion or annihilation of nature, which -Christian asceticism enjoins, is a moral, not a physical -crucifixion or annihilation; the destruction of pleasure as our -motive or end. No physical destruction of anything natural, nor -physical change in anything natural, is demanded by grace or -Christian perfection. The law of grace neither forbids nor -diminishes the pleasure that accompanies the satisfaction of -nature; it only forbids our making it our good, an end to be -lived for. When the saints mortify the flesh, chastise the body, -or sprinkle with ashes their mess of bitter herbs, it is to -maintain inward freedom, to prevent pleasure from gaining a -mastery over them, and becoming a motive of action, or perhaps -oftener from a love of sacrifice, and the desire to share with -Christ in his sufferings to redeem the world. We all of us, if we -have any sympathies, feel an invincible repugnance to feasting -and making merry when our friends, those we tenderly love, are -suffering near us, and the saints see always the suffering -Redeemer, Christ in his agony in the garden and on the cross, -before their eyes, him whom they love deeply, tenderly, with the -whole heart and soul. - -But though the law of nature and the law of grace really -coincide, we have so suffered from original sin, that we cannot, -by our unassisted natural strength, perfectly keep even the law -of nature. The law of nature requires us to love God with our -whole heart and with our whole soul, and with all our strength -and with all our mind, and our neighbor as ourselves. This law, -though not above our powers in integral nature, is above them in -our fallen or abnormal state. Grace is the supernatural -assistance given us through Jesus Christ to deliver us from the -bondage of Satan and the flesh, and to enable us to fulfil this -great law. This is what is sometimes called medicinal grace; and -however antagonistic it may be to the moral disorder introduced -by original sin and aggravated by actual sin, it is no more -antagonistic to nature itself than is the medicine administered -by the physician to the body to enable it to throw off a disease -too strong for it, and to recover its health. What assists -nature, aids it to keep the law and attain to freedom and normal -development, cannot be opposed to nature or in any manner hurtful -to it. - -Moreover, grace is not merely medicinal, nor simply restricted to -repairing the damage done by original sin. Where sin abounded, -grace superabounds. -{513} -Whether, if man had not sinned, God would have become incarnate -or not is a question which we need not raise here, any more than -the question whether God could or could not, congruously with his -known attributes, have created man in what the theologians call -the state of pure nature, as he is now born, _seclusa ratione -culpae et paenae_, and therefore for a natural beatitude; for -it is agreed on all hands that he did not so create him, and that -the incarnation is not restricted in its intention or effect to -the simple redemption of man from sin, original or actual, and -his restoration to the integrity of his nature, lost by the -prevarication of Adam. All schools teach that as a matter of fact -the incarnation looks higher and farther, and is intended to -elevate man to a supernatural order of spiritual life, and to -secure him a supernatural beatitude, a life and beatitude to -which his nature alone is not adequate. - -Man regarded in the present decree of God has not only his origin -in the supernatural, but also his last end or final cause. He -proceeds from God as first cause, and returns to him as final -cause. The oriental religions, the Egyptian, Hindu, Chinese, and -the Buddhist, etc., all say as much, but fall into the error of -making him proceed from God by way of emanation, generation, -formation, or development, and his return to him as final cause, -absorption in him, as the stream in the fountain, or the total -loss of individuality, which, instead of being perfect beatitude -in God, is absolute personal annihilation. But these religions -have originated in a truth which they misapprehend, pervert, or -travesty. Man, both Christian faith and sound philosophy teach -us, proceeds from God as first cause by way of creation proper, -and returns to him as final cause without absorption in him or -loss of individuality. God creates man, not indeed an -independent, but a substantive existence, capable of acting from -his own centre as a second cause; and however intimate may be his -relation with God, he is always distinguishable from him, and can -no more be confounded with him as his final cause than he can be -confounded with him as his first cause. Not only the race but the -individual man returns to God, and finds in him his supreme good, -and individually united to him, through the Word made flesh, -enjoys personally in him an infinite beatitude. - -God alike as first cause and as final cause is supernatural. And -man therefore can neither exist nor find his beatitude without -the intervention of the supernatural. He can no more rise to a -supernatural beatitude or beatitude in God without the -supernatural act of God, than he could begin to exist without -that act. The natural is created and finite, and can be no medium -of the infinite or supernatural. Man, as he is in the present -decree of God, cannot obtain his end, rise to his supreme good or -beatitude, without a supernatural medium. This medium in relation -to the end, or in the teleological order, is the Word made flesh, -God incarnate, Jesus Christ, the only mediator between God and -men. Jesus Christ is not only the medium of our redemption from -sin and the consequences of the fall, but of our elevation to the -plane of a supernatural destiny, and perfect beatitude in the -intimate and eternal possession of God, who is both our good and -the Good in itself. This is a higher, an infinitely greater good -than man could ever have attained to by his natural powers even -in a state of integral nature, or if he had not sinned, and had -had no need of a Redeemer; and hence the apostle tells us where -sin abounded grace superabounded, and the church sings on Holy -Saturday, _O felix culpa_. The incarnate Word is the medium -of this superabounding good, as the Father is its principle and -the Holy Ghost its consummator. - -{514} - -Whether grace is something created, as St. Thomas maintains, and -as would seem to follow from the doctrine of infused virtues -asserted by the Council of Trent, or the direct action of the -Holy Ghost within us, as was held by Petrus Lombardus, the Master -of Sentences, it is certain that the medium of all grace given to -enable us to attain to beatitude is the Incarnation, and hence is -termed by theologians _gratia Christi_, and distinguishable -from the simple _gratia Dei_, which is bestowed on man in -the initial order, or order of genesis, commonly the natural -order, because its explication is by natural generation, and not -as the teleological order, by the election of grace. The grace of -Christ by which our nature is elevated to the plane of the -supernatural, and enabled to attain to a supernatural end or -beatitude, cannot be opposed to nature, or in any sense -antagonistic to nature. Nature is not denied or injured because -its author prepares for it a greater, an infinitely greater than -a natural or created good, to which no created nature by its own -powers, however exalted, could ever attain. Men may doubt if such -a good remains for those who love our Lord Jesus Christ and by -his grace follow him in the regeneration, but nobody can pretend -that the proffer of such good, and the gift of the means to -attain it, can be any injury or slight to nature. - -There is no doubt that in the flesh which resists grace, because -grace would subordinate it to reason and free-will, but this, -though the practical difficulty, is not the real dialectic -difficulty which men feel in the way of accepting the Christian -doctrine of grace. Men object to it on the ground that it -substitutes grace for nature, and renders nature good for nothing -in the Christian or teleological order--the order of return to -God as our last end or final cause. We have anticipated and -refuted this objection in condemning the pantheistic doctrine of -the orientals, and by maintaining that the return to God is -without absorption in him, or loss of our individuality or -distinct personality. - -The beatitude which the regenerate soul attains to in God by the -grace of our Lord Jesus Christ is the beatitude of that very -individual soul that proceeds, by way of creation, from God. The -saints by being blest in God are not lost in him, but retain in -glory their original human nature and their identical personal -existence. This the church plainly teaches in her _cultus -sanctorum_. She invokes the saints in heaven, and honors them -as individuals distinct from God, and as distinct personalities; -and hence, she teaches us that the saints are sons of God only by -adoption, and, though living by and in the Incarnate Word, are -not themselves Christ, or the Word made flesh. In the -Incarnation, the human personality was absorbed or superseded by -the divine personality, so that the human nature assumed had a -divine but no human personality. The Word assumed human nature, -not a human person. Hence the error of the Nestorians and -Adoptionists, and also of those who in our own times are willing -to call Mary the mother of Christ, but shrink from calling her -[Greek text], or the Mother of God. But in the saints, who are -not hypostatically united to the Word, human nature not only -remains unchanged, but retains its human personality; and the -saints are as really men, as really human persons in glory, as -they were while in the flesh, and are the same human persons that -they were before either regeneration or glorification. -{515} -The church, by her _cultus sanctorum_, teaches us to regard -the glorified saints as still human persons, and to honor them as -human persons, who by the aid of grace have merited the honor we -give them. We undoubtedly honor God in his saints as well as in -all his works of nature or of grace; but this honor of God in his -works is that of _latria_, and is not that which is rendered -to the saints. In the _cultus sanctorum_, we not only honor -him in his works, but we also honor the saints themselves for -their own personal worth, acquired not, indeed, without grace, -but still acquired by them, and is as much theirs as if it had -been acquired by their unassisted natural powers; for our natural -powers are from God as first cause, no less than grace itself, -only grace is from him through the Incarnation. You say, it is -objected, that grace supposes nature, _gratia supponit -naturam_, yet St. Paul calls the regeneration a new creation, -and the regenerated soul a new creature. Very true; yet he says -this not because the nature given in generation is destroyed or -superseded in regeneration, but because regeneration no more than -generation can be initiated or sustained without the divine -creative act; because generation can never become of itself -regeneration, or make the first motion toward it. Without the -divine regenerative act we cannot enter upon our teleological or -spiritual life, but must remain for ever in the order of -generation, and infinitely below our destiny, as is the case with -the reprobate or those who die unregenerate. But it is the person -born of Adam that is regenerated, that is translated into the -kingdom of God's dear Son, and that is the recipient of -regenerating, persevering, and glorifying grace. This is the -point we insist on; for, if so, the objection that grace destroys -or supersedes nature is refuted. The whole of Catholic theology -teaches that grace assists nature, but does not create or -substitute a new nature, as is evident from the fact that it -teaches that in regeneration even we must concur with grace, that -we can resist it, and after regeneration lose all that grace -confers, apostatize from the faith, and fall even below the -condition of the unregenerate. This would be impossible, if we -did not retain our nature as active in and after regeneration. In -this life it is certain that regeneration is a moral, a -spiritual, not a physical change, and that our reason and will -are emancipated from the bondage of sin, and are simply enabled -to act from a higher plane and gain a higher end than it could -unassisted; but it is the natural person that is enabled and that -acts in gaining the higher end. Grace, then, does not in this -life destroy or supersede nature, and the authorized -_cultus_ of the saints proves that it does not in the -glorified saint or life to come. - -The same conclusion follows from the fact that regeneration only -fulfils generation. "I am not come," said our Lord, "to destroy, -but to fulfil." The creative act, completed, as to the order of -procession of existences from God, in the Incarnation or -hypostatic union, which closes the initial order and institutes -the teleological, includes both the procession of existences from -God and their return to him. It is completed, fulfilled, and -consummated only in regeneration and glorification. If the nature -that proceeds from God is changed or superseded by grace, the -creative act is not fulfilled, for that which proceeds from God -does not return to him. -{516} -The initial man must himself return, or with regard to him the -creative act remains initial and incomplete. In the first order, -man is only initial or inchoate, and is a complete, a perfect man -only when he has returned to God as his final cause. To maintain -that it is not this initial man that returns, but, if the -supposition be possible, another than he, or something -substituted for him, and that has not by way of creation -proceeded from God, would deny the very purpose and end of the -Incarnation, and the very idea of redemption, regeneration, and -glorification, the grace of Christ, and leave man without any -means of redemption or deliverance from sin, or of fulfilling his -destiny--the doom of the damned in hell. The destruction or -change of man's nature is the destruction of man himself, the -destruction of his identity, his human personality; yet St. Paul -teaches, Rom. viii. 30, that the persons called are they who are -redeemed and glorified: "Whom he predestinated, them also he -called; and whom he called, them also he justified; and whom he -justified, them also he glorified." - -We can, indeed, do nothing in relation to our end without the -grace of Christ; but, with that grace freely given and -strengthening us, it is equally certain that we can work, and -work even meritoriously, or else how could heaven be promised us -as a reward? Yet it is so promised: "He that cometh to God must -believe that he is, and is the rewarder of them that seek him." -(Heb. xi. 6.) Moses "looked to the reward;" David had respect to -the divine "retributions;" and all Christians, as nearly all -heathen, believe in a future state of rewards and punishments. We -are exhorted to flee to Christ and obey him that we may escape -hell and gain heaven. The grace by which we are born again and -are enabled to merit is unquestionably gratuitous, for grace is -always gratuitous, _omnino gratis_, as say the theologians, -and we can do nothing to merit it, no more than we could do -something to merit our creation from nothing; but though -gratuitous, a free gift of God, grace is bestowed on or infused -into a subject already existing in the order of generation or -natural order, and we can act by it, and can and do, if faithful -to it, merit heaven or eternal life. Hence says the apostle, -"Work out your salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God -that worketh in you both to will and to do, or to accomplish." -(Philip, ii. 12.) But this no more implies that the willing and -doing in the order of regeneration are not ours than that our -acting in the order of nature is not ours because we can even in -that order act, whether for good or for evil, only by the divine -concurrence. - -The heterodox confound the gift of grace by which we are able to -merit the reward with the reward itself; hence they maintain, -because we can merit nothing without grace, that we can merit -nothing even with it, and that we are justified by faith alone, -which is the free gift of God, conferred on whom he wills, and -that grace is irresistible, and once in grace we are always in -grace. But St. James tells us that we are "justified by our -works, and not by faith only, for faith without works is dead." -(St. James ii. 14-25.) Are we who work by grace and merit the -reward the same _we_ that prior to regeneration sinned and -were under wrath? Is it we who by the aid of grace merit the -reward, or is it the grace in us? If the grace itself, how can it -be said that we are rewarded? If the reward is given not to us -who sinned, but to the new person or new nature into which grace -is said to change us, how can it be said that _we_ either -merit or are rewarded? -{517} -Man has his specific nature, and if you destroy or change that -specific nature, you annihilate him as man, instead of aiding his -return to God as his final cause. The theologians treat grace not -as a new nature or a new faculty bestowed on nature, but as a -_habitus_, or habit, an infused habit indeed, not an -acquired habit, but none the less a habit on that account, which -changes not, transforms not nature, but gives it, as do all -habits, a power or facility of doing what without it would exceed -its strength. The subject of the habit is the human soul, and -that which acts by, under, or with the habit is also the human -soul, not the habit. The soul, as before receiving it, is the -actor, but it acts with an increased strength, and does what -before it could not; yet its nature is simply strengthened, not -changed. The general idea of _habit_ must be preserved -throughout. The personality is not in the habit, but in the -rational nature of him into whom the habit is infused by the Holy -Ghost. In our Lord there are the two natures; but in him the -divine personality assumes the human nature, and is always the -subject acting, whether acting in the human nature or in the -divine. In the regenerated there are also the human and the -divine; but the human, if I may so speak, assumes the divine, and -retains from first to last its own personality, as is implied in -the return to God without absorption in him or loss of personal -individuality, and in the fact that, though without grace, we -cannot concur with grace, yet by the aid of grace we can and must -concur with it the moment we come to the use of reason, or it is -not effectual. The sacraments are, indeed, efficacious _ex -opere operato_, not by the faith or virtue of the recipient, -but only in case the will, as in infants, opposes no obstacle to -the grace they signify. Yet even in infants the concurrence of -the will is required when they come to the use of reason, and the -refusal to elicit the act loses the habit infused by baptism. The -baptized infant must concur with grace as soon as capable of a -rational act. - -The heterodox who are exclusive supernaturalists, because we -cannot without grace concur with grace, deny that the concurrence -is needed, and assert that grace is irresistible and overcomes -all resistance, and, as _gratia victrix_, subjects the will. -Hence they hold that, in faith, regeneration, justification, -sanctification, nature does nothing, and all that is done is done -by sovereign grace even in spite of nature; but the fact on which -they rely is not sufficient to sustain their theory. The -schoolmen, for the convenience of teaching, divide and subdivide -grace till we are in danger of losing sight of its essential -unity. They tell us of prevenient grace, or the grace that goes -before and excites the will of assisting grace, the grace that -aids the will when excited to elect to concur with grace; and -efficacious grace, the grace that renders the act of concurrence -effectual. But these three graces are really one and the same -grace, and the _gratia praeveniens_, when not resisted, -becomes immediately _gratia adjuvans_, and aids the will to -concur with grace, and, if concurred with, it becomes, _ipso -facto_ and immediately, _gratia efficax_. It needs no -grace to resist grace, and none, it would seem to follow from the -freedom of the will, _not_ to resist it. Freedom of the -will, according to the decision of the church in the case of the -_gratia victrix_ of the Jansenists, implies the power to -will the contrary, and, if free to resist it, why not free not to -resist? -{518} -There is, it seems to us, a real distinction between not willing -to resist and willing to concur. Nothing in nature compels or -forces the will to resist, for its natural operation is to the -good, as that of the intellect is to the true. The grace excites -it to action, and, if it do not will to resist, the grace is -present to assist it to elect to comply. If this be tenable, and -we see not why it is not, both the aid of grace and the freedom -and activity of the will are asserted, are saved, are harmonized, -and the soul is elevated into the order of regeneration without -any derogation either from nature or from grace, or lesion to -either. - -We are well aware of the old question debated in Catholic -schools, whether grace is to be regarded as _auxilium quod_ -or as _auxilium quo_; but it is not necessary either to -inquire what was the precise sense of the question debated, or to -enter into any discussion of its merits, for both schools held -the Catholic faith, which asserts the freedom of the will, and -both held that grace is _auxilium_, and therefore an aid -given to nature, not its destruction, nor its change into -something else. The word _auxilium_, or aid, says of itself -all that we are contending for. St. Paul says, indeed, when -reluctantly comparing his labors with those of the other -apostles, that he had labored more abundantly than they all, but -adds, "Yet not I, but the grace of God with me." But he -recognizes himself, for he says, "grace with _me_;" and his -sense is easily explained by what he says in a passage already -quoted, namely, "Work out your own salvation; for it is God that -worketh in you to will and to do," or to accomplish, and also by -what he says in the text itself, (1 Cor. xv. 1,) "By the grace of -God, I am what I am;" which has primary reference to his calling -to be an apostle. God by his grace works in us to will and to do, -and we can will or do nothing in relation to our final end, as -has been explained, without his grace; but, nevertheless, it is -_we_ who will and do. Hence St. Paul could say to St. -Timothy, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, -I have kept the faith. For the rest, there is laid up for me a -crown of justice, which the Lord, the just Judge, will render to -me at that day: and not to me only, but to them also who love his -coming." (2 Tim. iv. 7, 8.) Here St. Paul speaks of himself as -the actor and as the recipient of the crown. St. Augustine says -that God, in crowning the saints, "crowns his own gifts," but -evidently means that he crowns them for what they have become by -his gifts; and, as it is only by virtue of his gifts that they -have become worthy of crowns, their glory redounds primarily to -him, and only in a subordinate sense to themselves. There is, in -exclusive supernaturalists and exaggerated ascetics, an -unsuspected pantheism, no less sophistical and uncatholic than -the pantheism of our pseudo-ontologists. The characteristic mark -of pantheism is not simply the denial of creation, but the denial -of the creation of substances capable of acting as second causes. -In the order of regeneration as in the order of generation we are -not indeed primary, but are really secondary causes; and the -denial of this fact, and the assertion of God as the direct and -immediate actor from first to last, is pure pantheism. This is as -true in the order of regeneration as in the order of generation, -though in the order of grace it is thought to be a proof of -piety, when, in fact, it denies the very subject that can be -pious. Count de Maistre somewhere says, "The worst error against -grace is that of asserting too much grace." -{519} -We must exist, and exist as second causes, to be the recipients -of grace, or to be able even with grace to be pious toward God, -or the subject of any other virtue. In the regeneration we -_do_ by the aid of grace, but we are, nevertheless, the -doers, whence it follows that regeneration no more than -generation is wholly supernatural. Regeneration supposes -generation, takes it up to itself and completes it, otherwise the -first Adam would have no relation to the second Adam, and man -would find no place in the order of regeneration, which would be -the more surprising since the order itself originates in the -Incarnation, in the God-Man, who is its Alpha and Omega, its -beginning and end. - -Many people are, perhaps, misled on this subject by the habit of -restricting the word _natural_ exclusively to the procession -of existences from God and what pertains to the initial order of -creation, and the word _supernatural_ to the return of -existences to God as their last end, and the means by which they -return or attain that end and complete the cycle of existence or -the creative act. The procession is initial, the return is -teleological. The initial is called natural, because it is -developed and carried on by natural generation; the teleological -is called supernatural, because it is developed and carried on by -grace, and the election by grace takes the place of hereditary -descent. This is well enough, except when we have to deal with -persons who insist on separating--not simply distinguishing, but -separating, the natural and the supernatural, and on denying -either the one or the other. But, in reality, what we ordinarily -call the natural is not wholly natural, nor what we call the -supernatural is wholly supernatural. Strictly speaking, the -supernatural is God himself and what he does with no other medium -than his own eternal Word, that is, without any created medium, -or agency of second causes; the natural is that which is created -and what God does through the medium of second causes or created -agencies, called by physicists natural laws. Thus, creation is a -supernatural fact, because effected immediately by God himself; -generation is a natural fact, because effected by God mediately -by natural laws or second causes; the hypostatic union, or the -assumption of flesh by the Word, which completes the creative act -in the initial order and institutes the teleological or final -order, is supernatural; all the operations of grace are -supernatural, though operations in and with nature; the -sacraments are supernatural, for they are effective _ex opere -operato_, and the natural parts are only signs of the grace, -not its natural medium. The water used in baptism is not a -natural medium of the grace of regeneration; it is made by the -divine will the sign, though an appropriate sign, of it; the -grace itself is communicated by the direct action of the Holy -Ghost, which is supernatural. Regeneration, as well as its -complement, glorification, is supernatural, for it cannot be -naturally developed from generation, and regeneration does not -necessarily carry with it glorification; for it does not of -itself, as St. Augustine teaches, insure the grace of -perseverance, since grace is _omnino gratis_, and only he -that perseveres to the end will be glorified. Hence, even in the -teleological order, the natural, that is, the human, reason and -will have their share, and without their activity the end would -not and could not be gained. -{520} -Revelation demands the active reception of reason, or else it -might as well be made to an ox or a horse as to a man; and the -will that perseveres to the end is the human will, though the -human will be regenerated by grace. Wherever you see the action -of the creature as second cause you see the natural, and wherever -you see the direct action of God, whether as sustaining the -creature or immediately producing the effect, you see the -supernatural. - -The fact that God works in us to will and to do, or that we can -do nothing in the order of regeneration without grace moving and -assisting us, no more denies the presence and activity of nature -than does the analogous fact that we can do nothing even in the -order of generation without the supernatural presence and -concurrence of the Creator. We are as apt to forget that God has -any hand in the action of nature as we are to deny that where God -acts nature can ever coöperate; we are apt to conclude that the -action of the one excludes that of the other, and to run either -into Pelagianism on the one hand, or into Calvinism or Jansenism -on the other; and we find a difficulty in harmonizing in our -minds the divine sovereignty of God and human liberty. We cannot, -on this occasion, enter fully into the question of their -conciliation. Catholic faith requires us to assert both, whether -we can or cannot see how they can coexist. We think, however, -that we can see a distinction between the divine government of a -free active subject and of an inanimate and passive subject. God -governs each subject according to the nature he has given it; -and, if he has given man a free nature, his government, although -absolute, must leave human freedom intact, and to man the -capacity of exercising his own free activity, without running -athwart the divine sovereignty. How this can be done, we do not -undertake to say. - -But be this as it may, there is no act even in the natural order -that is or can be performed without the assistance of the -supernatural; for we are absolutely dependent on the creative act -of God in everything, in those very acts in which we act most -freely. The grace of God is as necessary as the grace of Christ. -God has not created a universe, and made it, when once created, -capable of going alone as a self-moving machine. He creates -substances, indeed, capable of acting as second causes; but these -substances can do nothing, are nothing as separated from the -creative act of God that produces them, upholds them, is present -in them, and active in all their acts, even in the most free -determinations of the will. Without this divine presence, always -an efficient presence, and this divine activity in all created -activities, there is and can be no natural activity or action, -any more than, in relation to our last end, there can be the -first motion toward grace without grace. The principle of action -in both orders is strictly analogous, and our acting with grace -or by the assistance of grace in the order of regeneration is as -natural as is our acting by the divine presence and concurrence -in the order of generation. The human activity in either order is -equally natural, and in neither is it possible or explicable -without the constant presence and activity of the supernatural. -The two orders, the initial and the teleological, then, are not -antagonistical to each other, are not based on two mutually -destructive principles, but are really two distinct parts, as we -so often say, of one dialectic whole. - -{521} - -The Holy Scriptures, since God is _causa eminens_, the cause -of causes, the first cause operative in all second causes, speak -of God as doing this or that, without always taking special note -of the fact that, though he really does it, he does it through -the agency of second causes or the activity of creatures. This is -frequently the case in the Scriptures of the Old Testament, and -sometimes, though less frequently, in the New Testament, though -never in either without something to indicate whether it is the -direct and immediate or the indirect and mediate action of God -that is meant. Paying no attention to this, many overlook the -distinction altogether, and fall into a sort of pantheistic -fatalism, and practically deny the freedom and activity of second -causes, as is the case with Calvin when he declares God to be the -author of sin, which on his own principles is absurd, for he -makes the will of God the criterion of right, and therefore -whatever God does must be right, and nothing that is right can be -sin. On the other hand, men, fixing their attention on the agency -of second causes, overlook the constant presence and activity of -the first cause, treat second causes as independent causes, or as -if they were themselves first cause, and fall into pure -naturalism, which is only another name for atheism. The universe -is not a clock or a watch, but even a clock or a watch generates -not its own motive power; the maker in either has only so -constructed it as to utilize for his purpose a motive power that -exists and operates independently both of him and of his -mechanism. - -Men speak of nature as supernaturalized in regeneration, and -hence assume that grace transforms nature; but in this there must -be some misunderstanding or exaggeration. In regeneration we are -born into the order of the end, or started, so to speak, on our -return to God as our final cause. The principle of this new -birth, which is grace, and the end, which is God, are -supernatural; but our nature is not changed except as to its -motives and the assistance it receives, though it receives in -baptism an indelible mark not easy to explain. This follows from -the Incarnation. In the Incarnation our nature is raised to be -the nature of God, and yet remains human nature, as is evident -from the condemnation by the church of the monophysites and the -monothelites. Catholic faith requires us to hold that the two -natures, the human and the divine, remain for ever distinct in -the one divine person of the Word. Some prelates thought to save -their orthodoxy by maintaining that, after his resurrection, the -two natures of our Lord became fused or transformed into one -theandric nature; but they did not succeed, and were condemned -and deposed. The monothelites asserted that there was in Christ -two natures indeed, but only one will, or that his human will was -absorbed in the divine. But they also were condemned as heretics. -Our Lord, addressing the Father, says, "Not my will, but thine be -done," thus plainly implying a human will distinct from, though -not contrary to, the divine will. Can we suppose that the grace -of regeneration or even of glorification works a greater change -of nature in us than the grace of union worked in our nature as -assumed by the Word? If human nature and human will remain in -Christ after the hypostatic union, so that to regard him after -his resurrection as having but one will or one theandric nature -is a heresy, how can we hold without heresy that grace, which -flows from that union, either destroys our nature or transforms -it into a theandric or supernaturalized nature? - -{522} - -Let us understand, then, that grace neither annihilates nor -supersedes or transforms our nature. It is our nature that is -redeemed or delivered from the bondage of sin, our nature that is -translated from the kingdom of dark into the kingdom of light, -our nature that is reborn, that is justified, that by the help of -grace perseveres to the end, that is rewarded, that is glorified, -and enters into the glory of our Lord. It then persists in -regeneration and glorification as one and the same human nature, -with its human reason, its human will, its human personality, its -human activity, only assisted by grace to act from a supernatural -principle to or for a supernatural end. The assistance is -supernatural, and so is the end; but that which receives the -assistance, profits by it, and attains the end, is human nature, -the man that was born of Adam as well as reborn of Christ, the -second Adam. - -We have dwelt long, perhaps to tediousness, upon this point, -because we have wished to efface entirely the fatal impression -that nature and grace are mutually antagonistic, and to make it -appear that the two orders, commonly called the natural and the -supernatural, are both mutually consistent parts of one whole; -that grace simply completes nature; and that Christianity is no -anomaly, no after-thought, or succedaneum, in the original design -of creation. - -The heterodox, with their doctrine of total depravity, and the -essential corruption or evil of nature, and their doctrine, -growing out of this assumed depravity or corruption, of -irresistible grace, and the inactivity or passivity of man in -faith and justification, obscure this great fact, and make men -regard nature as a failure, and that to save some God had to -supplant and create a new nature in its place. A more immoral -doctrine, or one more fatal to all human activity, is not -conceivable, if it could be really and seriously believed and -acted on prior to regeneration, which is impossible. The -heterodox are better than their system. The system teaches that -all our works before regeneration are sins; even our prayers are -unacceptable, some say, an abomination to the Lord, and -consequently, there is no use in striving to be virtuous. After -regeneration there is no need of our activity, for grace is -inamissible, and if really born again, sin as much as we will, -our salvation is sure, for the sins of the regenerated are not -reputed to them or counted as sins. There is no telling how many -souls this exclusive and exaggerated supernaturalism (which we -owe to the reformers of the sixteenth century) has destroyed, or -how many persons it has deterred from returning to the Catholic -Church by the common impression, that, since she asserts original -sin and the necessity of grace, she holds and teaches the same -frightful system. Men who are able to think, and accustomed to -sober reflection, find themselves unable to embrace Calvinism, -and, confounding Calvinism with Christianity, reject Christianity -itself, and fall into a meagre rationalism, a naked naturalism, -or, worst of all, an unreasoning indifferentism; yet there is no -greater mistake than to suppose that the church holds it or has -the slightest sympathy with it. We have wished to mark clearly -the difference between it and her teaching. Christian asceticism, -when rightly understood, is not based on the assumption that -nature is evil, and needs to be destroyed, repressed, or changed. -It is based on two great ideas, liberty and sacrifice. -{523} -It is directed not to the destruction of the flesh or the body, -for in the creed we profess to believe in the "resurrection of -the flesh." Our Lord assumed flesh in the womb of the Virgin; he -had a real body, ascended into heaven with it, and in it sitteth -at the right hand of the Father Almighty. He feeds and nourishes -us with it in Holy Communion; and it is by eating his flesh and -drinking his blood that our spiritual life is sustained and -strengthened. Our own bodies shall rise again, and, spiritualized -after the manner of Christ's glorious body, shall, reunited to -the soul, live for ever. We show that this is our belief by the -honor we pay to the relics of the saints. This sacred flesh, -these sacred bones, which we cherish with so much tender piety, -shall live again, and reenter the glorified body of the saint. -Matter is not evil, as the Platonists teach, and as the false -asceticism of the heathen assumes, and with which Christian -asceticism has no affinity, though many who ought to know better -pretend to the contrary. The Christian ascetic aims, indeed, at a -moral victory over the flesh, labors by the help of grace to -liberate the soul from its bondage, to gain the command of -himself, to be at all times free to maintain the truth, and to -keep the commandments of God; to bring his body into subjection -to the soul, to reduce the appetites and passions under the -control of his reason and will, but never to destroy them or in -any manner to injure his material body. Far less does he seek to -abnegate, destroy, or repress either will or reason, in order to -give grace freer and fuller scope; he only labors to purify and -strengthen both by grace. Nature is less abnormal, purer, -stronger, more active, more energetic in the true ascetic than in -those who take no pains to train and purify it under the -influence of divine grace. - -The principle of all sacrifice is love. It was because God so -loved men that he gave his only-begotten Son to die for them that -they might not perish, but have everlasting life. It was love -that died on the cross for our redemption. Nothing is hard or -difficult to love, and there is nothing love will not do or -sacrifice for the object loved. The saint can never make for his -Lord a sacrifice great enough to satisfy his love, and gives up -for him the most precious things he has, not because they are -evil or it would be sin in him to retain them; not because his -Lord needs them, but because they are the most costly sacrifice -he can make, and he in making the sacrifice can give some proof -of his love. The chief basis of monastic life is sacrifice. The -modern notion that monastic institutions were designed to be a -sort of hospital for infirm souls is essentially false. As a -rule, a virtue that cannot sustain itself in the world will -hardly acquire firmness and strength in a monastery. The first -monks did not retire from the world because [it was] unfit to -live in it, but because the world restrained their liberty, and -because it afforded them no adequate field for the heroic -sacrifices to which they aspired. Their austerities, which we so -little robust as Christians, accustomed to pamper our bodies, and -to deny ourselves nothing, regard as sublime folly, if not with a -shudder of horror, were heroic sacrifices to the Spouse of the -soul, for whom they wished to give up everything but their love. -They rejoiced in affliction for his sake, and they wished to -share, as we have already said, with him in the passion and cross -which he endured for our sake, so as to be as like him as -possible. -{524} -There are saints to-day in monasteries, and out of monasteries in -the world, living in our midst, whom we know not or little heed, -who understand the meaning of this word _sacrifice_, and -make as great and as pure sacrifices, though perhaps in other -forms, and as thoroughly forego their own pleasure, and as -cheerfully give up what costs them the most to give up, as did -the old Fathers of the Desert. But, if we know them not, God -knows them and loves them. - -Yet we pretend not to deny that many went into monasteries from -other motives, from weakness, disappointed affection, disgust of -the world, and some to hide their shame, and to expiate by a life -of penance their sins; but, if the monastery often sheltered such -as these, it was not for such that it was originally designed. In -process of time, monastic institutions, when they became rich, -were abused, as often the priesthood itself, and treated by the -nobles as a provision for younger sons or portionless daughters. -We may at times detect in ascetics an exaggeration of the -supernatural element and an underrating if not a neglect of the -natural, we may find, chiefly in modern times, a tendency amongst -the pious and devout to overlook the fact that manliness, -robustness, and energy of mind and character enter as an -important element in the Christian life; but the tendency in this -direction is not catholic, though observed to some extent among -Catholics. It originates in the same causes that originated the -Calvinistic or Jansenistic heresy, and has been strengthened by -the exaggerated assertion of the human and natural elements -caused by the reaction of the human mind against an exclusive and -exaggerated supernaturalism. The rationalism and humanitarianism -of the last century and the present are only the reaction of -human nature against the exaggerated supernaturalism of the -Reformers and their descendants, the Jansenists, who labored to -demolish nature to make way for grace, and to annihilate man in -order to assert God. Each has an element of truth, but, neither -having the whole truth, each makes war on the other, and -alternately gains a victory and undergoes a defeat. Unhappily, -neither will listen to the church who accepts the truth and -rejects the exclusiveness of each, and harmonizes and completes -the truth of both in the unity and catholicity of the faith once -delivered to the saints. The Catholic faith is the reconciler of -all opposites. These alternate victories and defeats go on in the -world outside of the church; but it would be strange if they did -not have some echo among Catholics, living, as they do, in the -midst of the combatants, and in constant literary and -intellectual intercourse with them. They create some practical -difficulties for Catholics which are not always properly -appreciated. We cannot assert the natural, rational, and the -human element of the church without helping, more or less, the -exclusive rationalists or naturalists who deny the supernatural; -and we can hardly oppose them with the necessary vigor and -determination without seeming at least to favor their opponents, -the exclusive supernaturalists, who reject reason and deny the -natural. It is this fact very likely that has kept Catholics for -the most part during the last century and the present on the -defensive; and as, during this period, the anti-supernaturalists -have been the most formidable enemy of the church, it is no -wonder if the mass of devout Catholics have shown some tendency -to exaggerate the supernatural, and been shy of asserting as -fully as faith warrants the importance of the rational and the -natural, or if they have paid less attention to the cultivation -of the human side of religion than is desirable. - -{525} - -Some allowance must be made for the new position in which -Catholics for a century or more have been placed, and it would be -very wrong to censure them with severity, even if we found them -failing to show themselves all at once equal to the new duties -imposed upon them. The breaking up of old governments and -institutions, founded by Catholic ancestors, the political, -social, and industrial revolutions that have been and still are -going on, must have, to some extent, displaced the Catholic mind, -and required it, so to speak, to ease itself, or to take a new -and difficult observation, and determine its future course. -Catholics to-day stand between the old, which was theirs, and -which is passing away, and the new, which is rising, and which is -not yet theirs. They must needs be partially paralyzed, and at a -momentary loss to know what course to take. Naturally -conservative, as all men are who have something to lose or on -which to rely, their sympathies are with the past, they have not -been able as yet to accept the new state of things, and convert -regrets into hopes. A certain hesitation marks their conduct, as -if in doubt whether to stand out against the new at all hazards, -and, if need be, fall martyrs to a lost cause, or to accept it -and do the best they can with it. In this country, where -Catholicity is not associated with any sort of political -institutions, and Catholics have no old civilization to retain or -any new order to resist, we, unless educated abroad, are hardly -able to appreciate the doubts, hesitations, and discouragements -of Catholics in the old world, and to make the proper allowances -if at times they seem to attach as Catholics undue importance to -the political and social changes going on around them, to be too -despondent, and more disposed to cry out against the wickedness -of the age, to fold their hands, and wait for Providence to -rearrange all things for them without their coöperation, than to -look the changes events have produced full in the face, and to -exert themselves, with the help of grace, to bring order out of -the new chaos, as their brave old ancestors did out of the chaos -that followed the irruption of the northern barbarians, and the -breaking up of the Graeco-Roman civilization. It is no light -thing to see the social and political world in which we have -lived, and with which we have been accustomed to associate the -interests of religion and society falling in ruins under our very -eyes, and we must be pardoned if for a moment we feel that all is -gone or going. - -But Catholic energy can never be long paralyzed, and already the -Catholics of Europe are arousing themselves from their apathy, -recovering their courage, and beginning to feel aware that the -church depends on nothing temporary, is identified with no -political or social organization, and can survive all the -mutations of the world around her. Leading Catholics in Europe, -instead of wasting their strength in vain regrets for a past that -is gone, or in vainer efforts to restore what can no longer be -restored, are beginning to adjust themselves to the present, and -to labor to command the future. They are leaving the dead to bury -their dead, and preparing to follow their Lord in the new work to -be done for the new and turbulent times in which their lot is -cast. "All these things are against me," said the patriarch -Jacob, and yet they proved to be all for him and his family. Who -knows but the untoward events of the last century and the present -will turn out for the interests of religion, and that another -Joseph may be able to say to their authors, "Ye meant it for -evil, but God meant it for good?" - -{526} - -In all great political and social revolutions there must always -be a moment when men may reasonably doubt whether duty calls them -to labor to retain what is passing away, or whether they shall -suffer it to be buried with honor, and betake themselves with -faith and hope and courage to what has supplanted it. That moment -has passed in the Old World, and nothing remains but to make the -best of the present, and to labor to reconstruct the future in -the best way possible. Happily for us, the church, though she may -lose province after province, nation after nation, and be driven -to take refuge in the catacombs cannot be broken up, or her -divine strength and energy impaired. While she remains, we have -God with us, and our case can never be desperate. The church has -seen darker days than any she now experiences; civilization has -been much nearer its ruin than it is now in Europe, and Catholics -have now all the means to surmount present difficulties, which -sufficed them once to conquer the world. There is no sense in -despondency. Cannot the millions of Catholics do to-day what -twelve fishermen of Galilee did? Is the successor of Peter to-day -more helpless than was Peter himself, when he entered Rome with -his staff to preach in the proud capitol of heathendom the -crucified Redeemer? The same God that was with Peter, and gave -efficacy to his preaching, is with his successor; and we who live -to-day have, if we seek it, all the divine support, and more than -all the human means, that those Catholics had who subdued the -barbarians and laid the foundation of Christian Europe. What they -did we may do, if, with confidence in God, we set earnestly about -doing it. The world is not so bad now as it was in the first -century or in the sixth century; and there is as strong faith, as -ardent piety, in this age, as in any age that has gone before it. -Never say, "We have fallen on evil times." All times are evil to -the weak, the cowardly, the despondent; and all times are good to -the strong, the brave, the hopeful, who dare use the means God -puts into their hands, and are prepared to do first the duty that -lies nearest them. - -We see many movements that indicate that our European brethren -are regaining their courage, and, counting the past, so glorious -for Catholics, as beyond recovery, are endeavoring to do what -they can in and for the present, quietly, calmly, without noise -or ostentation; and they will not need to labor long before they -will see the "truths crushed to the earth rise again," and a new -order, Phoenix-like, rising from the ashes of the old, more -resplendent in beauty and worth, more in harmony with the divine -spirit of the church, and more favorable to the freedom and -dignity of man. Truth dies never. "The eternal years of God are -hers." The Omnipotent reigns, and thus far in the history of the -church, what seemed her defeat, has proved for her a new and more -brilliant victory. The church never grows old, and we can afford -to be patient though earnest in her service. The spirit of God -never ceases to hover over the chaos, and order, though disturbed -for a time, is sure, soon or late, to reappear. - -{527} - -We feel that we have very inadequately discussed the great -question of nature and grace, the adequate discussion of which is -far beyond the reach of such feeble abilities and such limited -theological attainments as ours; but we have aimed to set forth -as clearly and as simply as we could what we have been taught by -our Catholic masters on the relation of the natural to the -supernatural; and if we have succeeded in showing that there is -no antagonism between nature and grace, the natural and the -supernatural, the divine sovereignty and human liberty, and that -we can be at once pious and manly, energetic as men, and humble -and devout as Christians, or if we have thrown out any -suggestions that will aid others in showing it to the -intelligence of our age, and if we have been able to speak a word -of comfort and hope to our brethren who find themselves in a -position in which it is difficult to determine how to act, our -purpose will have been accomplished, and we shall have done no -great but some slight service to the cause to which we feel that -we are devoted heart and soul. We have aimed to avoid saying -anything that could wound the susceptibilities of any Catholic -school of theology, and to touch as lightly as possible on -matters debated among Catholics. We hope we have succeeded; for -these are times in which Catholics need to be united in action as -well as in faith. - - --------- - - Matin. - - I. - - Only when mounting sings the lark, - Struggling to fields of purer air - Silent her music when she turns - Back to a world of gloom and care! - - - II. - - Only when mounting sings my heart, - Fluttering on tremulous wing to God! - Fainter the music as I fall-- - Mute, when I reach the lower sod! - - - III. - - Lark, in my heart this morn astir, - Upward to God on eager wing! - Seek for one pure, celestial draught, - Fresh from th' eternal Music-Spring! - - Richard Storks Willis. - - ---------- - -{528} - - A Word about the Temporal Power of the Pope. - - -When our Lord Jesus Christ was upon the earth, his enemies were -able to persecute him and to excite a general hatred against him, -but never able to ignore him, to make him forgotten, or to -prevent the question concerning Christ from being the -turning-point of the religious and political destiny of the -Jewish people. The efforts they made to extinguish this question -only served to extend it all over the world, and make it the -turning-point of the religious and political destinies of all -mankind. - -It is the same with the Vicar of Christ. The warfare which is -waged against him never removes him out of the way of his -enemies, or causes him to be ignored by the world; but it -upheaves and convulses the whole world, political as well as -religious. Just at present it is unusually agitated, because for -some time past a crisis has seemed to be impending. We have a -word to say, in the first place, on the attitude of many persons, -professing to be Christians, who do not acknowledge the spiritual -authority of the pope, toward the party who are attempting to -wrest from him by force his temporal authority as sovereign of -Rome. - -That avowed adherents of infidel socialism should disregard the -principles of right and justice does not surprise us, for they -have denied the basis of all right and justice. That a portion of -the secular press, notorious throughout the world for an utter -want of principle, should encourage every revolution which has -any prospect of success, is precisely what we might expect from -it, judging by the course it has always pursued, and the base -maxims it unblushingly avows. The mockeries and insults of this -class of writers are only echoes from the infidel press of -Europe, and would be despised by every American who believes in -the Christian religion and in decency, were they not directed -against the pope. Serious argument upon the right of the matter -might as well be addressed to a gorilla as to one of these -writers. - -The case is different, however, with those who profess sound -Christian, moral, and political principles. Such persons are -grossly inconsistent with themselves when they favor and sustain -the party of Garibaldi who have sought to seize upon the Roman -territory by an armed raid, or that party in Italy and Europe who -advocate the forcible annexation of this territory to the Italian -kingdom by its government, with the aid or consent of the other -nations. They may say that the papacy is a hindrance to pure -religion and civilization. So be it. But how is it to be put -down? By argument, by moral means, in a just manner, or by -violence and injustice? Have not the Catholics of the world a -right to sustain the papal jurisdiction as a part of their -religion? Protestants, no doubt, desire to see it abolished, and -rejoice in every prospect which presents itself that the temporal -kingdom of the Pope may be wrested from him, because they think -that the loss of his spiritual supremacy will follow. But, have -they any right, on this account, to favor unjust and unlawful -attempts to wrest from him his temporal sovereignty? Is it lawful -to do evil that good may come? Does the end justify the means? - -{529} - -They may say, that it would be better for the Roman people to -have another government, and that they have a right, if they -please, to establish another. We do not believe they have any -more right to do this, than the people of the District of -Columbia have, to shake off the government of the United States -and establish another. But we will not argue this point, for it -is unnecessary. The Roman people have recently shown that they -prefer to remain as they are. The question is, as to the right of -dispossessing the pope of his kingdom by a force from without. -What right has the Italian kingdom to the Roman territory? Does -the pretence that the glory and advantage of Italy require it to -have Rome as a political capital justify its forcible annexation? -Then interest and might alone make right, we must bid farewell to -the hope that justice and law will ever rule in the world, and be -content that the old, barbarous reign of violence, war, and -conquest should continue for ever. - -But what are we to say of a war, not levied by one king and -people against another, but waged by a band of marauders invading -a nation from another nation with which it is at peace, and which -is bound by solemn treaty to repress all such invasions? -Englishmen and Americans are loud enough in condemning -rebellions, insurrections, violations of the laws and rights of -nations, where their own countries are the aggrieved parties. -What gross and shameful inconsistency, then, is it, for them to -applaud an attack like that of the bandit Garibaldi and his horde -of robbers upon the Roman kingdom. Sympathy and encouragement -given to Mazzini, Garibaldi, and their associates, is sympathy -and encouragement to a party of atheists and socialists who are -aiming at the complete extirpation of all religion and all -established political and social order from the world. -Protestants little know to what ruin they are exposing themselves -in abetting such a party. Their treacherous allies are making use -of them as mere dupes and tools in their war upon the outward -bulwarks of the Catholic Church; knowing well that, if they have -once carried these, the slight barriers of Protestantism will -offer but a feeble and momentary resistance. The friends of -political and social order little think what a mine they are -helping to run under their own feet, in abetting socialism. -England is beginning already to reap the bitter fruit of the -seeds of sedition and revolution she has been busily sowing in -the soil of Europe. There is no knowing where the just -retribution of her unprincipled agitation will stop. We have just -as much cause to dread the irruption of infidelity and socialism -in our own country. And if it does come, those who boast so much -of their wealth, their prosperity, their superior culture and -enlightenment, and attribute this material glory to their -emancipation from Catholic ideas, will be the first victims of -the volcano that will burst under their feet. We trust no such -catastrophe will come, either in Europe or America. But if it is -averted, it will be because the pope will stand his ground; and -the event will prove that he has been the saviour not only of -religion but also of civilization. - -There are also some considerations which merit the attention of -Catholics, who do acknowledge the Pope to be the Vicar of Christ, -and give him their allegiance as the Chief Ruler and Teacher of -the Church throughout the whole world. - -{530} - -The cause of the Catholic Church everywhere, and of every -individual Catholic as a member of the Church, is bound up with -the cause of the pope, and is identical with it. He is the head -of the entire body, not merely as having precedence of dignity -and honor over other bishops, or a merely nominal primacy, but as -the bishop of the entire Catholic Church, laity, clergy and -bishops included. He is the real head of the body, the source of -jurisdiction, the principle of unity, catholicity, and apostolic -succession, the principal organ of the intelligence and vital -force of the Church, of its infallibility in doctrine and -immortality in existence. Every blow upon the head affects -sensibly every member. Every member is bound to exert itself to -ward off all blows aimed at the head, for the preservation of its -own life. A mortal blow on the head will cause the death of the -whole body, and a stunning or seriously injurious blow on the -head will paralyze its energies. All particular churches, all -portions of Christendom, and all individual Christians, receive -their life from communion with the Church of St. Peter, the -principal See, and the Mother and Mistress of the Churches. -"Where Peter is, there is the Church." The flock fed by the -successors of St. Peter, the supreme pastor, is the only true -flock of Christ. "Feed my lambs, feed my sheep," was said to St. -Peter alone, and whoever is not fed by him, living in his -successors in the holy Roman Church, with the sound, Catholic -doctrine; whoever is not guided and governed by his pastoral -staff, is no lamb of the flock of Christ, but an alien and a lost -sheep. The most illustrious and numerous churches, the most -cultivated nations, are smitten with spiritual disease, decay, -and death, when they are severed from the unity of the See of St. -Peter. The schismatical churches of the East, once the fairest -portion of the heritage of the Lord, are a witness to this truth. -So are the countless sects with their ever-varying, -ever-multiplying heresies and divisions, in the West. We may even -see in certain parts of the Catholic Church itself, what ruinous -consequences follow from impediments placed by the civil power in -the way of the full exercise of the papal supremacy over the -bishops, clergy, and faithful. Bishops lose their independence -and authority, priests their sacerdotal dignity and influence, -and the people their Christian piety, as soon as they revolt from -their obedience to the pope; and all these are weakened in -proportion as his power to exercise his paternal solicitude and -government over them is enfeebled. - -Full, hearty, and loyal allegiance to the pope is therefore an -essential part of Christian duty. It is the duty and the interest -of all Catholic Christians, bishops, priests, and laymen, to -stand by the pope, as the Vicar of our Lord Jesus Christ and -God's Vicegerent upon earth; and to make common cause with him, -as knowing that we must stand or fall together. There are special -reasons why American Catholics should appreciate this high -obligation. The American Catholic Church is to a great extent an -offshoot from the Catholic Church of Ireland. It was the pope who -sent St. Patrick into Ireland to convert that country from -heathenism to Christianity. The Irish people have always been -foremost among all other Catholics in filial reverence, devotion, -and obedience to the See of St. Peter. When all but one man in -the English hierarchy basely deserted their allegiance to the -pope in submission to the will of a tyrant, only one Irish bishop -of insignificant character imitated their example, and even he -repented before his death. -{531} -It was for their loyalty to the pope that the Irish people were -reduced to _feed on nettles_, both literally and -figuratively. The glorious archbishop O'Hurley, tortured on -Stephen's Green and hanged, the intrepid monks hurled into the -sea from the heights of Bantry, the slaughtered victims of -Drogheda and Wexford, and the rest of the noble army of Irish -martyrs and confessors, suffered and died for this doctrine of -the Catholic faith, that the Pope is the Vicar of Jesus Christ -and the supreme head of the Church upon earth. The whole Irish -nation has suffered martyrdom for three centuries, for its -unswerving fidelity to the See of Peter. It would be unworthy of -us, who have received the sacred plant of faith watered by the -blood and preserved by the heroism of this faithful nation, and -now enjoy full liberty to partake of its fruits and to propagate -it far and wide, in peace, to degenerate from the sentiments of -such noble ancestors. - -Moreover, the Catholic Church in America has ever been under the -most immediate and special care of the Holy See, ever obedient -and loyal, and therefore, ever united and prosperous. Nowhere in -the world do the bishops and priests receive a greater degree of -respect and obedience from their people, or a more abundant fruit -from their labors in preaching the word and administering the -sacraments of Christ. No heresy or schism, no violent disputes, -no extensive alienation of the faithful from their pastors, none -of those internal disorders which are far more dangerous than any -outward opposition, have as yet arisen to trouble our peace. The -chief reason of this is found in the perfect and unbroken union -of our hierarchy and people with the apostolic See of St. Peter. -Were it not for this, as there is no coercive force of the state -to enforce a compulsory exterior unity like that of the Russian -Church, and no patriarchal jurisdiction of one bishop over all -the others, the decrees of national or provincial synods would -have no binding efficacy, the union of bishops with each other -would be broken, the authority of the bishops would be defied by -the clergy, of the clergy by the people, and the same -disintegration tending to final dissolution would take place -among us which we see in the surrounding sects. The same result -would inevitably take place throughout the world, if the -supremacy of the successor of St. Peter were overthrown. State -policy, and the power of kings and parliaments, are broken reeds -to lean upon. Were the church left to depend upon these, they -would soon withdraw their support, and, bereft of a principle of -internal life and unity, Christianity would resolve itself -everywhere into dust and air, never again to be revived on earth. - -Peter, living in the unbroken line of his successors, is the rock -and foundation upon which the church, that is, Christianity -itself, is built; and because the gates of hell shall never -prevail against this rock, to overthrow it, therefore -Christianity shall endure to the end of the world. - -The full and unimpeded exercise of the spiritual supremacy of the -pope over the Catholic Church throughout the whole world being -necessary to its well-being, the perfect independence of this -supremacy from all political power is also necessary as the -condition of its free exercise. The experience both of the past -and the present proves that the political power is always -disposed to tyrannize over the church and deprive it of its -divine right to liberty. -{532} -The only check to this domination of kings over bishops, and the -only lever by which the episcopate may be raised out of this -dependence on the civil power, is the independent power of the -Holy See. The pope must confirm the nominations to bishoprics, -and the decrees of local councils, otherwise they are null and -void. Were it not for this prerogative, which Napoleon the First -violently but unsuccessfully attempted to wrest from Pius VII., -the king would be the real head of each national church in nearly -every Catholic state. If one of these national churches had -within its bounds the principal and supreme see of the whole -Catholic Church, the sovereign of that nation, through his power -over the nomination to that see and its administration, would -have power to exercise dominion over the Catholic Church. If the -archbishop of Paris or of Vienna had the supremacy, the emperor -of France or of Austria would be the virtual head of the Catholic -Church, as the English sovereign and the Russian sovereign are -the real heads of the English and Russian churches, -notwithstanding the nominal primacy of the archbishops of -Canterbury and of Moscow. Just so, if the pope became the subject -of a king ruling over his episcopal city of Rome. He could not -exercise his spiritual supremacy, except in dependence on the -will of the sovereign. He could not call an oecumenical council, -send a legate, receive an ambassador, issue an encyclical, -promulgate a decree, receive or send out the documents necessary -for the government of the universal church, or possess the -necessary means for the transaction of indispensable business, -without the permission of the political authority. In time of -war, his communication with the belligerents would be completely -cut off. The nomination to the sovereign pontificate would either -really, or at least in the opinion of other nations, always be -controlled by political influence, and so also would be the -confirmations or direct appointments to episcopal sees throughout -the world. Laws in regard to marriage or other matters, over -which the sovereign pontiff has direct jurisdiction, might be -passed, which he would be obliged to condemn, and yet be unable -to do so, or at least without perpetual conflicts with the civil -power. He would be continually subject to the treatment which the -Archbishop of Cologne received from the King of Prussia, and the -bishops of Italy from Victor Emmanuel, confiscation, -imprisonment, or exile. The exercise of his supremacy would -therefore become impossible. For, it could only be exercised in -dependence on the will of a monarch or a cabinet, and neither -kings, bishops, or people would ever submit to such a supremacy. -How would American Catholics like to have King Victor Emmanuel -and Ratazzi or Ricasoli dictating the affairs of the church in -this country? Our hierarchy here is, thank God! free from the -dictation of the state, and the head of our hierarchy must also -be a free and independent pope. - -It is folly to imagine another and purely ideal state of things, -in which the pope might have perfect independence without -sovereignty. There is no likelihood that such a state of things -will become actual, and there would be no security for its -permanence did it ever begin to exist. Divine Providence has -given the vicar of Christ a temporal sovereignty as the security -of his independence and the bulwark of the liberty of the -universal church. The pope has solemnly declared that it is the -necessary and the bounden duty of all the members of the church, -whether kings, prelates, or people, to maintain that sovereignty -at all hazards. -{533} -To throw the whole burden of sustaining the Holy See and the -authority of the successor of St. Peter upon Divine Providence, -is both presumptuous and cowardly. Christ has promised that his -church shall last to the end of the world, and he will fulfil -this promise, if necessary, by miraculous intervention. But he -has not promised that particular nations shall not lose the -faith, or that faithlessness and cowardice shall not bring after -them their natural disastrous consequences. The glory, -prosperity, and extension of the Catholic Church depend on the -efforts of the free human will; and the providence or grace of -God will not aid us, except in proportion to our fidelity and -generosity in maintaining his cause and our own. Our confidence -that the holy Roman Church cannot be overthrown rests on the sure -foundation of that divine word, not one iota of which can fail, -even though heaven and earth may pass away. "Thou art Peter, and -upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell -shall never prevail against it." This is no warrant for our -abandoning the ground to the enemies of the church, trusting that -God will thwart their designs by miraculous intervention. But it -is an encouragement to loyalty, fidelity, and unalterable hope in -the ultimate triumph of the holy cause. It is our duty to do all -in our power to secure this triumph by our own efforts, and -having done this, we may then leave the result in the hands of -Divine Providence. We can never foresee, with certainty, through -what straits Divine Providence will permit the church to pass, or -how far it will allow the designs of her enemies to proceed -toward an apparent ultimate success. Nevertheless, there does not -appear at present so much reason to apprehend dark and disastrous -days for the church and religion, as there did during the epoch -preceding the present one. Even during the reign of the present -severely tried but indomitable chief pastor of the church, there -have been periods far more critical and threatening than the -present. Indeed, we may say that those Catholics who are -desponding and discouraged now, derive their reason for -foreboding evil more from their own timidity and impatience than -from any real external motives. The Holy See is in perpetual -conflict against powerful enemies, no doubt, and the Holy Father -sometimes threatened with a prospect of exile from Rome. Yet, -notwithstanding this, the march of events continually brings -nearer the reconciliation and pacification of Christendom, upon -the basis of a universal recognition of the independence and -inviolability of the sacred domain of the Roman Church, which God -has set apart as the seat of the successor of St. Peter. In -truth, there has often been in the past a greater need of -absolute reliance on the predictions of the divine word as the -only firm ground of hope, than at present. We are not called upon -for the same heroic exercise of faith and hope which was exacted -from our ancestors. We can look back upon the dangers and trials -through which they passed, and find in their result a reproach -for our own pusillanimity, and a support for our confidence in -the present and future triumph of the church. We are in an -invincible fortress, on an immovable rock; and yet we do not -appreciate the strength of our position as clearly as those do -who are tossing about on the turbulent sea of the surrounding -world. Although humiliating, it is yet true, that we can find no -language so well adapted to stimulate faint-hearted Catholics to -courage, as that uttered under an overawing compulsion by -adversaries or aliens to the church. -{534} -One of the most eloquent of these reluctant tributaries, carried -away by a kind of natural ecstasy, in contemplating this glorious -theme, like another Balaam blessing the tents of Israel, rises to -a kind of sublimity far above his usual flight, and seems to -speak with a catholic inspiration worthy of a Bossuet. He is -speaking of that dark era when Pius VII. ascended the chair of -St. Peter, and these are his words: - - "It is not strange that in the year 1799 even sagacious - observers should have thought that at length the hour of the - Church of Rome was come: an infidel power ascendant, the pope - dying in captivity, the most illustrious prelates of France - living in a foreign country on Protestant alms, the noblest - edifices which the munificence of former ages had consecrated - to the worship of God turned into temples of victory, or into - banqueting houses for political societies, or into - Theophilanthropic chapels; such signs might well be supposed to - indicate the approaching end of that long domination. But the - end was not yet; again doomed to death, the milkwhite hind was - still fated not to die. Even before the funeral rites had been - performed over the ashes of Pius VI., a great reaction had - commenced, which, after the lapse of more than forty years, - appears to be still us progress. Anarchy had had its day; a new - order of things rose out of the confusion, new dynasties, new - laws, new titles, and amidst them emerged the ancient religion. - The Arabs have a fable that the great Pyramid was built by - antediluvian kings, and alone, of the works of men, bore the - weight of the flood. Such as this was the fate of the papacy; - it had been buried under the great inundation, but its deep - foundations had remained unshaken, and, when the waters abated, - it appeared alone amid the ruins of a world which had passed - away. The republic of Holland was gone, the empire of Germany, - and the great council of Venice, and the Helvetian League, and - the house of Bourbon, and the parliaments and aristocracy of - France. Europe was full of young creations; a French empire, a - kingdom of Italy, a confederation of the Rhine; nor had the - late events affected only territorial limits and political - institutions; the disposition of property, the composition and - spirit of society, had, through a great part of Catholic - Europe, undergone a complete change; but _the unchangeable - church was still there._" - -The unchangeable church was still there, when Pius VII. was -restored to his episcopal city, where his successors, one after -the other, ascended the throne of St. Peter, and when Macaulay -wrote the words we have quoted. It is still there, now, after all -the commotions of the last twenty years; there it will be until -the day prefixed by the Creator for the end of all human -institutions. We may apply to it, in a more elevated and -spiritual sense, the words of the poet - - "While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand; - When falls the Colisaeum, Rome shall fall; - _And when Rome falls, the world._" - --------- - -{535} - - - Plagiarism and John Bunyan. - - -There are not many writers of any popularity or eminence who have -not in their day, either in their own behalf or by the sensitive -proxy of their intimate friends, had occasion for self-defence -against the charge of plagiarism. From young authors especially, -some little slur or other on this tender point is pretty sure, at -some time, to evoke a thin-skinned answer, replete with a -peculiar modest defensive ferocity that critics know by heart, -and grin over with a grim relish. This is a thing of course--a -well-marked stage of the fever of authorship. Only we notice that -most of those who begin with young Byron's philippics end with -old Wordsworth's philosophy. The fact is, splendid sensitiveness, -here as everywhere, does not pay, and beyond most men the author -finds it cost him dear. For of all ill-matched and absurd -controversies, there is none like a wrangle about plagiarism. It -is a duel of javelins and catapults, of fly and lion. All the -advantage is with the attacking party. The accusation is vague -and sweeping to the last degree, and the easiest imaginable to -make. It need not even be said; it can be sneered. And how cheap -it is to be sophistical about it! A little ingenuity to cook up a -factitious resemblance, a little malice to point a bit of irony -or innuendo, and the thing is done. To rebut such crimination may -take days of labor. These very days consumed, too, are so much -dead disadvantage; the whole matter grows stale the while. Then -the answer must not only conclusively meet the charge, both as to -the _animus furandi_ and the fact of theft, but it must be -intrinsically interesting, both to revive interest enough in the -subject for the reading public to go to the trouble of revising -its opinion, and because every word an author writes is matter -for fresh criticism, while his opponent may waive all pretensions -to style. Practically we incline to think it is much as in -battle, where it takes a man's weight in lead to kill him. Now -and then, some one is demolished utterly by one of these -elaborate broadsides, but the number of them that miss the mark -must be enormous. It is only effects and successes that we all -remember. The shot that sunk the Alabama at a few hundred yards, -made more impression in history than the dozens of idle shell -that the great Sawyer gun used to send spinning miles away over -the Ripraps. One general net result is a vast waste of the -author's time, which is always valuable to him, and sometimes to -the public. And after all, with the truest aim and best -powder--who is hit? Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, some -nobody. And this is truer every day. Pope and Byron could at -least single out their Dennises and Amos Cottles by name; but -nowadays, what with pseudonyms and anonyms, and above all the -editorial pronoun, one fights the very air. - -Thus we find authors of standing strangely meek under audacious -strictures of this sort, and very little given to tilting at the -mosquitoes of the press. This is more than dignity; it is sense. -But (and now we strike the point we have been coming at all this -while) the world draws from this fact a very exaggerated -inference. -{536} -It seems, to reverse the old law rule, that one story's good till -another is told. The very fact of an accusation's going -unanswered seems to crush it under a _vis inertiae_ of -silence. This is all worldly wise, but not very infallible. If a -man shouts something against me before my street-door, and I let -him shout away at his own sweet will, I am tolerably sure, -whether it be truth or calumny he is vociferating, that his wind -must give out after a while. The world, though, is apt instead of -listening to him, to stare up at my window, and see if I mind it. -If I make no sign, he is a vituperator, and some good citizen -just mentions him to the policeman round the corner. But all this -while may not he be bawling the blessed truth, and I slinking -behind the shutters? Public opinion says no. If a man of standing -does not deign or see fit to come out against a charge, it is a -fabrication or a fancy sketch. Now, the truth is, as history well -knows, that there is a vast amount of systematic stealing in the -world of letters, and that these same majestic gentlemen, who are -above replies, have done their very fair share of the stealing. -What is the effect, then, of this false estimate of men and -things? This: that when a writer has once attained station, with -a decent regard to the conventionalities of literary larceny, he -can steal all he chooses with impunity. All he has to do is to -alter enough to keep him that runs from reading the resemblance. -This done, there remains the one risk that some one who cannot be -ignored may expose the theft. But this risk is not, by far, so -great as it seems. The man of calibre enough for the task is -generally an amiable man, and always a busy one, and has plenty -of pleasanter things to do than airing his neighbor's -peccadilloes. Besides, it is an even chance but he has some -little appropriation of his own to cover up, and this -fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind. Thus a very little -judgment in the selection of the author stolen from passes the -whole fraud scot free. And there are good reasons why there -should be a good deal of this fraud. _First-class plagiarism -pays_, like everything first-class. It has a high market -value, with large and ungrudging profits. For the reading power -is omnivorous, and it feels that an old author made modern, or a -foreign author made native, is not as good as new but better. -Pisistratus Caxton is a vast improvement on _Tristram -Shandy_, and the _Comedy of Errors_ on the -_Menaechmi_; and the primmest of the decriers read Bulwer -and Shakespeare, and do _not_ read Plautus and Sterne. -Boucicault's plays draw in London, and we never hear of English -purists staying away till they can go to see the originals at -Paris. But it is idle to multiply instances. The fact is too -patent to need illustrating, that the nineteenth century prefers -essences of books to books, and the juice of literary fruit to -the fruit itself. Extracts, and digests, and compilations and -abridgments, and _horti sicci_ of all sorts are the order of -the day, and the old fogies, who prate of _meum_ and -_tuum_, and dream of international copyright, and read old -authors through, _"miranturque nihil nisi quod Libitina -sacravit,"_ find that these are all side issues. The public -does not care a rush where a man gets what it wants. This may be -the best law, or it may not; the law it certainly is. Let any one -who doubts the popularity of plagiarism, only take up that fine, -furious, generous little book, Mr. Reade's _Eighth -Commandment_, and see for himself what is the fashion and what -is not. - -{537} - -But the honest crusader against literary despoilers and -desecrators, soon finds that without the limits of downright -pillage lies a vast debatable land, which has been the Flanders, -the Kentucky, the Quadrilateral of critic controversy from time -immemorial--the territory of mere resemblance. This is far more -difficult ground, because the critic's own fallible perceptions -of likeness enter as an element of possible error into his -judgment, and the danger of doing injustice is great. Here, it is -true, are found the expertest plagiarists of all--the vampires of -literature--the thieves that steal the soul and leave the body. -But close beside them stand the true scholars, to whose assiduity -books yield up an honest wealth, and who melt and mould their -well-worn treasure into solid ingots of golden thought or -exquisite fretwork of glittering fancies. And more puzzling than -both, we have the myriad legions of fugitive resemblances--an -army of ghosts, present to the comparing consciousness, but -impalpable to the analyzing sense. Obviously it will not do to -apply here the martial law of literary vindication. Men are too -much alike to be damned for striking even strange coincidences. -Among the best writers there are so many parallelisms that a mind -with any turn for hunting phantoms of similarity, soon comes to -the saying of King Solomon about nothing new under the sun. At -any rate, if it ever did exist, the era of entire novelty is of -the past now. Take out what a keen, well-read man could trace to -Shakespeare, Byron, Macaulay, Carlyle, the Bible, the Greek -tragedians, the Standard Speakers, and the Declaration of -Independence, and how much is there left of to-day's English and -American literature? Yet among the imitations, if there are many -wilful and culpable, there are many more innocent and unwitting. -True, not every one is born with so developed an organ of -unconsciousness as Mr. A. M. W. Ball, who astonished himself by -originating some one else's poem in full. But very few read over -their familiar authors without finding the germs of a thousand -thoughts they had never suspected not to be all their own. -Indeed, for some time after beginning, a young author could, if -he should choose, (which he doesn't,) pluck up his ideas like -young blades of corn, and find the original seed of some pet -author at the root. - -But critics have called the name of plagiarist far too often and -too lightly. The charge is old enough, heaven knows, for people -to know what they mean by it. Waiving those ancient Sanscrit -sages, who seem with malice prepense to have been born so long -ago that we can't more than half believe in them, and before -there was any intelligible language for them to be wise in, we -find that Job, our oldest modern writer, has been read out of the -rubric by a theologue somewhere out West, who has discovered in -his style gross and servile plagiarisms from the Bible. Homer -stood tolerably well till the German omniscients found out that, -like Artemus Ward's friend, Brigham Young's mother-in-law, he was -numerous, when it at once becomes plain, from the great -uniformity of style, that _each one_ of him must have been a -most accomplished plagiarist from the remaining fractional bards. -Horace's spiteful and uncalled for commentaries on Lucilius, -besides the outrageous ill taste of them, show that there was -some shrewdness in the bite of the _cimex Pantilius_, the -blear-eyed Crispinus, and other literary gentlemen--probably -good fellows enough, too--as those ancient Bohemians went--who, -no doubt, hinted at little likenesses between his _sermo -merus_ and Lucilius' _sal nigrum_. -{538} -Martial's epigrams have crucified a dozen thieves into -immortality. And so the old bandying of hard words has come down -the annals of literature, till the self-same wave of bitterness -that whelmed the luckless insect Pantilius foams about the -shallows of Mr. Swinburne's self-defence, and finally goes -combing over the City Hall with Mr. Charles Reade for its -Neptune, and threatens to make flotsam of that cosy fixture, the -_Round Table_. Yet, with all these precedents to define it, -plagiarism is to-day a purely relative term--a weapon of the -partisan wars of letters. If our enemies commit a coincidence, -that is plagiarism; when our friends pilfer, it is adaptation, -version, studies in style, or some other euphemism. - -Modern criticism has not signalized its advance by establishing -any principle to decide this difficult question of what is really -plagiarism. There is absolutely no standard or criterion yet, and -each one who wishes to form a right opinion, is thrown upon his -own devices to reach it. Amid the many delicacies and -difficulties of judging in this matter, we have found, or fancied -we found, one rule of singular service in guiding us to a -satisfactory conclusion. It is noteworthy, to say the least, that -almost all the great plagiarists and imitators of all time have -been writers of the self-conscious or _subjective_ order; -men who wrote with Mrs. Grundy uppermost, and their theme next; -whose real and primary aim was to exhibit and exalt themselves; -to feed their personal vanity, ambition, or greed. The objective -or intuitive class, on the contrary--those who wrote because they -were full of their subject; thinking of it, feeling it, full of -it; those in brief who develop their natures instead of -advantaging themselves, are almost never caught depredating -intentionally, while their very intentness on what they may have -to say makes them the most frequent of unconscious imitators in -mere manner and expression. - -It may be generalizing too much to say that this fact contains a -principle, but we do think it points to a presumption. The more -satisfactory the rule, however, the more puzzling the exception, -and in applying this test of subjectivity, we strike on quite a -little _casus conscientiae_, in the issues presented by the -two books which form our text. - -Of all English writers, one of the last to pitch on for a -plagiarist is honest John Bunyan. He, if ever man was, is -sincere, objective--a convinced missionary and messenger. Grave, -rough, outspoken, self-praising, yet rigid, he seems at a first -glance to embody and epitomize his age; that strange, fermented, -fanatical age, when England seems one vast presbytery--a -Massachusetts of political, social, and religious austerities and -extremes; when the Englishmen of history seem to lose their -characteristics for a while, and turn to foreshadowed, mediaeval -Yankees; when we never think of them in connection with blonde -love-locks and blue eyes, and slashed doublets, and foaming ale, -and big, merry, unmeant oaths, and cheery taverns, and champing -steeds; but as stern, sombre, black-a-vised, steel-capped, -praying infantry, with jerkins on their backs, and Sternhold and -Hopkins in every third knapsack. Yet, when we look closely, -Bunyan is not so representative a man as he appears. -{539} -He was not only a better and bolder man than his fellows, but at -bottom a different one. The reason why he typifies so much of -those days is really that the man had a large measure of that -tact for apparent conformity with the masses which is the essence -of popularity, and which in him covered much independence. A -hundred years later, he would have been the Francis Asbury of -England. Under the Puritan crust lay hidden a red-hot Methodist. -His autobiography--by far his most interesting work, in our -opinion--is full of an ebullient fervor that was then a favorite -novelty, is now to most of us a psychological study, but would -waken only electric sympathy without a touch of surprise in many -a circuit-riding itinerant of the south-west--unless, perhaps, he -should wonder that there were such orthodox Methodists so long -ago. He also fails in not representing that pragmatical hypocrisy -which culminated in the Rump Parliament and Praisegod Barebones, -and finally rotted the Commonwealth into the Restoration. -Controversial and conceited he may have been, and he had no -little reason to be honestly proud of the volcanic force of -manliness that found him an imbruted tinker-boy, and made him a -respected leader of his people. But in his great work no man -could be more self-forgetful, more impersonal, more transparent -to the thought within him. He is rife, permeated, possessed with -his subject. His powerful imagination, always morbidly vivid, and -at times in his life, disordered, bends its full force to the -work. "He saw the things of which he was writing," says one of -his biographers, "as distinctly with his mind's eye, as if they -were indeed passing before him in a dream." Now, this is not the -sort of man to go culling other people's words for his warm and -swarming fancies. But moreover Bunyan was attacked in his -lifetime with charges of plagiarism, and replied with his usual -aggressive emphasis, and in his characteristic doggerel--in the -preface to his _Holy War_. - - "Some say the Pilgrim's Progress is not mine, - Insinuating as if I would shine - In name and fame by the worth of another, - Like some made rich by robbing of their brother. - - "Or that so fond I am of being sire, - I'll father bastards, or, if need require, - I'll tell a lie in print to get applause. - I scorn it; John such dirt-heap never was - Since God converted him. Let this suffice - To show why I my Pilgrim patronize. - - "It came from mine own heart, so to my head, - And thence into my fingers trickled; - Then to my pen, from whence immediately - On paper I did dripple it daintily. - - "Manner and matter too was all mine own; - Nor was it unto any mortal known, - Till I had done it. Nor did any then, - By books, by wits, by tongues, or hand, or pen, - Add five words to it, or wrote half a line - Thereof; the whole and every whit is mine." ... - -This leaves the suggestion of plagiarism apparently little room -to stand upon, unless it fall back upon some safe generality, -such as that in a republic (or commonwealth) all things are -possible, or that the heart is deceitful and desperately wicked, -etc. - -Against this giant of truth, panoplied in the very _robur et as -triplex_ of self-conscious originality, comes out the queerest -antagonist imaginable--a French David against a Welsh Goliath. -These little books altogether deserve a passing word. Both are -published privately and by subscription. One, the later, is a -mere translation, arising out of its predecessor. The other is a -most singular compilation, from a number of notes which one Mr. -Nathaniel Hill, M.R.S.L., as we are not surprised to learn, died -making. They make a book very unlike most books. To begin with, -Mr. Basil Montagu Pickering, the publisher, has taken for his -motto, "Aldi Discipulus Anglus," and the printing is an excellent -imitation of that famous old press which so many dead scholars -have blessed, and so many dead printers doubtless sworn at. -{540} -Then the engravings are very curious ones, copied from the oldest -editions of the original, and combine a childlike range of -scenery with a Chinese mastery of perspective. The text, though, -is vilely marred by a variation of plan. Mr. Hill's idea was to -show the indebtedness of Bunyan's _Pilgrim's Progress_ to -many earlier works, and its principal creditor happened to be -this _Pélerinage de l'Homme_ of Guillaume De Guileville. His -editors finding it so quaint, were struck by the bright -afterthought of making this book itself the main subject. It may -have sold better, but for ourselves we differ _toto caelo_ -with their taste. Their method defies order, and results in a -most extraordinary hotch-potch of queer quotations, Scripture -references past number, antique French, archaic English to match, -biographies, analogies, and translations, that reads like a fit -of levity of old Fuller, or an _excursus_--or -pilgrimage--from the _Anatomy of Melancholy_. Add now to all -this, that to an old-fashioned translation of an antiquated poem -by an obsolete monk, there are appended a body of notes full of -all sorts of odd learning, and finally, that translation, notes -and all, are by a woman, and the _outré_ picture is -complete. - -The comparison between De Guileville and Bunyan is not originated -by this book. Southey, among others, speaks of the -_Pélerinage_, which he entitles the _Pélerin de la Vie -Humaine_, (although this name is not given it in any of the -editions on the very full list of this volume,) and dismisses the -subject with a wary vagueness that has to our ear a -_soupçon_ of Podsnappery, and somehow makes us doubt if the -worthy laureate ever read the book at all. But, at any rate, this -is by far the most extended comparison yet made, and all the -better in that it does not argue a preconceived theory. - -One thing, at least, it plainly proves--that Master Bunyan very -much overstated his originality in saying that manner and matter -too were all his own. It shows that from the time of the Norman -troubadors (not to go back to the Apocalypse of St. John) the -dream-form which is the framing of _The Pilgrim's Progress_ -was a common and favorite device, and instances _Piers -Plowman's Vision,_ (A.D. 1369,) Walter de Mapes's -_Apocalypsis Golice_, the older poem, _The Debate of the -Body and the Soul_, Lydgate's _Temple of Glass_, -Hampole's _Prycke of Conscience_, (1349,) Sir David Lyndesay -of the Mount's poem, _The Dreme_, (1528,) and _Dunbar's -Daunce_, (1470.) Probably Bunyan, not being accused of -stealing so obvious and public an artifice, did not have it in -mind at all when he made his sweeping self-assertion. - -In looking further for resemblances, those who expect to find -strong similarity of any sort will be disappointed. In fact, they -would in ordinary cases be dismissed as trivial. But we must -remember the vast difference between the two works. De -Guileville's is a true mediaeval monastic "boke," justly -described in this volume as "a cold and lifeless dialogue between -abstract and unembodied qualities." It is, in all but its ancient -quaintness, the dullest and driest of books; there is not a ray -of reality in it anywhere. Bunyan, on the contrary, gives us men -and women where the old prior of Chaliz has nothing but ghosts of -abstract ideas. One is like the antiquated masques or -miracle-plays; the other like the theatre before Garrick's day. -{541} -Thus between a galvanized French _Roman_ of 1330 and a live -English book of 1670, by a man innocent of French, any -resemblance in diction would not only be matter of wonder but -matter of the merest chance. We will, however, cite a few of the -parallelisms given in the comparison which forms the gist and -pith of these volumes. And first comes one which we cite because -it contains the only lines we have seen worth remembering in De -Guileville's dreary waste of dialogue. He is describing the lady -(Gracedieu) whom his _Pélerin_ meets at the outset. - - De Guileville. - - _"Moult courtoise et de douce chère - Me fut grandement car première - Me saulua en demandant - Pourquoy nauoie meilleur semblant - Et pour quelle cause ie pleuroye - Et saucune defaulte auoie. - Adonc ie fuz comme surpris - Pource que pas nauoye apris - Que dame de si grant atour - Daignast vers moi faire vng seul tour - Fors et seullement pour autant - Que cil qui a bonte plus grant - Plus a en soy dhumilite - Grant doulceur et benignite - CAR PLUS A LE POMMIER DE POMMES - PLUS BAS SENCLINE VERS LES HOMMES, - Et ne scay signe de bonte - Si grant comme est humilite, - Qui ne porte ceste baniere - Na vertu ne bonte entiere."_ [Footnote 52] - - [Footnote 52: - "Full courteously, and in most gentle wise - Made she first salutation, questioning - Wherefore that I bore not more cheerful mien - And why I wept, and if in aught I lacked. - And then I was as one o'erta'en with wonder, - That lady of so great nobility - Should even deign to turn towards such as I, - Saving for this sole cause, that whoso most - Of gracious ruth doth bless, the same alway - Most in his bosom bears of lowliness. - For the more rich in store of golden fruit, - More deeply bendeth unto man the tree. - Nor know I any sign of graciousness - Great as humility. Who bears not that - Graved on his banner, hath not truly virtue."] - - - Lydgate's Translation. - - This ladye that I spak of here - Was curteys and of noble chere - And wonderly of gret vertu, - And ffyrst she 'gan me to salue - In goodly wise axynge of me - What maner thyng yt myght be - Or cause why I should hyr lere - That I made so heavy chere, - Or why that I was aye wepyng, - Wher of when I gan take hede - I ffyl into a maner drede - For unkonnyng and leudnesse - That ache of so great noblesse - Dysdenede not in her degre - To speke to on so pore as me; - But yiff it were so, as I guess, - Al only of hyr gentyllenesse, - For gladly wher is most beute - Ther is grettest humylyte, - And that ys verrylye the sygne - Suych ar most goodly and benygne, - An apple tre with frut most lade - To folk that stonden in the shade - More lowly doth his branches loute - Then a nother tre withoute. - Wher haboundeth most goodness - There is ay most of meeknesse, - None so gret token of bewte - As is parfyt humylyte. - Who wanteth hyr in hys banere - Hath not vertu hool and entere. - -"The same gracious salutation," says our book, "is made by -Evangelist to Christian whilst he is weeping." "I looked then," -says Bunyan, "and saw a man named Evangelist coming to him, who -asked, 'Wherefore dost thou cry?' 'Because I fear,' replies -Christian, 'that this burden that is upon my back will sink me -lower than the grave, and I shall fall into the grave.'" - -The simile of the fruit-tree is excellent, and perhaps strikes us -the better for its being the one oasis. The resemblance also is -strong between the greetings of _Gracedieu_ and Evangelist, -and in fact, in the whole situation, and seems hard to account -for without supposing Bunyan to have known Lydgate's or some -other translation of the earlier author. - -The next point is one of apparent discrepancy, but really of -likeness. The _Pélerin_ is stopped by a _stream_, at -which he desponds--signifying the water of baptism at the -entrance to the church. Bunyan being a Baptist, with strong -liberal views of communion, (which, indeed, embroiled him at one -time with the radicals of his sect,) naturally balked at this -abhorrent papistical metaphor, and substituted his famous -_Slough of Despond_, which, it will be remembered, he makes -to be sixteen hundred years old--the age of Christianity at his -day. - -{542} - -Another slight touch, perhaps worth noting, is where De -Guileville's pilgrims come from Moses, (the Mr. Legality of -Bunyan,) as if - - _"Yssys du bourbier, - Ou dun noir sac a charbonnier:"_ - -while Pliable, in a like case, is represented as seeming -"bedaubed with dirt," as if he had been "_dipped in a sack of -charcoal._" This certainly looks like a pebble for Goliath's -forehead. Also these same muddy pilgrims of the -_Pélerinage_, returning _"Enbordiz et encore tous -familleux"_ come back all of a tremor and beg to join the -others: so Christian, after his episode at Mr. Legality's, falls -at the feet of Evangelist with prayers to be put again in the way -of salvation. Again Christian's second companion _Hopeful_ -and the _Pélerin's_ staff _Hope_ are branches of one -idea. Farther on, _Gracedieu_ presents her _protégé_ -with "the identical pebbles that David had in his scrip when he -fought against Goliath." Bunyan makes the damsels of the palace -called Beautiful, in exhibiting that establishment to the -delighted Christian, display, among other aesthetic accessories -of the place, "the sling and stone with which David slew Goliath -of Gath." - -Another curious parallelism is not cited at all in this book. De -Guileville's hero is accosted by Avarice, who, in true Amazon -style, swears by her golden _mammet_ she carries on her head -("_mon ydole est mon Mahommet_" says the old lady, -instructively) that she will have his life, and makes him the -alluring proposal, either to be killed at once, or to give up his -staff and scrip, bow down to her _mammet_, acknowledge it -the most worshipful of mammets, and then be killed after all. -This reminds us very forcibly of the impressive occasion which so -wrought on our childhood's susceptibilities, when "Apollyon -straddled quite over the whole breadth of the way, and said, 'I -am void of fear in this matter; _prepare thyself to die; for I -swear by my infernal den,_ that you shall go no farther: here -will I spill thy soul!'" etc. - -Such are the main body of the resemblances between the good old -Cistercian abbot and the sturdy Baptist exhorter. There are many -who will look them over and decide quite readily with Mr. Southey -that the coincidences are fugitive and illusory, and that, as he -says, _The Pilgrim's Progress_ might have been exactly what -it is, whether Bunyan had ever seen this book or not." But this -does not show either much acumen or much thought in Mr. Southey. -For all he says might be true from the reason we have before -suggested--that Bunyan knew no French, or certainly not enough to -master the dialect of De Guileville, and might see the book a -thousand times quite harmlessly. We confess, even that if Bunyan -had really been familiar with the original poem, these -similarities would be trifling. But when he must have drawn if at -all from some one of the numerous translations--all -indifferently poor--which abounded in his time, slight -resemblances mean more. Those who have ever played at the -well-known game of passing a story through a number of persons, -one by one, will appreciate the force of this. Bunyan could -scarcely help seeing some of the translations. For, strange to -say, this, to us the baldest of books, was popular for -generations, both in France and England. It is hard to understand -these cases. We are apt to look upon them as instances of the -inveterate slowness of ancient people; but apart from the fact -that this slowness is a very difficult thing to analyze, we know -that in a few years we shall be slow ourselves. -{543} -But what every one does not think is, that we are slow to-day. -Any one who happens to glance over the shelves of any of our -large publishing houses can find there numbers of dull-seeming -works, on various specialties, full of facts, figures, -demonstrations, discoveries, and what seems to us literally -lumber of all sorts. Yet these books sell, and pay an invariable -profit to a well-established house. Who buys them and what -becomes of them, we shall probably learn when the disappearance -of pins, and the necessity of summer clothing, and the origin of -evil, are duly cleared up. Certain it is, that the _Pélerinage -de l'Homme_ enjoyed a wide reputation and diffusion. Chaucer, -especially, was familiar with its author, and his famous "A, B, -C," is a palpable and, so far as we know, an undisguised -imitation of De Guileville's _Prayer to the Virgin_, -published in the same year 1330. Now, a work which, after -filtering through three hundred years, another language and the -brains of "painfulle" translators, could still yield the germ of -the most nationally popular book in all English literature, has -some claim to be called its original. - -We shall not attempt to pass upon the question of plagiarism, for -the honest reason that, as we have said, we really do not exactly -know what the word means in the critical vernacular of to-day. -The coincidences we have cited would certainly go to show that -_The Pilgrim's Progress_ is not the entire novelty which its -author so explicitly proclaims it. On the other hand, it is not -proven to complete satisfaction that "John such a dirt-heap ever -was" as to mean to steal anything from anybody. Perhaps the most -peaceable as well as the most novel conclusion that suggests -itself, is to harmonize both sides of this question by a third -theory, namely, that one may be a palpable plagiarist, as the -word is often used, without in the slightest degree detracting -from his originality. The statement sounds extraordinary, but its -ingenious advocate, M. Philarète Chasles, is an extraordinary -Frenchman, and is talking when he advances it, about the "divine -Williams," who is an extraordinary subject for a Frenchman to -talk about. We are very much mistaken if those who smile at this -seeming contradiction of terms will not find some force in the -subjoined excerpt, which we premise, however, suffers greatly in -translation for want of the peculiar super-emphatic style of the -original French. - - "Genius arranges and imitates, studies - and deepens; _it never invents_." - - "Genius consists in understanding better, penetrating better, - surrounding with more light, what every one does - superficially, or understands by half. One of the singular - traits of Shakespeare is his supreme indifference as to the - subject he is to treat of. _He never cares about it;_ the - excellent artisan knows how to find material in everything. He - takes up at hap-hazard a pebble, a bit of wood, a block of - granite, a block of marble. Little he cares for his - predecessor's having made an old king disinherited by his - daughters, act and talk upon the stage; it is a fact like any - other fact, that counts for no more and no less. Shakespeare - goes on to find whatever of tears and of power there is in the - soul of this old man." - - "_People to-day are running after an inventiveness which real - originality lacks;_ it dwells in the artist, not in the - materials he employs. With all great men it is tradition, it - is the people, it is the common heritage of ideas and customs - that has gathered the materials. They have taken them as they - came, and then laid their foundations, transmuted them, - immortalized them. - - "If what is called invention were not a deceptive quality, we - should have to rate much higher than Dante, the first idle - monk, who wrote, in lumbering style, a vision of Paradise and - Hell; the coarse authors of certain Italian delineations would - carry the day over Molière; the unknown writers of certain - chronicles, divided into acts, would eclipse Shakespeare. - -{544} - - "In the epochs of literary decadence those are taken for - inventors who, impelled by a certain ardor of temperament, and -a certain fieriness of phrase, dislocate words and images, and - think they have launched ideas. These folk proclaim themselves -orators. Montaigne, Shakespeare, Molière took to themselves no - merit but that of studying nature, the world, and man." - - "The true function of genius is to second. - --_Etudes sur IV. Shakespeare, etc._, - par Philarète Chasles. 1851; p. 88, _sqq._ - -There is no labor like making up one's mind, (unless it be, -keeping it made up,) and we own ourselves charmed to find in this -acute and able reasoning an outlet of escape from the whole duty -of decision. And we think, too, that the many friends of the old -Pilgrim--those who love him because (tenderest tie!) he was one -of the picture-books of their infancy, those assuredly who have -laughed at him in his French dress, converted to a good Catholic -Palmer; [Footnote 53] and above all, the large Baptist connection -of this magazine, will thank us; and if not, we assure them they -ought to thank us, for this third horn of his sore dilemma. - - [Footnote 53: _Petite Bibliothèque de Catholique_, tom. - xix. This is a translation of the first part of _The - Pilgrim's Progress,_ and is duly modified to doctrinal - fitness, and embellished with a frontispiece head of the - Blessed Virgin. Southey speaks also of a _Portuguese - translation_ of 1782. _Nil admirari ... !_] - --------- - - The Legend Of The Seven Sleepers. - A.D. 439. - - The slaves of Adolius went forth on the hill, - And in toiling and talking got half through their day. - The sun was declining; the landscape was still, - As it stretched far beneath. While they delved in the clay, - And uncovered the rocks by command of their master, - Their stories and comments came faster and faster-- - "How hot it became about noon!" - "How the olives were prospering greatly!" - That "the figs and the grapes would be plentiful soon--" - And "what changes had happened in Ephesus lately." - - They wandered a century back, ay, and more, - To the time when the edict of Decius went out, - As they heard from their fathers. How fiercely it bore - On the Christians! Their blood in the streets flowed about - How the fame of Diana, whose beauty they knew - By description, those martyrs with horror did view! - How the Goth with his merciless torch - From the Euxine had rushed, an invincible foeman, - And spurning the goddess, had fired her high porch, - Despite of the wide-sweeping blade of the Roman. - -{545} - - Then one ceased his work, who was wrinkled and gray, - And, his hand on his mattock, he said: "It appears - Now since Decius did reign, from what wise people say, - To be clear of one hundred and eighty good years. - When his cruelty flourished, I'm told there were seven - Good youths of our city--so long gone to heaven-- - Who fled to these parts and were pent - By the emperor's soldiers, who came on a sally, - And built up the cave." To his mattock he bent, - And a rock that he loosened rolled down to the valley. - - They found a large rent where the rock had its bed, - Which with eager assault they made larger by delving; - And a cave was disclosed like a home of the dead-- - It was horrid and cold, it was rugged and shelving. - The foulness of ages, unused to the light, - Seemed grimly reclaiming its curtain of night. - But look! as the mist grows more clear, - There's a form moving outward--of hell or of heaven-- - The slaves did not question, but fled in their fear; - But in truth this was Iamblichus, one of the seven. - - He paused at the mouth; placed his hands on his eyes; - Then he looked toward Ephesus, bathèd in light; - And he journeyed in haste, till with speechless surprise - A cross on the grand city gate met his sight. - He wondered, he doubted, he hearkened the din - Of the city; and kissing the symbol, passed in; - This place he so lately had known - Was transformed--had grown foreign, and altered, and cold; - He was famished for bread, and his wishes were shown; - But they liked not his accents, his dress, or his gold. - - "Away to the judge with this madman or worse!" - "He has treasure that must be accounted." They went. - "I'm a Christian," he said, "and am wealthy; my purse - I have offered for bread. Should it be your intent - To enroll me a martyr, my life I'll lay down: - Take my life! Take my wealth in exchange for the crown." - Then the judge when he looked and saw clearly - That Decius' head on the coin did appear, - Declared, while he doubted, "this youth must be nearly - Two hundred years older than any one here!" - - The bishop was sent for, and Iamblichus spoke: - "Six others and he had but yesterday fled; - They had slept in a cave, and this morning awoke; - And he had been sent to the city for bread." - "True sons," said the bishop, "of God's predilection! - These men are all saints who have found resurrection. - -{546} - - Resurrection indeed but from sleep, - Which the God of all nature prolonging had shed, - Like a life-saving balsam, to guard and to keep - Those whose memory had passed with the ancient and dead." - - The city was emptied the emperor came, - The people, the magnates and all, in a throng, - Beat a broad hardened path to that cavern of fame, - Where the young men of Ephesus slumbered so long. - And when Iamblichus shouted, they came at his call; - And the seven stood together amidst of them all. - But nature asserted her sway, - Which a special design had for once set aside; - And they lived but to gaze on the light of the day, - And imparting their blessing, they painlessly died. - - Through the wide Roman empire their fame travelled round; - The East and the West have adopted the story; - In Syriac, in Greek, and in Latin 'tis found; - The Romans and Russians agree in their glory - Where Mahomet conquered, they're known unto all, - And are reverenced as saints from Algiers to Bengal. - The cavilling sceptic may doubt; - But sooner shall earth to destruction be hurled, - Than Iamblichus' name be dethroned or die out, - Or the tale of the sleepers depart from the world. - --------- - - Family, Parish, And Sunday-school Libraries. - - -It would be trite to say that the press is an extraordinary power -for good or for evil. Some have decried it, as if they looked -upon it as not merely evil by accident, but bad in itself. We -cannot agree with them. We regard the press, in the order of -divine providence, as a rapid means of spreading the truth and -the morality of the Gospel among mankind. There is an apostleship -of the pen as well as of the mouth. The written word often does -more than the spoken word; as a proof from Scripture may often -tell more forcibly on the mind of an unbeliever, than an argument -from tradition. - -Printing is a blessing; the press is a boon and a power which the -friends of God should know how to use better than his enemies. -True, the latter employ it to great effect, What a torrent of bad -literature is poured daily over the world! -{547} -The press is a huge monster, sending forth from its giant jaws -poison, that circulates in the blood of society. Infidelity and -false theology; immoral, obscene, and useless books are its -offspring. Reviews, magazines, weekly and daily papers, issue -from it; and are made the vehicles of falsehood and vice. Such is -the fact. What are the friends of religion to do, when its -enemies are so active? Will it do for us to sit down and express -our longings for the good old times when there were no printed -books? Hold up our eyes in holy horror, but let our hands hang -unemployed by our side? Decry the wickedness of the press; the -dishonesty of the authors, and deplore the vitiated taste of the -populace, whose minds we see daily devouring the poisoned trash -of novels and newspapers; and remain content with uttering an -empty sigh? No; we must be up and doing. We must fight the foes -of religion with their own weapons. We must use the press against -those who abuse it. The old tar who was accustomed to see only -wooden ships contend on the ocean; or the veteran of the -battle-field who fought for liberty with an antiquated firelock, -would be laughed at now for protesting against the use of -ironclads or needle-guns in warfare. In vain would he say that -what won battles half a century ago ought to win them still. So -would it be unreasonable to cling solely to those weapons of -spiritual combat which were good enough a century ago, but which -to-day are blunt or rusty. We must copper the keels and plate the -sides of our wooden vessels with iron; and remodel the ancient -shooting-irons of the scholastics to meet the exigencies of -modern circumstances. It can hardly be questioned that the amount -of bad or useless books published daily is greater than the -quantity of good ones. Now, whose fault is this? The fault of the -writers? Yes, in part. But they tell us, when asked why they -write improper works, that the people will not read any other -kind; and that if they were to follow truth, and not to please -the passions in their compositions, they would starve. The great -cause of bad literature is, therefore, the corrupt taste of the -masses. It is at the same time cause and effect; for literary men -suit their books to it; and these again help to spread moral -diseases farther, and make them sink more deeply into the brains -of the community. - -The chief means of counteracting the influence of bad books is by -writing good ones; by spreading a taste for sound and wholesome -reading. In this way can morality be preserved in the soul. To -this end should we Catholics direct our energies. We number in -this country many millions; and if we were all filled with an -ardent zeal for souls, we should think no sacrifice too great, of -time, labor, or purse, in order to destroy the pernicious effects -of un-Catholic or anti-Catholic books and journals. Men will -read. They need food for the mind as well as for the body. Let us -give them wholesome food. It was in this sense that Pius IX., in -speaking of France, said, "You Frenchmen have planted the tree of -science almost everywhere. I do not object to this, provided you -do not allow it to become the science of evil; and this will -happen, _if you do not inundate France with good -publications._" The words apply to our own country as well as -to France. - -Write and publish good books then! We do not mean by good books, -merely technical, spiritual books. We mean interesting books, in -which nothing against faith or morals is found; and in which -everything tends to promote good morals. -{548} -A good novel, or any work of fiction, a pamphlet or brochure, a -newspaper article--anything and everything, from a dear folio to -a one cent tract, provided it be moral in aim and method, comes -under the class of "good publications." We prefer small, cheap -books to large and expensive ones. The people cannot understand -learned works, but they can comprehend a tract, a magazine, or a -small book, like those published in Paris, and scattered among -the population by the zealous Abbé Mullois and his fervent -associates of the French clergy and laity. Books for general and -popular reading should be written and dressed in a popular style. -Small works of fiction and anecdote, or an allegory containing a -wholesome truth, will do more than a dry sermon. Horace tells us -that the old schoolmasters used to give their pupils cakes, to -incite them to learn: - - "--ut pueris olim dant crustula blandi - Doctores, elementa velint ut discere prima." - -We too, laughing, may tell the truth, and sugar-coat the pill so -as to make its bitterness less sensible. It is astonishing to -learn how much good has been done among the lower classes in -France by the good priests and laymen just mentioned. The Abbé -Mullois gives us instances of conversions effected, of wicked men -reclaimed, of virtues instilled into minds almost brutal, by the -casual perusal of some little book or tract. These small -publications are put in a valise or trunk, and read in the cars, -in the work-shop, at home, or in the house of a friend, and they -leave a lasting impression behind them. Thus we quote the good -Abbé's words: - - "There was a poor widow with many children. The eldest, who - alone could help her, was a very hard case. Instead of - bringing anything home, he often stole the money necessary for - the support of the family. His poor mother suffered, prayed, - and wept in vain. But one day this young man being at home, - had no money with which to go on a spree. He began to amuse - himself with looking over a collection of old books on the - chimney. He takes up one, reads it, becomes interested and is - moved by it. He even weeps; he leaves the book reluctantly, - but returns to its perusal next day. His mother observed a - great change in his person; even his figure was transformed; - but she was more surprised when her son, awaiting an - opportunity to find her alone, addressed her as follows: 'My - dear mother, I have made you suffer much; I am a wretch; I - have seen it in a book. I shall never be able by work to aid - you enough or pay all that I owe you. I have found a means of - assisting you till my brothers and sisters grow up. I am going - to enlist; you will receive a large bounty. This is the only - way in which I can atone for my neglect of you.' And he - immediately after joined the army." - -This is but one of many instances recorded by Abbé Mullois in -_L'Ami du Jeune Clergé_, a monthly magazine devoted to the -interests of religion. - -Go into many houses, and you will find the _Ledger_; the -_Sunday Mercury_, the daily newspapers, the _Atlantic -Monthly_, and often, even in Christian families, you may find -publications far worse than these; occasionally, even lay hold of -an obscene or grossly immoral book lying around loose, within -reach of the children. Let our Catholic publications drive out -all others--at least, such as are positively injurious--from -Catholic families. Let the children, the young men and women, -have Catholic books to read, and let the Catholic doctrines -percolate through their minds even from early life. - -How can we effect this? By children's, family, and parish -libraries. We must write good books for the young, and give them -opportunities of reading; parents should see to this; and should -always have in their families a supply of good Catholic reading -matter; a collection of tracts, or of tales, like those of Canon -Schmidt, or a Catholic newspaper, magazine, or review. -{549} -A family library is a treasure in a house, and goes down from -father to child as a most precious heirloom. Its benefits are -spiritual; and it is often better than a fortune. - -But the principal means of promoting a taste for Catholic -literature, and encouraging those who have devoted their lives to -its cause, is by the formation of parish libraries. Let us hear -the Abbé Mullois pleading in this cause. "In order to combat bad -books and bad doctrines, we must have and spread good books as -the only efficacious method. It is useless to spend the time in -complaining or in railing against evil publications. There is a -new want in our days not known to the middle ages. The people -know how to read, and they will read. The popular intellect is -hungry, and we must feed it. You cannot argue with hunger; it is -stronger than you; it will break and sweep away all your -arguments and reasons. You have no right to say to some one who -is dying of hunger, 'You are wrong to eat such food; it is -unhealthy,' unless you can give him something good and wholesome. -In hunger, people _eat what they have_, not _what they -would like to have_. - -"We say, then, that actions, not words, are necessary, and that -every one should help, for there is plenty to do for all, both -priests and laity. - -"What must we do? Let us go straight to the point. In the first -place, every parish should have a little library of select books, -both instructive and amusing. Books of history, of science, of -agriculture, on morals or religion, at the disposal of every one -to read, and to bring back safely. You must have one, my reverend -brother, else your parish will be considered the worst managed in -France; for these libraries are almost everywhere in it."--Is -this true of the United States?--" If it already exists, increase -it annually, embellish and complete it. It brings in a revenue. -Can it be possible that you have no parish library? Oh! how -difficult it is to propagate good ideas! We spend money for -schools, and invite the world to the banquet of science; we -create appetites, but when they are willing to eat, we tell them -there is little or nothing for them. We have schools for boys, -and for girls, day, night, and Sunday-schools; but where is the -use of all these if there is nothing to read, or nothing but what -is pernicious? If we teach children to read, we must provide -intellectual food for them, or show ourselves devoid of logic, -reason, good sense, and heart." - -To whom are we to look for the realization of the good Abbé's -plan in our country? In the first place, to the clergy. They are -our guides, our fathers, our leaders in every good enterprise. -Their influence is unlimited. Probably in no country has a priest -so much power, or so many opportunities of doing good, as in the -United States. The politician may control several thousand votes; -a brave general may so infuse his own courage into the hearts of -his soldiers as to make them carry the fiercest battery with the -cold steel. But no one can do as the priest. On a Sunday, from -his pulpit or altar, he can, in a short discourse of fifteen or -twenty minutes, influence the actions, open the purses, and -create the spirit of enthusiastic sacrifice in a whole community. -He can build a church; he can found a benevolent society; surely -he can found a parish or Sunday-school library. He knows the -ravages of souls committed by non-Catholic periodical or other -literature. -{550} -He has only to say the word, and he, in a great measure, stops -them. A sermon on the dangers of bad books will have its -completion in the founding or enlarging of a parish library, -filled with good publications. What an easy means of preventing -so much evil! - -"But," you say, "the clergy have no time." Undoubtedly their time -is greatly taken up with parochial duties. In our country, bricks -and mortar are by necessity as familiar to the eye of the priest, -as books of theology. He has no time to write; very little time -to read. This is true of the venerable senior clergy. But they -need not do more than give their sanction to the work, and -entrust it to the hands of the assistant, or of some responsible -layman. A "few words from the pastor, recommending the library, -and an occasional inspection of its management, will be -sufficient. The curate, whose duties are not of so engrossing a -nature as those of the pastor; or some good lay members of the -parish; the young men of a literary or debating society; or -members of the Saint Vincent de Paul Society; or the -school-teacher, or, if need be, the schoolmistress, will do all -that is necessary. In many parishes there are libraries, well -conducted, well managed, and productive of immense moral and -intellectual benefits among the young and old of both sexes. Our -readers must know that there are such from their own experience. -It will, therefore, require very little time from the pastor to -have and to keep a parish library in perfect working order, -according to rules laid down or sanctioned by himself. No zealous -priest, who has once known the beneficial results of good family -and parish libraries among his flock, would allow them to be -neglected; or would not become a champion of our good cause. We -ask, then, in the name of religion, of charity and morality; by -the love of our holy faith, and by the zeal of the apostles, that -all the clergy, young and old, should put their shoulders to the -wheel with us, and roll on the car of Catholic progress, which -carries in it our Catholic books and publications. - -So many hundred priests, talented and learned, speaking from so -many hundred pulpits and altars, guiding the consciences of so -many millions of men, are a power able to defeat all the -productions of a licentious press; and if, united by a common -zeal, they but lock hands and pull together, they cannot fail to -realize the already quoted expression of our holy Father, Pius -IX., speaking of France, _to inundate the country with good -publications_. We priests often fail to realize our power and -influence. - -Nor should the laity be idle. "In the day of a nation's peril," -says Tertullian, "every citizen becomes a soldier; in the great -struggles of the faith, every Christian becomes an apostle." Let -the sacred fire of zeal pass from the bosom of the priest to burn -in the breasts of the laity. There is a certain priesthood of the -laity, which they do not sufficiently understand. They are too -apt to be passive, to let the priest do all the labor, and only -help him when called and urged; they forget that piety and good -works are as essential to them as to their spiritual directors, -and that so far from, their zeal being an intrusion on that of -the priesthood, it is an acceptable assistance. How many a poor, -tired priest longs that some good layman would relieve him of a -portion of his burden, and enable him to bear the load and -responsibility of his parish! We call on the laity, then, to come -to the rescue: help in the cause of God! -{551} -Found libraries; or at any rate, stock a few shelves in your own -homes with good books for yourselves and your friends or -children. Become propagandists! You propagate the faith; you aid -the pope, the bishops, and the priests; you are doing a work -acceptable to God, when you help to spread good books or -periodicals. Encourage others by your example. Are you a young -man? Engage others with you in the cause of Catholic literature. -Can you write? Have you a ready pen? Why not write a tract, or a -good article for a Catholic paper? or buy it and give to your -infidel or Protestant neighbors? You may save a soul by giving -that little tract. You may save a soul for one cent! Do not be -afraid because you are said to be too young; or, if some one -patronizingly informs you of the fact, be sure you are right, and -that God is on your side; then go ahead. - -Hear how the zealous Montalembert answered the charge of being a -young man, slurringly made against him by M. Villemain, in the -house of peers, in the time of Louis Philippe. Montalembert had -been defending the liberty of the church. "I shall argue, -perhaps, too ardently, too warmly, with that youthful vivacity of -which the minister of public instruction and others accuse me. -Youth is a fault of which I am daily correcting myself. I thought -myself already cured of it, until the honorable M. Villemain told -me the contrary, and that I shall always remain a young man in -his eyes. (Laughter.) But besides the youth of age which passes -away, there is another youthfulness for which I shall never make -an apology or defence; it is the youthfulness of heart and -courage inspired by a faith whose doctrines never grow old, -because they are immortal! This youthfulness of faith is my -happiness and glory; and I hope never to excuse myself for it -before you." Inexperience is not always the companion of youth. -Young priest or young layman then, let your youth of years be -like that of Montalembert, and not prevent you from aiding the -holy cause of the Catholic press. - -Little leisure is therefore required; and we have undoubtedly -plenty of talent to write and give good books to the million; to -establish family, children's, Sunday-school, or parish libraries. - -The rules for the special management of libraries are easily -found. Either obtain those already in use, or obtain a set of new -regulations from the pastor. The regulations of many of our -public libraries are used in many Protestant Sunday-school -libraries. For false religions know to use the press; and -Protestants know well the influence which their religious -journals, periodicals, tracts, and other publications exercise on -the minds of both young and old. We certainly ought not to be -behind the propagandists of error in our propagandism of truth. -We need not, therefore, specify any system of rules for the -maintenance of good order in the case of libraries. Any librarian -will easily find regulations that have been found to work -successfully. - -A more grave difficulty than that of finding rules to manage a -library is that of obtaining the money to create it. Money is the -main-stay and the backbone of Catholic publications. If it be the -sinews of war, it is certainly the life of the press. Unless the -public pays the author, he will not write; and you cannot collect -books without money to purchase them. A hard-worked priest will -say, "I have enough to do to raise money to build my church, or -school, or parochial house, without spending it on books." -{552} -The layman will say, "You are always begging. We cannot give for -everything; and I have no cash to spare for your magazine, for -your tracts, or your books, for I have to give it for the new -church, or the new school, or the new priest's house." - -In answer to this difficulty, we observe, firstly, that a -library, or collection of books, is almost of equal importance, -in some respects more important, than a school or a house; -secondly, a parish library costs but a trifle, which will not be -missed either by priest or people. - -Let us hear, before developing our answer, how the good Abbé -Mullois, whose spirit inspires the whole of is article, resolves -the objection in _L'Ami du Jeune Clergé_, for May and June, -1867: - - "We know a man," says he, "who has given away in four years - _forty-two thousand volumes!_"--Would any one in America - do this?--"A zealous woman in Paris gives six of eight thousand - francs yearly to help Catholic publications; and after sending - every package of good books for distribution, she is sure to - receive letters of this kind: 'Madam, I have heard of your - great charity; you have sent books to such a place; they were - liked, and so interesting that everybody wanted one to read. - They did much good. Would you be kind enough to send me some?' - - "The Society of St. Francis de Sales gives - twenty-five or thirty thousand francs annually - for this purpose; the society for the - amelioration and propagation of good books - spends fifty thousand francs a year in the - work. It is not books, therefore, that are - wanting. Let them be sought, and they will - be found. Why are there so many corrupt - publications? because they find readers. Let - us make readers of good publications by doing - our duty. - - "In order to begin a library, thirty, forty, or fifty francs - will do. A good pastor of the diocese of Soissons tells us the - way in which he raised the funds to found a library, in the - following terms: 'I wanted to establish this good work in my - parish, but money was the difficulty. I soon conquered it. On - Sun I preached on the necessity of education in general; and I - told my parishioners that, if they wanted to be educated, I - could furnish them about fifty volumes for thirty francs, to - make a beginning. But how was I to get the thirty francs? Let - thirty persons give me a franc apiece. This will enable me to - found a library, and you will be able _to read all your life - for one franc!_ Next day, forty-five persons subscribed, - and thirty-five paid the cash down. The others will pay during - the year.'" - -When we remember that a franc is about equal to a quarter-dollar -of our currency; we, who are accustomed to give dollars by the -tens and twenties for every collection, will smile at the -_naïveté_ of the _bon curé_ and the modesty of his -request. - -He helps us, however, to answer our own difficulty. From all that -we have written concerning the pernicious influence of bad -publications, and the necessity of counteracting it by good ones, -it follows that a good library in a parish, with reading -parishioners, is almost as important as a good school. In fact, -what good is the school, if, after leaving it, our children have -no reading-room, no good books, to keep up the remembrance of -what was learned in childhood? It is after his school days, that -the young man meets all the great perils of his faith and -morality. It is then young women want good books to read, instead -of the yellow-covered trash, or pictorial, sensational serials, -over which you may find the young of both sexes gloating of a -Sunday afternoon, or of a rainy night, wasting their health of -body and mind in this midnight perusal. The cause, then, of -Catholic publications, of Catholic tracts, of the Catholic press, -is the cause of religion itself. We are not exaggerating; we are -only giving it that place among the means of preserving and -propagating faith and good morals which the Catholic Church, -speaking through the mouth of the supreme pontiff and bishops, -give it. - -{553} - -A good book in the house is a guardian angel. It has the voice of -a priest, and the tongue of inspiration. It speaks and enlightens -the intellect; it warms the heart, and fills the mind with good -thoughts, and the imagination with holy images. It speaks in the -silence of the night, as well as in the effulgence of the day, -and its impressions pass from the written pages to be engraved -for ever on the soul of the reader. - -What a trifle to found a library! Who objects to give it? We do -not say merely thirty francs, like the parish priest of the -diocese of Soissons. We suit the sum to the generous and wealthy -character of the people. For our poor people are wealthy compared -with the poor of Europe. Fifty persons giving a dollar apiece -could lay the foundation of a library that might grow in the -course of time into great magnitude and celebrity. By clubbing -together, expenses are always diminished. It is the custom, as we -know, of Catholic publishers, as well of all booksellers, to make -a reduction in price when a large quantity of books is bought. A -small tax of one or two cents a week on books lent from the -library brings gradually a large revenue, which enables the -librarian to increase his store. What parish would miss fifty -dollars? What priest or people begrudge it for so good a purpose? -Then let the work be undertaken, where it has not yet been begun; -and progress with renewed zeal, where there has already been made -a beginning. - -Let the pulpits ring; give at least one sermon in favor of this -good cause! Brothers of the clergy, veterans whose hair has grown -gray in the church militant; you know that we do not exaggerate -the importance of Catholic publications in the battle of our holy -faith against the devil, the flesh and the world; we appeal to -you! Young Levites, fresh from your school glories, do not forget -your projects for God's honor and for the spread of his holy -faith; we ask your succor also. And you, over-tasked yet generous -laity, ever ready to respond joyfully to a call made on your -faith or your charity, we ask you, too, to interest yourselves in -the cause of Catholic publications. We ask all to unite with God, -with the church, with the supreme pontiff and the episcopate, in -furthering the work of the Catholic press, Catholic books, -Catholic literature of every description; from the tract or -little tale, the Sunday-school paper, to the ponderous -theological or philosophical folio. God will crown our work. He -asks but our cordial cooperation. Success must therefore follow -our efforts; for if God is for us, who can withstand us? _Si -Deus pro nob is, quis contra nos?_ - -"The necessity of a Sunday-school library no one disputes. But -how am I to get one?" says the pastor. - -Make a beginning. Buy Catholic tales, biographies, and the -smaller class of books which are popular among children. More -costly books can be added afterward. - -At first give books to the more advanced classes as a reward for -good lessons, good conduct, etc. As the library increases, the -privilege can be extended till it embraces every class capable of -profiting by it. - -But how is the library to be supported and enlarged? Take up a -collection every Sunday at the children's Mass, as is done in -many churches in this city and elsewhere, where good libraries -are already in existence. This will not only create a fund -sufficient to sustain and enlarge the library, but will also give -the children the habit of contributing to the support of -religion, which will be of the greatest benefit to them in after -life. -{554} -This plan has been successfully tried; the children have been -able to support and steadily enlarge the library, and have also -given liberally to other charitable objects. - -Again, When and how shall the books be distributed? A very -successful method is the following: - -Number the classes in the Sunday-school. Divide the library into -as many sections or alcoves as you have classes. There must be at -least as many books in each alcove as there are scholars in any -class. A separate catalogue of each alcove should be made and -designated as section A, B, C, etc. - -Erasive tablets may be easily procured. On one side may be -written the names and numbers of the books in each section, and -the other side used to record the numbers of the books selected. -This being done, after the Sunday-school is opened, let the -librarian or assistant give a catalogue of a section to each -class; section A to class 1, section B to class 2, etc. - -The teachers will then select books for the class, and mark the -numbers on the tablet. The librarian collects the tablets and -carries to each class the books selected. The teacher notes the -number of the book against the name of the child who receives it -in his class-book. The next Sunday, let the books be first -collected and returned to their places. The catalogues are then -given out. Those who chose from selection A before, should now -have section B, and so on in rotation. Thus all will in turn -select from each section of the library, and the books are -distributed in a short time, without noise or confusion. - -How shall the books be selected? This is not an easy task. Many -have been deterred from starting a library on account of the -difficulty in making this selection. In view of this, we have -prepared a catalogue suitable for a parochial and Sunday-school -library, which the reader can find in our advertising pages. -These are put down at the lowest terms, and are selected with -care, as the most suitable to make a beginning with. As funds -increase, others can be added from time to time. - --------- - - The Comedy Of Convocation. [Footnote 54] - - [Footnote 54: _The Comedy of Convocation in the English - Church, in Two Scenes_. Edited by Archdeacon Chasuble, - D.D. 8vo, pp. 135. London: William Freeman.] - - -Satire without bitterness or rancor is a phenomenon in literature -of which the world has seen few examples, and genuine, religious -satire has been so rare, that we can hardly recall a single -unexceptionable specimen. There was a day, to be sure, when every -poet held it a part of his profession to lacerate with the weapon -of his wit, or with the rhymed invective which too often passed -for wit, whatever creed happened at the time to be most -unpopular. Some few even of the great masters of verse, like -Dryden and Butler, trenched upon the domain of religious -controversy; but Dryden's _Hind and Panther_ and _Religio -Laici_ are rather dogmatical poems than satires, and Butler's -_Hudibras_, which is pure satire, is aimed less at a -religious sect than at a political party. -{555} -Here we have, however, a prose satire in the Church of England, -which is one of the most admirable specimens of that class of -literature in our own or any other language. It is sharp without -unkindness; it contains not a syllable of invective; it is -honest; it is logical; the wit is radiant; the fun is -overpowering; and the application is irresistible. Volumes could -not expose the preposterous errors of Anglicanism with half the -effect produced by this little pamphlet. The troubles and -perplexities of the English divines, the absurdities of the privy -council, the purposeless debates of convocations, the conflict of -beliefs, the uncertainty of dogmas, the vain theories of deans -and doctors, the darkness, the wavering, the inconsistency, the -worldliness of the Anglican Church, are pictured in this little -comedy to the very life. Its appearance has created in London a -profound sensation. Anglicans are smarting under the exposure, -and everybody else is laughing at the ludicrous exhibition. The -authorship is unknown, but we are inclined to believe that the -current rumor which ascribes it to Dr. J. H. Newman is well -founded. We doubt whether there is another man in England capable -of writing it. - -The _Dramatis Personae_ embrace a number of deans, -archdeacons, and lesser ecclesiastical dignitaries, and the first -scene takes place in "the Jerusalem Chamber," where Convocation -is in session. - - "Doctor Easy rose to propose the question of which he had given - notice at the previous sitting of Con 'Would it be considered - heresy in the Church of England to deny the existence of God?' - It had occurred to him that he should, perhaps, adopt a form - more convenient for the present debate, if he put the question - thus: 'Would a clergyman, openly teaching that there was no - God, be liable to suspension?' - - "Archdeacon Jolly thought not. What the Church of England - especially prided herself upon was the breadth of her views. No - view could be broader than the one just stated, and therefore, - none more likely to meet with the sanction of the privy - council, which, he apprehended, was the real point to be kept - in view in the discussion of this interesting question. (Hear, - hear.) - - "Dean Blunt concurred in the opinion that breadth and the privy - council were kindred ideas. Still, it might be asked, could - even the doctrinal elasticity of that tribunal become - sufficiently expansive to embrace the enormous hypothesis of - his learned friend? He ventured to think that it could. Let it - be supposed that some clergymen of the Church of England--say - the Archbishop of Canterbury--should publicly teach that there - was no God. The case being brought before the privy council, it - might be reasonably assumed that that supreme arbiter of - Anglican doctrine would deliver some such judgment as the - following: - - 'We find that the Church of England is not opposed to the - existence of a God. At the same time, we cannot overlook the - fact that the nineteenth article, in affirming that all - churches, even the apostolic, have erred in matters of faith, - obviously implies that the Church of England may err also in - the same way. Therefore the Church of England may err in - teaching that there is a God. We conclude, that whilst, on - the one hand, the archbishop has taken an extreme or - one-sided view of the teaching of the church; on the other, - for the reason assigned, it is undoubtedly open to every - clergyman either to believe in or to deny the existence of a - God.' - - "Archdeacon Theory would be disposed cordially to approve the - judgment which the learned dean anticipated. He had always - maintained that it was the _duty_ of every Anglican to - doubt the existence of God. (Uproar.) -{556} - Let him not be misunderstood. Speaking for himself, he had a - moral and intellectual conviction that there was a God. He was - not disputing the objective truth of the existence of a God: - about that he could not suppose that a single member of - Convocation could entertain the most transitory doubt. He was - speaking only of their duty as members of the Church of - England, and not at all of their obligation as Christians; two - things which might happen in a particular case to be as wide - apart as the poles, and to involve distinct and opposite - responsibilities. Now, as members of the Church of England, he - believed it was their duty to doubt, not only the existence of - God, but also every separate article which the Church of - England now taught, or might teach hereafter; and the more - emphatically the Church of England appeared to teach, the more - imperative was their duty to doubt. For, referring to the - ingenious argument which Dean Blunt had put into the mouth of - their national oracle, it was clear that the Church of England - in denying her own infallibility, laid all her members under - the religious obligation of doubting everything she taught. - Fallibility, properly defined, was not simply liability to err, - it was _the state of error_. As infallibility is a state - of certainty, which does not admit of error; so fallibility is - a state of doubt which does not admit of conviction. Now, the - Church of England, in proclaiming her own fallibility, did so - with a peremptoriness which elevated this part of her teaching, - and this alone, to the dignity of dogma. For, whereas, in - propounding other Anglican tenets, she so adjusted her - definitions of doctrine as to leave the choice of possible and - opposite interpretations to the discretion of her members; when - speaking of this, the fundamental axiom of her whole - theological system, she rose for the moment to the authority of - a _teacher_, and consented to put on the robe of - infallibility, in order to promulgate with greater force the - dogma of her own liability to error." - -Here is the key to the first scene. The discussion is maintained -at considerable length, and carries us over the whole ground of -the authority of the English church to teach divine truth; and in -the course of it, some representative of each of the most -prominent schools of theological opinion in the establishment -takes occasion to express his mind. Dr. Viewy holds that since -heresy is the choice of one's creed, as opposed to the submission -of the will to authority, no Anglican can be guilty of heresy who -obeys the teachings of his ecclesiastical superiors; and hence, -in the Church of England, it might be _conditionally_, but -could not be _necessarily_, heresy to deny the existence of -God. As that church is taunted by her enemies with holding and -rejecting every imaginable creed, the only safe course for a -clergyman is to centre the whole of his obedience in that one -bishop or rector, under whom, for the time being, he may find -himself placed. - - "In other words, since to obey any _two_ ecclesiastical - authorities at the same moment involved the risk of being - pronounced a heretic by either one or the other--because no two - clergymen are exactly of the same belief--the only effective - safeguard against the possibility of heresy was personal - obedience to one clergyman at a time. When first ordained to - the office of the diaconate, from which he had been - subsequently elevated to unmerited dignities, he found himself - in the diocese of a low-church bishop--he might say a very - low-church bishop--so low that any further descent into the - regions of a purely negative theology would have left no - doctrinal residuum whatever. -{557} - He at once decided, in virtue of his principle of obedience to - authority, to teach his flock the religion of his bishop, - which, by careful analysis, he resolved into two articles of - belief--the denial of dogma, and the assertion of self. (Dean - Pompous audibly whispered, 'Highly unbecoming.') But here he - had met with a difficulty in starting; for it happened that his - rector was a Puseyite; and that, consequently, in the main, - whatever the bishop taught to be true, the rector taught to be - false, and whatever the bishop taught to be false, the rector - taught to be true. The case, as convocation knew, was so common - in this country, as to form, perhaps, the rule in a majority of - parochial cures. His principle, however, suggested an easy - escape from the embarrassing position. He applied it thus: - manifestly more obedience was due to a bishop than to a rector; - yet a certain _quantum_ of obedience was due to a rector, - if only because a bishop had appointed him. It became, so to - speak, a question of proportion rather than of theology, and - was soluble, not by the thirty-nine articles, but by the rule - of three; and, after working it out with religious care, the - following commended itself to him as the solution of the - problem. He would preach low-church doctrines on the Sundays, - denying the sacramental view and all its consequences, as the - homage of clerical obedience due to the bishop; but he would - teach high-church doctrines during the week, without abating a - single tenet, in discharge of the proportionate measure of - obedience due to the rector. This practice gave rise, he was - bound to admit, to some excitement in the parish, and led to - the popular conviction that, however excellent his teaching - might be in detail, there was a want of unity about it when - looked at as a whole. Yet when he explained to his parishioners - the purity of the motive which induced the apparent - contradictions, and proved to them that his duplex system was - designed only to reflect justly and proportionately the two - aspects of Christianity exhibited by their bishop and their - rector, the whole parish at once applauded the delicacy of his - conscience, while it ceased not to question the value of his - teaching. And so things went on with tolerable harmony for the - space of a year; when, unhappily, both the bishop and the - rector died about the same time; the former being quickly - replaced by a high-church bishop, appointed by a friend in the - cabinet, and the latter by a low-church rector, nominated by - Mr. Simeon's trustees. It now became his duty, in consistency - with his principle of obedience to personal authority, to - invert the order and portion of his teaching. He would continue - to give the Sundays to the bishop, and the week-days to the - rector; but on Sundays he must now be a Puseyite, and on - week-days an Evangelical; and this simple inversion, so - equitable in itself, and inspired solely by the desire of - submitting himself to his superiors, created such discord in - the parish, that finally he was entreated, as the only means of - restoring peace, to resign his cure of souls. - - "Dean Pliable concurred, in the main, with the principle of the - learned divine who had just resumed his seat, that obedience to - authority was the first duty of a clergyman; but he utterly - differed from him in his application of the principle, which - appeared to him to be equally servile and injudicious. -{558} - That principle he conceived to be most effectually carried out, - not by abject submission to this bishop or that, this rector or - that--which might be both possible and convenient, if, in the - Church of England, as in the Church of Rome, every bishop and - every rector taught the same Christianity--but in the larger - and nobler aim of faithfully representing at one and the same - time _all_ the Christianities taught by all the bishops - and all the rectors of the Church of England. In other words, - since every one confessed that it was impossible to teach a - uniform theology in the Church of England, whose highest - tribunal had ruled that her clergy might teach _either_ of - two opposite doctrines--and therefore both alternately--he was - brought to the conviction that the only course open to - Anglicans solicitous about theoretical unity was to profess at - the same moment every doctrine held within their communion, and - all their contradictories. (Great uproar: a well-known preacher - was heard to exclaim--"He would convert us into ecclesiastical - acrobats.") - - "Dean Critical inquired, with a touch of irony in his voice and - manner--'Could any of his reverend friends undertake to inform - him what was the authority of the Church of England?' Hitherto - the debate had gone only to show what it was not. Dr. Theory - had maintained that there was no such thing. Dr. Viewy and Dean - Pliable had each of them proved that it did not reside in the - bishops and clergy, unless, indeed, it might be supposed to - exist in equal measure in every one of them; but, as they were - unhappily in direct opposition to one another on many - fundamental doctrines, this was equivalent to saying that - _no_ authority to decide Christian doctrine existed in the - Church of England. If there really were any such authority, - convocation could hardly be more usefully employed than in - defining its nature and fixing its limits. - - "Archdeacon Jolly observed, without rising from his seat--'What - say you to the Archbishop of Canterbury?' (Some laughter, which - was immediately suppressed.) - - "Dean Critical reminded the venerable archdeacon that the - Archbishop of Canterbury was not alluded to in their - formularies in any such character, and feared, it must be said - without disrespect, that he had no more power to determine a - disputed point of doctrine than his amiable lady, whose - hospitality many of them had enjoyed. It was a lamentable fact - that his Grace had no more authority over the people of - England, nor over a single individual out of his own household, - than ... (a voice exclaimed, 'the King of the Sandwich - Islands,' a suggestion which was greeted with mingled applause - and disapprobation.) - - "Archdeacon Jolly: Well, then, her Majesty the Queen, whom the - church admits to be 'supreme' in all causes, spiritual as well - as temporal? - - "Dean Critical could not forget that her Majesty, in whom they - recognized a model of every Christian virtue, frequented, - indifferently, Presbyterian meeting-houses and the churches of - their own communion. If, therefore, as the law appeared to - admit, the authority of the Anglican Church resided in her - royal person, it followed that the Westminster Confession and - the Thirty-nine Articles were equally true, and that every - Anglican was also a Presbyterian. - - "Archdeacon Jolly: 'How about the Privy Council? If it be the - ultimate judge of doctrine, must it not be the authority for - which you are seeking?' - -{559} - - "Dean Critical thought not, because in fact, the sum of its - decisions amounted to this--that the Church of England taught - nothing and denied nothing, which was equivalent to saying that - she believed nothing. A tribunal which decided in every case of - disputed doctrine, as the privy council invariably did, that - both the plaintiff and defendant were right, was a judicial - curiosity that could hardly be said to afford the litigant - parties much assistance in bringing their cause to an issue. - The privy council might be an authority _over_ the Church - of England, whose decisions the latter was obliged to receive; - but no one could seriously maintain that it was an authority to - which any Anglican, of whatever party in the church, professed - to submit his conscience in matters of faith. - - "Archdeacon Jolly: 'Will you accept convocation as your - authority?' (Loud laughter, with cries of 'shame' from Dean - Pompous.) - - "Dean Critical regretted that he could not accept convocation - in the character of an Anglican Holy See: because, to say - nothing of the general feeling of the country, and the - malicious comments of the public press, which appeared to treat - them with derision, and talked of their 'dancing round a - may-pole,' his own observation of the proceedings of that - assembly dissuaded him from any such view. Much experience had - brought him to the sorrowful conviction that convocation was - only a clerical debating-club, of which every member took - himself for the pope, and the church for his pupil. - - "Archdeacon Jolly: 'Might it be permitted to suggest the - formularies?' - - "Dean Critical: So supple and elastic in their nature as to be - sworn to with equal facility both by those who claim to 'hold - all Roman doctrine' and those who protest against it. - - "Archdeacon Jolly: 'Well, there are still the thirty-nine - articles.' - - "Dean Critical: Thirty-nine _opinions_, one of which - declares of all others, that they are human and fallible. - - "Archdeacon Jolly did not know that he could offer any further - suggestion, but, at least, one of the articles declared, 'the - church _hath_ authority in matters of faith.' - - "Dean Critical was not unmindful of the fact, which had always - appeared to him to be a device of the framers to express this - idea: 'We admit that the church we are forming _has_ no - authority, but we recognize that if it were a church, it - _would_ have authority.' For it should be observed that - while they said, 'the church _hath_ authority,' they at - the same time enjoined the clergy not to believe a single word - she taught them, unless they found their own interpretation of - the Scriptures to agree with hers! Thus they made the Church of - England say to all her members: 'If you should accidentally be - _right_ in your interpretation of the Bible, put that down - to _me_, for I am the church that teaches you; but if, - which is far more probable, you should be wrong, put that down - to yourself, for I have warned you to believe in nothing which - you cannot prove for yourself out of the Bible.' ('Hear, hear,' - from the Rev. Lavender Kidds.)" - -This Rev. Lavender Kidds is the comic man of the drama. His one -principle is "Bible Christianity," his one passion a dread of the -pope. - - "The Rev. Lavender Kidds (who seemed much excited, and rose - amidst cries of 'order, order,' and considerable laughter) - observed that he now assisted for the first time at the - assembly of convocation, and had been deeply shocked by the - unscriptural tone of the discussion. -{560} - (Suppressed merriment.) For his part, he gloried in the - thirty-nine articles of their pure and reformed church, and - especially in their noble testimony to the grand truth that the - religion of Protestants was 'the Bible, the whole Bible, and - nothing but the Bible.' This was the true 'authority' of vital - Christians, and he cared for no other. This was the simple and - grand lesson of those venerable formularies which had been that - day so grievously under-valued and calumniated. Really, it - seemed to him to be preposterous in any Protestant assembly to - talk so much of 'church-authority.' Authority, indeed! Who - wanted it? And if they had it, who would obey it? Certainly no - member of that house with whom he had the happiness of being - acquainted--(laughter and ironical cheers)--least of all the - high-church party, who had recently been forming a society to - protect themselves _against_ their bishops. (Renewed - disapprobation.) He contended that their forefathers had done - without authority, and had wisely regarded it as a mark of the - beast. He was for the Bible and the Bible only. Perish the - articles, and the church itself--no, his zeal was perhaps - carrying him too far. What he meant to say was--in fact, he - wished to observe--as long as they had the Word they wanted - nothing else. He knew, indeed, that Dean Primitive and - Archdeacon Chasuble preferred authority to Scripture--as long, - that was, as they could keep the former entirely in their own - hands; but he had invariably remarked that they refused to - their bishops and superiors the obedience they required from - their curates and parishioners. But Englishmen, he felt - convinced, were not to be cajoled by a spurious popery; and if - they must renounce their liberty, it would not be to those who - used that liberty themselves to resist the very church they - copied, in everything but their obedience. (General cries of - 'Enough, enough,' amid which Mr. Kidds resumed his seat, with - the air of one who had delivered a solemn and suitable - protest.') - - "Dean Primitive was unwilling that the observations of Mr. - Kidds should pass without any other reply than Dean Blunt had - thought fit to give them. He had spent thirty years of his life - in combating the errors of that party in the church to which - Mr. Kidds belonged, and he hoped to continue the same holy - warfare to to the end. He was aware that the so-called - evangelicals insisted upon the _plainness_ of Scripture, - and were accustomed to assume, with strange disregard of - notorious facts, that nobody need find any difficulty in - deciding the true meaning of any text whatever. With the - permission of the house, he would give a few illustrations of - the evangelical method of dealing with the inspired book; from - which it would very clearly appear, that when they boasted of - appealing to the Bible, they only appealed to their own version - of it, that is, to themselves; and their favorite shibboleth, - 'the Bible, and the Bible only,' meant simply, as Dean Blunt - had well observed, '_my_ interpretation of the Bible, and - not yours.' - - "Thus, when our Lord said to his priests, 'I give to _you_ - the keys of the kingdom of heaven,' it is plain, according to - the evangelicals, that he meant, 'I give to _no man_ the - keys of the kingdom of heaven.' - - "When He declared, 'Whosesoever sins _you_ remit, they are - remitted,' beyond doubt he wished them to understand, 'I - particularly withhold from _you_ the power to remit sin.' - -{561} - - "When he gave the promise to his church, 'I am with you always, - even to the end of the world,' manifestly he designed to say, - 'I am with you only to the end of the third or fourth century, - after which I shall desert you until the sixteenth.' - - "When he announced, 'I will send the Holy Ghost, and he shall - guide you into _all_ truth,' it is clearer than the day - that he wished to tell them, 'The Holy Ghost will teach you - just so much of truth as each individual can gather from the - private study of the Scriptures.' - - "When he made the wonderful statement, 'The gates of hell shall - _never_ prevail against the church,' even children can see - that he meant, 'Hell shall triumph over the church for eight - hundred years and more.'" - -The question is raised whether the Fathers and the first four -General Councils cannot be taken as guides, and it is shown that -they are as hard to interpret as the Bible itself. But cannot the -clergy be appealed to as authorized interpreters? In replying to -this query, the professor of theology said: - - "There was not, he conceived, in the annals of human - religion--of which the number was now almost beyond - arithmetical calculation--so singular a paradox as that which - was displayed in Puseyite theology. The claims of a Leo the - Great, or a Gregory the Seventh, which, at least, whatever - Protestants might think of them, were cordially admitted both - in their own generation and in those which followed it, were - only the utterances of timid self-abasement, compared with the - super-oecumenical dogmatism of their high-church friends. 'Obey - me,' said these gentlemen to their disciples, 'for obedience is - the prerogative of the laity; but I obey nobody except my own - interpretation of the fathers, or of such of them as I approve, - because my church is not yet sufficiently catholic to deserve - my obedience. At present I am obliged to create a church for - you, because nothing worthy of the name is found just now on - earth. The day will come when she will have been sufficiently - taught by me, will cease to be Protestant without becoming - Roman, and then I shall be able to obey the church, because, - having learned from me the exact form of primitive - Christianity, which exists nowhere at present but in my own - ideal conception, the church will have come again into - corporate existence, and will be worthy of your dutiful regard. - It will then no longer be necessary for me, as it is - unfortunately at present, to cumulate in my own person the - functions of the pope, the saints, the fathers, the general - councils, and Almighty God.' - - "(Considerable agitation followed this speech, during which the - sitting was suspended for some minutes.) - - "The Rev. Lavender Kidds observed, as soon as the composure of - the assembly was restored, that, however forcible the remarks - of the learned professor might be as applied to Puseyism, he - had shown that he was unwilling to grapple with the grand - principle of Bible Christianity, of which he was the humble - advocate. - - "The professor intended no disrespect to Mr. Kidds and his - party. Bible Christianity, since he must speak of it, (though - he thought that former speakers had sufficiently disposed of - the subject,) was only less preposterous than the rival theory - which he had just ventured to describe. It required personal - infallibility in all who professed it. It simply transferred to - the individual the supernatural prerogative which the Romanist - attributed to his church. -{562} - It was obvious to common sense that, if Mr. Kidds could - interpret a particular translation of the Scriptures, so as to - know infallibly both how much was necessary to be salvation, - and exactly what was necessary to believed about it, he must - himself be personally infallible. - - "The professor must decline to give his own opinion, though of - course he had one, on the question proposed by Dr. Easy; but he - had no objection to state how he conceived it ought to be - answered by the so-called Bible-Christian. That answer might be - as follows: - - "The existence of a church assumes the existence of a God; - therefore, the denial of a God would be the same with the - denial of a church. But the Church of England is a fact. Her - teaching may be doubtful or contradictory, but her existence as - a politico-ecclesiastical institution, professing belief in a - God, is beyond dispute. It would, therefore, be heresy in the - Bible Christian to deny the existence of a God; but it was - quite open to him to believe in any _kind_ of divinity he - might prefer, and to clothe him with whatever attributes the - Privy Council had permitted him to retain. ... - - "Archdeacon Jolly doubted whether the universal _Nego_ of - Mr. Kidds and his friends could combat successfully the eternal - _Credo_ of two hundred millions of Catholics. However, he - was quite willing to consider Mr. Kidd's proposition; but he - must be excused if he did so from his own point of view. - - "There was a large class of persons in this country," continued - the archdeacon, "who, having no definite religion of their own, - and being slenderly endowed with common sense, were indebted to - the Roman Catholic Church both for employment and maintenance. - Let Mr. Kidds restrain his excitement; he would explain his - meaning. He did not, of course, include Mr. Kidds among the - class in question, though he believed that gentleman would - willingly accept the statement of Sterne, who candidly - confessed, that, 'when he had little to say or little to give - his people, he had resource to the abuse of popery. Hence he - called it his "Cheshire Cheese." It had a twofold advantage; it - cost him very little, and he found by experience that nothing - satisfied so well the hungry appetites of his congregation. - They always devoured it greedily.' - - "Perhaps Mr. Kidds was not aware that in his zeal to hasten the - downfall of popery--which, even according to modern prophets, - had still a few years to last, and which, judging by a recent - tour he had made on the continent, presented anything but a - moribund aspect--he was in violent opposition with many active - and devoted Protestants. The persons to whom he alluded were, - at this moment, full of anxiety lest popery should perish too - soon! They could not afford to say farewell to their old friend - at present, and desired only to keep him on his legs a little - longer. Mr. Kidds was probably ignorant that a society had - recently been formed in London, in connection, he believed, - with the Protestant Reformation Society, to which it was - designed to act as a timely and important auxiliary. The title - of this new association was: _'Society for considering the - best means of keeping alive the corruptions of Popery in the - interests of Gospel Truth'_ It was, of course, a strictly - secret organization, but he had been favored, he knew not why, - with a copy of the prospectus, and as he had no intention of - becoming a member, he would communicate it to the house. -{563} - It appeared from this document, and could be confirmed from - other sources, that a deputation was sent last year to Rome, to - obtain a private interview with the pope, in order to entreat - his holiness _not_ to reform a single popish corruption. - He was assured that they had reason to believe, he did not know - on what grounds, that the pope was about to make extensive - reforms, beginning with the substitution of the thirty-nine - articles for the creed of Pope Pius, and a permanent Anglican - convocation in lieu of an occasional oecumenical council. A - handsome present was entrusted to the deputation, and a liberal - contribution to the Peter's Pence Fund. The motives set forth - in the preamble of the address presented to his holiness were, - in substance, of the following nature: They urged that a very - large body of most respectable clergymen, who had no personal - ill-will toward the present occupant of the Holy See, had - maintained themselves and their families in comfort for many - years exclusively by the abuse of popery; and if popery were - taken away, they could not but contemplate the probable results - with uneasiness and alarm. Moreover, many eminent members of - the profession had gained a reputation for evangelical wit, - learning, and piety, as well as high dignities in the Church of - England, by setting forth in their sermons and at public - meetings, with all their harrowing details, the astounding - abominations of the Church of Rome. The petitioners implored - his holiness not to be indifferent to the position of these - gentlemen. Many of their number had privately requested the - deputation to plead their cause with the amiable and benevolent - Pius IX. Thus the great and good Doctor M'Nickel represented - respectfully that he had filled his church, and let all his - pews, during three-and-twenty years, by elegantly slandering - priests and nuns, and powerfully illustrating Romish - superstitions. A clergyman of noble birth had attained to the - honors of the episcopate by handling alternately the same - subjects, and a particularly pleasing doctrine of the - Millennium, and had thus been enabled to confer a valuable - living on his daughter's husband, who otherwise could not have - hoped to obtain one. An eminent canon of an old Roman Catholic - abbey owed his distinguished position, which he hoped to be - allowed to retain, to the fact of his having proved so clearly - that the pope was Antichrist; and earnestly entreated his - holiness to do nothing to forfeit that character. A well-known - doctor of Anglican divinity was on the point of quitting the - country in despair of gaining a livelihood, when the idea of - preaching against popery was suggested to him, and he had now - reason to rejoice that he had abandoned the foolish scheme of - emigration. Even a high-church bishop had been so hampered by - suspicions of Romanistic tendencies, which were perfectly - unfounded, that he had only saved himself from general - discredit by incessant abuse of popery, though he was able to - say, in self-defence, that he did not believe a word of his own - invectives. Finally, a young clergyman, who had not hitherto - much distinguished himself, having often but vainly solicited a - member of his congregation to favor his evangelical attachment, - at length hit upon a new expedient, and preached so ravishing a - discourse on the matrimonial prohibitions of the Romish Church, - and drew so appalling a picture of the domestic infelicities of - the Romish priesthood, that on the following Monday morning the - young lady made him an offer of her hand and fortune. -{564} - It was hoped that his holiness would give due consideration to - interests so grave and manifold, and not peril them by hasty - reforms, which nobody desired, and which nobody would receive - with satisfaction. - - "Another class of clergymen appealed still more urgently to the - forbearance of the pope. They represented that they were in the - habit of realizing large sums by the publication of prophetical - works of which the whole interest turned upon the approximate - destruction of 'the beast,' and that while they indicated, by - the help of the apocalypse, the precise hour of his fall, they - yet managed to put off the final catastrophe from year to year, - and could hardly supply the successive editions which the - curiosity of the public demanded. They hoped that his holiness - would do nothing rash and imprudent which might compromise - their particular industry. One of these gentlemen ingenuously - confessed that without Antichrist, who was his best friend, and - the invaluable book of Revelation, which was his chief source - of income, he saw nothing before him but the workhouse. He - begged to forward to the pope a copy of each of his works, - including the following: 'Horns of the Beast,' neatly bound, - with gilt edges; 'Antichrist,' handsomely got up, 'positively - his last appearance in 1864, in consequence of other - engagements,' with new editions in 1865, 1866, and 1867; also, - 'Answer to an insolent pamphlet, entitled the "The _Number - and Street_ of the Beast proved to be that of the Rev. Dr. - Comeagain."' - - "Lastly, even members of parliament to whom nature had not been - prodigal in intellectual endowments, urged with great force - that they were able to get on their legs, and to stay there, - detailing the prodigious incidents of conventual turpitude; - making the blood to curdle, and the hair to stand on end, by - thrilling narratives of nuns immured, and clanking chains, and - bereaved mothers, invoking in agonized chorus, 'Liberty and Mr. - Newdegate.' They hoped the pope would see in this fact the - necessity of caution, lest he should unwittingly put to silence - more than one independent member of parliament, deprive an - illustrious assembly of its chief amusement, and rashly change - the composition of the British House of Commons. - - "Dean Pompous inquired (with a somewhat thick utterance, but - with great dignity of manner) whether he understood the - archdeacon to say that he had actually seen this document? - - "Archdeacon Jolly: He had certainly said so; it had been shown - to him in Rome by Cardinal Antonelli." - - Archdeacon Chasuble held the theory that the Anglican - establishment is a _branch_ of the Catholic Church, and - proved that the Catholic Church was necessarily infallible at - one period of her existence. The gift of infallibility was - _suspended_ when Christendom became divided, and will be - recovered when the Russian, the Roman, the Greek, the Anglican, - and the Oriental branches reunite--a happy period, of whose - arrival, he regretted to say, there was no immediate prospect. - To this Dr. Candour undertook to reply: - - "When the Roman, Greek, and Anglican communities should all - become one, the church would once more become infallible. Three - spurious and defective Christianities fused together, if - anybody could persuade them to coalesce, would make one true - and perfect Christianity. The giving up what each believed - specifically true, and the uniting in what each believed - specifically false, was that travail in the womb of Christendom - which would give birth to the new infallibility. -{565} - He would only say, as the professor of theology had disposed of - that point, that this was an obstetrical phenomenon which he - did not think any one present would live long enough to - witness. - - "But he would now approach another aspect of the question, to - which the archdeacon had attracted their attention. The - low-church theory, he had told them, and the language of their - articles and homilies, which assumed the defection of the - Catholic Church, 'made void the promises of God.' Was the - archdeacon quite sure that low-churchmen were the real or sole - offenders? He thought not. Let him ask his friend whether even - the 'diabolical millennium' of the English reformers, that - dismal interval between the sixth and sixteenth centuries, was - a conception more insolently subversive of the promises of God, - more fatal to the Catholic idea of a divine, indefectible, and - 'teaching church,' than the well-known Anglican conceit, that - the early church was wholly pure, the mediaeval much less pure, - and the modern quite unworthy of their obedience? Was it really - so very respectful to the catholic idea, of which the - archdeacon claimed to be the advocate, to assert, as he and his - party did in every act of their lives, that, in spite of the - 'promises of God,' the only really perfect church at this hour, - protesting at once against Protestant heresies and popish - corruptions, was the little group of Puseyites and ritualists - within the national establishment? (Great laughter.) - - "The archdeacon had reproached the low-church school, and the - founders of Anglicanism, with making void the promises of God. - Let the house consider how the high-church party interpreted - those promises for themselves. According to their theory, the - promise to be 'always' with the church applied only to the - beginning and the end of her career, but not to the long - interval between the two, during which the whole of Christendom - was hopelessly sunk in error and corruption. It was curious to - see that the high-church party cordially agreed with - ultra-Protestants, that the Catholic Church during long ages - had been teaching falsehoods! This was their reverence for 'the - promises of God!' - - "Again. The promise to guide the Church into '_all_ truth' - had reference only to the integrity of truth _before_ the - mission of St. Augustine to England, and _after_ the - publication of the _Tracts for the Times_. The twelve - hundred years between them, rather a long period in the life of - the church, during which all Christians obstinately believed - the supremacy of the pope, the office of the mother of God, and - the mystery of transubstantiation--doctrines highly offensive - to Puseyites--were merely an unfortunate parenthesis in the - faithfulness of God, during which the catholic idea was - lamentably obscured, and God forgot his 'promises.' - - "Once more. The promise that the 'gates of hell' should - '_never_' prevail against the church meant only, according - to the same school, that the principalities of evil, doing - active work under the father of lies, should certainly prevail - for a good many centuries, but that finally a little sect - should rise up in the Church of England, able to discriminate - with precision the errors of the Anglican, the Greek, and the - Roman churches, and peacefully to conduct them all to the - perfect truth which they had lost, to the unity which they had - forfeited, and to a very remarkable and final triumph over the - 'gates of hell.' - -{566} - - "The only true test of a theory was the result to which it led - in practice. The branch-theory did not look well on paper, but - perhaps it redeemed itself in its practical evolution. He would - suppose, then, that the archdeacon, resolving to try his - theory, set out on a foreign tour. Did he leave Dover an - Anglican, and disembark at Calais a Roman Catholic? If so, at - what particular spot in the Channel did he drop the Anglican - articles and take up the Roman missal? Was it marked by a buoy? - or was the transformation a gradual process, like the changes - of temperature? On leaving Dover, he carried with him only two - sacraments, which had grown into seven by the time he landed at - Calais. Supposing the distance to be twenty-five miles, did he - take up a new sacrament--he was going to say at every fifth - milestone but the sea knew not such measures of distance. Were - there fixed points at which he _began_ to believe that - transubstantiation was a holy mystery, and not a 'blasphemous - fable;' that confirmation and extreme unction were divine - sacraments, and not, as he had believed while breakfasting at - Dover, a mere 'corrupt following of the Apostles'? Did he, in - spite of the injunction with which they were all familiar, 'not - to speak to the man at the wheel,' anxiously interrogate that - individual as to the precise longitude in which it behoved him - to cast away some Anglican delusion, and take up some Catholic - truth? At what point of the voyage did the pope's supremacy - begin to dawn upon him? And, finally, did the process of - transformation, to which all branch-Christians were inevitably - subject when they went to foreign lands, depend in any degree - upon the weather? Was it quicker or slower in a heavy sea? or - did sea-sickness in any way affect its development? - - "The prolocutor of the house here rose, with an air of dignity - becoming his official character, and expressed his conviction - that the general feeling of the house was that the debate - should now close. (Hear, hear.) That debate had proved a - variety of things, which were more or less destructive to the - national church, but nothing perhaps more clearly than this, - that the public was right in regarding their discussions as - very unprofitable to the interests of religion, either in their - own land or in any other. ... If the house shared his opinion, - it only remained to determine what should be the place of their - future meeting. (Applause.) - - "Doctor Easy was delighted to be able to offer hospitality to - his reverend friends. He lived, as they knew, in the immediate - neighborhood of their fine old historical abbey, and his - apartments were sufficiently spacious to afford a convenient - place of meeting. He proposed, therefore, on the understanding - that convocation was now happily extinct, that they should meet - at his residence on that day week, when they could either - resume the debate that had hitherto occupied them, or turn - their attention to any other topic which might promise greater - profit or amusement. (Loud cries of 'Agreed.') [_Excunt - omnes_." - -The second scene is introduced with the following description, -the delicate humor of which is inimitable: - - "Dr. Easy's drawing-room presented an animated appearance. - Friendly greetings were exchanged, and decent hilarity pervaded - the assembly. The gravest countenances relaxed from - conventional severity. Archdeacons smiled as if in anticipation - of coming enjoyment, and even deans responded to the - salutations of the inferior clergy with unwonted urbanity. -{567} - The bright mirrors, well-selected pictures, and far-reaching - sofas which adorned Dr. Easy's saloon, and bore witness at once - to the amplitude of his revenues and the refinement of his - taste, were evidently felt to be an improvement on the decorous - gloom of the Jerusalem chamber. Tables of marble and rosewood - were covered with choice engravings and other works of art. - Portraits of the Misses Easy attracted the attention of the - younger clergy. The absence of reporters imparted to their - elder brethren a welcome sense of liberty. Free but not - undignified postures preluded the familiar dialogue in which - each could take cheerful part, without the unpleasant fear of - newspaper criticism. Convocation had become a social or family - reunion, and was evidently satisfied with the change. Informal - discussion preceded the coming debate, and themes which never - fail to interest the clerical mind occupied the company. Dean - Pompous disputed with a neighbor the exact pecuniary value of a - benefice likely to be shortly vacant, and suggested a probable - successor to the dying incumbent. Dean Primitive conversed with - Archdeacon Chasuble on the recent letter of the primate, - inviting the bishops 'in visible communion with the Church of - England' to a council in September. Had his friend noticed, he - asked, that remarkable announcement that 'such council would - _not_ be competent to make declarations, or lay down - definitions on points of doctrine'? His friend had certainly - noticed it. He had heard of councils, both general and local, - which had assembled to _decide_ on points of doctrine, but - it was the first time he had ever heard of a council summoned - with the avowed object of _avoiding_ all such questions. - In such cheerful talk the reverend guests continued to indulge, - till their number being at length complete, there arose - suddenly, amid the hum of general conversation, a loud cry of - 'Chair, chair!' Then the host, leaning against a chimney-piece, - bowed to his friends, and prayed them to be seated. Silence - being restored, the debate commenced as follows: - - "Dr. Easy rejoiced that his reverend friends had attended in - such imposing numbers. In compliance with their invitation, he - had selected a subject to be submitted to their notice. Their - last debate, as they seemed generally to feel, had proved to - themselves and to the public that authority neither did nor - could reside in the English Church. It was certain that no - individual clergyman, nor all the clergy put together, could - decide any point of doctrine whatever; so that the day seemed - close at hand if it had not actually arrived--when an Anglican - would be at liberty either to accept or reject every truth - contained in the Christian revelation. The learned prolocutor - had well epitomized all the points of their last debate, and - gracefully justified the characteristic decisions of privy - council, when he said, or at least implied, that the practical - result of all Anglican teaching, as of all Anglican history, - might be expressed in such a formula as this, 'Christianity, - from first to last, is simply a matter of opinion;' or, 'The - primary object of the Christian revelation is to render it - impossible for any man to know the truth with certainty.' - - "In confirmation of this view of their position as members of - the Established Church, he was happy to be able to call their - attention to the recent declaration of one of her highest - dignitaries. -{568} - He regretted that he was not present with them, that he might - have enforced in person the very striking statements which he - was about to quote from a published volume of his sermons, with - which he (Dr. Easy) had only become acquainted since their last - meeting. The very Rev. Dr. Elliot, the present Dean of Bristol, - had publicly asserted, without incurring the slightest shadow - of reproach, these two momentous truths; (i) that the Church of - England is, in all respects, a purely human institution; and - (2) that her members are not bound in conscience to believe a - single doctrine taught by her. But he would quote his exact - words: - - "'The Church of England,' said the Dean of Bristol, 'is created - by the law, upheld by the law, paid by the law, and may be - changed by the law, _just as any other institution in the - land_.' - - "That was his first proposition, and here was the second: - - "'I cannot desire you to accept either what I affirm, or what - the church affirms, as undoubtedly true, or _the only - true_ interpretation of the mysteries of God.' - - "It was pleasant to see the conclusions at which they had - arrived in a former debate embraced with so much energy of - conviction by one of the highest functionaries of their - national church. And now, accepting these conclusions as - indisputable, and harmonizing perfectly with the life and - history of that church, he was led to ask, 'If the authority of - the English Church be purely human, can her orders be divine?' - This was the question he should propose for their - consideration, and without another word of preface, he would - submit the following motion to their vote: 'That this meeting, - being unanimous on the point that authority can have no - existence in the Church of England, desires to pass to the - discussion of the cognate question, "Are English orders human - or divine?"'" - -The discussion as to the validity of these orders is pretty -exhaustive, and the arguments are put with a terseness and effect -quite beyond adequate praise. The hand of a master in dialectics -is evident from beginning to end. Instead of attempting a -summary, which would necessarily fall far short of doing justice -to this part of the pamphlet, we shall let the ritualistic -clergyman give the following account of himself: - - "I call myself a Catholic priest, because I am either that or a - ridiculous impostor, and I object to be considered in that - light. I claim the power of the keys, because they belong to - the priestly office, and I will not allow that the clergy of - any other church have more power than I have. I can consecrate - the host, though I am not quite sure what that means, because I - should be only a Protestant minister if I could not, and a - Protestant minister is the object of my contempt. I can absolve - from sin, though the English clergy never knew they could do - it, because the commission was given to somebody, and, - therefore, it must have been given to me. I teach the Church of - England what she ought to hold, and instruct the Church of Rome - what she ought to retract, because I clearly perceive the - deficiencies of the one, and detect the excesses of the other. - I assert that my doctrines are part of God's truth, but I - communicate with those who flatly deny them, because, when I am - taunted with this, I can always reply, that it is the mark of a - self-willed man to seek another communion in order to quiet his - conscience. -{569} - I countenance, by remaining in the Church of England, all the - mortal heresies which have ever existed in her, but I tell my - accusers that I only remain in her in order to remove them. I - am in communion with no church in the world, but I invite them - all to come into communion with me, and indicate the terms on - which I will permit them to do so. I am not in schism, though I - dwell in solitude, because the other Christian bodies refuse to - associate with me; and I am not in heresy, though I every day - communicate with heretics, because I do it only for their good. - I do not obey my bishop, but I propose to him to obey me, which - he foolishly declines to do. All churches have erred, but I am - ready to teach them all, if they will only listen to me; and - though the perfect idea of Christianity has perished from the - earth, I am able to restore it at any moment, whenever I shall - be requested to do so. I remain in the Church of England, - though she allows most of her clergy to teach lies, because I - do not choose to quit her; and I refuse to enter the Church of - Rome, though she forces all her priests to teach truth, because - I do not choose to obey her. I prefer to obey myself, because I - find no other authority worthy to be obeyed; and, though I - admit that this position has its disadvantages, I must - positively decline to exchange it for any other." - -The conclusion of the meeting is thus stated: - - "Dr. Easy said he could not permit his friends to depart, as - they now manifested their intention to do, without thanking - them both for their attendance on that occasion and for the - part which they had taken in a discussion of great interest and - importance. He would not abuse his privilege as their host by - adding to the discourse of the archdeacon more than a few brief - words. They had arrived, he supposed, at a common conviction on - the two great questions of authority in the Anglican Church, - and the real character of her orders. It was at once their - wisdom and their safety to insist that both were purely human. - Any other theory, as the archdeacon had clearly proved, would - expose not only themselves but their common Christianity to - contempt and ruin. Either ordination, as it existed in the - English Church, was _not_ a rite intended to produce a - supernatural effect, except in a sense which might with equal - justice be applied to the orders of Mr. Spurgeon or Mr. Newman - Hall; or, if it _was_, the Reformed and Protestant - ministry established by Elizabeth and inaugurated by Parker, - which had never displayed the faintest trace of any such - effect, was a failure so portentous, that they must remain for - ever silent in the presence of any scoffing infidel who should - use it as an argument against the truth of Christianity. - - "He trusted, therefore, that they were about to separate that - night with this practical conclusion, that the idea of a - catholic priesthood, one in doctrine and divine in endowments, - existing in the English Church, was not only a contradiction of - her whole history, but absolutely inconsistent with the belief - that Christianity was true. Either that foolish notion must be - abandoned, or they must honestly admit that, at least, the - English Church was a delusion. -{570} - For if any man could deliberately maintain, as a small party - among them desired to do, that the entire body of the English - clergy had been, from the beginning, a supernatural caste, - though it was undeniable that they had always exactly resembled - the laity in all their habits, principles, and actions; that - they had received a special vocation from Heaven to teach the - same unvarying doctrine, though no two of them could ever agree - together what that doctrine was; that they possessed the - faculty of retaining or remitting sin, though, for three - centuries, they had never once attempted to use it, and had - bitterly derided the assumption of it by the clergy of another - community; that they were clothed, by the transforming grace of - orders, with angelic purity and virginity, though they and - their bishops had ever been even more impatient of a life of - continence than any other class of human society; that they - were able to call down God upon a human altar, though their own - founders began their career by pulling down altars, and their - own tribunals ruled that the English Church denied their - existence; that the chief function of their ecclesiastical life - was to offer the daily sacrifice, though the Church of England - had carefully obliterated every trace of that mystery from the - national mind; and, finally, that the highest spiritual - privilege of their flocks was to adore the consecrated host, - though their own prayer-book expressly declared it was - 'idolatry to be abhorred of all faithful Christians.' If, he - said, any man could seriously affirm the series of propositions - here enumerated, and many more like them, he should be ready to - admit, what it would no longer be possible to deny, that - neither religion nor history had any real meaning, and that - modern Christianity had been more fertile in childish conceits - and preposterous delusions than any system of heathen mythology - with which he was acquainted. - - "If, on the other hand, they were content to believe with the - whole nation, that the English clergy were simply the - representatives of the English reformation; that they were - Protestant ministers, not Catholic priests; that they were - distinguished in nothing from other men, except as having - undertaken to remind them, from time to time, of truths which - all were too apt to forget; they would then assume the only - character which really belonged to them, or in which either - their own communion or any other would ever consent to - recognize them. In that case, they would no longer expose - either themselves or their religion to the world's contempt, - nor unwittingly furnish the unbeliever with a fatal argument - against the truth and the reasonableness of Christianity. The - Church of England had never been the home of the supernatural, - as all mankind knew from her own history; and to try to - introduce so strange an element into such a receptacle would be - a far more dangerous experiment than to 'pour new wine into old - bottles.' They might as well attempt to inclose the lightning - which could shiver rocks in the hands of an infant, as to make - the English Church the shrine of mysteries _which she had - existed only to deny_." - -The pamphlet from which the above excerpts are made is now in -press, and will soon be published by "The Catholic Publication -House." - --------- - -{571} - - New Publications. - - - The Irish Reformation; or, The Alleged Conversion of the Irish - Bishops at the accession of Queen Elizabeth, and the assumed - descent of the present established hierarchy in Ireland from - the ancient Irish Church, disproved. - By W. Maziere Brady, D.D., Vicar of Donoghpatrick and Rector of - Kilberry, Diocese of Meath, and formerly Chaplain to the Earls - of Clarendon, St. Germans, and Carlisle, Lord Lieutenant of - Ireland, etc., etc. - Fifth edition, containing also a letter from James A. Froude, - M.A.; notices of the early Elizabethan Prelates, and of the - sufferings of the Roman Catholic Bishops; and tables showing in - juxtaposition the Anglican and Roman Catholic successions of - Irish Archbishops, with lists of all Irish Roman Catholic - Bishops from 1558 to the present time. - London: Longmans, Green & Co. 1867. - For sale by the Catholic Publication Society, - 126 Nassau Street, New York. - -The author of this book, which has become celebrated in Great -Britain, and has received the highest commendations from the -English secular press, is an Irish Protestant clergyman. Catholic -clergymen and scholars may, therefore, think that it is written -in favor of the Irish establishment, or lacking in thorough -information on Catholic topics. On the contrary, it is the most -damaging attack on that iniquitous institution that has yet -appeared; replete with solid learning, and an invaluable -companion to the excellent works of Msgr. Moran, of Dublin, on -the Irish Catholic Church and hierarchy. It is not to be -supposed, however, that Dr. Brady is a Catholic in disguise, a -Romanizer, or an enemy of the church whose minister he is. He is -a Protestant Episcopalian, a real believer in religious liberty, -and a man of liberal sentiments, who respects the Catholic Church -and loves the rights and welfare of the Irish people. He has -written this work not against the doctrine or discipline of the -Protestant Episcopal Church, but against the falsehoods, and -ignorant or fraudulent misrepresentations of historical facts, by -which certain writers have attempted to justify and bolster up -the absurd pretence that the Anglican establishment in Ireland is -the true Catholic Church of that country. These writers, among -whom Palmer is a signal instance, pretend that the Marian bishops -in Ireland, as a body, accepted the pretended reformation of -Elizabeth; that the Irish hierarchy, church, and nation, -renounced their allegiance to the Bishop of Rome, and to the -doctrine of the Roman Church; that the apostolic succession was -regularly transmitted to the Protestant bishops of Ireland, and -that the present Roman Catholic hierarchy and church were -established _de novo_, in a schismatical manner, by -emissaries of the Pope. Consequently, they say, the Protestant -archbishops of Armagh and Dublin are the canonical successors of -St. Patrick and St. Lawrence; the other Protestant bishops are -also the canonical successors to the ancient Catholic bishops of -the sees they pretend to fill, the ecclesiastical property -legally belongs to the Protestant establishment, and the Roman -Catholic bishops are intruders who have drawn the majority of the -Irish people into a schism. It was enough to have forced -Protestantism into domination in Ireland by force, rapine, -slaughter, and persecution without a parallel; to have robbed the -Irish church and the Irish people of everything they possessed, -without adding insult to injury by this preposterous pretence. -Dr. Brady has laboriously and triumphantly refuted it, and Mr. -Froude, the English historian, has given his full indorsement to -Dr. Brady's statements. Dr. Brady proves that, at the most, two -of the Marian bishops submitted to Elizabeth Curwin, of Dublin, -and O'Fihil, of Leighlin. Curwin's apostasy is a notorious fact, -but that of O'Fihil is denied by Dr. Moran, who adduces evidence -against it. -{572} -Curwin was an Englishman, and consecrated by English bishops. -Therefore, according to Dr. Brady, but one Irishman, having Irish -consecration, deserted the communion of the Pope for that of the -Queen and Parker. He goes through all the Irish sees -_seriatim_, proving the continuity of succession from their -ancient to their modern Catholic incumbents, and proving, also, -the forcible intrusion of Protestants by degrees, and with many -breaks, into the same titular sees. He states the conclusion -derived from his facts and arguments thus: "In point of fact, the -Irish nation from 1558 to 1867 has continued in communion with -Rome, never having ceased to be, in its clergy, priests, and -people, as thoroughly Roman Catholic as at the accession of -Elizabeth," (p. 199.) The claim of a succession of orders by a -line traceable to the old Irish hierarchy is also disposed of. -The doctor shows that whatever orders the Irish Protestant church -has are derived from Curwin, and from him alone, through Loftus, -who was consecrated by him to Armagh, and thence transferred to -Dublin, in lieu of Curwin himself, who was transferred to Oxford. -Of course he does not deny the validity of the orders, but merely -the fact that they descend from an Irish source. These orders -cannot, however, be recognized by the Catholic Church for two -reasons. First, there is a probability that Loftus was never -ordained priest, and, consequently, was incapable of receiving -Episcopal consecration. Second, he was consecrated by K. Edward's -Ordinal, which is an invalid form. Anglicans may solace -themselves as much as they please by the reflection that they can -trace the Irish ordinations up to Curwin, an undoubted bishop, -and may cover up the two great flaws we have pointed out in their -validity, by the special pleading they are such adepts in using. -This will not, however, benefit in any way those who are obliged -to trace their orders to Parker, nor will it affect the position -of either English or Irish Protestant clergymen in relation to -the Catholic Church, or even to the schismatics of the East. - -Dr. Brady throws much light on some other topics of historical -interest. He shows, among other things, how bad was the character -of Curwin, Loftus, and several others of the first Protestant -bishops of Ireland, and, on the other hand, does justice to the -virtues and martyr-like constancy of the Catholic prelates. He -proves, against the denials of some Protestant writers, the truth -of the history of the cruel martyrdom of that great hero of the -faith, Archbishop O'Hurley, a man who richly deserves, in common -with many other Irish martyrs, to be canonized. - -The lists of Catholic bishops add much to the value of the work, -and so also does the refutation of many Protestant calumnies -against the Irish people, and the exposure of several -falsifications of history. - -On Catholic principles, the established church of Ireland is -nothing but a schismatical sect, whose bishops are intruders upon -the domain of the lawful bishops of the country. Even had they -valid ordination, they could make no claim to a lawful succession -in jurisdiction. - -On Protestant principles, it is not in any way entitled to be -considered as the national church of Ireland, but only as the -church of a small minority of the people, whose ancestors -forcibly intruded themselves upon the Irish soil by the aid of -fire, and sword, and confiscation. We have no hostility against -the Episcopalians of Ireland, who are not accountable for the -crimes of their ancestors, and many of whom are worthy persons -and true Irish patriots. We would not have them molested in their -religious liberty, or even deprived of the churches in their -possession, provided they can make any use of them, although it -is so painful to Catholic feeling to see these ancient sacred -shrines of the faith in their hands. But we would have them -deprived of the privileges of a state establishment, Catholic and -Protestant dissenters freed from the obligation of paying tithes -to their clergy, and themselves left to sustain their own -religion by their own contributions. The Irish establishment is a -crying iniquity, and it ought to be suppressed. It is time, also, -that the glorious history of the Catholic Church in Ireland, -since the disastrous epoch of Henry VIII., should be better known -than it is. -{573} -We thank Dr. Brady for his valuable contribution to truth and the -cause of justice, and we recommend his work, as the production of -a Protestant Episcopal clergyman of learning, honesty, and -candor, to all who are interested in the history of Ireland, and -especially to his own brethren in the ministry in this country. - - ---- - - The Three Holy Kings. - With Photographic Illustrations. - New York: Kurd and Houghton. - -The writer of this volume presents us a short essay upon the Holy -Wise Men of the East who came to adore our Lord soon after his -nativity. The subject is one which requires considerable research -to bring out a vivid picture of the character of the Magi, the -circumstances of their journey to Judea, and their subsequent -fortunes. The author confines himself to a simple reproduction of -the gospel narrative, with a passing notice of the original -bass-relief and pictures, with photographs of which the book is -illustrated. It is well known that in the great Cathedral of -Cologne is to be seen the shrine containing the relics of these -holy kings. We are not surprised to find the writer discrediting -the authenticity of these relics; but in the face of so much -testimony, and against the weight of such ancient traditions, he -who questions their truth must give solid, or at least plausible -reasons, and not take it for granted as the author (we trust, -innocently) does, that "some of the bones said to be of Saint -Ursula and her eleven thousand virgins, which are everywhere -exposed throughout the walls and pavement of the church of Saint -Ursula, in the same city of Cologne, have been discovered to be -those of sheep and other animals," in order to throw discredit -upon the authenticity of all relics. - -We refer him to an article entitled "The Truth of Supposed -Legends and Fables," _Catholic World_, July, 1865, where he -will find the subject of Saint Ursula treated in a masterly -manner by His Eminence, the late Cardinal Wiseman. - -We are surprised, however, to find the writer designating the -Catholic Church as the _Romish_ Church. This appellation -every scholar knows, or ought to know, is slang, except in the -mouths and on the pages of bitter and ignorant controversialists, -where it is idiomatic. Messrs. Hurd & Houghton have published the -book in their best style; and were these defects removed, we -would cheerfully recommend it to our readers. - - ---- - - Ye Legende Of St. Gwendoline. - With Eight Photographs, by Addis, - from Drawings by John W. Ehninger. - New York: G. P. Putnam and Son. 1867. - -This truly magnificent volume, from the press of the Messrs. -Putnam, is one of the choicest specimens of typography ever -issued in the United States. The legend is written in early -English, and the author has closely adhered throughout to the use -of Saxon words and to the Saxon form of phrases. The story, -replete with romance, is charmingly told, and reflects great -credit upon the writer's literary ability. St. Gwendoline is -first a princess, "fulle, fayre, and statelie, and of manie -excellent dispositions, and verie learned, soe that there was no -queene or princesse like her for beautie and goodlinesse and alle -learninge." The king, her father, gives her a realm of her own, -and then invites the neighboring kings and princes to visit her, -hoping she would marry one of them. Though many came, she refused -them all, because she did not love them. One, the King of -Mynwede, dies in her presence, broken-hearted at her refusal. The -description of this scene is unequalled for its simple and -touching pathos. At last, Queen Gwendoline sees in a dream the -face of a knight, whom, if a real person, she would certainly -love; and at a tournament she discovers in the victorious -champion the knight himself. Unfortunately for the love-sick -queen, - - "She who weds not when she may, - When she will she must have nay." - -The knight is already a husband. Queen Gwendoline is good, pious, -charitable; but love makes sad havoc with us all. - -{574} - -She will not give up her unlawful affection, and even prays for -the death of the knight's own lady. Prostrate before the altar, -with heart rebelling against God, an angel appears to her, and -reasons with her. But what avail the best reasons, were they -given by angels, when we have wilfully yielded ourselves up to -the tyrannical mastery of passion? But God had great designs on -Queen Gwendoline, and he lets this suffering fall upon her that -he may purify her soul the more perfectly. The scene of her -vision changes; the chapel walls divide, and before her is -Calvary, with its "grayte crosse, whereon hung in paynes and woe -ye Saviour of ye world. And ever mournfullie and stedfastlie Hee -gazed upon her. And when ye Queene saw ye vision, shee cast her -owne wille and her sinnes from her with a grayte crye." - -And more than that. She becomes one of those who, for the love of -God, sacrifice all human love. She lays aside her queenly crown, -and royal robes, enters a convent; becomes, after many years, the -abbess, and dies a saint. - -We have given but a very imperfect sketch of this beautiful -legend, but we hope enough to induce many of our readers to -peruse it entire. The photographic illustrations are good, but -such a rare publication as this ought to be adorned with -first-class line engravings. Its appearance at the present time -is very opportune, for it is a volume which will make a valuable -and most appropriate present for the holidays. - ----- - - Shamrock And Thistle; Or, - Young America In Ireland And Scotland. - A Story of Travel and Adventure, - by Oliver Optic. - Boston: Lee & Shepard. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 343. - -The author of this volume is well known as the writer of several -interesting stories for boys. The book before us purports to be -adventures of United States Naval Cadets in Ireland and Scotland -during the visit of the schoolship to British waters. The -author's brief sketch of Irish history, and his descriptions of -Irish scenery, is very fair, and generally correct. Occasionally -he lets out the usual sneer at Irish poverty and Irish customs. -He is especially severe on the Irish hackmen of Cork and the -boatmen of Killarney. The book will interest youthful readers, -for whom it is written. Its style is somewhat inflated, and it -has a general tone of boyish exaggeration throughout, which we -suppose was the intention of the author, as he wrote it for boys. -This, however, we cannot approve, for we think the youth of -America pick up these ideas easily enough without having them put -before them as examples, in books intended for their use. We are -willing to forgive the author for much of his exaggeration, for -the fairness exhibited by him in speaking of Ireland and her -history, and her many wrongs under English rule. It will at least -give "Young America" a more correct idea of that country than can -be found in "Peter Parley's" books, and others of that same -stamp. - ----- - - The Hymn Of Hildebert, - and other Mediaeval Hymns, with Translations. - By Erastus C. Benedict. - New York: Anson D. F. Randolph. 1867. - -Mr. Erastus C. Benedict amuses himself "in his occasional hours -of leisure," as he tells us, by translating the grand old hymns -of the Catholic Church into English rhyme. But he finds them full -of horrible anti-protestant doctrine, and it would never do to -put the true meaning of the verses before the eyes of his -Protestant brethren. Besides, either his literary or his -Protestant conscience would doubtless forbid an honest -translation. Not being able, therefore, to make an honest one, he -makes a dishonest one rather than not make a book. We give him -credit, however, for making an apology for doing so, wretched as -it is. All the doctrinal assertions of these hymns were -undoubtedly meant by the writers of them to be understood in a -Catholic sense; but, says Mr. B., they may be understood in a -Protestant sense, (just as the Scriptures are interpreted in a -Protestant sense, we suppose,) and thus garbled, distorted, and -falsified, he puts them out in print. - -{575} - -It is bad enough to disgrace one's walls with ridiculous -imitations of the pictures of great masters, but to cut down a -genuine Murillo or Vandyke to suit a second-hand frame, bought in -a cheap auction lot, and then touch up what is left of the -subject with a white-wash brush, is something too execrable to be -expressed. We append an example or two for our readers' -amusement. - - "Verbum caro, panem verum. - Verbo carnem efficit; - Fitque sanguis Christi merum. - - "Word made flesh, among us dwelling, - With true bread and wine regaleth; - By His word the mystery telling." - - Page 55. - - "Inflammatus et accensus, - Per te, Virgo, sim defensus - In die judicii. - - "By a heavenly zeal excited, - When the judgment fires are lighted, - Then may I be justified." - - Page 67. - - "Dogma datur Christianis, - Quod in carnem transit panis, - Et vinum in sanguinem. - - "Here to Christians Jesus preacheth, - Here to us the mystery teacheth, - Never sense perceiving it-- - Flesh and blood for us devoted, - Are by bread and wine denoted, - Living faith believing it." - Page 95. - -These, we think, will suffice. The appearance of this new one -among the many late republications in various forms of these -hymns furnishes us with another gratifying proof that our -Protestant friends are beginning to regret having consigned -_all_ the works of "popery" to perdition; and we rejoice -that they rehabilitate her poetry among the first of them; for -the poetry of a church is as truly the sincerest expression of -its heart as it is of a people's. But in the name of sincerity -let us have an honest version. When or where did a Catholic ever -"understand" the works of a Protestant in a Catholic sense? Let -Mr. Benedict try again. We are sure he can and will do better, -for there is no sign of malicious intent in his volume; and his -language, when speaking of the Catholic Church, and of the -writers whose poems he reprints, is that of a scholar and a -gentleman. - - ---- - - My Prisons. - Memoirs of Silvio Pellico. - Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1868. - -This well known and popular book is republished in beautiful -form, with excellent illustrations, by the Messrs. Roberts, with -an introductory notice by Epes Sargent. We cannot agree with Mr. -Sargent, however, that Silvio Pellico, if living now, would have -had any sympathy with the present Italian rebellion, or its -unworthy and anti-Christian leaders, as he intimates. The -publishers would do well to leave out the introductory notice. - - ---- - - Breaking Away: or, The Fortunes of a Student. - By Oliver Optic. - Boston: Lee & Shepard. - -In this volume are described the adventures of the pupils of the -Parkville Liberal Institute, consequent on their revolt against a -tyrannical principal. Their "treasons, stratagems, and spoils" -are told in pleasing style, and will meet none the less with -boyish approval if somewhat difficult of imitation. - - ---- - - Climbing The Rope; or, God Helps Those who Help Themselves: - and - Billy Grimes's Favorite; or, Johnny Greenleaf's Talent. - By May Mannering. - Boston: Lee & Shepard. - -These two volumes, the first of the "Helping Hand Series," are -well adapted to make the youthful reader self-reliant, while -carefully guarding against self-sufficiency. The principal -characters are well drawn, and there are several charming -episodes of village life. There is one blemish. How could Biddy -O'Rooke, (sic,) "a good Catholic," say that "though she had been -always to church, and confessed all her life, when she had a -chance, it wasn't much of the Great Father himself that she -heard"? - - ---- - - Alexis, The Runaway; or, Afloat in the World. - By Mrs. Rosa Abbott Parker. - Boston: Lee & Shepard. - -The search of Alexis for his master, the Count von Homburg, -results in some striking adventures by sea and land; in the New -World and the Old. Pierre Grepan, fairly love-crazed Prissy Dean, -and the kind-hearted Jacqueline Rasheburne, are well conceived. - -{576} - - Dotty Dimple At Her Grandmother's. - By Sophie May, author of Little Prudie Stories. - Boston: Lee & Shepard. - -A charming little tale, attractive from its very simplicity; a -true child's book. - - ---- - - The Life Of The Right Hon. J. P. Curran. - By Thomas Davis, M.R.I.A.; - and a - Memoir Of The Life Of The Right Hon. Henry Grattan. - By D. O. Madden, of the Inner Temple; - with Addenda, and letter to Lord Clare. - Boston: Patrick Donahoe. - -Those whom a bulky volume affrights will welcome this excellent -abridgment of the early days, matured labors, and closing years -of two of the most illustrious among the many eminent orators and -statesmen whose eloquence and patriotism irradiated that saddest -era in the history of Ireland, the extinction of her national -independence. - - ---- - - Happy Hours Of Childhood. - A Series of Tales for the Little Ones. - By a member of the Order of Mercy, authoress - of the Life of Catherine McAuley, etc. - New York: P. O'Shea. - -Among the many books for children which the approach of the -holidays yields, we accord the first rank to these charming -tales, "which combine," to quote the authoress's own ideal of a -really good juvenile, "all the fascinations of a lovely fairy -tale with the highest spiritual teachings of which childhood is -capable. We hope she will soon repeat this, her most happy -experiment in childish literature. - - ---- - - Holly And Mistletoe: - Tales translated from the German of Rosalie Koch. - New York: P. O'Shea. - -A collection of stories intended mainly for children, all -inculcating self-denial, truth, and Christian trust. The -translation is occasionally somewhat defective. Otherwise, the -work is to be commended to the attention of those who wish to put -into the hands of children pleasant and instructive reading. - - ---- - -The Catholic Publication Society has in press, and will soon -publish, _The Diary of a Sister of Mercy_, by Mrs. C. M. -Braine. - -The Society will also publish, about New-Year's, _Lectures on -Reason and Revelation_, by Rev. T. S. Preston. 1 vol. 12mo. -Price, $1.50. - - ---- - - Books Received. - -From Charles Scribner, New-York. - - The Old Roman World; - the Grandeur and Failure of its Civilization. - By John Lord, LL.D. 1 vol. 8vo. pp. 605. - - The History of the Church of God, during the Period of - Revelation. - By Rev. Charles Colcock Jones, D.D. - 1 vol. 8vo., pp. 558. - - Prayers from Plymouth Pulpit. - By H. W. Beecher. 12mo., pp. 332. - - -From P. Donahoe, Boston. - - The Glories of the Virgin Mother, - and Channel of Divine Grace. - From the Latin of St. Bernard, 1 vol. 16mo., pp. 172. - - -From Kelly & Piet, Baltimore. - - The Life of the Rev. J. B. M. Vianney, - the celebrated Parish-Priest of Ars, France. - Abridged from the French of Abbé Monin, - by Rev. B. S. Piot. - 1 vol. 16mo. pp. 216. - - -------- - -{577} - - The Catholic World. - - Vol. VI., No. 35.--February, 1868. - - - Paris Impious And Religious Paris. [Footnote 55] - - [Footnote 55: _Les OEuores de Charité a Paris_, par - Julie Gouraud. _Le Bien qui se fait en France_, par M. - l'Abbé Mullois.] - -Am English lady, with whom the writer of this article fell into -conversation one day at the _table d'hôte_ of a Paris hotel, -made the remark, "What a pity that the Parisians are so wicked!" -This remark expresses the common opinion of English and American -Protestants about Paris. The general desecration of Sunday, the -evident lack of religion among a great portion of the people, the -open infidelity of many of the leading newspapers, and other -things of the like nature, strike their attention immediately. -The extreme gayety of the French character appears, moreover, to -the sedate Anglo-Saxon like an utter levity and frivolity. -Puritan notions about Sunday, as foreign to the minds of -continental Protestants as they are to those of Catholics, make -them look also upon many innocent recreations and amusements in -which the French people indulge on Sunday, as marks of an -irreligious spirit, when they are not at all so. The consequence -is, that they make an unfavorable judgment of the Catholic -religion in consequence of what they see in Paris which is either -really or in their opinion impious and immoral. This judgment is, -however, altogether superficial; first, because the actual -estimate of the religious and moral state of Paris is partial and -one-sided; and second, because the responsibility of the really -existing evils is unjustly cast upon the Catholic religion. - -We propose, therefore, to give a more just and correct estimate -of Paris as it is, by presenting its religious aspect in the same -_coup d'oeil_ with its irreligious aspect, and showing the -true relations of the good and evil, as they exist side by side -in mutual hostility and struggle, with each other and with their -causes. - -The light in which Paris is regarded as a Catholic city, and -France as a Catholic nation, by English and American Protestants, -is an incorrect one. As Paris represents France, we will speak of -Paris alone, leaving the reader to apply to France generally, -guided by his own knowledge and discretion, what we say about the -capital. -{578} -Paris is rather to be called a city which was once Catholic, and -which Catholicity is striving to reconquer, than an actually -Catholic city. The French Revolution abolished the Catholic -Church, exterminated the clergy and religious orders, and put an -end to the Christian religion in Paris. The mass of the people -lost all faith and religious sentiment, and consequently could -not transmit them to the generations which have been born since, -and which have, grown up in ignorance and heathenism. Since the -partial restoration of the Catholic religion by Napoleon the -First, constant and zealous efforts have been made to convert -this heathen mass, yet a vast number of the people remain still -practically heathen, and a considerable proportion of them are -not even baptized. With the common people there is more of -ignorance and thoughtlessness than of positive infidelity or -aversion from the church. In the higher walks of life, beside the -ignorant and thoughtless class who have but a slight tincture of -Catholic belief, there is the large and influential class of the -positive infidels, who keep up a continual war upon every form of -revealed religion. The majority of the people of Paris having -thus been always in a state of greater or less alienation from -all positive Christian belief and wholly regardless of the -authority of the church since the French Revolution, the proper -observance of the Sunday has never been reestablished. The people -having lost the habit of resting on that day, and having dropped -all thought of going to church, business and work have gone on -upon Sunday from the mere _vis inertiae_. The church and the -minority of the population have not been able to bring back the -general observance of the day. Consequently, those who wish to -observe it and to have it observed, are to a great extent dragged -in to follow the common custom by the necessity of the case, and -the clergy are not able to insist as strongly as they would wish -on the obligation of resting from servile labor. It is not to be -supposed that the clergy and the genuine Catholics of Paris -approve of this desecration of Sunday. Let any one read the -eloquent remarks of F. Hyacinthe, the most celebrated preacher of -Paris, on this subject, in our last number, and he will see a -correct statement of the sentiments of the Archbishop of Paris -and all his clergy respecting the observance of Sunday. It is -indeed a shocking spectacle, and one disgraceful to the great -French nation, to see all public works going on, nearly all shops -open, all factories in motion, and to meet the crowd of blouses -shoving their way through the other, well-dressed crowd, as they -return from work on Sunday, which ought to be the poor man's -holiday. As a consequence of this unnatural privation of the day -of rest given him by God, the laborer, from sheer inability to -make a mere machine of himself, seizes on the Monday. Instead of -the holy, cheerful rest of Sunday, there is a dull, apathetic -cessation of work on Monday, and the blouses are again met -loitering about the streets and quays, too often in a state of -intoxication. The accountability for this falls not upon the -Catholic Church, but upon that party which has been and ever is -working for her destruction, and which receives to a great extent -the sympathy and encouragement of Protestants in England and -America. - -We cannot pretend to say precisely what proportion of the -population of Paris is practically outside of the Catholic -Church. We have been told by an American gentleman that one of -the clergymen of St. Eustache estimated the population of that -parish at 40,000, of whom 10,000 attend Mass, and 3000 approach -the Sacraments. -{579} -If this estimate can be applied to the whole city, then 900,000 -of the people habitually neglect the church, leaving 300,000 who -habitually frequent it, out of whom somewhat less than 100,000 -receive the Sacraments. If this estimate is incorrect, it will -probably call out a more, correct statement from some of our -friends in Paris, which we shall be glad to receive. Without -committing ourselves, therefore, to any exact estimates, we may -nevertheless affirm what is an evident fact, that there exists -within the great world of Paris a smaller, but still in magnitude -a considerable religious and Catholic world which is really one -of the glories of Christendom for the extent and fervor of its -works of faith, charity, and piety. There is a religious as well -as an impious Paris, which, in many respects deserves to be held -up as a model to the other portions of the Catholic Church, and -is entitled to the admiration of all Christians throughout the -world. - -We will begin with the charities of Paris, leaving its religion -to be spoke of afterwards. Paris is world-renowned for the number -and excellence of its charitable institutions. These are not -exclusively the work of the religious portion of the people, but -common to all, from the imperial court down to the humblest -class. There is a natural basis for charity in the French -character. France is the most completely, highly, and universally -civilized nation in the world. This civilization has been matured -and brought to perfection by Christianity, yet the superiority of -its kind and degree is due to the fact that Christianity found in -the French character an uncommonly plastic and ductile material -to work upon. The truth of this observation is proved by the -refinement and politeness prevailing so universally among all -classes. There must be something naturally amiable in the French -character, which takes easily the refining, gentilizing -influences of Christian civilization. In the ordinary, small -affairs of life and common intercourse this is politeness, and it -adds no little to the pleasantness and happiness of every-day -existence, detracts no little from its burdens. Carried into a -higher sphere, it becomes philanthropy. The Catholic religion -evolved it into the highest activity and elevated it to the rank -of supernatural charity. This charity is still the interior and -principal wheel which imparts movement and supplies force. Yet -its movement, once communicated, is retained even by those who -have lost Catholic faith and charity, or who are acting chiefly -in view of temporal motives. There is a general interest in and -desire for the well-being and happiness of the whole people. -There is not so much liberty in France as in some other -countries, yet there is more equality and fraternity there than -anywhere else on the globe. The government is somewhat despotic, -yet there is no doubt that it labors for the well-being of its -subjects. The utmost care is taken of life and property, and the -most extreme vigilance is exercised to see that the public is -well served in every branch of administration. The emperor is the -hardest working man in Paris, and the empress is not at all -behindhand in sustaining her part of the arduous as well as -honorable duties of the throne. Who does not know that plans for -model tenements, projects for relieving the laboring classes, -charitable and benevolent enterprises of various sorts, are the -continual subjects of interest and consultation in the palace of -the Tuileries? -{580} -The emperor's _fête_ on the fifteenth of August, with the -abundant alms distributed on that day throughout every quarter of -Paris, and the permission to ask alms of everybody conceded to -the mendicant class, are like a gleam of more Catholic times, and -present a pleasing contrast with the glum demeanor and frozen -state of royalty in England and Prussia. We may speak here, also, -of the remarkable honesty and fidelity in taking care of the -property of others which is so general in Paris among all sorts -of persons, especially those engaged in serving the public, and -of which we might give a great number of instances, were it -convenient to do so. In regard to hospitals, and other public -institutions for the relief of the sick, poor, and otherwise -suffering classes, it is needless to go into particulars to show -how energetic and liberal is the action of the French government -in regard to them. - -English and American Protestants exaggerate too much the good of -their own civilization, and blow their own trumpet in a fearfully -sonorous manner. They think too much of long faces, measured -gravity of demeanor, drawling tones, long prayers, set, -evangelical phrases, and the tithing, in a metaphorical sense, of -mint, anise, and cummin. They are blind to the gross social -defects and evils marring their civilization; and to the -corruptions and immoralities which are poisoning their national -life-blood. We do not deny the evils which exist in Paris; -nevertheless, we maintain that it is in a far sounder moral -state, and far superior in general social well-being, to London -or New-York. There remains, even in impious and worldly Paris, an -effect produced by the Catholic religion in former times, and -sustained even now by a secret supply of force from the same -cause, which places it in a much nearer proximity to genuine -Christianity than any other great city in the world. But we will -leave these generalities and come to a closer inspection of the -specific charities of Paris which are in an immediate relation -with the Catholic Church, and chiefly sustained by her faithful -members. - -(1.) _The Work of the Faubourgs_. This is a society of -ladies founded in 1848. Its object is to provide clothing and -schooling for the poorest children in the outskirts of Paris, who -are sought out and cared for by the ladies of the society in -person. A concert of the first quality is given once a year which -produces from 6000 to 8000 francs, and there are numerous -subscribers at five francs a year. - -(2.) _The Maternal Society_. This society was founded in -1788, with Queen Marie Antoinette as directress. Its object is to -encourage mothers to nurse their own infants and to furnish them -the assistance necessary to enable them to do it. Forty-eight -sections of the city are assigned, each one to a lady of the -society, and these forty-eight ladies meet once a month to -regulate the distribution of the charities. On the day of the -infant's birth, the mother receives ten francs and a set of -baby-clothes, five francs a month for ten months, and a change of -dress for the infant. If the mother is unable to nurse the -infant, a nurse is provided. The ladies, moreover, take -particular care to give good counsel and advice to the mothers of -families whom they visit respecting their religious and moral -duties. Napoleon the First placed the society under the -protection of the Empress Maria Louisa, and gave it a donation of -100,000 francs. Nine hundred families are assisted and 60,000 -francs expended by the society, every year. - -{581} - -(3.) _The Cribs_. The institution of cribs was established -to furnish a supplement to the work of the maternal society. -Great numbers of poor women are unable to remain at home during -the day with their children, on account of the necessity of going -out to work. The cribs afford them an asylum where their infants -are taken care of during the hours of their absence from home. -The merit of devising this work of charity belongs to M. Marbeau, -a member of the council of charities, who founded the first crib -in 1844 at Chaillot. The cribs are now established in every -quarter of Paris. They are regulated by a council of -administration under the presidency of the mayor. A committee of -ladies appoints and superintends the inspectresses of the work. -Sisters of Charity, aided by nurses, have charge of the cribs. A -medical committee watches over the sanitary department. Since the -foundation of the work, about fifteen thousands infants have been -admitted. Neat little cradles or beds are provided for the -youngest infants, walking-stools and playthings for the older -ones, and some are left to tumble about and play upon the floor -of a small room which is carpeted with a mattress. The mothers -bring their infants in the morning, come during the day to nurse -them, and take them home at night. On holidays they keep them at -home during the day, and can do so on other days when they have -no work. - -(4.) _Halls of Asylum_. This is the delicate name given with -true French politeness, that politeness to the poor of which -little is known in England or America, to what we should call -_poor-schools_ or _ragged-schools_. The first attempt -to institute these schools in France was made in 1770, and the -celebrated Oberlin, a Protestant pastor in the Vosges, is said to -have been the first proposer of the plan. It is only since 1826 -that they have been in general and successful operation, owing -chiefly to the exertions of Madame de Pastoret and M. Cochin. -There are now in France 3308 asylums, which have educated -3,833,856 children, besides 2022 _garderies_, or little -schools, which have received 5026 children. Many of these asylums -are under the charge of religious of different orders, and others -under lay teachers. - -(5.) _Common Schools_. Besides the above-mentioned class of -schools, there are 1168 public primary schools in Paris, upon -which the municipal council expend yearly 497,344 francs. The -whole number of schools in France is 73,271, attended by -4,855,238 children. A great many of these schools are under the -care of religious of both sexes. To speak only of the Christian -Brothers, this society has in France more than one thousand -houses, and above nine thousand members. Thirty-one of these -houses are in Paris, and they have several hundred schools under -their charge. We have no exact statistics of a recent date, but -in 1852 the number of their schools in Paris was 275. - -(6.) _Patronages_. The work of patronage has for its object -to watch over children of the laboring class after leaving school -and going to work. The houses of the society are distributed all -over Paris, and the number of apprentices under its care is 1800. -The members are persons of the higher classes, and they exert -themselves personally to find good places for their clients, to -watch over them during their apprenticeship, and to lend them a -helping hand in various ways. -{582} -The young people are assembled at the patronages on Sundays, -where they have Mass and Vespers, religious instruction, study -and recreation. They have also evening-schools during the week. - -(7.) _The Friends of Childhood_. This society was founded in -1827, by a number of young gentlemen of fortune, for the succor -of poor children without parents, or having parents who neglect -to take proper care of them. The children adopted by the society -are taken care of until they can be placed as apprentices. There -is also a house in a pleasant quarter of the city, called _the -family mansion_, where the apprentices who have been brought -up by the society resort on Sundays and holidays, to meet their -protectors and pass the day in a profitable and pleasant manner. - -(8.) _The Work of the Prisons_. This is a very extensive -charity and has many ramifications. The _House of Paternal -Correction_ is a place of detention where parents may place -disorderly children, and in which, under the direction of -religious brothers or sisters, an effort is made to reform, -instruct, and prepare them for some kind of work in which they -can gain a decent living. The _Patronage of the Liberated_ -watches over young persons after they have been dismissed from -the place of detention. The _Colony of Mettray_ receive -young criminals, who are kept there, and employed in agriculture -or shop-work until they come of age, when they are liberated. The -_Work of Imprisoned Debtors_, established during the latter -part of the sixteenth century, by Madame de Lamoignon, has in -view the liberation of this unfortunate class by arrangements -with their creditors, and for this purpose engages the services -of magistrates and lawyers. In the mean time they are visited and -looked after in prison, and help is given to their families. -After they are dismissed from prison, an asylum is furnished them -until they can obtain the means of gaining their own livelihood, -or the means are provided of sending them to their own homes, if -they have come to Paris from a distance, as is the case with the -greater number. _The Work of St. Lazarus_, managed by -ladies, is directed to the care of women of bad life, detained in -the prison of St. Lazarus. Madame de Lamartine, an English lady, -was the foundress of this branch of charity, encouraged and aided -by the advice of the celebrated Mrs. Fry. The first object -proposed and accomplished was the amelioration of the prison -discipline, by introducing neatness and order, regular -employment, religious instruction, and the happy influence of -continual visits by the ladies engaged in the work. The second -was the foundation of a house of refuge for the poor women whose -term of imprisonment had expired. In this house everything is -done to complete their reformation, and at the proper time -arrangements are made to restore those whose conduct has been -good to their parents, to find places for them in respectable -families, or to procure their admission to some religious -community whose rules admit of receiving penitents. Those who -desire to remain, and are worthy to do so, continue in the house -permanently, forming a separate class, under the name of -Magdalens. On certain festival days the ladies go to communion -with the prisoners of St. Lazarus in their chapel, and afterward -give them a banquet at which the ladies themselves serve the -table in white aprons, and afterward accept an invitation to take -their own breakfast. - -{583} - -(9.) _The Society of St. Francis Regis_. This society was -founded in 1822 by M. Gossin, an eminent magistrate of Paris, in -order to remedy the widely-spread moral evil of illicit unions. -Vast numbers of the lower classes in Paris and throughout France -live together as man and wife in a permanent union without being -lawfully married either in the eye of the church or in that of -the civil law. The society searches out persons of this kind, -persuades them to contract valid marriages, and provides for the -expediting of all the documents and legal formalities necessary -for this purpose, as well as for the expenses. Between the years -1826 and 1866, 43,256 illicit unions were rehabilitated by its -efforts in the department of the Seine alone, beside all that was -done in other parts of the empire. - -(10.) _The Work of the Sick Poor_. This work derives its -systematic organization from St. Vincent de Paul, and is the -special sphere of the Sisters of Charity, of whom there are -10,000 in Paris alone. These devoted religious are not, however, -alone or unaided in their work of visiting the sick poor. The -work is systematically organized in each parish under the -direction of the curé, and a general supervision is exercised by -the Superior General of the Lazarists. There is a society of -ladies who assist the curé and the Sisters of Charity in each -parish in their labors. More than 50,000 sick persons are each -year visited and provided with all that is necessary for their -bodily and spiritual relief by the charity of these ladies. - -The sick poor in hospitals receive the same kind and charitable -succor, and private convalescent hospitals have been established -to receive those who are dismissed from the public hospitals. One -of these establishments, called _The Asylum of the Sacred Heart -of Mary_, founded in 1840, has received more than 17,000 young -female convalescents. There is one for children, called the -_Asylum of St. Hilary_, in a pleasant place in the country, -near Paris, founded by a young Parisian gentleman of rank, whose -initials only are given as M. le Due de L. - -(11.) _The Little Sisters of the Poor_. The nature of this -institute is so well known that there is no need to enlarge upon -it. It has five houses in Paris, one of them partly founded by -the 7th Legion of the National Guard, which gave 14,000 francs -for the purpose. - -(12.) _Convent of the Blind Sisters of St. Paul_. This is a -religious community not entirely composed of blind persons, but -into which such are admitted, founded in 1853. Connected with it -is an asylum for blind girls, who are received from the age of -six years, and can remain during life if they please. - -(13.) _The Work of the Soldiers_. This is intended to -provide schools of elementary education and religious instruction -for the young soldiers of the garrison of Paris. The schools are -established with the consent of the military authorities near -some church or chapel, in order that there may be a place of easy -access for the members of the school to perform their devotions. -Each school has its chaplain who superintends the religious -exercises. The classes are taught by the Brothers of the -Christian Doctrine, by educated lay gentlemen, and sometimes by -the more intelligent and well-instructed soldiers. The school is -held every evening between the hours of supper and _rappel_. -After the lessons are over, prayer-books are distributed, usually -_The Soldier's Manual_, or books containing hymns especially -composed for soldiers, of which they are very fond. After some -prayers have been recited or some hymns sung, an instruction is -given or some good book is read; then some closing prayers are -recited, and the school is dismissed. -{584} -Once a week there is a service entirely devoted to innocent -recreations and religious exercises. On Sundays they have mass at -an hour convenient for the soldiers, and vespers, with the -Benediction, in the evening. At Easter, there is a retreat, -followed by a general communion. The gentlemen engaged in this -work are very punctual in their attendance, take great interest -in their pupils, and find their intercourse with the soldiers -very agreeable. When a regiment is exchanged to another military -post, a register of the members of the school belonging to the -regiment is confided to a trustworthy soldier, who delivers it to -the priest in charge of the school at the new post, if there is -one, and if not, is himself charged to keep up the good work -among his comrades the best way he can. The number of soldiers -brought under the influence of these schools is not very large, -there being not more than 600 in attendance at Paris, but the -admirable excellence of the plan is obvious, and there seems to -be no reason why it should not have a more extensive success in -due time. - -(14.) _The Society of St. Vincent de Paul_. This society is -the most extensive and celebrated of all existing religious -associations among laymen, and has spread itself from Paris not -only throughout France, but also into other countries of Europe, -and into America. It was founded in 1833 by M. Bailly as a centre -of reunion for Catholic young men, where they might learn to know -each other, might give each other their mutual support and -encouragement, and might act in combination for carrying on -charitable works. Eight young students formed the original -nucleus of the society, one of whom was the renowned Frederic -Ozanam. The immediate stimulus to the formation of the society -was given by the reproach of the St. Simonians that Catholicity -was inert and incapable of doing any good in the social -community. At the present time the society has 2400 members in -Paris, many of whom are gentlemen of rank, judges, advocates, -authors, physicians, or merchants. It is divided into numerous -conferences, each one of which is perfectly organized. Its active -work extends to searching out and relieving, as far as possible, -every kind of moral and physical misery among the poorer classes. -In a large number of schools for boys there are juvenile -conferences where members are trained under experienced guides to -the practice of charitable work, and there are analogous -conferences also in some female schools. - -There are many other charitable works carried on in Paris, for -the publication of good books, for the provision of vestments and -sacred vessels for poor country churches, and for a variety of -other purposes which it would be impossible to enumerate -completely. It is also well known that Paris is one of the great -centres of foreign missionary operations. Yet, as it would be -difficult to separate what belongs to Paris from the general work -of the propagation of the faith, and the subject of French -foreign missions is too extensive for a passing notice, we must -leave it alone altogether. - -Our meagre sketch of charities in Paris is necessarily somewhat -skeletonian. Mlle. Gouraud, in her lively, charming volume, tells -the story with that filling in of circumstantial narration and -illustrative anecdote necessary to give its form completeness. -{585} -She writes under the guise of _Letters from an English Lady in -Paris to a Friend in England_, and although like her -countryfolk in general, quite unsuccessful in spelling English, -yet her book is made more entertaining by the pretty little -artifice. We would recommend our countrywomen to order this -little book, and some others of the same kind, with their -Parisian gloves, and to read them in lieu of the novels of Dumas -and Hugo, if we had any hope that our advice would be listened -to. - -We have said enough to show that the charitable side of religion -in Paris, if it be not in its extent of surface adequate to the -dimensions of that great capital, is nevertheless in full -proportion to the numbers and resources of the really Catholic -population. Out of about one hundred thousand practical -Catholics, from twenty to thirty thousand, including the clergy -and religious, make it either the exclusive, or at least a -principal end of their lives, to perform charitable works. Out of -these, a great number may justly be entitled true heroes and -heroines of charity. If there were a legion of honor of charity, -its grand crosses would be plentifully distributed in Paris. -Religion in Paris atones for its deficiency in quantity by the -superior excellence of its quality. Like ottar of roses, a little -of it diffuses a wide perfume, and it is even able to disinfect -the atmosphere redolent of the _odeurs de Paris_. If the -whole population of Paris were really Catholic, and the whole -body of the easy classes would cooperate with the clergy and -magistracy to reform the social evils and miseries which fester -in the bosom of the working class, it is difficult to conceive -the greatness of the result which might be accomplished. The -French people are the most highly civilized, and the greatest -civilizers in the world. Their civilization extends downward into -the humblest classes, and ramifies indefinitely in every -direction. Take Paris even as it is, in our opinion it is the -best governed city in the world, and less immoral than any other -great capital. There are great miseries in it, no doubt, but -these miseries make more impression on philosophic Frenchmen than -on other men, and they make more ado about them. It is a fixed -idea in the French mind that every human being ought to have a -pleasant time and enjoy life. Evidently, the French are, as a -whole, the most cheerful and joyous people in the world, and even -the _cochers_, who are among the most forlorn human beings -in Paris, do not seem very discontented. Let the Catholic -religion regain full sway over the French mind and heart, and it -seems to us that the civilization of Christianity might attain -its ultimatum in France. To regain that sway it is now bravely -striving against formidable difficulties and opposition. And -although we do not venture to pronounce a positive judgment on -the probabilities of final and complete success, we think the -aspect of affairs encouraging, and believe that the church has -gained ground steadily in Paris and throughout France. - -Historically, and according to the exterior, Paris is a Catholic -city. The Catholic religion is the religion of the French people, -and, as such, enters into the whole structure of the political, -civil, and social fabric. The French Revolution was a moment of -national delirium. When the nation came to itself, it was forced -by its common sense to reestablish religion, restore the -desecrated temples to Catholic worship, and recall the surviving -remnant of the expatriated clergy. The Hôtel Dieu, a hospital -near Notre Dame de Paris, built by Saint Vincent de Paul, still -bears on its front the half-effaced inscriptions, _Liberté, -Egalité, Fraternité_. -{586} -There could not be a more expressive symbol of the triumph of -religion over infidelity. The past, the present, and the future -glory of France is identified with religion. The traditions of -the first foundation of Paris, which cast a halo of sacred -association over it, and which are perpetuated by so many -splendid monuments, are religious. The names of Saint Dionysius, -Saint Genevieve, Saint Louis, familiar as household words, -continually recall them. The glorious churches, which are the -chief ornaments of the city, Notre Dame de Paris, La Sainte -Chapelle, Saint Denys, Saint Eustache, The Madeleine; the streets -even, with their appellations borrowed from religion, impress -them continually on the memory and imagination. The masterpieces -of art which fill the galleries of painting embody the mysteries, -the events, the great personages of religion. The sublime -services of the church give their principal grandeur to the -national festivals, and to the public pomp of the imperial -government. This exterior Catholicity is not much in itself, it -is true. Nevertheless, it is a _point d'appui_, of great -service to religion in laboring to imbue with the living -principles of Christian faith and virtue the minds and hearts of -the people. Awaken them to a belief that religion is a reality, -and to an earnest desire to act according to its precepts, and -they become fervent Catholics at once. The general atmosphere -holds the Catholic spirit in solution, ready to be precipitated -under the proper influences. - -So far as the actual piety and religion of Paris is concerned, we -have anticipated in a great measure what is to be said about it, -in speaking of the charities of Paris. We need do no more than -allude to certain facts well known to all who have visited the -city in such a way as to really learn anything about it, or who -are well informed by reading. The clergy are numerous, well -organized, and above all praise for their high sacerdotal -virtues. The colleges and seminaries for ecclesiastical training -are certainly unsurpassed except by those of Rome. A rich and -abundant stream of theological and religious literature is -perennially flowing from the Paris press. Active and able as are -the infidel writers of Paris, they are overmatched by the -advocates of religion, who have vindicated and are vindicating -Christianity in a most triumphant manner in every branch of -polemics. The principal parish churches in Paris are models which -the world might imitate. As for the piety of that portion of the -people who are really practical Catholics, it is enough to visit -the churches on week-days or Sundays, especially such as are -places of special devotion, like Notre Dame des Victoires, to be -most powerfully and agreeably impressed with the evidence of its -high quality and fervor. Those who are best qualified to judge -consider it beyond a doubt that religion has made a great advance -in Paris within the last twenty-five years, and is advancing -gradually but surely toward a reconquest of the masses of the -population. A great combat is going on throughout Europe for -saving the Christian religion and Christian civilization, and one -of its chief battle-grounds is Paris. We cannot dissemble our -solicitude for the result, or our sentiment of the gravity of the -crisis. We trust, however, that the noble words of that great -Christian orator Père Hyacinthe may be verified: "Christian -society may agonize, but it cannot die; for it bears the -principle of immortality in its bosom." - --------- - -{587} - - Translated From The Journal De Bruxelles. - - Bishop Dupanloup's Speech At The Catholic Congress Of Malines. - - -Permit me, gentlemen, first of all to thank you for having kept -up and continued your excellent congress. I congratulate you not -only on the sacred flame which animates you, or the zeal which -shines so highly in your public sessions, but also on the works -which are the enduring fruits of your meetings. In reading, -yesterday and this morning, the volumes which contain the reports -of the proceedings of your former sessions, I have been -astonished at the amount of information, at the resolutions, and -the useful institutions which have resulted from your labors. - -You have done a good work, a sacred and fruitful work; _bonum -opus_. For this I give thanks to God, the author of all good -and after him to his eminence the cardinal archbishop of Malines, -who, in his wisdom, has found the means of sustaining your work -in spite of all opposition. (Prolonged applause.) - -The presence, on this occasion, of Monsignor Dechamps will not -permit of my expressing all that I feel in my heart toward him. I -remember with pleasure that my first battles at Liege were fought -under the inspiring influence of his noble example. Twenty-one -years have elapsed since then, and, while these years have left -the marks of age upon me, it seems as if they have only had the -effect of making him younger. (Laughter and applause.) - -Having told you of the deep impression which has been made upon -me, relative to the praiseworthy character of your work, it will -hardly be expected that I should attempt to fan the flame of your -zeal: that would be useless. My object at present is, just by a -few simple words, to add something if I can to that sacred fire -burning in your hearts, of whose results, as set forth in the -proceedings of your last sessions, I have read with so much -admiration. - -You need not fear, then, that I will, on the present occasion, as -happened three years ago, impose upon your good nature. (Cries -from all parts of "No, no! Speak, speak at length.") To abuse it -this time is impossible, for my strength will not permit. I -shall, consequently, be on my guard against the temptations to -which one is exposed before such an audience as this. - -I wish simply to remind you of the words of St. Paul, which are -applicable now: "Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with -good." _Noli vinci a malo, sed vince malum bono_. You will -perceive that these are words of great importance; and, with your -permission, I shall offer a few remarks upon them. They are words -deserving of serious consideration, for evil surrounds us, or -rather presses upon us. This evil is present, acting, speaking. -We must overcome this evil, but we must overcome it not by evil, -but by good; _in bono._ Here we see our duty. The evil, -gentlemen, has been in the world for a long time, and for this -reason we should neither be astonished at it nor discouraged in -our efforts. Let me simply remind you of the few last centuries. -{588} -What has Protestantism done? It has attacked the church which was -in the sixteenth century. What has the eighteenth century done? -It has attacked Christianity. The nineteenth century, gentlemen, -has attacked everything--it has attacked God, the soul, reason, -morals, society, the distinction between good and evil. Yes, -gentlemen, everything is to-day shamefully, audaciously, -impudently attacked. (Prolonged applause.) Here we see the extent -and the intensity of the evil; here we see the necessity of -overcoming it with good. We can do it; not without effort, it is -true; but still we can do it. For us is reserved, henceforth, the -glory of defending the law of reason, as well as that of faith; -the natural, as well as the supernatural; the immortality of the -soul, and the existence of the Deity, against the most audacious -and the most foolish enemies that have ever been known. -(Applause.) - -I tell you, nevertheless, that the battle is a hard one, and -certainly the acclamations which, on this occasion, greet the -names of the church, the pope, and the holy Virgin, show that the -evil is serious, that the sore is deeply seated, that the disease -has thoroughly infected souls that are dear to us, and for which -we ought to fight; has laid hold upon souls dear to us, and which -we should save from ruin. Ah! gentlemen, what ought we not to do -in order to save souls! We should be prepared to sacrifice our -strength, blood, our lives if necessary. This is the price of -victory; and that you may not forget it, the cross which is -raised over this assembly reminds you of what is the price of -souls. (Sensation.) - -The struggle, then, is a severe one, and it is especially so now, -seeing that never at any previous period has evil had more -powerful means employed in its service than at the present time. -We have to encounter not only against an immense, concealed -organization, that of secret societies, the ramifications of -which extend on all sides, but against a vast public -organization, and against a press which spreads calumnies and -lies in every quarter. - -From whatever point of view we look at it, the contest is a -terrible one. And observe, gentlemen, that the propaganda of evil -knows no limits, and respects nothing; it attacks the rich, the -poor, women, children, young girls. What do I say? It attacks -even the dying, doing violence shamefully to their consciences, -and snatching from them the consolation to be derived from a -return to the faith. I ask these madmen, (for after all we are -not here in the dark, but we fight in the light of day.) Whence -came the idea of inducing any one to sign this infernal compact? -What sort of man can he be who will persuade his fellow-creatures -to enter into an engagement of this kind? And yet there are men -who yield! Yes, there are men who pledge themselves never to -return, even to their dying hour, to the religion and the hearts -of their wives, to the religion and hearts of their daughters; -for this is what these wicked, these barbarous separations amount -to! (Sensation.) - -The hatred of religion, gentlemen, is nowhere more marked than in -Belgium. But I may add--what will, perhaps, astonish you when I -say it--that it is to your honor it is so; for it is doubtless -because they feel sensibly the power of your religion, of your -faith, of your zeal, that they have been driven to hate so -bitterly. -{589} -It is to your honor, for it proves that you are a Catholic -nation, the most Catholic, perhaps, that there has yet been. - -But, in spite of these good and solid reasons for battling on, -some are frequently tempted to ask, "Is the struggle to go on for -ever? It is sufficient to wear out the stoutest courage." Well, -gentlemen, I tell you that, under different phases, the struggle -will be eternal. Do you wish to have the proof of this? Hear it, -gentlemen, from the mouth of the Master; hear it with that -respect which his divine word commands: "_The world hates you, -but you know that it hated me before it hated you_." And -again: "_I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves. If -they have persecuted me, they will persecute you. The disciple is -not above his master, nor the servant above his lord. If they -have called the master Beelzebub, how much more will they also -call his servants!_" - -You understand, then, gentlemen, it is what is good they -persecute in you--it is the good, it is justice, it is the -liberty of souls, it is eternal glory that they hate in you. It -is the adorable name of Jesus Christ which they persecute in you. -This is to your honor; and allow me to say, it is to the -particular glory of that society with which Belgium is honored, -that society which has provided for your children such highly -accomplished and devout masters, that society the members of -which cultivate so successfully in your midst the sciences and -letters, and who are, I may say, the princes of learning and of -Catholic divinity. (Applause.) - -But if Jesus Christ has predicted persecution, he says to us at -the same time, _Fear not; nolite timere_. And St. Augustine -in his admirable comment on this exhortation says: "You complain, -you are astonished, at seeing a flood of persecution rising -against you. You cry out, Where, then, O Lord! is thy justice? -But God answers you, Where, then, is your faith? Did I promise -you anything else than from the height of my cross I baptized you -in my blood? Did you become a Christian in order to enjoy here -below all temporal prosperity? _Num quid Christianus factus es -ut in hoc saeculo floreres?_" - -Let us look more closely into this great question. It may -certainly be asked, Since God holds in his eternal hands the -hearts of all nations in every age--since he can turn the hearts -of princes as he wills, may it not be presumed that he will put a -check upon the passions of men, and allow his children to enjoy -eternal peace? Well, no. "As high," says the prophet, "as the -heavens are above the earth, so high are my thoughts above -yours." What, then, does he to whom belongs the wisdom and the -power think on this subject? Gentlemen, God, in his eternal -councils, has judged that there is nothing more glorious for him, -nothing more salutary for man, than that good was to prevail by -conflict. Overcome evil with good, is the tower of strength of -the divine power. God has thought--and let this thought, -gentlemen, sink deep into your hearts; for you all, whatever your -condition in life, have need frequently to meditate upon those -teachings of Christianity which are at once a solid foundation -and a glorious crown; God has thought, I say, that conflict in -this world is necessary, that it is more worthy of him, and more -worthy of us. In leaving men free to choose the good, God knows -that there is the possibility of evil, which he has, thereby, -hazarded; but he has ordained that there shall be conflict and -struggle, without which that glorious thing we call virtue, -_virtus_, would be unknown in the world. - -{590} - -And not only has he thought that, even after the fall, we were -still great enough to be equal to great trials, but he has -thought, also, that it would be more worthy of him and of us for -us to pass through those trials. So, gentlemen, when Christ -descended on earth, he chose the lot of suffering and of the -cross. And St. Paul has found this foundation so solid, that he -has made it the basis of his doctrine when he says that it was -necessary that Christ should suffer in order that he might be -raised in glory. - -Well, permit me, gentlemen, to use this plainness of speech, for -we are here as a family. I believe that God has judged rightly. I -believe that bold adversaries are better for us than partial -friends and unbounded prosperity. I believe that he will never -leave our sufferings without their compensations. There is no age -that has not had its glory. There are periods of consolation. -Sometimes the sun rises and all seems easy. - -We are told in Scripture that these bright periods often follow -the darkness. There are times when the light of faith seems to be -obscured. There are sometimes grievous misunderstandings among -the friends of God, and sometimes deplorable manifestations of -self-will. In this season of darkness, under the cover of this -night, the beasts of prey leave their hiding-places: _in ipsa -hora pertransibunt bestiae_. We hear men saying, God is evil. -Property is robbery. We must have a new morality. And they would -instil these things into the minds of your wives and your -children. This is what we hear in the night. But the sun rises, -and immediately these creatures retire into their holes. -(Laughter.) Then the good man opens his door, sees that the -weather is fine, that the sky is clear, and he goes forth to -works of charity and virtue, laboring on in lively hope until the -return of the darkness. (Applause.) - -It is true that, when we see so much evil in the world, when we -feel it near to us, and experience its effects, we are apt to -become alarmed. But that would be wrong. A short time ago, on -returning from Rome, where every one goes for consolation and -hope, I passed through Pisa, where I found an admirable type of -the church in the leaning tower of which you have all heard. -Those who are ignorant of the secret of the skilful architect to -whom we are indebted for this wonderful monument, cannot -contemplate it without a certain degree of fear. But the -craziness of the structure is in appearance only. It is the same -with the church, which the Scriptures call the Tower of David, -(_Turris Davidcea_,) surrounded by a thousand defences. When -this leaning tower raises itself, it is like St. Peter's at -Rome--an incomparable monument, grand, majestic, shining as if -lighted with the fire of the setting sun. At this sight, -gentlemen, we console ourselves, and take fresh courage, saying -to ourselves, When afflictions come, I will think of St. Peter's -at Rome, even when it appears like the leaning tower of Pisa. -(Applause.) - -This, gentlemen, is what I have to say to you about that conflict -to which we are called to devote our strength, to consecrate our -life, and even our death. Yes, gentlemen, when, upon my arrival -here, I saw the illustrious writer who is now your host -struggling with sickness and suffering, at the time when he was -required to write some of those pages which awaken such noble -sentiments in our souls, the reflection forced itself upon me: It -is thus that we should combat, and never yield. (The orator was -here about to leave the platform, but the opposition and -entreaties of the audience prevented him.) - -{591} - -I crave your indulgence, gentlemen, he resumed; it is now two -years since I have opened my mouth in my diocese. But let it be -as you wish; only I throw the responsibility upon you of making -my peace for me with the people of Orleans. (Orleanius.) (Great -merriment.) I will add a few words respecting the conditions of -this conflict. - -The first is courage. Saint James the Evangelist, in addressing -himself to young men, calls upon them to be strong, to be -courageous; he says to them, "I speak to you because you are -strong: _quia fortis estis_. I can say no more to you than -this: Be courageous, never yield. Remember that you are, every -day and under all circumstances, called upon to resist." - -But there is something greater and more enduring than courage: it -is devotedness. Yes, gentlemen, you must be devoted, in order -that you may be the true friends of the poor, of the working -people, of those who suffer and who weep, the support of all -those works which is the life, the soul of the church, the -blood--if I may so speak--which circulates in its veins. - -The third quality which is demanded in this conflict is -patriotism. O patriotism! I need not enlarge upon it in my -speech. I will simply content myself with saying to you, You have -a country; know how to defend it. (Immense applause.) You have -the arts: in this respect there is no nation that surpasses you, -and but one at most that equals you. You have industry, commerce, -names among the most honored in Europe. You have I know not how -much of generous, instinctive impulses against oppression, -against debasing vices, against everything mean and degrading. -Cherish, then, the strongest attachment to your country, and see -that you preserve it. - -I was told a few days ago that a journal of some character had -said that Belgium is the sink of Europe. I said to myself, this -is not abuse. There is, in fact, no nation of which so much can -be said in the sense in which I wish now to speak. I myself, -gentlemen, saw proof of this in walking through your city -yesterday. In the street which runs along the magnificent city -hotel of Brussels my eyes fell upon this sign: _Liberal -Association and Constitutional Union of Brussels_. And what -was there below? A wine-shop; and lower down another wine-shop, -having for a sign the words "to Hell." (General merriment.) This, -alas! is not all that I have seen in Brussels, gentlemen; but I -pass on. - -The fourth condition of the conflict is labor. Oh! how I wish -that the Catholics were the most diligent, the most laborious of -men. Yes; whatever you may be, work will benefit your family, -your posterity. Depend upon it, gentlemen, the destinies of the -world are in the hands of those who know how to work. - -To this condition, to industry, to science, I would add -intelligence and prudence. And here again, gentlemen, it is our -Lord himself who gives us counsel: we are to have, he says, the -artlessness of the dove, with the wisdom of the serpent. Yes, -gentlemen, however much these words may have been abused, I -insist upon them, and I call upon you to give heed to them. We -must exercise that prudence of which the serpent is the symbol in -the language of the east. We must use our judgment; we must -intelligently apply our principles; we must maintain that good -understanding which should ever exist among brethren. -{592} -To give up that to the enemy to trample under his feet, would be -treachery. (Applause.) We must seek to understand the times in -which we live and the wants of the times, the adversaries whom we -have to combat and the means we ought to employ in meeting them, -as God and revelation permit and demand of us. (Applause.) - -There is another point on which you will allow me to insist. When -I had the honor of being received in the French Academy, I was -required to make a speech. In searching for a subject suited to -the times in which we live, I remembered the words of an -historian: "We have long since lost the true meaning of words." -This, gentlemen, is a profound remark. The higher philosophy, -which is in accord with Christianity, proclaims its truth; words, -which are the signs of ideas, are the grand riches of humanity; -they are the common treasure. To adopt the language of the -adversaries of that philosophy, and Christianity, is, to speak -plainly, the greatest fault which honest men can commit. - -What are the words with which the sixteenth and seventeenth -centuries achieved their success? what are those which are in the -present day so much abused? There are three of them: -_Reformers, Philosophers_, and (since they take great -pleasure in being called so) _Liberals_. - -_Reformers!_ We must confess that the thing indicated by -this word is more strange even than the word itself. You have the -Council of Trent which has labored continually to reform the -church. In this world men are the depositaries of divine truth, -and I need hardly tell you that, where man is concerned, -imperfection must always be looked for. Well, gentlemen, the -church is a society which reforms itself; for this purpose she -has held a thousand councils, and the Council of Trent decided -that there should not be a session in which reform should not be -considered. We have reform, then, on our side. What have they on -the other? They have Luther, with the religion which he brought -from the cloister; Calvin, with a society of the same nature; -OEcolampadius, etc. And these were the men who devoted themselves -to the work of reforming the church--the church, gentlemen, which -they called Babylon! As for them, it was the Holy Jerusalem, -which they peopled with their wives and their children! - -But what is still more extraordinary is the abuse which has been -made of the word _liberal_. When Count Felix de Merode--a -man whose name I feel doubly honored in pronouncing here--a man -who fought to reconquer religious, civil, and political liberty -for his country--when he heard his adversaries called liberals, -he indignantly exclaimed: "They are not liberals, they are -libertines. It is as impossible to call them liberals as it would -be to call a mother a barbarous mother." - -Gentlemen, is all this what they call liberalism? I have lately -heard Juarez spoken of as a liberal. It is not that I would judge -the men who claim this title, but I believe they do not -understand the thing. For my part I would not apply the term to -them. And Garibaldi, gentlemen, is another liberal. Listen to his -language: "My friends, my children"--this man has something -paternal about him (laughter)--"we must crush the sacerdotal -vampire; as for the priests, we must break their heads on the -pavement of the streets." What a liberal! Ah! gentlemen, if -Bossuet, if Fenelon, if Bourdaloue, could come back to this -world, they would say to us, "But what have you clone with this -beautiful French language?" -{593} -A liberal! But in our estimation he is the liberal man who does -not deny to others the same justice and truth which he claims to -have himself. The Portuguese Freemasons who drove out the Sisters -of Charity, those of you who insult them, are still liberals! I -say again, the thing is intolerable; and if I were a Belgian I -would never betray my language, my honor, and my conscience by -giving such a name to such men. (Applause.) - -And so far as we are concerned, you know, gentlemen, how they pay -us back. They call us the clerical party--that is to say, fools -of the sacristy; or better still, the priest party. Shall I -remind you of Voltaire, who invented the name wretch, by which he -designated the church? And what name did he bear? He was called -philosopher. Gentlemen, they would never get me to give the title -of philosopher to a d'Holbach, to a Lamettrie, to any of those -wicked men, conspiring with their master to crush the "wretch." I -understand that they contemplate erecting a statue to the man who -has given this name to Christianity. For my part, I say they will -have raised a statue to infamy personified. (Prolonged cheers.) I -am prepared to meet any opponent on this ground; and I will -promise to give him, whenever he wishes to have them, such proofs -of what I say as will resound throughout the whole of Europe. -This violence done to common sense, to honesty, to French honor, -is revolting to me. I repeat it, they are raising a statue to -infamy personified. The Bishop of Orleans can think nothing -better, can say nothing better of it. (Prolonged applause.) - -You see, then, that we must have courage, devotedness, -patriotism, prudence, and intelligence; I will add to these -moderation and gentleness. Did not Christ say to his Apostles, "I -send you forth as sheep among wolves"? Perhaps you will say to -me, "But you give us several applications of this evangelical -saying which it will not bear." Gentlemen, it is nowhere -forbidden to the shepherd to give the alarm of the wolf, and to -the sheep to believe it. Yes, we must be gentle, and Saint -Chrysostom, commenting on these words, says: "We require -protectors who attack little, but who defend well--_pro -pugnatorem, non impugnatorem_" It is in this way, -gentlemen--it is by gentleness--that we are to conquer. But if, -instead of being sheep, we become wolves by abuse, if we wish to -conquer and not to be convinced, we run the risk of being -vanquished. _Si lupi sumus vincimur_. - -And now, to conclude, I would express to you the deepest -impressions of my soul. That which I admire most in this -beautiful creation of the Deity, which makes man like the angels, -is the flame of love which God has kindled in his soul. -Gentlemen, what do the radiant looks of this assembly, this -clapping of hands, these outbursts of enthusiasm, express? They -express love. You love, gentlemen, and you love nobly. You love -the church, your mother. Ah! you do well to love her with the -purest and most generous love! The church is the fellowship of -souls; herein is her beauty and her immortal glory. This is why, -although she is in the world, she is not of the world. She lives -by faith, hope, and love. She believes, she hopes, she loves. -This earth is only the place of her pilgrimage; Heaven is her -country, the King of Heaven is her father, Jesus Christ is her -immortal spouse, the Holy Spirit her inspirer and her guide. -{594} -She has her pontiffs, whom you venerate, her doctors, her -priests. There, at least, we find here below a divine and -unchangeable constitution. Built on a rock that can never be -moved, we have a supreme authority, a teachable people, faithful -ministers, and, in short, (not to speak of others,) rights -scrupulously respected, and duties faithfully performed. -(Applause.) - -That which seems astonishing at first sight is, that the church, -notwithstanding her divine origin and her immortal destinies, -should so often come to us with thorns on her brow. But this is -because she comes from Calvary, and her favorite strains were -those which inspired Saint Paul when he said, "God forbid that I -should glory save in the cross of Jesus Christ." Among the songs -of gladness sung by the church, as she travels through this -world, there are none more dear to her than those which celebrate -the passion, the temptations, the sorrows of Calvary. These are -her household words. We feel that she received them from the -dying lips of a divine being; but, sharing the grief of the -God-man, she should go forth with him from the tomb to cover the -earth with her children, in innumerable multitudes. - -The church must expect to meet here below with indifference, with -adversaries, with persecutors. This has been announced, or rather -promised, to her; she is not to enjoy where she has not suffered; -at some time or other we all suffer, we die for her. Yes! She -always has martyrs, and it is only recently that several have -been laid upon the altar. Ah! it is during these festivals, -gentlemen, that you should see the church in order to feel how -her heart beats. On the recent occasion the Vicar of Jesus Christ -was surrounded by five hundred bishops, who hastened to him from -all parts of the world. You should have seen the gladness, the -glory, the universal enthusiasm which prevailed. We found there a -strength to encounter anything--to go freely, cheerfully, to -Abyssinia, to India, to America, everywhere. How vigorous, how -deep, how indissoluble is the union of souls! Behold the church -here, as we have seen her and experienced her power! America sent -thirty-five bishops; for a century she had not more than one. At -the last council of Baltimore there were forty-three, and the -American bishops, on leaving Rome, obtained from the Holy Father -the erection of twenty-three dioceses. You see how fruitful is -this immortal cause of yours. - -And in the midst of all these is the grand thought of the -Sovereign Pontiff proclaiming the utility and the necessity of a -general council. There is wisdom, there is energy! No, gentlemen, -I have never seen a finer sight than this old man going direct to -his object with a firmness which nothing can overcome. All around -him may be in a state of trouble; the earth may fail under his -feet; still he maintains his ground, and the church shall have -her council. Yes, gentlemen, the kingdoms of this earth may be -removed, _inclinata sunt regna_; but the bishops will one -day meet in council, and with the chief will hold forth the light -to those who require their help. The church shall have its -council, in order that disputes may cease, that peace may dwell -in our hearts; that the people may be drawn into the arms of -their common father, so that there shall be but one flock and but -one shepherd. - --------- - -{595} - - The Reign of Law. [Footnote 56] - - [Footnote 56: _The Reign of Law_. By the Duke of Argyll. - London: Strahan, 1867. 8vo, pp. 435.] - - -There is much in this work that we hold to be true and important, -when considered by itself, without reference to the general views -or doctrines of the author; but they are so interwoven with other -things, that to us are evidently unscientific or untrue, that -they lose nearly all their practical value. The author certainly -does not lack ability, and is apparently learned in the sciences; -but, unhappily for such a work as he appears to have meditated, -he is no theologian and no philosopher. There is such a want of -distinctness in his principles, and of clearness and precision in -his statements, that, with the best intentions in the world to -understand him, we are unable to make out to our own satisfaction -what he is driving at, or for what purpose he has written his -book. - -The topics treated are; - 1. The supernatural; - 2. Law--its definitions; - 3. Contrivance, a necessity arising out of the reign of law; - 4. Apparent exceptions to the supremacy of purpose; - 5. Creation by law; - 6. Law in the realm of mind; - 7. Law in politics. - -These are great topics, and are intimately connected with -theology and philosophy, faith and religion. But what has the -author proposed to himself in treating them? What general view of -religion or of science does he seek to bring out, illustrate, or -establish? We can find in his book no satisfactory answer to -either of these questions. He is a _savant_, not a -philosopher, and there seems to be in his mind and in his book -the same want of unity and wholeness, the same tendency to lose -itself in details, that there is and must be in the special or -inductive sciences when not subordinated to a general or a -superior science, to be supplied only by theology or philosophy, -which deals with the ideal, the universal, and the necessary; and -we find it impossible to harmonize the several special views -which he takes, integrate them in any general view which it can -be supposed that he accepts, or which he is not found, first or -last, directly or indirectly impugning. We understand well enough -his language, which is simple and clear, so far as the words and -sentences go; we understand, too, the parts of his book taken -separately; but we frankly confess our inability to put the -several parts together and understand them as a whole. - -Our first impression, on looking through the work, was that the -author wished to harmonize the sciences with the great primary -truths of religion, by showing that the universe in all its -departments, laws, facts, and phenomena proceeds from a -productive will under the direction of mind or intelligence, for -a purpose or end. In this view the laws of nature, producing -effects in their order, could be carried up for their first cause -to the divine will, or that will itself using the instrumentality -of laws or means it had itself created. To harmonize the sciences -with faith, or to render them compatible with faith, all that -would need to be done would be to show that since the so-called -natural laws themselves depend wholly on God, they can never -restrain his freedom, or compel him to act through them, and only -through them. We will not say that he has not had something of -the sort in view; but, certainly, not uniformly and steadily. - -{596} - -We thought, again, that having the same end in view, he wished to -show that all things are produced according to one and the same -dialectic law, and| therefore, that viewed as a whole, in its -principle, medium, and end, as the external expression of the -Holy Trinity, which God is in himself, the universe must be -really dialectic, and strictly logical in all its parts. Creation -is the external word of God, as the Son is his internal word or -expression. As the Creator is in himself the supreme logic, -[Greek text], logic itself, creation as his expression _ad -extra_, or external image, must be as a whole and in all its -parts strictly logical, as St. Thomas implies when he says, "God -is the similitude of all things--_similitudo rerum omnium._" -Not that the type of God is in the creature, as the noble duke -more than once implies; but that the type of the creature, of -creation, is in God. Hence there can be no anomalies, no sophisms -in the Creator's works; nothing arbitrary, capricious; but order -must run through all, and all must be subjected to the law of -order, implied in the doctrine of Scripture, "God hath made all -things by weight and measure." The author, then, might be -understood as attempting, by his knowledge of the physical -sciences, to prove _à posteriori_ that this is true, and to -show that this law of order reigns in the world of matter and in -the realm of mind, in the plant and in the animal, in science and -in faith, in religion and in politics, as the universal law of -creation. Hence, the possibility and reality of science, which -consists in recognizing this law and tracing it in all things, -little or great. - -Some things, the author says, may be construed in favor of such a -purpose, but he seems sometimes to be asserting the universal -reign of law and at others to be censuring those who do assert -it, and refuting those who maintain that life is the product of -law: plainly showing that he does not understand law in the sense -supposed, nor always in the same sense. His definitions of law -also prove that he is a stranger to the view we suggest, and has -his mind fixed on something quite different. The "root idea" of -law, he says, is that of force; and he defines law to be in its -primary sense "will enforcing itself with power"--a very -erroneous definition, by the way, for law is will directed by -reason. He also understands by it the means, medium, or -instrument by which will creates, for he does not seem to hold -that God creates from nothing, or without means distinguishable -from himself; so we are thrown back, and again puzzled to -determine what he really does mean. We ask ourselves if he is not -a really profound theologian, master of the deepest Christian -philosophy, and simply endeavoring to translate it into the -language of the _savans_, or if he is not totally ignorant -of that philosophy, suggesting to those who know it far more than -he has ever dreamed of himself? Something almost inclines us to -think the former; but upon the whole we incline to the latter, -and conclude that the less profound in philosophy and theology we -regard him, the greater the justice we shall do him. - -The author, as near as we can come at his meaning, holds that all -action of the divine will is by law, and that law is the means or -instrument by which it acts and produces its effects; or, in -other words, God always and everywhere makes use of natural laws -or forces to effect his purposes. -{597} -The definition he has given of law in its primary sense, "will -enforcing itself with power," would seem to identify it with God -himself, or at least with God willing and effecting his purpose; -but he says: "Law is taken in certain derivative senses, in which -hardly a trace of the primary sense is retained: - - 1. Law as applied simply to an observed order of facts. - - 2. To that order as involving the action of some force or - forces, of which nothing more may be known. - - 3. As applied to individual forces the measure of whose - operation has been more or less defined or ascertained. - - 4. As applied to those combinations of force which have - reference to the fulfilment of purpose or the discharge of - function. - - 5. As applied to the abstract conceptions of mind, not - corresponding with any actual phenomena, but deduced therefrom - as axioms of thought necessary to our understanding of - them--not merely to an order of facts, but to an order of - thought." (Pp. 64, 65.) - -The last sense given to law proves clearly enough that the author -knows nothing of philosophy, for it supposes the ideal or the -intelligible is an abstract mental conception deduced from -sensible phenomena, and therefore is objectively nothing, instead -of being an objective reality affirmed to and apprehended by the -mind. He is one who places the type of his God in the creature, -not the type of the creature in God, and represents God to -himself as the creature fulfilled or perfected, as do all -inductive philosophers. But we will pass over this, as having -been already amply discussed in this magazine. - -We confess that we find very little that is definite in these -pretended definitions of law. They tell us to what classes of -facts law is applied, but do not tell us what law is, or define -whether it is the force which produces the facts to which it is -applied or simply the rule according to which they are produced; -whether it designates the order of their production or is simply -their classification. The author may reply that it is applied in -all these senses and several more, but that defines nothing. What -is it in itself, apart from its application, or the manner of its -use? A word, and nothing more? Then it is nothing, is unreal, a -nullity, and how then can it ever be a force, or even an -instrument of force? "These great leading significations of the -word law," he continues, "all circle round the three great -questions which science asks of nature, the What, the How, and -the Why: - - 1. What are the facts in their established order? - - 2. How, that is, from what physical causes, does that order - come to be? - - 3. Why have those causes been so combined? What relation do - they bear to purpose, to the fulfilment of intention, to the - discharge of function?" (P. 65.) - -This would be very well, if the sciences raised no questions -beyond the order of second causes, but this is not the case. The -author himself brings in other than physical causes. Will is not, -in the ordinary sense of the word, physical; and he defines law -to be, in its primary sense, will enforcing itself with power; -and the question comes up, If these facts of nature are the -product of will, of whose will? Does nature will or act from -will? Is it by its will fire melts wax, the winds propel the ship -at sea, or the lightning rends the oak? The author speaks of the -_facts_ of nature. _Fact_ is something done, and -implies a doer; what or who, then, is the doer? Here is a great -question which the author raises, and which his definitions of -law exclude. The whence is as important as the what, the how, or -the why. -{598} -Moreover, the author mistakes the sense of the how. The answer to -the question, how? is not the question, from or by what cause or -causes, but in what mode or manner. Law in "these great leading -significations" which circle round the what, the how, and the -why, does in no sense answer the question whence, or from what or -by what cause, and leaves, by the way, both the first cause and -the medial cause, the principle and medium of the facts observed -and analyzed. How then can he assert the universal reign of law? -As far as we can collect from the senses of the word given, law -does not reign at all; it lies in the order of natural facts, and -simply marks the order, manner, and purpose of their existence in -nature, or their arrangement or classification in our scientific -systems. Nothing more. - -Yet his grace means more than this. He means, sometimes at least, -that to arrange facts under their law is to reduce them to their -physical cause or principle of production. Such and such facts -owe their existence to such and such a law, that is, to such or -such a natural cause or productive force. And his doctrine is -that all causes are natural, and that there is no real -distinction between natural and supernatural. "The truth is," he -says, pp. 46-47, "that there is no such distinction between what -we find in nature, and what we are called upon to believe in -religion, as men pretend to draw between the natural and the -supernatural. _It is a distinction purely artificial, -arbitrary, unreal_. Nature presents to our intelligence, the -more clearly the more we search her, the designs, ideas, and -intentions of some - - 'Living will that shall endure, - When all that seems shall suffer shock.'" - -But, does nature when she presents the designs, the ideas, -intentions, present the will whose they are? And if so, does she -present it as her own will, or as a will above herself? -Undoubtedly, the will presented by religion is the same will that -is operative in nature, but religion presents that will not as -nature, but as above nature, therefore as supernatural, for -nothing can be both itself and above itself. Nobody pretends, -certainly no theologian pretends, that the will presented by -religion is above the will that is operative in nature, and calls -it for that reason supernatural. The will in both is one and the -same, but religion asserts that it is alike supernatural whether -in religion or in nature. That will is the will of the creator: -and does the author mean to assert that the distinction between -the creator and the creature is unreal? Certainly not. Then he -must be mistaken in asserting that the distinction between the -natural and supernatural is "purely artificial, arbitrary, -unreal," and also in controverting, as he does, the assertion of -M. Guizot that "a belief in the supernatural is essential to all -positive religion." He himself admits, p. 48, that M. Guizot's -affirmation is true in the special sense that "belief in the -existence of a living will, of a personal God, is indeed a -requisite condition," and we will not be so unjust as to suppose -that he either identifies this living will, this personal God -with nature, or denies that he is above nature, its first and -final cause, its principle, medium, and end, its sovereign -proprietor and supreme ruler; for this lies at the very threshold -of all true religion, is a truth of reason, and a necessary -preamble to faith. - -"But," the author continues, "the intellectual yoke, in the -common idea of the supernatural, is a yoke which men impose upon -themselves. Obscure thought and confused language are the main -source of the difficulty." -{599} -In the case of the noble duke, perhaps so; but if he had been -familiar with the clear thought and distinct language of the -theologians, he probably would have experienced no difficulty in -the case. What he really denies is not the _super_natural, -but, if we may so speak, the _contra_natural, which is a -very different thing, and which all real theologians are as ready -and as earnest to deny as any one is or can be; for they all hold -grace is supernatural, and yet adopt the maxim, _gratia -supponit naturam_, as we have heretofore shown in an article -on _Nature and Grace_. The author very conclusively shows -that the contradictory of what is true in nature cannot be true -in religion. Some pretended philosophers in the time of Pope Leo -X. maintained that the immortality of the soul is true in -theology, but false in philosophy. The pope condemned their -doctrine and vindicated common sense, which teaches every one -that what is true in theology cannot be false in philosophy, or -what is true in philosophy cannot be false in theology. Truth is -truth always and everywhere, and never is or can be in -contradiction with itself. But we cannot agree with the author -that "the common idea" of the supernatural is that it is -something antagonistic to nature. There may be some heterodox -theologians that so teach, or seem to teach, and many men who are -devoted to the study of the natural sciences suppose that -approved theologians assert the supernatural in the same sense, -and this is one reason why they take such a dislike to theology -and become averse to faith in supernatural revelation. But we -hold them mistaken; at least we are not accustomed to see the -supernatural presented by learned and orthodox theologians as -opposed to the natural. If such is the teaching of the heterodox, -it is very unfortunate for his grace that he has taken their -teaching to be that of the Christian church, or the faith of -orthodox believers. - -But the author's difficulty about the supernatural has its -principal origin in his theology, not in his science. We do not -like his habit of speaking of the divine action in nature as the -action of will, for God never acts as mere will. We may -distinguish in relation to our mode of apprehending him, between -his essence and his attributes, and between one attribute and -another; indeed we must do so, for our powers are too feeble to -form an adequate conception of the Divine Being; but we must -never forget that the distinctions we make in our mode of -apprehending have no real existence in God himself. He is one, -and acts always as one, in the unity of his being, and his action -is always identically the action of reason, love, wisdom, will, -power. When we speak of him as living will, we are apt to divide -or mutilate him in our thought, and to forget that he never acts -or produces effects by any one attribute alone. But pass over -this--though we cannot approve it, for God is eternal reason as -really and as fully as he is eternal will; the noble duke, -following his theology, makes in reality this one living will the -only actor in nature, the direct and immediate cause of all the -effects produced in the universe. He thus denies second causes, -as Calvin did when he asserted that "God is the author of sin." -Taking this view, what is nature? Nature is only the divine will -and its direct effects, or the one living will enforcing itself -with power, using what are called natural laws or forces, not as -second causes, but as means or instruments for effecting its -purpose or purposes. Recognizing no created or second causes, and -therefore no _causa eminens_ or _causa causarum_, but -only one direct and immediate cause, he can of course find no -ground for a distinction between natural and supernatural. -{600} -All is natural or all is supernatural, for all is identical, one -and the same. Hence, denying very properly all contrariety or -antagonism between natural and supernatural, the author can -accept miracles only in the sense of superhuman and supermaterial -events. They are not supernatural, as men commonly suppose: they -are wrought by the one invincible will at work in every -department of nature, are in nature, and as natural as the most -ordinary events that occur--only they are the effects of more -recondite laws, which come into play only on extraordinary -occasions, and for special purposes. They belong to what Carlyle, -in the _Sartor Resartus_, calls "natural-supernaturalism," -which is no real supernaturalism at all. The author's theology, -which resolves God into pure will and power, has forced him to -adopt his conclusion. His theology hardly admits, though it may -profess not to deny, that God creates second causes, capable of -acting from their own centre, and in their own order producing -effects of their own. The difficulty he finds in admitting and -understanding miracles as real supernatural facts, arises -precisely from his not distinguishing between the first cause and -second causes. His failure to make this distinction is caused by -his misconception or confused conception of the real character of -the divine creative act. Indeed, he hardly recognizes the fact of -creation at all, as we might infer from his reducing the whole -matter of science to the questions of the what, the how, and the -why, omitting entirely the whence. His science deals solely with -facts of the secondary order, and omits or rejects the ideal, in -which all things have their origin and cause, as unknowable, -imaginary, unreal. - -The author speaks frequently of creation, and we are far from -supposing that he means to deny it; but if we understand him, he -does deny that the divine will creates without natural means or -instrumentalities, and this appears to be what he means by -"Creation by law." He asks, p. 14, "By supernatural power do we -not mean power independent of the use of means, as distinguished -from power depending on knowledge, even infinite knowledge of the -means proper to be employed?" We think his question is not well -put; certainly we never heard before of such a definition of the -supernatural, unless by means is meant natural means; but as he -denies all supernatural power as operating independent of the use -of natural means, he must be understood as denying all creation -from nothing, or that God creates all things by the word of his -power, with no other means or medium than what is contained in -himself. "The real difficulty," he says, "lies in the idea of -will exercised without the use of means, not in the exercise of -will through means which are beyond our knowledge." But what -means were there through which the will could operate when -nothing besides itself existed? Does the scientific author not -see, unless he admits the eternal existence of something besides -God, that on his ground creation must precede creation as the -condition or means of creation? In the chapter on _Creation by -Law_, pp. 280, 281, he says: "I do not know on what authority -it is that we so often speak of creation as if it were not -creation, unless it works from nothing as its material, and by -nothing as its means. -{601} -We know that out of the 'dust of the ground,' that is, out of the -ordinary elements of nature are our bodies formed, and the bodies -of all living things." But out of what was the "dust of the -ground" or "the ordinary elements of nature" formed? He -continues: "Nor is there anything which should shock us in the -idea that the creation of new forms, any more than in their -propagation, has been brought about by the instrumentality of -means. In a theological point of view it matters nothing what -those means have been." It, however, matters something in a -theological point of view whether we assert that God creates -without other means than is contained in his own divine being, or -only by working with preexisting materials, which are independent -of him, and eternal like himself. - -The author professes not to know on what authority creation is -denied to be creation unless from nothing as its materials, and -by nothing as its means; but he must have said this without well -weighing the words he uses. A man makes a watch out of materials -which are supplied to his hand, and by availing himself of a -motive force which exists and operates independently of him; but -nobody calls him the creator of the watch. Man has, strictly -speaking, no creative powers, because he can operate only on and -with materials furnished him by God or nature, and cannot himself -originate his own powers nor the powers he uses. He can form, -fashion, utilize, to a limited extent, what already exists, but -he cannot originate a new law nor a new force. The Gentile -philosophers, finding in man no proper creative power, concluded -that there is no proper creative power in God, and hence they -substituted in their systems for creation emanation, generation, -or formation; and you will search in vain through Plato or even -Aristotle for the recognition of the fact of creation. Holding -that God cannot, any more than man, work without materials, even -the soundest of the Gentile philosophers, say Pythagoras, Plato, -and Aristotle, asserted the eternity of matter, and explained the -origin of things by supposing that God impresses on this eternal -matter, as the seal on wax, or in some way unites with it, the -ideas or forms eternal in his own mind. Here is no creation, for -though there is combination of the preexisting, there is no -production of something where nothing was before; yet we cannot -go beyond them, if we deny that creation proper is creation from -nothing, or, as we have explained, that God creates without any -material, means, or medium distinguishable from himself. - -Yet no theologian pretends that God, in creating, works without -means. No work, no act is possible or conceivable without -principle, medium, and end. God can no more create without a -medial cause than man can build a house without materials; but if -the author had meditated on the significance of the dogma of the -Trinity, he would have understood that God has the means or -medium in himself, in his own eternal Word, by whom all things -are made, and without whom was made nothing that was made. God in -himself, in the unity of his own being, the mystery of the -Trinity teaches us, is eternally and indissolubly, principle, -medium, and end, in three distinct persons. The Father is -principle, the Son or Word is medium, and the Holy Ghost is end -or consummator. Hence God is complete, being in its plenitude, in -himself, most pure act, as say the theologians, and, therefore, -able to do what he wills without going out of himself, or using -means not in himself. The medium of creation is the Word who was -in the beginning, who was with God, and who is God. -{602} -Hence not only by and for God, but also in him "we live and move -and have our being." To suppose otherwise is, as we have seen, to -suppose God does not and cannot create by himself alone, or -without the aid of something exterior to and distinguishable from -himself, and nothing is distinguishable from him and his own -creatures, but another being in some sort eternal like himself, -which philosophy, as well as theology, denies. - -Rectifying the noble author's mistake as to the creative act, and -bearing in mind that God creates existences by himself alone, and -creates them substances or second causes, capable of producing -effects in the secondary order, we are able to assert a very real -and a very intelligible distinction between the natural and the -supernatural. Nature is the name for all that is created, the -whole order of second causes, and as God creates and sustains -nature, he must be himself supernatural. God has, or at least may -have, two modes of acting; the one directly, immediately, with no -medium but the medium he is in himself, and this mode of acting -is supernatural; the other mode is acting in and through nature, -in the law according to which he has constituted nature, or the -forces which he has given her, called natural laws, and this mode -is natural, because in it nature acts as second cause. God -himself is above this order of nature, but is always present in -it by his creative act, for the universe, neither as a whole nor -in any of its parts, can stand save as upheld by the Creator. A -miracle is a sensible fact not explicable by the laws of nature, -and, therefore, a fact that can be explained only by being -referred to the direct and immediate or supernatural action of -God. Whether a miracle is ever wrought is simply a question of -fact, to be determined by the testimony or evidence in the case. -That God can work miracles may be inferred from the fact that -creation does not exhaust him, and from the fact, the noble duke -has amply proved, that the natural laws do not bind him to act -only through them, or in any way restrain his freedom or liberty -of action. In working a miracle, God does not contravene or -violate the natural laws, or the order of second causes, that is, -the order of nature; he simply acts above it, and the fact is not -contranatural, but supernatural. It does not destroy nature; for -if it did, there would be no nature below it, and it would, -therefore, not be supernatural. - -The author very properly rejects the origin of species in -development, at least in the higher forms of organic life, and -shows that Darwin's theory of the formation of new species by -natural selection does not form new species, but only selects the -most vigorous of preexisting species, such as survive the -struggle for life. Old species indeed become extinct and new -species spring into existence; but those new species or new forms -of life which science discovers are not developments, but new -creations. Creation, he holds, has a history, and is successive, -continually going on. We doubt whether science is in a condition -to say with absolute certainty that any species that once existed -are now extinct, or that new species have successively sprung -into existence; but assuming the fact to be as alleged, and we -certainly are unable to deny it, we cannot accept the author's -explanation. We agree with him that the creative will is as -present and as active as it was in the beginning, or that -creation is always a present act; but for this very reason, if -for no other, we should deny that it is successive, or resolvable -into successive acts, since that would imply that it is past or -future as well as present. -{603} -Regarded on the side of God, there can be no succession in the -creative act. Succession is in time; but God dwells not in time, -he inhabiteth eternity. His act on his side must be complete from -the instant he wills to create, and can be successive only as -externized in time. Individuals and species when they have served -their purpose disappear, and others come forward and take their -places, not by a new creation from nothing, but because in the -one creative act the appointed time and place for their external -appearance have come. It is rather we who come successively to -the knowledge of creation than creation that is itself -successive. The creative act is one, but its externization is -successive. The divine act effecting the hypostatic union of -human nature with the divine person of the Word was included in -the one creative act, and in relation to God and his act was -complete from the first; but as a fact of time it did not take -place till long after the creation of the world. It is very -possible then to accept fully all the facts with regard to the -appearance of new species that science discovers, without -asserting successive creations; they are only the successive -manifestations of the original creative act, revealing to us what -we had not before seen in it. - -In point of fact the author does not, though he thinks he does, -assert successive creations, for he contends that the new are in -some way made out of the old. He supposes the creative will -prepares in what goes before for what comes after, and that the -forms of life about to be extinguished approach close to and -almost overlap the forms that are coming to be, and are in some -way used in the creation of the new forms or species. This, as we -have seen, is not creation, but formation or development, and -hardly differs in substance from the doctrine of development that -was held by some naturalists prior to Darwin's theory of natural -selection. It supposes the material of the new creation, the -_causa materialis_, is in the old, and the development -theory only supposes that the material exists in the old in the -form of a germ of the new. The difference, if any, is not worth -noticing. The development again can, on any theory, go on only -under the presence and constant action of the cause to which -nature owes her existence, constitution, and powers. - -For ourselves, we have no quarrel with the developmentists when -they do not deny the conditions without which there can be no -development, or understand by development what is not development -but really creation. There is no development where there is no -germ to be developed, and that is not development which places -something different in kind from the nature of the germ. In the -lower forms of organic life, of plants and animals, where the -differences of species are indistinct or feebly marked, there may -be, for aught we know, a natural development of new species, or -what appears to be new species, that is, organic forms, not -before brought out, or not perceived to be wrapped up in the -forms examined; but in the higher forms of life, where the types -are distinct and strongly marked, as in the mammalia, this cannot -be the case, for there is no germ in one species of another. We -object also to the doctrine that the higher forms of life are -developed from the lower forms. Grant, what is possible, perhaps -probable, but which every naturalist knows has not scientifically -been made out, that there is a gradual ascent without break from -the lowest forms of organic life to the highest, it would by no -means follow that the higher form but develops and completes the -lower. -{604} -Science has not proved it, and cannot from any facts in its -possession even begin to prove it. The law of gradation is very -distinguishable from the law of production, and it is a grave -blunder in logic to confound them; yet it seems to us that this -is what the noble author does, only substituting the term natural -creation for that of natural development. He seems to us to mean -by the universal reign of law, which he seeks to establish, that -through all nature the divine will educes the higher from the -lower, or at least makes the lower the stepping-stone of the -higher; yet all that science can assert is that the lower in some -form subserves the higher, but not that it is its _fons_, or -principle, or the germ from which it is developed. - -On the side of God, who is its principle, medium, and end, -creation is complete, consummated, both as a whole and in all its -parts; but as externized, it is incomplete, imperfect, in part -potential, not actual, and is completed by development in time. -Looked at from our side or the point of view of the creature, we -may say it was created in germ, or with unrealized possibilities. -Hence development, not from one species to another, but of each -species in its own order, and of each individual according to its -species; hence progress, about which we hear so much, in -realizing the unrealized possibilities of nature, or in reducing -what is potential in the created order to act, is not only -possible, but necessary to the complete externization of the -creative act. This development or this progress is effected by -providence acting through natural laws or natural forces, that -is, second or created causes, and also, as the Christian holds, -by grace, which is supernatural, and which, without destroying, -superseding, or changing nature, assists it to attain an end -above and beyond the reach of nature, as we have shown in the -article on _Nature and Grace_. - -We, as well as the author, assert the universal reign of law, but -we do not accept his definition of law, as "will enforcing itself -with power," whether we speak of human law or the divine law, for -that is precisely the definition we give to will or power acting -without law, or from mere arbitrariness. The Duke of Argyle is a -citizen of a constitutional state, and professes to be a liberal -statesman; he should not then adopt a definition of law which -makes might the measure of right, or denies to right any -principle, type, or foundation in the divine nature. We have -already suggested the true definition of law--will directed by -reason; and God's will is always law, because in him his eternal -will and his eternal reason are inseparable, and in him really -indistinguishable. His will is, indeed, always law, because it is -the will of God, our creator; but if it were possible to conceive -him willing without his eternal reason, his will would not and -could not bind, though it might compel. The law is not in will -alone, or in reason alone, but really in the synthetic action of -both. Hence St. Augustine tells us that unjust laws are violences -rather than laws, and all jurists, as distinguished from mere -legists, tell us that all legislative acts that directly -contravene the law of God, or the law of natural justice, do not -bind, and are null and void from the beginning. - -{605} - -Law in the other senses the author notes, and has written his -work, in part at least, to elucidate and defend, in so far as the -natural or inductive sciences, without theology or philosophy, -that is, so called metaphysics, can go, is not law at all, but a -mere fact, or classification of facts, and simply marks the order -of coexistence or of succession of the various facts and -phenomena of the natural world. The so-called law of gravitation -states to the physicist simply an order or series of facts, not -the cause or force producing them, as Hume. Kant, the -Positivists, J. Stuart Mill, Herbert Spencer, and virtually even -Sir William Hamilton, and his disciple Mr. Mansel, who exclude -the ontological element from science, have amply proved. The idea -of cause, of force, is not an empirical idea, but is given _à -priori_. - -There are several other points in the work before us on which we -intended to comment, but we are obliged by our diminishing space -to pass them over. The author says many true and important -things, and says them well too; but we think in his effort to -reconcile theology and science he fails, in consequence of being -not so well versed in theology as he is in the sciences. He does -not take note of the fact that the sciences are special, and deal -only with facts of a secondary order, and are, therefore, -incomplete without the science of the first cause, or theology. -He does not keep sufficiently before his mind the distinction -between God, as first cause, and nature, as second cause; and -hence when he asserts the divine action he inclines to pantheism, -and when he asserts the action of nature he inclines to -naturalism. Yet his aim has been good, and we feel assured that -he has wished to serve the cause of religion as well as that of -science. - -For ourselves, we hold, and have heretofore proved, that theology -is the queen of the sciences, _scientia scientiarum_, but we -have a profound regard for the men of real science, and should be -sorry to be found warring against them. There is nothing -established by any of the sciences that conflicts with our -theology, which is that of the Church of Christ; and we have -remarked that the quarrels between the _savans_ and the -theologians are, for the most part, not quarrels between science -and theology, but between different schools of science. The -professors of natural science, who had long taught the geocentric -theory, and associated it with their faith, when Galileo brought -forward the heliocentric theory, opposed it, and found it easier -to denounce him as a heretic than to refute him scientifically. A -quarrel arose, and the church was appealed to, and, for the sake -of peace, she imposed silence on Galileo, which she might well -do, since his theory was not received in the schools, and was not -then scientifically established; and when he broke silence -against orders, she slightly punished him. But the dispute really -turned on a purely scientific question, and faith was by no means -necessarily implicated, for faith can adjust itself to either -theory. Men of science oppose the supernatural not because they -have any scientific facts that militate against it, but because -it appears to militate against the theory of the fixedness of -natural laws, or of the order of nature. The quarrel is really -between a heterodox theology, or erroneous interpretation of the -supernatural on the one side, and the misinterpretation of the -natural order on the other, that is, between two opinions. A -reference to orthodox theology would soon settle the dispute, by -showing that neither militates against the other, when both are -rightly understood. There is no conflict between theology, as -taught by the church, and anything that science has really -established with regard to the order of nature. - -{606} - -We cannot accept all the theories of the noble duke, but we can -accept all the scientific facts he adduces, and find ourselves -instructed and edified by them. It is time the quarrel between -theologians and _savans_ should end. It is of recent origin. -Till the revival of letters in the fifteenth century, there was -no such quarrel--not that men did not begin to think till then, -or were ignorant till then of the true method of studying -nature--and there need be none, and would be none now, if the -theologians never added or substituted for the teaching of -revelation unauthorized speculations of their own, and if the -_savans_ would never put forward, as science, what is not -science. The blame, we are willing to admit, has not been all on -one side. Theologians in their zeal have cried out against -scientific theories before ascertaining whether they really do or -do not conflict with faith, and _savans_ have too often -concluded their scientific discoveries conflict with faith, and -therefore said, Let faith go, before ascertaining whether they do -so or not. There should, for the sake of truth, be a better -mutual understanding, for both may work together in harmony. - ----------- - - "Beati Mites, Quoniam Ipsi - Possidebunt Terram." - - - Thy song is not the song of morn, - O Thrush! but calmer and more strong, - While sunset woods around thee burn, - And fire-touched stems resound thy song. - - O songstress of the thorn, whereon - As yet the white but streaks the green, - Sing on! sing on! Thou sing'st as one - That sings of what his eyes have seen. - - In thee some Seraph's rapture tells - Of things thou know'st not! Heaven draws near: - I hear the Immortal City's bells: - The triumph of the blest I hear. - - The whole wide earth, to God heart-bare, - Basks like some happy Umbrian vale - By Francis trodden and by Clare, - When anthems sweetened every gale. - - When greatness thirsted to be good, - When faith was meek, and love was brave, - When hope by every cradle stood, - And rainbows spanned each new-made grave. - - Aubrey De Vere. - --------- - -{607} - - The Story of a Conscript. - - Translated From The French. - - - XII. - -But, as Sergeant Pinto said, all we had yet seen was but the -prelude to the ball; the dance was now about to commence. - -The sergeant had formed a particular friendship for me, and on -the eighteenth, on relieving guard at the Warthan gate, he said: - -"Fusilier Bertha, the emperor has arrived." - -I had yet heard nothing of this, and replied respectfully: - -"I have just seen the sapper Merlin, sergeant, who was on duty -last night at the general's quarters, and he said nothing of it." - -Then he, closing his eye, said with a peculiar expression: - -"Everything is moving; I feel his presence in the air. You do not -yet understand this, conscript, but he is here; everything says -so. Before he came, we were lame, crippled; but a wing of the -army seemed able to move at once. But now, look there, see those -couriers galloping over the road; all is life. The dance is -beginning; the dance is beginning! Kaiserliks and the Cossacks do -not need spectacles to see that he is with us; they will feel him -presently." - -And the sergeant's laugh rang hoarsely from beneath his long -mustaches; and he was right, for that very day, about three in -the afternoon, all the troops stationed around the city were in -motion, and at five we were put under arms. The Marshal-Prince of -Moskowa entered the town surrounded by the officers and generals -who composed his staff, and, almost immediately after, the -grey-haired Sunham followed and passed us in review upon the -_Place_. Then he spoke in a loud, clear voice so that every -one could hear. - -"Soldiers!" said he, "you will form part of the advance-guard of -the third corps. Try to remember that you are Frenchmen. _Vive -l'Empereur!_ - -All shouted "_Vive l'Empereur_" till the echoes rang again, -while the general departed with Colonel Zapfel. - -That night we were relieved by the Hessians, and left Erfurt with -the Tenth hussars and a regiment of chasseurs. At six or seven in -the morning we were before the city of Weimar, and saw the sun -rising on its gardens, its churches, and its houses, as well as -on an old castle to the right. Here we bivouacked, and the -hussars went forward to reconnoitre the town. About nine, while -we were breakfasting, suddenly we heard the rattle of pistols and -carbines. Our hussars had encountered the Russian hussars in the -streets, and they were firing on each other. But it was so far -off that we saw nothing of the combat. - -At the end of an hour the hussars returned, having lost two men. -Thus began the campaign. - -We remained five days in our camp, while the whole third corps -were coming up. As we were the advance-guard, we started again by -way of Sulza and Warthan. Then we saw the enemy; Cossacks who -kept ever beyond the range of our guns, and the further they -retired the greater grew our courage. - -{608} - -But it annoyed me to hear Zébédé constantly exclaiming in a tone -of ill-humor: - -"Will they never stop; never make a stand!" - -I thought that if they kept retreating we could ask nothing -better. We would gain all we wanted without loss of life or -suffering. - -But at last they halted on the further side of a broad and deep -river, and I saw a great number posted near the bank to cut us to -pieces if we should cross unsupported. - -It was the twenty-ninth of April, and growing late. Never did I -see a more glorious sunset. On the opposite side of the river -stretched a wide plain as far as the eye could reach, and on -this, sharply outlined against the glowing sky, stood horsemen, -with their shakos drooping forward, their green jackets, little -cartridge-boxes slung under the arm, and their sky-blue trousers; -behind them glittered thousands of lances, and Sergeant Pinto -recognized them as the Prussian cavalry and Cossacks. He knew the -river, too, which, he said was the Saale. - -We went as near as we could to the water to exchange shots with -the horsemen, but they retired and at last disappeared entirely -under the blood-red sky. We made our bivouac along the river, and -posted our sentries. On our left was a large village; a -detachment was sent to it to purchase meat; for since the arrival -of the emperor we had orders to pay for everything. - -During the night other regiments of the division came up; they, -too, bivouacked along the bank, and their long lines of fires, -reflected in the ever-moving waters, glared grandly through the -darkness. - -No one felt inclined to sleep. Zébédé, Klipfel, Furst, and I -messed together, and we chatted as we lay around our fire. - -"To-morrow we will have it hot enough, if we attempt to cross the -river! Our friends in Phalsbourg, over their warm suppers, -scarcely think of us lying here, with nothing but a piece of -cow-beef to eat, a river flowing beside us, the damp earth -beneath, and only the sky for a roof, without speaking of the -sabre-cuts and bayonet-thrusts our friends yonder have in store -for us." - -"Bah!" said Klipfel; "this is life. I would not pass my days -otherwise. To enjoy life we must be well to-day, sick to-morrow; -then we appreciate the pleasure of the change from pain to ease. -As for shots and sabre-strokes, with God's aid, we will give as -good as we take!" - -"Yes," said Zébédé, lighting his pipe, "when I lose my place in -the ranks, it will not be for the want of striking hard at the -Russians!" - -So we lay wakeful for two or three hours. Leger lay stretched out -in his great coat, his feet to the fire, asleep, when the -sentinel cried: - -"Who goes there?" - -"France!"' - -"What regiment?" - -"Sixth of the Line." - -It was Marshal Ney and General Brenier, with engineer and -artillery officers, and guns. The marshal replied "Sixth of the -Line," because he knew beforehand that we were there, and this -little fact rejoiced us and made us feel very proud. We saw him -pass on horseback with General Sunham and five or six other -officers of high grade, and although it was night we could see -them distinctly, for the sky was covered with stars and the moon -shone bright; it was almost as light as day. - -{609} - -They stopped at a bend of the river and posted six guns, and -immediately after a pontoon train arrived with oak planks and all -things necessary for throwing two bridges across. Our hussars -scoured the banks collecting boats, and the artillerymen stood at -their pieces to sweep down any who might try to hinder the work. -For a long while we watched their labor, while again and again we -heard the sentry's "_Qui vive?_" It was the regiments of the -third corps arriving. - -At daybreak I fell asleep, and Klipfel had to shake me to arouse -me. On every side they were beating the reveille; the bridges -were finished, and we were going to cross the Saale. - -A heavy dew had fallen, and each man hastened to wipe his musket, -to roll up his great-coat and buckle it on his knapsack. One -assisted the other, and we were soon in the ranks. It might have -been four o'clock in the morning, and everything seemed grey in -the mist that arose from the river. Already two battalions were -crossing on the bridges, the officers and colors in the centre. -Then the artillery and caissons crossed. - -Captain Florentin had just ordered us to renew our primings, when -General Sunham, General Chemineau, Colonel Zapfel, and our -commandant arrived. The battalion began its march. I looked -forward expecting to see the Russians coming on at a gallop, but -nothing stirred. - -As each regiment reached the further bank it formed square with -ordered arms. At five o'clock the entire division had passed. The -sun dispersed the mist, and we saw, about three fourths of a -league to our right, an old city with its pointed roofs, slated -clock-tower, surmounted by a cross, and, further away, a castle; -it was Weissenfels. - -Between the city and us was a deep valley. Marshal Ney, who had -just come up, wished to reconnoitre this before advancing into -it. Two companies of the Twenty-seventh were deployed as -skirmishers and the squares moved onward in common time, with the -officers, sappers, and drums in the centre, the cannon in the -intervals and the caissons in the rear. - -We all mistrusted this valley--the more so since we had seen, the -evening before, a mass of cavalry, which could not have retired -beyond the great plain that lay before us. Notwithstanding our -distrust, it made us feel very proud and brave to see ourselves -drawn up in our long ranks--our muskets loaded, the colors -advanced, the generals in the rear full of confidence--to see our -masses thus moving onward without hurry, but calmly marking the -step; yes, it was enough to make our hearts beat high with pride -and hope! And I thought that the enemy might still retire and no -blood be spilt, after all. - -I was in the second rank, behind Zébédé, and from time to time I -glanced at the other square which was moving on the same line -with us, in the centre of which I saw the marshal and his staff, -all trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on ahead. - -The skirmishers had by this time reached the ravine, which was -bordered with brambles and hedges. I had already seen a movement -on its further side, like the motion of a corn-field in the wind, -and the thought struck me that the Russians, with their lances -and sabres, were there, although I could scarcely believe it. But -when our skirmishers reached the hedges, the fusilade began, and -I saw clearly the glitter of their lances. At the same instant a -flash like lightning gleamed in front of us, followed by a fierce -report. -{610} -The Prussians had their cannon with them; they had opened on us. -I know not what noise made me turn my head, and there I saw an -empty space in the ranks to my left. - -At the same time Colonel Zapfel said quietly: - -"Close up the ranks!" - -And Captain Florentin repeated: - -"Close up the ranks!" - -All this was done so quickly that I had no time for thought. But -fifty paces further on another flash shone out; there was another -murmur in the ranks--as if a fierce wind was passing--and another -vacant space, this time to the right. - -And thus, after every shot from the Prussians, the colonel said, -"Close up the ranks!" and I knew that each time he spoke there -was a breach in the living wall! It was no pleasant thing to -think of, but still we marched on toward the valley. At last I -did not dare to think at all, when General Chemineau, who had -entered our square, cried in a terrible voice: - -"Halt!" - -I looked forward, and saw a mass of Prussians coming down upon -us. - -"Front rank, kneel? Fix bayonets! Ready!" cried the general. - -As Zébédé knelt, I was now, so to speak, in the front rank. On -came the line of horses, each rider bending over his saddle-bow, -with sabre flashing in his hand. Then again the general's voice -was heard behind us, calm, tranquil, giving orders as coolly as -on parade: - -"Attention for the command of fire! Aim! Fire!" - -The four squares fired together; it seemed as if the skies were -falling in the crash. When the smoke lifted, we saw the Prussians -broken and flying; but our artillery opened, and the cannon-balls -sped faster than they. - -"Charge!" shouted the general. - -Never in my life did such a wild joy possess me. On every side -the cry of _Vive l'Empereur!_ shook the air, and in my -excitement I shouted like the others. But we could not pursue -them far, and soon we were again moving calmly on. We thought the -fight was ended; but when within two or three hundred paces of -the ravine, we heard the rush of horses, and again the general -cried: - -"Halt! Kneel! Charge bayonets!" - -On came the Prussians from the valley like a whirlwind; the earth -shook beneath their weight; we heard no more orders, but each man -knew that he must fire into the mass, and the file-firing began, -rattling like the drums in a grand review. Those who have not -seen a battle can form but little idea of the excitement, the -confusion, and yet the order, of such a moment. A few of the -Prussians neared us; we saw their forms appear a moment through -the smoke, and then saw them no more. In a few moments more the -ringing voice of General Chemineau arose, sounding above the -crash and rattle: - -"Cease firing!" - -We scarcely dared obey. Each one hastened to deliver a final -shot; then the smoke slowly lifted, and we saw a mass of cavalry -ascending the further side of the ravine. - -The squares deployed at once into columns; the drums beat the -charge; our artillery still continued its fire; we rushed on, -shouting: - -"Forward! forward! _Vive l'Empereur!_" - -We descended the ravine, over heaps of horses and Russians; some -dead, some writhing upon the earth, and we ascended the slope -toward Weissenfels at a quick step. The Cossacks and chasseurs -bent forward in their saddles, their cartridge-boxes dangling -behind them, galloping before us in full flight. The battle was -won. - -{611} - -But as we reached the gardens of the city, they posted their -cannon, which they had brought off with them, behind a sort of -orchard, and reopened upon us, a ball carrying away both the axe -and head of the sapper Merlin. The corporal of sappers, Thorné, -had his arm fractured by a piece of the axe, and they were -compelled to amputate his arm at Weissenfels. Then we started -toward them on a run, for the sooner we reached them the less -time they would have for firing. - -We entered the city at three places, marching through hedges, -gardens, hop-fields, and climbing over walls. The marshals and -generals followed after. Our regiment entered by an avenue -bordered with poplars, which ran along the cemetery, and, as we -debouched in the public square, another column came through the -main street. - -There we halted, and the marshal, without losing a moment, -dispatched the Twenty-seventh to take a bridge and cut off the -enemy's retreat. During this time the rest of the division -arrived, and was drawn up in the square. The burgomaster and -councillors of Weissenfels were already on the steps of the -town-hall to bid us welcome. - -When we were re-formed, the Marshal-Prince of Moskowa passed -before the front of our battalion and said joyfully: - -"Well done! I am satisfied with you! The emperor will know of -your conduct!" - -He could not help laughing at the way we ran on the guns. General -Sunham cried: - -"Things go bravely on!" - -He replied: - -"Yes, yes; but in blood! in blood!" - -The battalion remained there until the next day. We were lodged -with the citizens, who were afraid of us and gave us all we -asked. The Twenty-seventh returned in the evening and was -quartered in the old chateau. We were very tired. After smoking -two or three pipes together, chatting about our glory, Zébédé', -Klipfel, and I went together to the shop of a joiner on a heap of -shavings, and remained there until midnight, when they beat the -reveille. We rose; the joiner gave us some brandy, and we went -out. The rain was falling in torrents. That night the battalion -went to bivouac before the village of Clépen, two hours march -from Weissenfels. - -Other detachments came and rejoined us. The emperor had arrived -at Weissenfels, and all the third corps were to follow us. We -talked only of this all the day; but the day after, at five in -the morning, we set off again in the advance. - -Before us rolled a river called the Rippach. Instead of turning -aside to take the bridge, we forded it where we were. The water -reached our waists; and I thought how terrible this would have -seemed to me when I was so much afraid of taking cold at Monsieur -Goulden's. - -As we passed down the other bank of the river in the rushes, we -discovered a band of Cossacks observing us from the heights to -the left. They followed slowly, without daring to attack us, and -so we kept on until it was broad day, when suddenly a terrific -fusilade and the thunder of heavy guns made us turn our heads -toward Clépen. The commandant, on horseback, looked at us over -the reeds. - -The sounds of conflict lasted a considerable time, and Sergeant -Pinto said: - -{612} - -"The division is advancing; it is attacked." - -The Cossacks gazed, too, toward the fight, and at the end of an -hour disappeared. Then we saw the division advancing in column in -the plain to the right, driving before them the masses of Russian -cavalry. - -"_En avant!_ Forward!" cried the commandant. - -We ran, without knowing why, along the river bank, until we -reached an old bridge where the Rippach and Gruna met. Here we -were to intercept the enemy; but the Cossacks had discovered our -design, and their whole army fell back behind the Gruna, which -they forded, and, the division rejoining us, we learned that -Marshal Bessières had been killed by a cannon-ball. - -We left the bridge to bivouac before the village of Gorschen. The -rumor that a great battle was approaching ran through the ranks, -and they said that all that had passed was only a trial to see -how the recruits would act under fire. One may imagine the -reflections of a thoughtful man under such circumstances, among -such hare-brained fellows as Furst, Zébédé, and Klipfel, who -seemed to rejoice at the prospect, as if it could bring them -aught else than bullet-wounds or sabre-cuts. All night long I -thought of Catharine, and prayed God to preserve my life and my -hands, which are so needful for poor people to gain their bread. - - - XIII. - -We lighted our fires on the hill before Gross-Gorschen and a -detachment descended to the village and brought back five or six -old cows to make soup of. But we were so worn out that many would -rather sleep than eat. Other regiments arrived with cannon and -munitions. About eleven o'clock there were from ten to twelve -thousand men there and two thousand and more in the village--all -Sunham's division. The general and his ordnance officers were -quartered in an old mill to the left, near a stream called -Floss-Graben. The line of sentries were stretched along the base -of the hill a musket-shot off. - -At length I fell asleep, but I awoke every hour, and behind us, -towards the road leading from the old bridge of Poserna to Lutzen -and Leipzig, I heard the rolling of wagons, of artillery and -caissons, rising and falling through the silence. - -Sergeant Pinto did not sleep; he sat smoking his pipe and drying -his feet at the fire. Every time one of us moved, he would try to -talk and say: - -"Well, conscript?" - -But they pretended not to hear him, and turned over, gaping, to -sleep again. - -The clock of Gross-Gorschen was striking six when I awoke. I was -sore and weary yet. Nevertheless, I sat up and tried to warm -myself, for I was very cold. The fires were smoking, and almost -extinguished. Nothing of them remained but the ashes and a few -embers. The sergeant, erect, was gazing over the vast plain where -the sun shot a few long lines of gold, and, seeing me awake, put -a coal in his pipe and said: - -"Well, fusilier Bertha, we are now in the rear-guard." - -I did not know what he meant. - -"That astonishes you," he continued; "but we have not stirred, -while the army has made a half-wheel. Yesterday it was before us -in the Rippach; now it is behind us, near Lutzen; and, instead of -being in the front, we are in the rear; so that now," said he, -closing an eye and drawing two long puffs of his pipe, "we are -the last, instead of the foremost." - -{613} - -"And what do we gain by it?" I asked. - -"We gain the honor of first reaching Leipzig, and falling on the -Prussians," he replied. "You will understand this by and by, -conscript." - -I stood up, and looked around. I saw before us a wide, marshy -plain, traversed by the Gruna-Bach and the Floss-Graben. A few -hills arose along these streams, and beyond ran a large river, -which the sergeant told me was the Elster. The morning mist hung -over all. We saw no fires on the hills save those of our -division; but the entire third corps occupied the villages -scattered in our rear, and headquarters were at Kaya. - -At seven o'clock the drums and the trumpets of the artillery -sounded the reveille. Ammunition-wagons came up, and bread and -cartridges were distributed. Two cantinières arrived from the -village; and, as I had yet a few crowns remaining, I offered -Klipfel and Zébédé a glass of brandy each, to counteract the -effects of the fogs of the night. I also presumed to offer one to -Sergeant Pinto, who accepted it, saying that bread and brandy -warmed the heart. - -We felt quite happy, and no one suspected the horrors the day was -to bring forth. We thought the Russians and the Prussians were -seeking us behind the Gruna-Bach; but they knew well where we -were. And suddenly, almost ten o'clock, General Sunham, mounted, -arrived with his officers. I was sentry near the stacks of arms, -and I think I can now see him, as he rode to the top of the hill, -with his grey hair and white-bordered hat; and as he took out his -field-glass, and, after an earnest gaze, returned quickly, and -ordered the drums to beat the recall. The sentries at once fell -into the ranks, and Zébédé, who had the eyes of a falcon, said: - -"I see yonder, near the Elster, masses of men forming and -advancing in good order, and others coming from the marshes by -the three bridges. We are lost if all those fall upon our rear!" - -"A battle is beginning," said Pinto, shading his eyes with his -hands, "or I know nothing of war. Those beggarly Prussians and -Russians want to take us on the flank with their whole force, as -we defile on Leipzig, so as to cut us in two. It is well thought -of on their part. We are always teaching them the art of war." - -"But what will we do?" asked Klipfel. - -"Our part is simple," answered the sergeant. "We are here twelve -to fifteen thousand men, with old Sunham, who never gave an enemy -an inch. We will stand here like a wall, one to six or seven, -until the emperor is informed how matters stand, and sends us -aid. There go the staff officers now." - -It was true; five or six officers were galloping over the plain -of Lutzen toward Leipzig. They sped like the wind, and I prayed -God to have them reach the emperor in time to send the whole army -to our assistance; for there is something horrible in the -certainty that we are about to perish, and I would not wish my -greatest enemy in such a position as ours was then. - -Sergeant Pinto continued: - -"You will have a chance now, conscripts; and if any of you come -out alive, they will have something to boast of. Look at those -blue lines advancing, with their muskets on their shoulders, -along Floss-Graben. Each of those lines is a regiment. There are -thirty of them. -{614} -That makes sixty thousand Prussians, without counting those lines -of horsemen, each of which is a squadron. Those advancing to -their left, near the Rippach, glittering in the sun, are the -dragoons and cuirassiers of the Russian Imperial Guard. There are -eighteen or twenty thousand of them, and I first saw them at -Austerlitz, where we fixed them finely. Those masses of lances in -the rear are Cossacks. We will have a hundred thousand men on our -hands in an hour. This is a fight to win the cross in!" - -"Do you think so, sergeant?" said Zébédé, whose ideas were never -very clear, and who already imagined he held the cross in his -fingers, while his eyes glittered with excitement. - -"It will be hand to hand," replied the sergeant;" and suppose -that, in the mêlée, you see a colonel or a flag near you, spring -on him or it; never mind sabres or bayonets; seize them, and then -your name goes on the list." - -As he spoke, I remembered that the Mayor of Phalsbourg had -received the cross for having gone to meet the Empress Marie -Louise in carriages garlanded with flowers, and I thought his -method much preferable to that of Sergeant Pinto. - -But I had not time to think more, for the drums beat on all -sides, and each one ran to where the arms of his company were -stacked and seized his musket. Our officers formed us, great guns -came at a gallop from the village, and were posted on the brow of -the hill a little to the rear, so that the slope served them as a -species of redoubt. Further away, in the villages of Rahna, of -Kaya, and of Klein-Gorschen, all was motion, but we were the -first the Prussians would fall upon. - -The enemy halted about twice a cannon-shot off, and the cavalry -swarmed by hundreds up the hill to reconnoitre us. I was in utter -despair as I gazed on their immense masses, and thought that all -was ended; nothing remained for me but to sell my life as dearly -as I could; to fight pitilessly, and die. - -While these thoughts were passing through my head, General -Chemineau galloped along our front, crying: - -"Form squares." - -The officers in the rear took up the word and it passed from -right to left; four squares of four battalions each were formed. -I found myself in the third, on one of the interior sides, a -circumstance which in some degree reassured me; for I thought -that the Prussians, who were advancing in three columns, would -first attack those directly opposite them. But scarcely had the -thought struck me when a hail of cannon-shot swept through us. -They had thirty pieces of artillery playing on us, and the balls -shrieked sometimes over our heads, sometimes through the ranks, -and then again struck the earth, which they scattered over us. - -Our heavy guns replied to their fire, but could not silence it, -and the horrible cry of "Close up the ranks! Close up the ranks!" -was ever sounding in our ears. - -We were enveloped in smoke without having fired a shot, and I -thought that in another quarter of an hour we should have been -all massacred without having a chance to defend ourselves, when -the head of the Prussian columns appeared between the hills, -moving forward, with a deep, hoarse murmur, like the noise of an -inundation. Then the three first sides of our square, the second -and third obliquing to the right and left, fired. God only knows -how many Prussians fell. But instead of stopping they rushed on, -shouting "_Vaterland! Vaterland!_" and we fired again into -their very bosoms. - -{615} - -Then began the work of death in earnest. Bayonet-thrust, -sabre-stroke, blows from the butt-end of our pieces crashed on -all sides. They tried to crush us by mere weight of numbers, and -came on like furious bulls. A battalion rushed upon us, thrusting -with their bayonets; we returned their blows without leaving the -ranks, and they were swept away almost to a man by two cannon -which were in position toward our rear. - -They were the last who tried to break our squares. They turned -and fled down the hillside, we firing as they ran, when their -cavalry dashed down upon our right, seeking to penetrate by the -gaps made by their artillery. I could not see the fight, for it -was at the other end of the division, but their heavy guns swept -us off by dozens as we stood inactive. General Chemineau had his -thigh broken; we could not hold out much longer when the order -was given to beat the retreat. - -We retired to Gross-Gorschen, pursued by the Prussians, both -sides maintaining a constant fire. The two thousand men in the -village checked the enemy while we ascended the opposite slope to -gain Klein-Gorschen. But the Prussian cavalry came on once more -to cut off our retreat and keep us under the fire of their -artillery. Then my blood boiled with anger, and I heard Zébédé -cry, "Let us fight our way to the top rather than remain here!" - -To do this was fearfully dangerous, for their regiments of -hussars and chasseurs advanced in good order to charge. Still we -kept retreating, when a voice on the top of the ridge cried -"Halt!" and at the same moment the hussars, who were already -rushing down upon us, received a terrific discharge of case and -grape-shot which swept them down by hundreds. It was Girard's -division who had come to our assistance from Klein-Gorschen and -had placed sixteen pieces in position to open upon them. The -hussars fled faster than they came, and the six squares of -Girard's division united with ours at Klein-Gorschen, to check -the Prussian infantry, which still continued to advance, the -three first columns in front and three others, equally strong, -supporting them. - -We had lost Gross-Gorschen, but the battle was not yet ended. - -I thought now of nothing but vengeance. I was wild with -excitement and wrath against those who sought to kill me. I felt -a sort of hatred against those Prussians whose shouts and -insolent manner disgusted me. I was, nevertheless, very glad to -see Zébédé near me yet, and as we stood awaiting new attacks, -with our arms resting on the ground, I pressed his hand. - -"We have escaped narrowly enough," said he. "God grant the -emperor may soon arrive, for they are twenty times our strength." - -He no longer spoke of winning the cross. - -I looked around to see if the sergeant was with us yet, and saw -him calmly wiping his bayonet; not a feature showed any trace of -excitement. I would have wished to know if Klipfel and Furst were -unhurt, but the command, "Carry arms!" made me think of myself. - -The three first columns of the enemy had halted on the hill of -Gross-Gorschen to await their supports. The village in the valley -between us was on fire, the flames bursting from the thatched -roofs and the smoke rising to the sky, and to the left we saw a -long line of cannon coming down to open upon us. - -{616} - -It might have been midday when the six columns began their march -and deployed masses of hussars and cavalry on both sides of -Gross-Gorschen. Our artillery, placed behind the squares on the -top of the ridge, opened a terrible fire on the Prussian -cannoneers, who replied all along their line. - -Our drums began to beat in the squares to warn that the enemy -were approaching, but their rattle was like the buzz of a fly in -the storm, while in the valley the Prussians shouted altogether, -"_Vaterland! Vaterland!_" - -Their fire, as they climbed the hill, enveloped us in smoke--as -the wind blew towards us--and hindered us from seeing them. -Nevertheless, we began our file-firing. We heard and saw nothing -but the noise and smoke of battle for the next quarter of an -hour, when suddenly the Prussian hussars were in our squares. I -know not how it happened, but there they were on their little -horses, sabring us without mercy. We fought with our bayonets; -they slashed, and fired their pistols. The carnage was horrible. -Zébédé, Sergeant Pinto, and some twenty of the company held -together. There they fought the pale-faced, long-mustached -hussars, whose horses reared and neighed as they dashed over the -heaps of dead and wounded. I remember the cries, French and -German in a horrid mixture, that arose; how they called us -"_Schweinpelz,_" and how old Pinto never ceased to cry, -"Strike bravely, my children; strike bravely!" - -I never knew how we escaped; we ran at random through the smoke, -and dashed through the midst of sabres and flying bullets. I only -remember that Zébédé every moment cried out to me, "Come on! come -on!" and that finally we found ourselves on a hillside behind a -square which yet held firm, with Sergeant Pinto and seven or -eight others of the company. - -We were covered with blood, and looked like butchers. - -"Load!" cried the sergeant. - -Then I saw blood and hair on my bayonet, and I knew that in my -fury I must have given some terrible blows. Old Pinto told us -that the regiment was totally routed; that the beggarly Prussians -had sabred half of it, but we should find the remainder by and -by. "Now," he cried, "we must keep the enemy out of the village. -By file, left! March!" - -We descended a little stairway which led to one of the gardens of -Klein-Gorschen, and, entering a house, the sergeant barricaded -the door leading to the fields with a heavy kitchen-table; then -he showed us the door opening on the street, telling us that -there lay our way of retreat. This done, we went to the floor -above, and found a pretty large room, with two windows looking -out upon the village, and two upon the hill, which was still -covered with smoke and resounding with the crash of musketry and -artillery. At one end was a broken bedstead and near it a cradle. -The people of the house had no doubt fled at the beginning of the -battle, but a dog, with ears erect and flashing eyes, glared at -us from beneath the curtains. - -The sergeant opened the window and fired at two or three Prussian -hussars who were already advancing down the street. Zébédé and -the others standing behind him stood ready. I looked toward the -hill to see if the squares had yet remained unbroken, and I saw -them retreating in good order, firing as they went from all four -faces on the masses of cavalry which surrounded them on every -side. -{617} -Through the smoke I could perceive the colonel on horseback, -sabre in hand, and by him the colors, so torn by shot that they -were mere rags hanging on the staff. - -Beyond, a column of the enemy were debouching from the road and -marching on Klein-Gorschen. This column evidently designed -cutting off our retreat on the village, but hundreds of disbanded -soldiers like us had arrived, and were pouring in from all sides; -some turning ever and anon to fire, others wounded, trying to -crawl to some place of shelter. They took possession of the -houses, and, as the column approached, musketry rattled upon them -from all the windows. This checked the enemy, and at the same -moment the divisions of Brenier and Marchaud, which the Prince of -Moskowa had dispatched to our assistance, began to deploy to the -right. - -The Prussians halted, and the firing ceased on both sides. Our -squares and columns began to climb the hills again, opposite -Starsiedel, and the defenders of the village rushed from the -houses to rejoin their regiments. Ours had become mingled with -two or three others; and, when the reënforcing divisions halted -before Kaya, we could scarcely find our places. The roll was -called, and of our company but forty-two men remained; Furst and -Leger were dead, but Zébédé, Klipfel, and I were unhurt. - -But the battle was not yet over, for the Prussians, flushed with -victory, were already making their dispositions to attack us at -Kaya; reënforcements were hurrying to them, and it seemed that, -for so great a general, the emperor had made a gross mistake in -stretching his lines to Leipzig, and leaving us to be overpowered -by an army of over a hundred thousand men. - -As we were reforming behind Brenier's division, eighteen thousand -veterans of the Prussian guard charged up the hill, carrying the -shakos of our killed on their bayonets in sign of victory. Once -more the fight began, and the mass of Russian cavalry, which we -had seen glittering in the sun in the morning, came down on our -flank; the sixth corps had arrived in time to cover it, and stood -the shock like a castle wall. Once more shouts, groans, the -clashing of sabre against bayonet, the crash of musketry and -thunder of cannon shook the sky, while the plain was hidden in a -cloud of smoke, through which we could see the glitter of -helmets, cuirasses, and thousands of lances. - -We were retiring, when something passed along our front like a -flash of lightning. It was Marshal Ney surrounded by his staff, -and his eyes sparkled and his lips trembled with rage. In a -second's time he had dashed along the lines, and drew up in front -of our columns. The retreat stopped at once; he called us on, -and, as if led by a kind of fascination, we dashed on to meet the -Prussians, cheering like madmen as we went. But the Prussian line -stood firm; they fought hard to keep the victory they had won, -and besides were constantly receiving reënforcements, while we -were worn out with five hours' fighting. - -Our battalion was now in the second line, and the enemy's shot -passed over our heads; but a horrible din made my flesh creep; it -was the rattling of the grape-shot among the bayonets. - -In the midst of shouts, orders, and the whistling of bullets, we -again began to fall back over heaps of dead; our first divisions -reentered Klein-Gorschen, and once more the fight was hand to -hand. In the main street of the village nothing was seen or heard -but shots and blows, and generals fought sword in hand like -private soldiers. - -{618} - -This lasted some minutes; we checked them again, but again they -were reënforced, and we were obliged to continue our retreat, -which was fast becoming a rout. If the enemy forced us to Kaya, -our army was cut in two. The battle seemed irretrievably lost, -for Marshal Ney himself, in the centre of a square, was -retreating; and many soldiers, to get away from the _mêlée_, -were carrying off wounded officers on their muskets. Everything -looked gloomy, indeed. - -I entered Kaya on the right of the village, leaping over the -hedges, and creeping under the fences which separated the -gardens, and was turning the corner of a street, when I saw some -fifty officers on the brow of a hill before me, and behind them -masses of artillery galloping at full speed along the Leipzig -road. Then I saw the emperor himself, a little in advance of the -others; he was seated, as if in an arm-chair, on his white horse, -and I could see him well, beneath the clear sky, motionless and -looking at the battle through his field-glass. - -My heart beat gladly; I cried "_Vive l'Empereur!_" with all -my strength, and rushed along the main street of Kaya. I was one -of the first to enter, and I saw the inhabitants of the village, -men, women, and children, hastening to the cellars for -protection. - -Many to whom I have related the foregoing have sneered at me for -running so fast; but I can only reply that when Michel Ney -retired, it was high time for Joseph Bertha to do so too. - -Klipfel, Zébédé, Sergeant Pinto, and the others of the company -had not yet arrived, when masses of black smoke arose above the -roofs; shattered tiles fell into the streets, and shot buried -themselves in the walls, or crashed through the beams with a -horrible noise. - -At the same time, our soldiers rushed in through the lanes, over -the hedges and fences, turning from time to time to fire on the -enemy. Men of all arms were mingled, some without shakos or -knapsacks, their clothes torn and covered with blood; but they -retreated furiously, and were nearly all mere children, boys of -fifteen or twenty; but courage is inborn in the French people. - -The Prussians led by old officers who shouted "_Forwärts! -Forwärts!_"--followed like packs of wolves, but we turned and -opened fire from the hedges, and fences, and houses. How many of -them bit the dust I know not, but others always supplied the -places of those who fell. Hundreds of balls whistled by our ears -and flattened themselves on the stone walls; the plaster was -broken from the walls, and the thatch hung from the rafters, and -as I turned for the twentieth time to fire, my musket dropped -from my hand; I stooped to lift it, but I fell too; I had -received a shot in the left shoulder and the blood ran like warm -water down my breast. I tried to rise, but all that I could do -was to seat myself against the wall while the blood continued to -flow, and I shuddered at the thought that I was to die there. - -Still the fight went on. - -Fearful that another bullet might reach me, I crawled to the -corner of a house, and fell into a little trench which brought -water from the street to the garden. My left arm was heavy as -lead; my head swam; I still heard the firing, but it seemed a -dream, and I closed my eyes. - -{619} - -When I again opened them, night was coming on, and the Prussians -filled the village. In the garden, before me, was an old general, -with white hair, on a fall brown horse. He shouted in a -trumpet-like voice to bring on the cannon, and officers hurried -away with his orders. Near him, standing on a little wall, two -surgeons were bandaging his arm. Behind, on the other side, was a -little Russian officer, whose plume of green feathers almost -covered his hat. I saw all this at a glance--the old man with his -large nose and broad forehead, his quick glancing eyes, and bold -air; the others around him; the surgeon, a little bald man with -spectacles, and five or six hundred paces away, between two -houses, our soldiers reforming. - -The firing had ceased, but between Klein-Gorschen and Kaya I -could hear the heavy rumble of artillery, neighing of horses, -cries and shouts of drivers, and cracking of whips. Without -knowing why, I dragged myself to the wall, and scarcely had I -done so, when two sixteen pounders, each drawn by six horses, -turned the corner of the street. The artillery-men beat the -horses with all their strength, and the wheels rolled over the -heaps of dead and wounded. Now I knew whence came the cries I had -heard, and my hair stood on end with horror. - -"Here!" cried the old man in German; "aim yonder, between those -two houses near the fountain." - -The two guns were turned at once; the old man, his left arm in a -sling, cantered up the street, and I heard him say, in short, -quick tones to the young officer as he passed where I lay: - -"Tell the Emperor Alexander that I am in Kaya. The battle is won -if I am reënforced. Let them not discuss the matter, but send -help at once. Napoleon is coming, and in half an hour we will -have him upon us with his Guard. I will stand, let it cost what -it may. But in God's name do not lose a minute, and the victory -is ours!" - -The young man set off at a gallop, and at the same moment a voice -near me whispered: - -"That old wretch is Blücher. Ah, scoundrel! if I only had my -gun!" - -Turning my head, I saw an old sergeant, withered and thin, with -long wrinkles in his cheeks, sitting against the door of the -house, supporting himself with his hands on the ground as with a -pair of crutches, for a ball had passed through him from side to -side. His yellow eyes followed the Prussian general; his hooked -nose seemed to droop like the beak of an eagle over his thick -mustache, and his look was fierce and proud. - -"If I had my musket," he repeated, "I would show you whether the -battle is won." - -We were the only two living beings among heaps of dead. - -I thought that perhaps I should be buried in the morning, with -the others in the garden opposite us, and that I would never -again see Catharine; the tears ran down my cheeks and I could not -help murmuring: - -"Now all is indeed ended!" - -The sergeant gazed at me and, seeing that I was yet so young, -said kindly: - -"What is the matter with you, conscript?" - -"A ball in the shoulder, _mon sergeant._" - -"In the shoulder! That is better than one through the body. You -will get over it." - -And after a moment's thought he continued: - -"Fear nothing. You will see home again!" - -{620} - -I thought that he pitied my youth and wished to console me; but -my chest seemed crushed, and I could not hope. - -The sergeant said no more, only from time to time he raised his -head to see if our columns were coming. He swore between his -teeth and ended by falling at length upon the ground, saying: - -"My business is done! The villain has finished me at last!" - -He gazed at the hedge opposite, where a Prussian grenadier was -stretched, cold and stiff, the old sergeant's bayonet yet in his -body. - -It might then have been six in the evening. I was cold and had -dropped my head forward upon my knees, when the roll of artillery -called me again to my senses. The two pieces in the garden and -many others posted behind them threw their broad flashes through -the darkness, while Russians and Prussians crowded through the -street. But all this was as nothing in comparison to the fire of -the French, from the hill opposite the village, while the -constant glare showed the Young Guard coming on at the -double-quick, generals and colonels on horseback in the midst of -the bayonets, waving their swords and cheering them on, while the -twenty-four guns the emperor had sent to support the movement -thundered behind. The old wall against which I leaned shook to -its foundations. In the street the balls mowed down the enemy -like grass before the scythe. It was their turn to close up the -ranks. - -I paid no further attention to the sergeant, but listened to the -inspiring shouts of "_Vive l'Empereur!_" ringing out in the -momentary silence between the reports of the guns. - -The Russians and the Prussians were forced back; the shouts of -our troops grew nearer and nearer. The cannoneers at the pieces -before me loaded and fired at their utmost speed, when three or -four grape-shots fell among them and broke the wheel of one of -their guns, besides killing two and wounding another of their -men. I felt a hand seize my arm. It was the old sergeant. His -eyes were glazing in death, but he laughed scornfully and -savagely. The roof of our shelter fell in; the walls bent, but we -cared not, we only saw the defeat of the enemy and heard the -nearer and nearer shouts of our men, when the old sergeant gasped -in my ear: - -"Here he is!" - -He rose to his knees, supporting himself with one hand, while -with the other he waved his hat in the air, and cried in a -ringing voice: - -"_Vive l'Empereur!_" - -They were his last words; he fell on his face to the earth, and -moved no more. - -And I, raising myself too from the ground, saw Napoleon, riding -calmly through the hail of shot--his hat pulled down over his -large head--his grey great-coat open, a broad red ribbon -crossing his white vest--there he rode, calm and imperturbable, -his face lit up with the reflection from the bayonets. None stood -their ground before _him_; the Prussian artillerymen -abandoned their pieces and sprang over the garden-hedge, despite -the cries of their officers who sought to keep them back. - -I saw no more, our victory was certain; and I fell like a corpse -in the midst of corpses. - - -{621} - - - XIV. - -When sense returned, all was silent around. Clouds were scudding -across the sky, and the moon shone down upon the abandoned -village, the broken guns, and the pale upturned faces of the -dead, as calmly as for ages she had looked on the flowing water, -the waving grass, and the rustling leaves. Men are but insects in -the midst of creation; lives but drops in the ocean of eternity, -and none so truly feel their insignificance as the dying. - -I could not move from where I lay in the intensest pain. My right -arm alone could I stir; and raising myself with difficulty upon -my elbow, I saw the dead heaped along the street, their white -faces shining like snow in the moonlight. The sight thrilled me -with horror, and my teeth chattered. - -I would have cried for help, but my voice was no louder than that -of a sobbing child. But my feeble cry awoke others, and groans -and shrieks arose on all sides. The wounded, thought succor was -coming, and all who could cried piteously. And I heard, too, a -horse neigh painfully on the other side of the hedge. The poor -animal tried to rise, and I saw its head and long neck appear; -then it fell again to the earth. - -The effort I made reopened my wound, and again I felt the blood -running down my breast. I closed my eyes to die, and the scenes -of my early childhood, of my native village, the face of my poor -mother as she sang me to sleep, my little room, with its niched -Virgin, our old dog Pommer--all rose before my eyes; my father -embraced me again, as he laid aside his axe at his return from -work--all rose dreamily before me. - -How little those poor parents thought that they were rearing -their boy to die miserably far from friends, and home, and -succor! Would that I could have asked their forgiveness for all -the pain I had given them! Tears rolled down my cheeks; I sobbed -like a child. - -Then Catharine, Aunt Grédel, and Monsieur Goulden passed before -me. I saw their grief and fear when the news of the battle came. -Aunt Grédel running to the post-office to learn something of me, -and Catharine prayerfully awaiting her return, while Monsieur -Goulden searched the gazette for intelligence of our corps. I saw -Aunt Grédel return disappointed, and heard Catharine's sobs as -she asked eagerly for me. Then a messenger seemed to arrive at -Quatre-Vents. He opened his leathern sack, and handed a large -paper to Aunt Grédel, while Catharine stood, pale as death, -beside her. It was the official notice of my death! I heard -Catharine's heart-rending cries and Aunt Grédel's maledictions. -Then good Monsieur Goulden came to console them, and all wept -together. - -Toward morning, a heavy shower began to fall, and the monotonous -dripping on the roofs alone broke the silence. I thought of the -good God, whose power and mercy are limitless, and I hoped that -he would pardon my sins in consideration of my sufferings. - -The rain filled the little trench in which I had been lying. From -time to time a wall fell in the village, and the cattle, scared -away by the battle, began to resume confidence and return. I -heard a goat bleat in a neighboring stable. A great shepherd's -dog wandered fearfully among the heaps of dead. The horse, seeing -him, neighed in terror--he took him for a wolf--and the dog fled. - -I remember all these details, for, when we are dying, we see -everything, we hear everything, for we know that we are seeing -and hearing our last. - -But how my whole frame thrilled with joy when, at the corner of -the street, I thought I heard the sound of voices! How eagerly I -listened! -{622} -And I raised myself upon my elbow, and called for help. It was -yet night; but the first grey streak of day was becoming visible -in the east, and afar off, through the falling rain, I saw a -light in the fields, now coming onward, now stopping. I saw dark -forms bending around it. They were only confused shadows. But -others beside me saw the light; for on all sides arose groans and -plaintive cries, from voices so feeble that they seemed like -those of children calling their mothers. - -What is this life to which we attach so great a price? This -miserable existence, so full of pain and suffering? Why do we so -cling to it, and fear more to lose it than aught else in the -world? What is it that is to come hereafter that makes us shudder -at the mere thought of death? Who knows? For ages and ages all -have thought and thought on the great question, but none have yet -solved it. I, in my eagerness to live, gazed on that light as the -drowning man looks to the shore. I could not take my eyes from -it, and my heart thrilled with hope. I tried again to shout, but -my voice died on my lips. The pattering of the rain on the ruined -dwellings, and on the trees, and the ground, drowned all other -sounds, and, although I kept repeating, "They hear us! They are -coming!" and although the lantern seemed to grow larger and -larger, after wandering for some time over the field, it slowly -disappeared behind a little hill. - -I fell once more senseless to the ground. - --------- - - The Old Religion; - - Or, How Shall We Find Primitive Christianity? - - -We Americans, generally, have got the name of being the most -"go-ahead" people on earth. We are always looking out for "the -last new thing," and, when we have got it, we try to sail past -it, to do something better. We have tried our hands at everything -under the sun; we have had our fair share in original invention, -and when we have not invented we have brought out the last -improvements. Amongst other things, we have tried our hands at -the manufacture of religions, and if man could have made a -religion, there is not a doubt that we should have succeeded. As -it is, we worked the religious element with considerable -originality. We have made tracks which no other people have ever -thought of, and our imitations of religion have been a prodigious -success. - -But, in truth, the great majority of thinking people in this -country have always remained deeply convinced of the truth of the -old original Christianity as the work of God's revelation to man, -not as the result of human thought. As a revelation, they know it -must have been given once for all as a heavenly treasure, to be -preserved in its antiquity to the end, not to be improved upon -and adapted and remodelled by human ingenuity. -{623} -Hence, as a people, we are convinced of the claims of the -Christian religion upon our allegiance, and understand moreover -that not "the newest thing in religions," but the "veritable old -religion," is not only the best, but is the _only truth_; -our strength in life, our hope in death; the only thing we have -to seek after, if as yet we have not found it, the pearl of -priceless value, the purchase of our admission into heaven. - -The question, therefore, as between Christians, narrows itself to -the simple issue, Which is the old religion, and what was -primitive Christianity? - -But, again, we may narrow the question still more. All admit, as -beyond all doubt, that there is one church, and one only, which -is historically in possession of the old religion. Other churches -in this country have their history, and we know when each began; -some are not as old as the Declaration of Independence, none are -older than the era of the Reformation, 300 years ago. The -Catholic Church stands alone in her ancient descent and undaunted -lineage amongst the churches of the modern creation. "True," it -is answered, 'the Catholic Church is _the old church_' In -the line of her bishops she can, no doubt, trace her descent -until, as Macaulay says, 'history is lost in the twilight of -fable.' If _she_ cannot count name by name the long -succession of her pontiffs up to the apostles, there is certainly -no other church that can put in the shadow of a claim to -apostolic succession. But ancient as she is, she is not old -enough to be primitive, and we should hardly think that any -educated Catholic would venture to stand up before the public and -say honestly that he believed, and was ready to give proof, that -the Catholic Church of the present day and primitive Christianity -are identical." - -Such, strange as it seems to Catholics, is very much the attitude -of the educated Protestant mind, when least prejudiced toward the -church. Protestants, even of this class, do not know that the -identity of the Catholic religion and primitive Christianity is a -first principle with us, and has always been so, centuries before -Protestantism was heard of; that this is the one only basis on -which the Catholic Church rests her exclusive right to "teach all -nations," and has always rested it. Disprove the justness of this -claim, and you have reduced the Catholic Church to the level of -one of the sects. So ancient and world-wide a challenge can only -seem new and strange to Protestants, because they do not know -even our first principles, still less the reasonings on which -they rest. But clearly it cannot be rash and foolhardy in us to -put forward claims to which the intellect of the vast majority of -Christians, for nearly twenty centuries, has given in its -adhesion. But to come to our own age and to facts of our own -experience which meet us at every turn, we hear every day and -have heard for the last thirty years, here and in England, and in -all other Protestant countries, of great numbers of conversions -to the Catholic religion. Amongst them there have been many of -the leading minds of the day, high-classed men, the flower of the -universities, now holding eminent positions in different walks of -science and literature, at the bar, in the senate, and in the -church. -{624} -To name Dr. Newman as the leading intellect amongst recent -converts to the Catholic Church, is to name one who possesses a -more than European reputation, nay, who is as well known on this -as on the other continent for acuteness and accuracy of thought, -sobriety of judgment, and indefatigable research into every -question involving the history of Christian antiquity, primitive -belief and practice; and such men are but a reproduction, in our -day, of the same type which we find in all those other men of -high moral and intellectual endowments who, from the days of St. -Augustine, have brought to the service of the church the mental -powers which had been trained in the camp of her enemies. What do -all such conversions involve but the emphatic admission, on the -part of such converts, that the Catholic religion has made out -her claim to identity with primitive Christianity? - -Perhaps we, in this country, are more than others averse to -bowing down to the authority of great names. Still it cannot be -denied that _peritus in arte sua_, the man who has made any -art or science his particular study is and always must be an -authority. We may examine a question for ourselves, or try an -experiment in physics, but we must admit that the chances are a -hundred to one that, after having tried it, we shall find only -the predicted result. It is in this sense that we have brought -forward the authority of majorities, and of great names in the -present question, not as deciding the matter, "What is the -truth?" but as justly producing on the minds of unprejudiced -persons a strong presumption in favor of the justness of such -conclusions. If it be said that the undoubtedly great minds which -have embraced the Catholic religion are no proof, or even -presumption, that the Catholic religion is true, we reply, Be it -so; they do, however, afford a strong presumption of the -sincerity of such converts when, as is generally the case, it can -be shown that they embraced the Catholic faith against the force -of early prejudice and to their own temporal loss. And it affords -also a strong persuasion that the reasons which they had for the -change of religion must have been weighty, since they wrought -conviction in the minds of men well capable of judging of the -force of argument, and who knew also all that could be urged on -the other side. In fact, the argument in favor of the Catholic -religion, drawn from the fact of the great and good men who have -in every age embraced it, is similar to that which is very -commonly brought forward in favor of the general evidences of -Christianity, from the fact of their having wrought conviction in -the mind of St. Paul or of Sir Isaac Newton. - -The large number of conversions taking place every day amongst -ourselves, not merely of the unlearned but even more in -proportion, of the more educated and the more morally elevated, -and the special weight which the submission of persons specially -eminent for moral and intellectual gifts carries with it, ought -to have, and indeed are found to produce at least this effect on -sensible men, that it makes them pause to consider, and try to -assign a sufficient reason for such conversions. Anyhow, whether -any reason good or bad can be assigned for this movement, it is a -_fact_, to which no one who enters into society can shut his -eyes. Conversion to the Catholic religion is like an epidemic; -there is no neighborhood or profession, scarcely a family in any -class of society in which conversions to the Catholic Church have -not taken place. I enter a railway car or a steamboat; I go to a -dinner party; I stand up with my partner at a ball; and, in the -pauses of the busy hum of voices or of musical sounds, I become -aware that my opposite neighbors are actually discussing with -interest, attacking or defending, the Catholic religion. - -{625} - -Going into town by the cars the other day, I met my uncle Joe in -a brown study. "Good morning, sir! why so gloomy?" - -"Why, John, my eldest son, has become a Papist, sir; sorry for -it; a good, steady lad, but he has got into the hands of the -priests, sir; I fear it is all up with him. I suppose he will -shave his head next, leave his boots at home, and turn out like -one of those bare-footed friars we used to see in Belgium last -fall." - -"Well, but, uncle," say I, "it cannot be helped, you see; you -would not have the boy, as you call him--though he is two and -twenty if he is a day--go against his conscience and remain a -nominal Protestant to please you." "No, sir," he replies, "you -have me there; I stand up for the principle of liberty of -conscience, sir. Yes, sir, liberty of conscience. I know all -about it, civil and religious liberty, which the fathers of our -glorious republic established once and for all time as the -palladium of our constitution. But how the boy can fancy the -Catholic religion to be true, and make a matter of conscience to -join it, that is my puzzle, I can tell you." - -"Well, but my dear sir, it is no flattery to say to you, your son -is no fool. He knows what he is about; for his age, there is not -a more promising young fellow at our bar; only last week old -Judge Davis complimented him for the way in which he had taken a -very complicated case in equity and literally turned it inside -out and held it up for inspection. He is not a child; he has cut -all his teeth, and is not one to be led by the nose by any man, -be he priest or lawyer--you don't walk round a Yankee lawyer in a -hurry." - -"Well, that is true," said my uncle. "He has as sound a head as -any lad I know, and at school and college he was always well up. -Whatever has turned his head to Papacy? Do you know I sometimes -think it is what they call a _monomania_--like the man who -was sensible enough in everything else but mad on one point, and -thought he was a pump; and another took to his room and could not -be got to go out because he thought he was made of glass, and -would not stand jostling in the streets. Then think of Joanna -Southcote, Joe Smith, and the rest. My word! there is no end of -the aberrations of the human intellect." - -"Well, sir," I replied, "I don't think that will hold water, for -you and I know a dozen sensible, first-rate men who have turned -Catholics; no fanatics, but cool-headed men of business, good -neighbors, good husbands, honest men. There is Mr. A., Judge B., -General C., within the present year. They are not men to make a -serious change, which they know would set every one talking and -criticising them, unless they knew well what they were about, and -could give reasons for the change and stand a little criticism." - -"Well, that is nothing but common sense," he replied; "still I am -puzzled, I can tell you, to think why they did it." - -"Well, my dear sir, I think I can tell you why they did it. -Because they found out that it was the old original religion, -after all." - -"Well, you do astonish me. I do believe you must have turned -Catholic yourself, by the way you speak." - -"That's a fact uncle! You see, we have not met for more than nine -months. I was led, through the conversion of a very dear friend -of mine, to examine into his reasons, and the result is, that I -became a Catholic just before last Christmas." - -{626} - -"I am glad I met you to-day," he rejoined, "for to tell you the -truth, I was very much cut up about this business. I have not -seen John since he did it. I thought I should have to meet him -to-day, and I fully intended to cut up rough with him over it. -And so, Philip, you are a Catholic; let me look at you; well, I -wonder how you felt when you went down on your knees and told the -priest everything right away--but I suppose they did not get you -up to that point, did they?" - -"As for that," I replied, "set your mind at ease. I went to -confession like any pious old woman, and when it was over, I -never felt so light and happy since I was a boy. I felt as if I -had got rid of a load, like Christian, in the _Pilgrim's -Progress_, when his heavy burden fell off at the foot of the -cross of Christ, and rolled down into his sepulchre, to be buried -out of sight for-ever." - -"Ah! well," said he, "if one could really believe in it, and was -sure it was all true, I grant you. But I tell you what, I want to -have some more talk about these matters. You see, I know nothing -except by hearsay against the Catholic religion, and so I have no -right to pronounce an opinion--but you can't deny that they have -a bad name. Go into any of our churches and hear what they all -have to say against the Catholics. I don't believe one half of -it; it is clear out of the question that good moral men, with all -their wits about them like many we know, could be Catholics if -one half of the things said against them were true. Anyhow, they -have got a bad name and there is no denying it." - -"That is true enough," I answered; "but do you remember of whom -it was said, 'As for this sect, it is everywhere spoken against,' -and that Christ tells us that in those days he, the great teacher -of truth, was called by those who did not believe in him, -'Beelzebub;' that is, they actually gave out that he was the -devil! And then he goes on to say, 'If they have called the -master of the house Beelzebub, how much more those of his -household;' and I suppose in those days there were sincere, -zealous men, of whom Saul was one, who took up this cry and -repeated it, and so it came to be very generally believed." - -"That's true, again," he answered; "but here we are, at your -place, and I must go on to my office to get my letters. But after -business I hope you will not dislike a little more talk on these -matters; so you must go back with me to Linfield." It was agreed, -therefore, that we should go home together, and that I should -stop a few days at his country place, a few miles out of town. - -We met accordingly by appointment, and were soon seated together -in his carriage, and before long free from the noise and turmoil -of the city, and driving along the quiet country roads, with the -sights and sounds of harvest all around, and nothing to distract -our converse on grave topics. "Well," he said, "your last words -have been on my mind all day. Because so many speak against the -Catholic religion, and it has got a bad name, that is no proof -that it is not right. The Jews said worse of the early Christians -and of our Lord himself. - -"Then there is another thing you said, that what made you a -Catholic was, that you came to see that the Catholic religion and -primitive Christianity are identical--so I understood you. Am I -right in this?" - -"Certainly," I replied, "that is precisely my proposition; stated -in that form, the whole question is put, as it were, in a -nutshell." - -"Just so," he answered, "if that were proved. So now tell me just -how you proved it to yourself." - -{627} - -"With all my heart, sir," was the reply. "Then see here, we must -first lay down our definitions of what I mean by primitive -Christianity, and what I mean by the Catholic religion." - -"Certainly," he assented. - -"Primitive Christianity, then," I continued, "is soon settled. By -it I mean the religion taught by the apostles to their disciples, -and by those disciples taught to others, and so on--the religion -of the New Testament." - -"Very good," he broke in; "no one can find fault with that, only -we have always been taught that the religion of the New -Testament, a primitive Christianity, was substantially the same -as Protestantism, so that it never struck me till this moment -that there was any fair doubt that the primitive Christians were -Protestants, all but the name; and of course we know that the -name was not given them at that day." - -"All right! We will see about that later on," I continued. "Now -let me tell you, in as few words as I can, what I mean by a -Catholic." - -"Well, I am all attention," he said. - -"By a Catholic, then," I continued, "I mean a Christian who is a -member of that vast, world-wide society which is generally known -and called, by friend and foe, the Catholic Church, the spiritual -head of which is the Bishop of Rome. This church, or united -body--for you know the word church is the same as _ecclesia_ -in Latin or Greek, and means 'an assembly,' or 'united -body'--this united body we call catholic, or universal, because -it has always vastly outnumbered all other divided bodies of -Christians, whether taken singly or all put together. The number -of Catholics in the world is usually stated to be two hundred -millions; of Russian, Greek, and Oriental schismatics about -ninety millions, and Protestants of all denominations about -seventy millions. This vast united body, as it has always borne -the name of Catholic, so is it the only body of Christians that -can be called the catholic or universal church, if we attach any -meaning to the word as a definition of the visible church, such -as we find set down in the Creed, 'I believe in the Catholic -Church.' However, as the name Catholic is sometimes claimed in -some indefinable sense by other bodies of Christians, those to -whom it belongs of right, and by the force of terms, have no -objection, for the sake of distinction, to the term sometimes -applied to them, of Roman Catholic, meaning merely the -_real_ catholics; that is to say, those who, though -universal, or spread everywhere, are yet united in one visible -society, through being all in communion with the Bishop of Rome; -being Roman in their centre of unity, and Catholic in their -world-wide circumference. - -"Thus the Catholic Church, alone of all Christian bodies, bears, -as it it were, written on her forehead, that mark of unity -divinely impressed by her Heavenly Founder and preserved by the -power of his dying prayer, as a perpetual note of her heavenly -origin. 'I pray thee, O Father, that they may be one in us, that -the world may believe that thou hast sent me.' - -"I think that you will admit that the old church founded by our -Lord was to have on her these marks of unity and universality, -and that these marks are to be found on no church at the present -day but the church Catholic." - -"Yes," he replied after a moment's reflection, "I think this may -fairly be admitted; but unity is not all that our Lord prayed -for; in the same prayer he said, 'Holy Father, keep them in thy -truth,' and we say that the old church fell away, and that it no -longer teaches the essential truths of the gospel, or has -obscured them by false doctrines." - -{628} - -"Well, let that pass for the moment," I replied. "We will see -later on whether you will continue to maintain these -propositions. I will now state the principal points on which we -are agreed with Protestants, and afterward the distinctive points -on which we differ from them. And I think you will admit that the -points on which we are agreed with you are precisely every one of -those points which you would consider to be the great essential, -fundamental doctrines of the gospel. We believe, then, in the -unity and trinity of God, three coequal persons, one in -substance, and in the incarnation of God the Son, who became the -Son of Blessed Mary, ever Virgin, of the substance of his mother -according to his manhood, as he had been from all eternity God -the Son, of one substance with the Father--God of God. So we -believe and hope for redemption and grace, to do good works -acceptable to God, and which he will reward amply and solely from -and through Christ our Lord, and in prayer, love, repentance, -obedience, and holiness, as conditions of our salvation through -him. And we believe that eternal perdition and endless woe will -be the lot of those 'who neglect so great a salvation.' We -believe also that all Holy Scripture is written by divine -inspiration, and when studied and rightly understood, by aid of -God's Holy Spirit, is most profitable for instruction in all -Christian perfection. In a word, Catholics believe all that -religious Protestants consider to be of the essence of true -religion; and they also reject every tenet or position which can -clash with these paramount truths of revelation. A Protestant, -therefore, in becoming a Catholic, has to give up nothing which -he believes essential in religion. No doubt he would have to add -to his faith certain other truths which at present he does not -hold, because he has not come to see that they are parts of -revealed truth." - -"I have not lost a word," he replied, "of what you have been -saying. I confess it is quite a new light to me, that all these -doctrines which you have stated are part and parcel of the -Catholic faith; but, my dear Philip, I cannot help fancying that -all Catholics are not like you, for I have always heard that they -denied or obscured nearly every one of these doctrines." - -"As for these statements of doctrine not being the authorized -teaching of the church, I can only say that you will find them -all stated fully by the authorities of our church in the canons -and catechism of the Council of Trent, and stated briefly in -every child's catechism. Yet, notwithstanding, as you say, -Protestants generally seem to think that they know our religion -better than we do ourselves; although they seldom read our books, -they insist on denying that we really _do_ hold these points -which we profess to hold in common with them; but I think you -will admit that we ought to be allowed to know our own creed -best. It is a wonder that they do not rather rejoice to believe -that we have so many points of faith in common, and those the -very points in which they consider the essence of true religion -to consist. It seems as if they had an instinctive feeling that -the strength of their position would be broken up if once if -should appear that the differences between themselves and the old -religion were on but few points, and those such as they do not -consider the most essential." - -{629} - -"Well, anyhow," he rejoined, "whatever be the reason, there is a -strong prejudice on both sides; Protestants are as strongly -convinced that you are in the wrong as you Catholics are -convinced that you are right. One or other of us must be wrong; -and if we assert that you are wrong against such a strong -conviction on your part, and one that has subsisted for so many -ages, and been held by such a vast majority, why, we are forced -to admit that our strong conviction against you is no argument -that we are in the right. But you can't deny that such a strong -conviction as ours must have some foundation in reason." - -"Just so," I answered, "I do not deny it at all. These same -reasons seemed so convincing to me once that I could not have -believed that any reasoning could have convinced me that I was -mistaken. I will just touch on some of the reasons which weighed -most with me against the Catholic religion. From my own -experience I am convinced that the difficulty Protestants -generally feel, in admitting that Catholics really _do_ hold -all that they deem to be essential, arises chiefly from this, -that it seems to them clear and evident that certain other -doctrines which we hold, such as the merit of good works, the -invocation of Saints, the inherent efficacy of Sacraments, -Purgatory, the real Presence, and the sacrifice of the Mass, the -use of images, pictures, and relics, the Immaculate Conception, -and devotion to the Blessed Virgin, and perhaps other doctrines -and practices, _must_ necessarily interfere with the -mediatorial office of Christ and with the worship of God, and be -impious or idolatrous." - -"Well," he answered, "you have given a long list enough, and it -makes me feel all over just as I was before I met you. I declare, -to my dying day I never could take in all those things; and I -can't see how you, or any sensible man, could come to believe -them. Nay, don't tell me you believe them. Why, your church can't -expect it of an American citizen, whatever may be the case with -Frenchmen and Spaniards, that have been, as one may say, brought -up to it, and had it bred in the bone. I am sure I could easier -turn Jew and go back to the old original religion of all than -become a Catholic." - -"Have a care, my dear sir," I answered; "make no rash statements. -I once thought as you do now. I can't answer all objections -against these doctrines in one breath. Give me time, and I am not -afraid of going into them one after the other. But I can't -attempt it now; and now, as we are getting near home, just walk -your horse along this shady bit of road, and I will finish for -to-day. Now, with regard to all these doctrines which seem so -strange and repugnant to you, let me say, as an honest man who -once thought and felt as you do now, but who has come by God's -grace to see things differently--let me say, as one who knows -that he must answer for his every word before Christ's unerring -tribunal, that there is not one of those points which is not -capable of being shown in no degree to interfere with the supreme -prerogatives of our divine Lord and only Saviour, and which is -not capable of conclusive proof. Would to God that Protestants, -instead of reading and hearing only what is said against us, -would hear and read what we have to say for ourselves. These -early prejudices, this 'human tradition,' which 'they have -received to hold,' would be dispersed like the morning mists -before the sun. - -"The general answer that I would give to such objections is, read -Catholic books, and you will find that all these allegations are -as old as Protestantism, and that they have been answered a -hundred times over." - -{630} - -"If we are Catholics, it is simply under God's grace, because we -have read for ourselves, and have been satisfied with the -Catholic answer on every single point. If I am asked to name any -particular works which would be found specially useful--I mean -works of a popular character--I would mention Bishop Milner's -_End of Controversy; The Faith of Catholics_, by Waterworth; -various works of Dr. Newman and Archbishop Manning; _Temporal -Mission of the Holy Ghost_, and _Rule of Faith_; the -works of Archbishop Kenrick; and other works which may be -obtained at any Catholic bookstore. But most Protestants, as was -my own case when a Protestant, have a strong prejudice against -reading Catholic books. I believe the basis of this prejudice -(which would be logical enough if its basis were just) is much -the same as that which would rightly disincline all religious -persons, unless in some way it became a duty, from reading -Socinian and deistical writings. They have been accustomed to -consider that Catholics have this in common with Socinians and -deists, that they all, more or less, reject those doctrines of -redemption through Christ which every baptized and thinking -Christian feels to be part of the inner life of his soul, which -he would die rather than part from. But those who reason thus -against the Catholic religion, and are unwilling to examine its -evidence, forget that Thomas à Kempis, or the author of the -_Imitation of Christ_, was a Catholic, a monk of the middle -ages, devoted to every Catholic doctrine. His fourth book on the -Eucharist manifests, in every page, his belief in the real -Presence, and the sacrifice of the Mass; and he speaks of -invocation of saints, purgatory, priestly absolution, and other -Catholic doctrines. Yet this work, on account of the pure love of -God and trust in a Saviour, which it breathes in every line, is -almost as great a favorite with devout Protestants as it is with -pious Catholics. Translated from beginning to end by John Wesley, -it is to be found as a manual of piety, with his -_imprimatur_, recommended by him, in the hands of all his -followers. - -"The same may be said of the works of St. Bernard, Fénélon, -Paschal, all well-known names familiar through translations of -their works to all well-read Protestants. Again, the Jansenist -writers of the school of Port Royal are, I believe, generally -admired by what are called the Evangelical school among -Protestants. Yet the Jansenists all held the creed of Pope Pius, -laid down at the Council of Trent, and all the distinctive -doctrines of the Catholic religion. - -"I have spoken before of Dr. Newman as a name honored by all, by -Protestants as well as Catholics. No one has written more ably in -defence of every doctrine of the church. Could he, who is the -author of the lines I am just going to repeat, have written so -truly and touchingly of the love of our Blessed Lord and faith in -him, if he had held any doctrine which interfered with or -overshadowed the supremacy of that Lord and only Saviour? - - 'Firmly I believe, and truly, - God is three, and God is one. - And I next acknowledge duly - Manhood taken by the Son. - And I hope and trust most fully - In that manhood crucified. - And each thought and deed unruly - Do to death as he hath died. - Simply to his grace, and solely, - Life and light and strength belong. - And I love supremely, solely - Him the Holy, him the Strong. - And I hold in veneration, - For the love of Christ alone, - Holy church, as his creation, - And her teaching as his own.' - - _Dream of Gerontius._ - -{631} - -"Now, my dear uncle, you will understand the earnestness of a man -who feels that it is beyond the power of words to express the -depth of his convictions. These, indeed, I cannot impart to you. -I cannot give you the gift of faith. But so far, at least, I feel -sure you will go with me, in admitting that the facts I have just -stated should lead serious Protestants to admit that they have -been wrong in assuming that the Catholic religion, although a -great religious fact, majestic for her antiquity, universality, -and unity, as all must admit, has yet a mark against her which -dispenses them from all search after truth in that direction. My -last words shall be those which, though they seemed to St. -Augustine to be uttered by the voice of a child, were yet, as he -tells us, blessed to his own conversion: _Tolle, -lege_'--Take and read.'" - -Just as I had finished my last sentence, we drove into the -approach to the mansion, where the ladies were already assembled -on the lawn, a sign that the arrangements for dinner were -completed, and that all were awaiting only the return of the -master of the house. So, kindly greetings, inquiries after absent -friends in Europe and America, and the other happy little -accompaniments of an evening at home in the country in lovely -autumn weather, effectually put a stop to all further -conversation on the engrossing topics which had occupied us -during the morning. - -The next day rose bright and beautiful, almost too cloudless and -sultry, if we had had a journey before us, and six or seven hours -to pass in the stifling heat of ------. But we had agreed to take -a day's holiday in the country, and, after breakfast, we strolled -out together to the summer-house by the brook, where the daily -papers and the last reviews, American and English, were laid out -on the library-table of the cool retreat beneath the broad -chestnut trees, which served my uncle as his study during the -summer months. The other members of the family had their own -reading and work to attend to. So we had the prospect of a long -forenoon of leisure for reading or conversation. After the news -of the day had been read and discussed, we each took up a review -and read on pretty steadily for an hour or more. Then my uncle -began to light his cigar, and I saw that he was watching when I -should have finished the article I was reading, and that he was -ready for a chat. When he saw that I was closing the volume, he -began: "I have thought a good deal over all you said yesterday. -Just give me a memorandum of one or two of the books you spoke -of." I pencilled them down on the back of a letter and handed it -to him; he put the memorandum into his pocket-book. - -"Now," he said, "I should like to hear how you make out that the -primitive Christians were Catholics. You know all my family are -strict Episcopalians; there was one of them a bishop over in the -old country, and we always took great pride in the Church of -England; and I know we were always taught, and I've read several -books about the old aboriginal British Church, which seemed to me -to prove pretty clearly that, up to the year 600, or thereabouts, -after Christ, the early Christians in Britain knew nothing of the -authority of the Bishop of Rome, and opposed his claims when they -were put forward by Augustine on his coming over to convert the -Saxons." - -{632} - -"Well, sir," I replied, "curiously enough, I have just been -reading your last number of the _Saturday Review_, which, as -we all know, is no friend to Catholics, and I have been much -struck by a very able article which, I think, you will find well -worth reading. If you will allow me, I will read you a passage -which may serve me as a text for what I shall have to say in -answer to your question about the British Church, and how I make -out that the early Christians were Catholics: 'The distinctive -principle of the English Reformation was an appeal to Christian -antiquity, as admirable, and probably as imaginary, as the -"Golden Age" of the poets.' The writer then goes on to say, 'that -the era of the Reformation was before the age of accurate -historical criticism. The true method of historical criticism was -as yet uncreated, and it is not too much to say that whatever -accurate knowledge we now possess of the church of the first -centuries, has been obtained within the last fifty years, and -that a better acquaintance with the remains of antiquity has -convinced us that many doctrines and practices which have been -commonly accounted to be peculiarities of later Romanism, existed -in the best and purest ages of Christianity.' (_Saturday -Review_, 1866.) - -"Ah! I should not wonder," he replied, "if they had hit the right -nail on the head there; I must read that article--how is it -headed?" - -"Oh! you can't miss it," I answered, "the title is _Primitive -Christianity_.[Footnote 57] Well, then, to answer your -question. We argued yesterday as to the great leading doctrines -on which Protestants and Catholics are at one, and which all -Christians hold as essential. Now for what you would call the -distinctive doctrines of the Catholic religion, or as the writer -in _The Saturday_ expresses it, 'what are commonly accounted -(by Protestants) as peculiarities of later Romanism,' but which -we Catholics hold to be no less essential truths of Christianity, -part and parcel of the same revelation which teaches us the -doctrine of the Trinity and the Incarnation. I will name three -which I think you will admit are sufficiently distinctive. We -hold, therefore: - - [Footnote 57: _Saturday Review_, winter quarter, 1866.] - -"First. That for Christ's sake we are to obey the church, which -he has made his infallible witness in the world, until he shall -come again. 'The church of the living God, the pillar and -foundation of the truth.' (I Tim. iii. 15.) - -"Secondly. That for the same reason we are bound to submit to the -spiritual supremacy of the Pope or Bishop of Rome, the successor -of St. Peter, whom Christ, who is himself 'THE ROCK,' or sure -foundation of his church, left, when he ascended up out of sight, -to be the _Visible Rock_, on which he willed to build up his -church in unity. - -"Thirdly. That God is to be worshipped by sacrifice, and that in -place of the _typical sacrifices_ offered to God, from the -time of Adam to Moses, and from Moses to the time of Christ in -the Levitical worship, he has instituted the _great reality of -the eucharistic_ sacrifice of Christ's body and blood, -commonly called the Mass. - -"Of course there are other doctrines which I might name, but -these three are sufficient for my purpose. My proposition is, -that these doctrines were as distinctively characteristics of -primitive Christianity as they are of the Catholic Church of the -present day, or what our friend in _The Saturday_ calls -'Later Romanism.'" - -{633} - -"Well! go on," he rejoined, "I am all attention. I do not want to -raise objection to details. I want to hear your whole argument to -the end, then I shall see what I may find to say about -it--meantime, I am much interested, and want to see how you make -out your points. I like your mode of stating the question; it is -straightforward, right up and down, and no mistake, as far as the -statement of the case goes, only I want to see how you set about -proving it. But, here, I am smoking all the cigars; don't you -smoke?" - -"Why, bless the man! how can I smoke and talk? There, you do all -the smoking, and I'll do the talking just now; and then, when -I've done, you may turn on the steam, and I'll do the -smoking--turn about is fair play! - -"Well, then, learned Protestants are now beginning to admit 'that -many doctrines and practices which (at the time of the -Reformation) were commonly accounted to be peculiarities of later -Romanism, existed in the best and purest ages of Christianity.' - -"Now, this is precisely what we Catholics have always maintained; -only my proposition is, that the _distinctive features_ of -the Catholic religion are precisely those which mark the -primitive church and the British Church in primitive ages, -centuries before the time when St. Augustine, the first Bishop of -Canterbury, came from Rome to convert our Anglo-Saxon -forefathers, about the year of our Lord 600. - -"Those who delight in the dream of a golden age of primitive -Christianity, which was Protestant in all but the name, and only -not Protestant in name because, as they imagine, there was then -no pope to protest against, take special delight in dwelling on -imaginary pictures of an early British Church, and this for a -very simple reason, because here they can strike out boldly on -the wings of fancy, without much danger of coming to grief -against the hard stone wall of historical facts. There is no -British writer, of whose works we have any vestige, earlier than -the historian Gildas, who wrote about the year of our Lord 550! -All they have to rely on for proof of any difference between the -British Church and the other churches of Christendom is one -single fact, which they learn from the historian Bede, who wrote -in the eighth century. He relates that about the year 600 certain -British bishops were found differing from the Roman Church on -certain points, not of doctrine, but of discipline, and acting -with a considerable amount of contumaciousness toward St. -Augustine, the Roman missionary and first Archbishop of -Canterbury. All this we fully admit, and are quite prepared to -account for. But my proposition concerns the British Church, not -in the year of our Lord 600, but centuries before, in the early -primitive times, from the first conversion of Britain." - -"Yes, that is the point; I'm all attention to hear how you make -it out." - -"Christianity was probably established, partially in Britain, in -very early times, possibly in the days of the apostles, not -impossibly by St. Paul himself, and, if so, it must have been the -same in all essential features as that religion which the -apostles and their immediate disciples preached and established -everywhere else. History, however, records nothing definite -concerning the Christianity of Britain, earlier than the fact -related by the historian Bede, that, in the reign of Marcus -Aurelius, emperor of Rome, at the request of Lucius, a British -king, Pope Eleutherius sent missionaries into Britain. -{634} -Next, as to what kind of Christianity this was. I shall show that -it was sharply marked with the characteristics of the Catholic -religion which I laid down just now. Submission to the authority -of the Bishop of Rome as head of the church, and a belief in the -Real Presence and Eucharistic Sacrifice, commonly called the -Mass. - -"With regard to the authority of the Bishop of Rome, as Head of -the Church, I will quote a well-known ancient writer, St. -Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyons in Gaul, born A.D. 120, martyred A.D. -202. He was a native of Asia Minor, a disciple of St. Polycarp, -Bishop of Smyrna, who was himself a disciple of St. John the -Evangelist. He was a contemporary of Pope Eleutherius, and -visited Rome during his pontificate, as we learn from the -historian Eusebius. Irenaeus is, therefore, a witness of peculiar -value, since he was in a position to testify as to the belief of -all Christians in his day, as well of the Eastern Church, in -which he was trained, as of the Western Church, of which he -became a bishop. The presumption is, also, that he taught to -others what had first been taught to him by his master, St. -Polycarp, and that St. Polycarp taught what he had learned from -the inspired apostle. In the work of Irenaeus, _Adversus -Hiereses_, (Book III., chap, ii., n. 1 and 2,) which may be -consulted in any good library, we find it written. I will read -from some short manuscript notes which I have here in my -pocket-book, and which I made at the time I was looking into -these matters before I became a Catholic. - -"'As it would be a long task to enumerate the successions of all -the churches, I will point out that tradition which is of the -greatest, most ancient, and universally known church, founded and -constituted at Rome by the most glorious apostles, Peter and -Paul, and which derives from the two apostles that faith -announced to all men, which, through the succession of her -bishops, has come down to us.' - -"Here, let me observe, by the way, in passing, we have the -testimony of a great writer, who lived within fifty years of St. -John the Evangelist, and was instructed by his immediate -disciple, that the Church of Rome was founded by St. Peter and -St. Paul. What then becomes of the statement, so often -repeated--shall I call it ignorant, or impudent?--that the Bishop -of Rome can have no claim to authority as successor of St. Peter, -because there is no evidence that St. Peter was ever at Rome in -his life?" - -"Well, certainly," he interposed, "that statement will not hold -water, for Irenaeus is an unexceptionable witness. But I -interrupt your narrative. Pray, go on." - -"Well, then, to continue what I was saying, before I made this -digression, St. Irenaeus goes on in the same passage, 'With this -church, (namely, the Church of Rome,) on account of its more -powerful headship, (or primacy,) it is necessary that every -church, that is, the faithful on every side, should be in -accordance, in which church has always been preserved the -tradition which is from the apostles. The blessed apostles, then, -having founded and built up this church, committed the office of -the episcopacy to Linus, of whom Paul makes mention in his -Epistle to Timothy. And to him succeeded Anacletus, and after him -Clement, who had also seen the blessed apostles, and conferred -with them, and had before his eyes their familiar preaching and -the tradition of the apostles; and not he alone, but there were -many at that time, still alive, who had been instructed by the -apostles. -{635} -To Clement succeeded Evaristus, Alexander Sixtus, Telesphorus, -Hyginus, Pius Anicetus, Sater, and to him Eleutherius, who now in -the twelfth place from the apostles, holds the office of the -episcopate. By this order, and by his succession, that tradition -which is from the apostles, and the preaching of the truth, have -come down to us.' - -"Here then we have the testimony of one who wrote only fifty -years after the death of the last apostle, that the existing pope -was the successor of Peter in the see of Rome, and there could -have been as little doubt about the past as there is now as to -the succession of the presidents of the United States or the -sovereigns of England during the last century. - -"And the testimony of St. Irenaeus as to the authority of the -bishops of Rome over the whole church, since we learn from -Eusebius, that Irenaeus had offered a firm but respectful -opposition to two successive pontiffs, Eleutherius and Victor, on -the question of the time of keeping Easter, a point on which some -of the Eastern churches as also later the churches of Ireland and -Britain, followed a different custom from the church of Rome. St. -Irenaeus visited Rome on the matter, and dissuaded the pope from -making this question at that time a term of communion. He -succeeded in his endeavors, and so different churches were left -to follow their own custom, until the matter was finally decided, -and the Roman practice made obligatory on all, at the general -Council of Nicaea, A.D. 325. - -"Such then is the testimony of St. Irenaeus concerning the -general belief of all Christians of his day as to the rights and -authority of the bishops of Rome, or holy and apostolic see, as -it was generally termed in very early times. He taught that it -was the duty of all churches and of each one of the faithful, -that is to say, of all who believe in Christ, to adhere to the -faith and the communion of the holy see, which by Christ's -institution had been constituted in the person of Peter and his -successors the necessary centre of unity of all other -churches--which held on this account the supremacy of more -powerful headship or primacy of authority in the universal -church, under Christ our Lord. - -"It is manifest therefore, that this doctrine concerning the -authority of the pope must have been taught, together with all -other doctrines of the universal church, by the missionaries sent -into Britain by Pope Eleutherius. St. Irenaeus tells us in -another place that the faith of the whole church was one and the -same. He says, for instance, in the following passage, 'The -church spread over the whole world to the earth's boundaries, -having received the faith, ... sedulously guards it, as though -dwelling in one house,' 'as having one soul,' and 'one heart,' -and 'teaching uniformly as having one mouth, ... nor do the -churches of Spain or Gaul, or the East, or Egypt, or Africa, -believe or deliver a different faith.' (_Adv. Hieres._ b. i. -c. x.) - -"But we are not left to conjecture as to the relation of Britain -to the rest of Christendom, and to the see of Rome in primitive -times. The next notice we have of the British Church is, that -British bishops were sitting with the other Catholic bishops at -the Council of Aries in Gaul in 314, when the Roman practice as -to the time was confirmed and accepted, and at the Council of -Sardica in Illyricum in 347, where the right of appeal from all -bishops to the apostolic see was confirmed by a special decree. -{636} -This council, at the conclusion of its deliberations, writes to -Pope Julius in the following terms: 'That though absent in body, -he had been present with them in spirit,' and that it was best -and most fitting that the bishops of each particular province -should have recourse to him who is their head, that is, to the -see of the Apostle Peter. (See _Labbe's Councils_, ii. 690.) - -"That the primacy of the Roman see involved a real right of -jurisdiction over other churches is manifest from the next fact -of history bearing on the British Church. St. Prosper of -Aquitain, a contemporary of the events he describes, writing in -430, tells us how a British priest, by name Morgan or Pelagius, -had invented a heresy, (which still bears his name,) in which he -denied the necessity of Divine Grace. That this heresy spread -greatly in Britain, whereupon Pope Celestine, the same pope who -sent Palladius and Patrick to Ireland, dispatched St. Germanus, -Bishop of Auxerre in Gaul, as 'his vicar with Britain, and that -he might drive away heresy, and restore Britain to the Catholic -faith.' He tells us that he was received by the British bishops -and presided at several national synods. St. Prosper also states -as an existing fact then, just as any Catholic might make the -same statement at the present day, that 'Rome as the See of Peter -is head of the episcopal order in the whole world, and holds in -subjection through the influence of religion, more nations than -ever had been subdued by her arms.' (_St. Prosper de -Ingratitudine et Vocatione Gentium_.) - -"With the mission of St. Germanus the early history of the -British Church closes. A dark and calamitous period of a hundred -years succeeds, in which Britain is heard of no more until the -time of Gildas, the British historian, who wrote about the year -of our Lord 550, that is to say, about fifty years before the -coming of St. Augustine. - -"Britain, during this period finally abandoned by the Roman -armies, is left a prey to continual invasion, first by the Picts -and Scots, and then by the Saxons, who had settled down like a -swarm of locusts upon the country, and driving the Britons before -them into the natural fastnesses of Wales and Cornwall, had -completely occupied the country and made it their own. At length -the very name of Britain is lost; it had now become England, and -a heathen land once more. - -"The native historian Gildas describes the condition of his -miserable countrymen, isolated from the rest of Christendom, -overwhelmed by foreign invasion and by civil wars. As to -religion, he tells us that it was at the lowest ebb, and that no -heresy had arisen in the church which had not effected a lodgment -in Britain: as to morals, he informs us that princes, nobles, and -people were infected with the most shameful vices, and that even -a large portion of the clergy were sunk in profligacy. There were -still many bright exceptions amongst all classes, especially in -the monasteries, which were numerous and filled with a multitude -of holy souls, who had fled from the almost universal corruption -of morals in that miserable age. - -"Gildas, moreover, upbraids the clergy for their want of charity, -and because through hatred of their Saxon conquerors they could -not be induced to attempt their conversion to the faith of -Christ. - -"And be it remembered that Gildas wrote all this as an -eye-witness of the state of the British Church in his day, and -that he wrote only fifty years before the arrival of St. -Augustine to preach the faith to the Anglo-Saxons. -{637} -Can we wonder then that when he invited the remnant of the -British clergy to join him in his holy mission he met with a -contumacious refusal, at least from some of them? - -"I quote from a Protestant historian, (_Hart's Ecclesiastical -Record_.) He quotes as follows from Bede's Ecclesiastical -History. 'In many things,' says St. Augustine, 'ye act contrary -to our custom, and those of the universal church; yet if in these -three respects you will obey me, to celebrate Easter at the -proper time, to perform the rites of baptism according to the -custom of the Roman Apostolic Church, and to join me in preaching -the Gospel to the English nation the word of the Lord, all other -changes which you do, although contrary to our customs, we will -bear with equanimity.' These terms they refused to comply with, -and the above-named Protestant writer thus comments on their -refusal. 'While we triumphantly cite these testimonies to our -original independence, let us not seek to palliate the -contumacious spirit displayed by the British clergy in their -conference with Augustine. As Christians they ought cheerfully to -have assisted in evangelizing the pagan Saxons. The terms which -he proposed were mild and reasonable, and the faith which he -professed was as pure and orthodox as their own.' - -"It is quite clear that the faith of the British Church was -essentially the same as that of St. Augustine, otherwise he would -certainly have taken exception to such differences in essentials, -and not solely of accidental points of discipline, and moreover -it is inconceivable that he should have invited them to preach to -the Saxons a faith different from his own. That the faith taught -to our forefathers by St. Augustine was the same as that of the -Catholic Church of the present day, does not require proof to any -one who has made the most superficial study of the annals of the -Anglo-Saxon Church. The supremacy of Rome, the doctrines of the -real Presence, the sacrifice of the Mass, purgatory, devotion to -the blessed Virgin and the Saints, are written on every page of -her history, as narrated by Bede and the ancient chroniclers, and -came to be incorporated into the very language and customs of the -people. - -"As for the grounds of the opposition of the British bishops to -St. Augustine, this can be fully accounted for. The decay of -faith and morals amongst clergy and people, isolation from the -rest of Christendom, natural pride and hatred of the Saxons, all -which Gildas tells us existed in the British Church in his day, -are quite enough to account for their opposition to St. -Augustine, and this opposition cannot in the truth of history be -attributed to any primitive independence of Rome in the British -Church. In the whole early history of British Christianity there -is not one fact which proves any difference in faith whatever, or -any variation in discipline inconsistent with that obedience to -the Bishop of Rome as successor of St. Peter, which Irenaeus -tells us was in his time considered essential for all churches, -and which is at the present day as then, an essential feature of -Catholic Christianity. - -"In the absence, then, of all proof to the contrary, and in the -presence of the positive evidence which I have given that the -British Church stood in the same relation to Rome during the -earlier and purer ages of her history, as all the other churches -of Christendom, it is surely disingenuous not to admit the fact. -It seems to me that thoughtful and candid persons can hardly fail -to admit that as a controversial argument against the Catholic -Church the less said about the British Church the better." - -{638} - -"Well, upon my word, my boy, I must say that my first -impression--but mind, I reserve my judgment till after I have -had time to reflect on the matter, read up your quotations in the -original, and compare them with the context--I say my first -impression is, that you have a good case, and that you have -handled it very fairly. A good deal is involved in your being -right or wrong in this matter; so much that, if you please, I -would rather not pursue the question any further at present; but -I shall not let it sleep. And now I see your cousins coming this -way with their brother John. I must go and meet the old fellow, -and shall treat him as if nothing had happened. I am very glad I -happened to meet you yesterday; the truths you have suggested to -my mind are serious ones." - -"That is so," I replied, "and may they ripen in your mind and -prove refreshing to your soul as they have to mine! Good-by!" - --------- - - Sub Umbra. - - - The hills that like billows swell clear in the dawn, - Seem heaving with conscious existence this morn; - For all the broad woods on their bosom serene - Are waving their ocean of green! - - - II. - - How fair! Save yon cloud sailing up from the west, - Whose shadow falls dark on that bright, leafy breast - But softly 'tis rocked: while beneath it is heard, - In wood haunts, the note of the bird. - - - * * * - - III. - - O heart! in yon shadow and soft-heaving sea, - Thy God hath unfolded a lesson for thee; - For oft while reposing 'neath sunniest skies, - A cloud o'er thy rest may arise. - - - IV. - - But when from that cloud the dark shadow shall fall, - Heave gently, heave gently though under the pall! - And 'neath the dark shadow let, sweet as the bird, - Thy low, quiet music be heard! - - Richard Storrs Willis. - --------- - -{639} - - - Translated From The German. - - - Forget-Me-Not. - - Or, The Picture That Was Never Seen. - - - -The lord chamberlain, who had just returned from Italy, had -become the subject of the greatest attention with the brilliant -but not extensive circle which the queen was accustomed to -assemble around her, in the king's secluded summer residence. - -The narratives of the count's travels served to shorten an -unpleasant, stormy evening, which visited the shady park -surrounding the castle with gusts of rain and hail, interspersed -with streaks of lightning and heavy reechoing claps of thunder. -The imagination of the queen revelled in the recollections which -the stories of the count awakened; but the king, more interested -in business of state, interrupted the speaker suddenly, with the -question as to whether anything new had transpired in the capital -city, which he had passed through on his return. The lord -chamberlain praised the quiet and elegance of the city, not -neglecting to extol the wisdom of the sovereign to whom all this -prosperity must be attributed, and closed with the assurance -that, excepting the exhibition of industry and art, the -inhabitants of the city were occupying themselves, at present, -with nothing but their own homes and amusements. The Princess -Eliza inquired interestedly concerning the success of that -institution which owed its existence to her suggestion, and the -count, passing slowly from one thing to another, ran easily into -the enumeration of the articles exhibited in the tasteful -gallery. He left till the last what he considered the crowning -glory of the collection--the paintings by native artists--and -described with the versatility of a cicerone all the pictures of -Madonnas, pictures from every-day life, historical pictures and -portraits, which were worthy of attention. Having come to the -end, he interrupted himself suddenly, as if rebuking himself, and -said-- - -"I had almost forgotten to mention a picture, which, although -anonymous, and very unfavorably placed, deserves to be named as -the gem of the gallery, both in idea and execution. I have seen -nothing more wonderful in my life, and even now, when I speak of -it, all the details of the striking picture appear clear and -decided before the mind, so that I can give them without omitting -anything essential." - -This preliminary was calculated to raise the greatest curiosity, -and the queen, with the company, formed a narrow circle around -the narrator. - -"Imagine, your majesties, a medium-sized tablet divided into two -parts, of which each represents a single picture," began the lord -chamberlain; "the conditions of space divide this picture in -form: the character is one and the same. In the first, the -principal figure is a maiden in the full blooming freshness of -youth. The flowing drapery flutters lightly in the wind. One foot -already rests upon the edge of the barge which wavers in -suspended dance, and which the stream, curling up into foaming -waves, seems about to drive from the shore, without rudder or -anchor. -{640} -The eyes of the maiden look longingly into the distance: in her -features lies romantic enthusiasm. On the shore which the mariner -leaves, stand sympathizing friends. An old man, with silver hair, -waves a farewell: a group of maidens, blooming as she, and -familiarly clinging to each other, wave handkerchiefs and ribbons -after the departing: a youth, handsome and earnest, folds his -hands together, and out of the clouds, a friendly, loving, -sorrowful countenance looks down upon her. Luxuriant roses signal -from the beautiful shore, and form a rare contrast to the -lurking, green-haired water-fairies who swim under the mirror of -the water in scarcely defined outlines, and seem to pull the -frail boat forward. The maiden, it is plain, goes hence on a -dangerous journey; but a tender, shimmering cloud-figure, -doubtless the ever young Hegemone, hovers near her, and by -solicitous glance and imploring gesture, seems to express -admonition and prayer. Whether the mariner shall be saved by the -grace of this guardian angel, or fall by the wiles of the waiting -fairies, is the question with which the gazer unwillingly leaves -the charming picture to turn to its companion piece. - -"In the picture which we now consider, the principal figure is a -young man with walking-staff and travelling-bag, who passes -rapidly away from the narrow doorway of a house, and steps out -boldly on the broad highway. He breathes freely, and an earnest -satisfaction speaks from his eyes. Joyfully starting out to meet -life, he takes notice neither of the noble matron who would hold -him back, nor of the affectionate maiden who longingly extends -her hands to him, nor of the faithful dog that, although fastened -by the chain, nevertheless raises himself entreatingly. From the -windows of an inn may be seen a waiter, standing at a counting -table and swinging his hat: a Jew stands in the way and holds out -a paper, which the wanderer refuses: at the well in the -foreground a thoughtless maid nods saucily and piquantly to the -youth; and so far the picture represents a gay scene, a little -saddened by the quiet grief in the background; but, before the -wanderer, who looks carelessly around, gapes an abyss, in which -is suspended a frightful dead body, with a severe but honest -countenance. Its eyes are shut, but it raises the right hand -warningly toward the approaching youth, while the left rests on -the breast in quiet consciousness. - -"And so," continued the narrator, "the picture is finished." - -A short silence reigned in the company. The king rested gloomily -in his chair; while the queen, on whom the affectionate daughters -were leaning, at length replied: - -"The picture is finished, and we have an obscure allegory, to -find the key to which will not be difficult. Man and woman going -from the narrow home-circle to enter upon life, leaving behind -them the sheltering paternal roof, and the innocent joys of -childhood; the youthful desire to toss upon tempestuous waters, -or to journey on the parched highway; these are--or my feeling -must be very much at fault--the subjects which the poetical -painter wishes to represent." - -"Your majesty's penetration is equal to the solution of the most -obscure enigma," replied the count; "but in the attractive double -picture lies still more, if one leave not out of notice that it -is surrounded by a wreath of forget-me-nots; that the mariner -wears these flowers in her hair, and the wanderer on his bosom. -{641} -The artist thought to give the signification of the harmless -little flower, and how well he has succeeded in painting its -characteristics. The departing is for those remaining behind a -forget-me-not; but even these who remain on the spot which the -loved one leaves, desire to impress their remembrance on the bird -of passage just as firmly. 'Forget me not!' call after her the -silver-haired father, the youthful friend, and the play -companions of the maiden. 'Forget me not!' whispers the glorified -mother out of the clouds, and the protecting spirit hovering over -the waters. Well for the mariner if she fail not to hear the -warning voice. Well for the youth, if the forget-me-not of the -mother, the bride, and the creditor, cling long to his heart: he -will return true and noble, scorning the temptations on the way -of life, and remembering the paternal honor, which, through the -dumb mouth of the dead body, calls to him 'Forget me not!'" - -The queen rose hastily, nodded, as it seemed, overcome by tears, -to the narrator, leaned upon the arm of her daughter, and -apparently struggling to hide her emotion, left the room. The -king threw a disapproving glance after her, which finally met -that of the count, who stood transfixed in the middle of the -hall, without knowing how or why so peculiar a circumstance had -transpired. - -The courtiers had fallen back and were whispering among -themselves. - -"Will your majesty condescend to point out to me whether any -indiscretion of mine has caused the present event, or whether it -may be attributed to an unfortunate coincidence," said the count -timidly. Instead of answering, the ruler gave those standing -around the signal of departure, and commanded the count to -remain. Being called nearer, and permitted to sit opposite the -king, he waited impatiently for the discourse which his commander -should direct to him. - -"Your ignorance is excused," commenced the latter, in his usual -short manner of speaking, "but the queen is unpleasantly affected -by the name Forget-me-not. It is an old wound that has to-day -been opened afresh, and hence the strange scene. It is, perhaps, -nineteen years since I undertook the rule of this state. The care -of it called me into the field against the enemy formed by the -exiled royal family. I was but just married. In order to acquaint -my aged father-in-law with the fortunate result of a battle, I -sent to the capital a young ordnance officer. He returned to the -camp at the time designated, but at the same time came secret -dispatches from my zealous agents, who noted the disposition of -the people, and kept guard on the actions of the crown-princess, -my wife. The ordnance officer, who had long loved my wife in -secret, had, in special audience, received from her hands, a -bouquet of forget-me-nots. My jealousy knew no bounds. In the -next tournament, the officer found his death, and--as it is -said--on his breast lay the fatal flowers. After I had returned -as victor, it became clear that my wife had intended this present -for me, and that she was unacquainted with the feelings of the -unsafe messenger who had retained for himself the love-gift of a -queen. But now it was too late. Mother and sister mourned on his -grave, and the tender heart of my wife was so shocked by such a -catastrophe that even to-day, after so many years, her grief has -again been manifested." The king was silent, and leaned his head -on his hand. The count, overcome by the unusual confidence of his -sovereign, and feeling himself inadequate to console, did not -venture to reply. -{642} -The king, instead of dismissing him, remained in troubled -thought, while a bitter smile played around his mouth. "Finally," -he continued, "my position at that time was difficult. My zealous -temperament was bent on vanquishing the obstacles in the way of -my successful career. My motto was, 'Onward!' The people were -dissatisfied that a man not of royal descent should have the -audacity to claim the crown. I had, by force of arms, held the -old king on his throne, banished the pretenders, and rescued the -people, the property, and the church. I had shown that no one -understood better how to readjust the disorganized affairs of -state; but when the eyes of the old man closed, and I seized the -sceptre, according to agreement, then arose a cry of -consternation. The fools had believed that I would give the house -which I had built up to the alienated Merovingians, and myself be -satisfied with the position of major-domo. A conspiracy was -formed. You remember that the flower forget-me-not passed for the -symbol of rebellion. The faction of the refugees have not yet -forgotten the day on which I gave the command which the times -demanded. The first name which met me upon the list of those -seized was Albo. The family of that officer bore this name. I -knew that the baroness had hated me irreconcilably since the -death of her son; that her daughter hated me not less, and that a -determined ally of the exiles was about to offer his hand to the -latter. Now burst the bombshell. In the house of Albo were said -to have been held meetings. The baroness was said to have sworn -to give her daughter to the one among her countless suitors who -would take the most prominent part in my overthrow. My sternness -passed the sentence of death upon the women; but the entreaties -of my wife to whom it had been represented that the accusations -which had been heaped upon the mother and daughter were only the -work of envy and private hatred--disarmed my sentence. I banished -the women, and confiscated their property. The bridegroom died in -prison; and so the fate of that family was mournfully fulfilled." -The king then continued in a monotonous tone: "I will not deny -that later I have thought of these poor women who must wander in -exile, with a certain unwilling pity, and that still later I made -inquiries concerning them. No trace of them could be found. But I -see that I have allowed myself to say more than is customary for -me. We will pass to something else. Who is the painter who -executed the picture of which you have spoken?" - -"Sire," replied the count, "I do not know. He cannot, however, be -unknown to the inspector of the gallery. I know only that he is -not one of your majesty's subjects, and that he begged permission -to exhibit the double picture for a few days. For the present he -remains in the capital." - -"Yes, yes," replied the king; "no one but Cremati can have -created this picture; his power alone manifests itself in such -allegorical compositions; and the allusion to the -forget-me-not--yes, yes, watchful man we will make peace, and thy -pride of art shall melt in the sunshine of my favor. I wish to -see the painter, count. You will take pains to bring him here. He -will not willingly obey, but an autographic command shall place -all authority at your disposal. Depart as early as possible, and -the day after to-morrow I shall expect to see the painter. Good -night, count!" - -{643} - -The count departed, and the king retreated to his cabinet. After -a few fruitless struggles, he overcame the melancholy which -clouded his soul, and went to the table, on which lay in great -numbers the reports and dispatches just brought in by the -courier. He sought impatiently among the letters for one, which -when found, he broke with anxiously suspended breath; but after -the first line, the restless expectation vanished from his -features; cheerfulness spread over them, and with a light "Good, -good!" he took up the silver candlestick, impatient to share his -satisfaction, and opened the tapestry door which led into the -corridor connecting his rooms with the queen's. As he approached -the door, he heard voices, and upon entering found the queen -sitting in an arm-chair, and leaning, in pleasant resignation, -upon Eliza's shoulder. At their feet, on an ottoman, sat Sophia, -the younger princess, resting her smiling face on the mother's -lap. The beautiful family picture charmed the king, and he -commanded the ladies, who would have risen in his honor, to -remain in their positions. The group remained, but the former -spirit was gone; and the king himself, after a few moments' -thought, broke the restraint. - -"I forgot," he said, as he gave his daughters a sign to leave -their places, "I forgot that my wish serves only to govern the -_actions_ of my family, but cannot charm away a grief. I -cannot approve of the tears which I see in your eyes, madame. You -have given to the court a spectacle, the cause of which is too -antiquated to render it any longer excusable, and too unimportant -to have been entrusted to your daughters, as I must imagine has -been done." - -"You err, sire!" replied the queen, drying the last traces of -tears from her eyes; "the tenderness, not the curiosity of my -daughters has comforted me." - -The princesses kissed the queen's hands caressingly, and the king -replied: - -"Right; that I must commend; and to prove that it pleases me to -give pleasure, I will confide to you what gladdens my heart and -somewhat lightens my paternal cares. This letter from my -ambassador in a neighboring kingdom makes the heavens look -joyful. The dissensions which have for so long a time threatened -to separate that country and mine, are peacefully settled, and I -hope to see soon at my court an ambassador with instructions to -sue for Eliza's hand. So I have finally succeeded in entering -fully into the band of sovereigns. The fortunate soldier is -forgotten, and hereafter kings will speak to a king, and make -room in their ranks for him whom fortune raised to their level. -My name and the remembrance of my deeds will not pass away with -my body. If I am blessed with no son, my grandchildren will wear -my crown, and enjoy the fruits of my labors." - -The queen gave him her hand softly, and spoke: - -"May fortune still further attend you, gracious sire. Your wife -willingly submits to your wisdom, and your daughters will fulfil -the duties which your position imposes upon them." - -"Have you not taught me early, beloved mother, that renunciation -and offering is our destiny?" said Eliza calmly, but sighing -softly. "I will obey my royal father without objection, without -complaint, if--" - -"If the prince do not disappoint the ideal that a maiden's heart -is accustomed to create," said the king, "Be without fear, my -daughter; the prince is renowned as a second Bayard, whose -bravery goes hand in hand with the most pleasant courtesy. -{644} -He is not remarkably beautiful, as I understand, but moderately -so, and possesses all those brilliant accomplishments which -pertain to a royal education. At least you will be able to boast -of a better suitor than your mother, whom I, having neither the -advantage of beauty nor of birth, and grown up in the rough -customs of the camp, won by the power of my sword, to the -astonishment of her father. The brazen age ruled in the land -then, and my sword must cut out for your grandfather the royal -robe that he had taken from his cousins, as the people demanded. -But with your marriage, daughter Eliza, shall begin the golden -age. I will give _fêtes_, and the world shall wonder before -my splendor as it has before my renown. This old Frankish -building shall put on a festival dress, and gleam with gay -pictures as for a carnival. Cremato comes again, and his brush -shall prove worthy of my generosity." - -"Cremato!" repeated the queen wonderingly; "Cremato," cried the -princesses together, as they recalled the wonderful, sprightly -Italian, who had many times appeared at the court like a flying -shadow, and as quickly disappeared; and who did not fear to -express the strongest criticisms on the drawings of the royal -children, but from whom the little students learned more in a -quarter of an hour--when he sometimes condescended to -instruct--than from their well-paid court teacher in months. The -queen thought proper to send the curious princesses to their -apartments, a command that was quietly obeyed. - -"What will Cremato here?" she asked her husband who, sunken in -plans for the brilliant future, walked silently back and forward. -"His name wakes only sorrowful recollections. Is there a new -conspiracy to denounce? Shall blood flow again? Shall the -innocent again wander in misery? Speak, my husband! Why shall the -terrible accuser, who has the misery of thousands on his soul, -return?" - -"Woman condemns as quickly and as thoughtlessly as she excuses," -replied the king earnestly. "Cremato, having by accident become -acquainted with the first threads of the conspiracy, fulfilled -the duty of a brave citizen in disclosing them. Cremato owed this -service to the land and the prince who then gave him protection -and security. The most indifferent stranger would have been to -that extent under moral obligations. Cremato rescued _thy_ -throne through his denunciation. Neither for this favor nor the -disinterestedness which refused every reward does he deserve the -unthankfulness which thy mouth has spoken against him. It is true -that many persons fell, but the pressure of necessity absolutely -demanded them. Therefore, no word more about it! For all I have -done--except one--I will answer before Him who judges the most -powerful." - -"And must this one example of vengeance work on for ever? Thy -suspicious jealousy drove poor Albo to a certain death; and -still, after my innocence was manifest, must make his family the -offering of an ever insatiate revenge. Cremato's accusation--" - -"Not so," replied the king, with vexation. "The guilt of the -women came to my ear from another source. A report was spread -that Albo was sacrificed ... enough; the mother breathed -vengeance, and for this the law demanded her life. I was gracious -still!" - -{645} - -"Fearful grace," cried the queen, "which drove the unfortunate -from their home and the graves of their dead, to wander in -poverty and misery in a strange land. That was not what I asked -when I prayed for mercy for the innocent. That was not what they -expected when they sent petitions to thy throne to recall the -sentence, and to allow them to return to their native land, even -if it must be in poverty and want." - -"A ruler does not play with law and verdict like the conjurer -with a snake," spoke the king sharply. "The women who were -thirsting for revenge could not be allowed to come back at that -time: they cannot now: nevermore. And you, madame, might better -let the dead rest. Your feelings lead you to a false conclusion. -The gift of a few flowers caused the death of the thoughtless -Albo. Your tears for that are shed in vain. The youth's destiny -and my passion bear all the blame. You are free from all -responsibility. Do not disturb yourself longer with frightful -fancies. Leave the burden to my conscience. Admonishing to -repentance is of no use, and only embitters. Such attempts it -was, madame, that drove from my side the painter Cremato, to whom -I had given my confidence. He did not accuse Albo's family, as -you falsely believe; he defended them only too boldly. He took -the liberty to speak to my conscience--to play the Massillon to -me. I am tolerant only to a certain extent, and for nine years he -has avoided the court, at which he so often appeared and went -like a bird of passage." - -"I did not know the man as you have painted him to me, sire," -said the queen, only half convinced. "My heart shudders before -extreme punishment and severe retribution, therefore I trembled -before the informer who called forth both at that time. You say -he comes again? Where has he lived, and how, until now?" - -"I must explain," replied the king, "that I have no correct -account of this man's residence for some time. He was a person -worthy to be the friend of a king. I am not a chief of police. I -need to know nothing more. Had he any settled dwelling-place? I -do not know. In my dominions he has only wandered back and forth -since that time. But, so much as I desire to see him again, I do -not know whether I should not rather dread the meeting, as for -many years I preserve his remembrance in fear." - -"Fear!" asked the queen, with wondering eyes; "does the hero, my -husband, know the possibility of fear?" - -"The heart of iron trembles before the Eternal Judge, even when -he speaks through the fearless tongue of a human being," answered -the king, with anxiety depicted on his countenance. "Cremato's -last words might convince thee, my guileless wife! He pleaded -with impetuous eloquence for Albo's sentenced family; painted -their suffering, that they must die far from the land that bore -them, and asked their recall in the name of humanity. I refused. - -"'Well!' spoke then the peculiar man, coldly and threateningly to -me. 'I desist from further attempts to move the cold heart of the -conqueror. Fortune's son no longer recognizes the unfortunate. -But, from now on, another shall speak to him in my stead. Albo's -fall, and the accompanying circumstances, are no secret, and my -brush shall immortalize the unfortunate. His picture, in the pale -mask of death--his picture--the herald of bloody tyranny, be my -next work, and the recollection that I leave to you, sire. -{646} -Take it as my legacy; and as often as an injustice or cruelty -comes into your soul, or on your lips, so often may this pale -face, swaying on black ground, stand before your eyes. May it -serve to moderate your vengeance: may it be to presumption a -reminder of annihilation: may it sharpen the penitence of your -conscience.' He went, but the sting of his words remained with me -from that hour. My self-consciousness turned, thousands and -thousands of times, back to the terrible picture which he had -left to torture me. Many times, as my dreaming thoughts wandered -over my battle-fields, arose, from all the bodies only this one -giant countenance, ghost-like, before me. Often, when overcome by -the weariness of business, I rested upon a chair, I have seen on -the wall the promised picture--like to the old countenances of -Christ, which swung on a black ground without neck or robe-- -frightfully and threateningly coming nearer, as a phantasmagoric -image." - -"Stop!" cried the queen, in terror, for, in addition to the shock -which the reference to Albo had given her, the countenance of her -husband had, while he had been speaking, become like that of a -ghost, and his voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper. "The dreadful -Cremato," continued she, "has he kept his word? How long has the -unholy gift been in your hands? and have you destroyed it?" - -The king shook his head. "I have never seen the painting," he -answered. "Cremato has not kept his word; but I feel--I know -certainly--that the picture is ended; that it exists, and that, -if it came into my hands, the strength to destroy it would fail -me; but look upon it I could not, for my fancy has already -created it to break my heart. Countless sentences has it -mitigated, countless misfortunes arrested; for, whenever I have -taken the pen or opened the mouth to decide over the life, -happiness, or honor of any subject, I saw him--I saw Cremato's -dreadful work opposite me." - -The king stopped suddenly, took a few thoughtful steps through -the room, and went out; but the overpowering feeling which the -disclosure of the long-kept secret had aroused in him, prevented -the monarch's enjoying his rest. He left his couch, opened the -window, and looked out into the still, cool summer night. The -trees of the grove whispered, while here and there a drop, -condensed from the moist air, fell sounding from leaf to leaf, -and from the distance came an indistinct harmony, disturbing the -song of the nightingale. As the listener's ear became accustomed -to the rustling of the forest, the distant sounds became more -distinct and figured themselves into a song that the king -recognized, while it recalled a sweet tide of youthful -recollections. The past, lying far back behind the confusion of -endless wars, behind the tumultuous years of ambition and seeking -for glory, worked its nameless magic on his soul. He saw himself -again a boy on the rocks of the Mediterranean sea; he heard again -as then--with never-ending satisfaction, the melodious song of -the fishermen as they rowed out in the golden gleaming of the -morning red, on in the rosy shimmer of evening when returning -into secure harbors and the peace of their homes. - - O sanctissima, - O piissima - Dulcis Virgo Maria! - Mater amata, - Intemerata, - Ora pro nobis! - -{647} - -But now it was no longer the strong tenor voices of the south, -but two sweet female voices, so low and melodious, that rest and -peace came back to him, and turning to his couch, he murmured -softly: - -"Holy, blessed fatherland. The rolling fates have taken me from -thy lap to fasten me in a strange land, with a strange crown, but -with blessings I think of thee; and blessed, thrice blessed, -may'st thou be, O my loved fatherland, my sweet home!" - - ...... - -"That is not Cremato," spoke the king, as the count, according to -the command, presented the modest painter, a slender, handsome -youth, scarcely arrived at manhood. - -"I am called Guido, sire!" answered he fearlessly. - -"Guido was always a fortunate name for one of your art," replied -the king, as he dismissed the count. "I have heard good of you. -Have you brought with you the picture of which the count has -spoken?" - -"No, sire," said the painter; "a liberal connoisseur had bought -it and taken it away, before the command of your majesty reached -me." - -"What a misfortune!" said the king condescendingly. "I am a -patron of art, and desire to employ your brush." - -"I am sorry," replied Guido, "that I have no specimen of my poor -talent to show to your majesty. But I have brought with me a work -which I hope will obtain your favor, sire. I was on my way to -your court, and have Cremato's masterpiece to give to your -majesty." - -The king became pale at these words. He looked at the painter -piercingly, but as he received the glance without restraint, -questioned him further. - -"Cremato! His last work? You, sir; perhaps his son?" - -"His student, gracious sire! his student who buried him a few -months ago at Naples, and promised the dying man to bring the -picture to your majesty." - -"Cremato dead!" sighed the king. "In him died a true artist, a -peculiar but noble man. I have never inquired further concerning -him. He was to me only a human being whom I could protect," added -he slowly. "The last sign of his independence! You have brought -it with you?" - -"Yes, your majesty," replied Guido. "It stands in the anteroom. I -hasten to bring it." - -"Yet a word," began the king disturbedly to the artist. "The -subject of the picture?" - -"For me a secret," answered Guido. "The master worked on it with -closed door--embellished it with his own hands, and locked it in -the box. It stood long so, ready for departure. Cremato would -entrust it only to me, and said to me, on his dying-bed, that -only your majesty knew what that picture designated." - -The king's countenance cleared, and he allowed that Guido should -bring the box, in which the picture was locked, into the room. -With a kind of grim horror, he refused to have it opened. - -"Some other time," he said abruptly, "I will see if you are the -student of your teacher. Did Cremato leave relatives to whom I -can return the price of this masterpiece?" - -"A mother and two daughters," replied Guido. "It is true, they -are not pressed by want, but from a painter's inheritance is -seldom left a surplus. Yet, do not pay for this gift in gold. -Weighty grounds compel them to remain in a foreign land, and they -wished to find a refuge in the kingdom that your majesty's wisdom -makes happy." - -{648} - -"To take care of Cremato's daughters shall be my work, but -perhaps his student has found his way to the heart of one of -them?" - -Guido bowed blushingly and denied. - -"I am already bound," said he, "but to take to them the hope of -your majesty's grace will be my first duty. They will soon thank -you in person." The king bowed and said: - -"Let yourself be presented to the queen and look at the drawings -of my two young daughters. Cremato's pupil has certainly -inherited quickness in art from him. His spirit is in your eyes. -You please me." - -He dismissed the joyful painter and turned toward the secret -picture. "It seems to me," he said to himself, "as if Albo's eyes -looked through the wood in order to wound me. Angry friend! On -thy death-bed, hast thou after so many years kept thy pledge and -made the shade of the murdered one at home in my court? When will -I obtain the strength to look at thy earnest work? To look at it! -Never! I think I should die from the glance. I will never see it. -I know it already too well. Away with it!" - -With his own hands he set the box away behind the heavy silken -curtain that fell down in long folds before a window. Then he -threw himself into an arm-chair and asked himself, "How is it -possible that one single deed performed in unjust revenge must -perpetually swing its whip over my wounded heart? The fields -which my battles have enriched with blood, the scaffolds which -have been erected in the course of time--these disappear when my -eyes look into the past; but Albo's grave lies ever open before -them." - - ...... - -It had become late in the evening. Government cares occupied the -king. He had worked with his counsellors. The reception room was -deserted; but the tapers still burned in the rooms of the queen. -The Princess Sophia, overcome by weariness, had gone to her room. -The more beautiful sister kept her mother company. She endured -impatiently the reading of the governess. An indescribable unrest -spoke in every movement of the beautiful maid. Her eyes rambled -from the ceiling to the walls, then looked fixedly down at the -floor. The light work with which she employed herself did not -increase in her hands, and dropped, finally, entirely from them. -With growing unrest she changed her place a few times and started -when the clock struck the departure of another hour. - -The queen, a careful, loving mother, delayed not to notice this -unusual behavior, and herself becoming anxious, took advantage of -the first suitable pause which came in the reading, and released -the lady from further duty for the evening. Mother and daughter -remained alone. - -"Please do me the favor to play something on the harp," said the -mother to Eliza. "The instrument that I once played so readily -will not do duty under my neglectful fingers. Quick young fingers -succeed better in bringing feeling out of its strings. Play, my -child; I need the enlivening." - -Eliza obeyed. Her tender fingers glided over the strings in -prelude. But the affectionate performer could not long hold the -measured run of the selected piece. The restless, trembling -spirit betrayed itself in the rising and falling tones. Andante -became presto, and presently broke out into a striking -dissonance. - -"Forgive me, mother," cried the princess, springing up. "I cannot -play any longer. My heart will break that I have since morning -kept something secret, and secrecy must not be between you and -me." - -{649} - -"It shall not," replied the mother, calmly, "because thy own -feelings lead thee to confide." - -The princess came closer to the mother, and related that in the -morning, in her sister's room, almost under the eyes of Aja, -while the strange painter was looking over Sophia's crayon -sketches, a paper was dropped into her hands, on which she, with -astonishment, read the words, 'Most gracious princess! Doubtless -your heart is what your lovely features speak, noble, tender, -gracious, and charitable. Oh! will you plead for the unfortunates -who are hidden by Hergereita in the forest, and wait for a gleam -of hope? Hear their prayer. Interest your elevated mother in this -work of love. Protect the most humble from the anger of your -father.' These strange, entreating words," continued the -princess, "took possession of my heart. The painter must have -placed the paper in my hands. My searching glance read in his the -answer, 'Yes.' I should, perhaps, have scorned the boldness; but -his entreating glance disarmed me. I could not shame him before -my sister and the instructress. I concealed the paper, and this -afternoon my devoted maid has spoken to Hergereita, and found an -old, troubled-looking woman and two beautiful young girls, and, -at my command, requested them to be in my room at eleven o'clock -to hear how I can be useful to them. I should have liked to hear -what the grieving ones wanted before speaking to you of them, -dearest mother, but my unrest has betrayed me, and so, if you -allow, I will bring the petitioners immediately before you." - -"Thou hast done rightly, my daughter," said the queen, kissing -Eliza's brow. "Thy trust excuses the censurable indiscretion of -taking a paper from a stranger's hand. We will together find out -what the circumstances of the strangers are, and deal with the -young artist according to the truthfulness of his -representation." - -"The maid of her royal highness waits in the ante-room," said a -maid to the queen. - -Eliza blushed. - -"The pointer stands on the eleventh hour," whispered she. "The -petitioners are certainly already in attendance, and, if you will -allow it, I will command that they be conducted here." - -The queen consented. The princess gave the necessary command, and -in a short time a lady, dressed in mourning, entered the room. -She seemed astonished at finding herself in the presence of the -queen; but this circumstance failed to deprive her of the -security of carriage which immediately betrayed her acquaintance -with life of the highest stand, although her dress belonged to a -time long past. Her noble, expressive countenance betrayed her -great age, but the firm, erect gait almost denied the white hairs -which spread out thinly under the black veil. With the usual bow, -the matron approached the queen, kissed, before she could prevent -it, the hem of her robe, then arose, and spoke with a voice -filled with emotion: - -"Your majesty sees before you a woman who has had the misfortune -to become gray under sorrow, and older than her years would -speak. Unjust fate has finally overcome my pride, and now when I -have lost all except two hearts which love me, I pray only for -the favor to be allowed to die within the borders of this -kingdom. The making of a new throne could not so rejoice your -illustrious husband as a grave in this land would rejoice me." - -{650} - -"Madame," replied the queen, astonished and overcome by the weary -sadness in the suppliant's voice, "before you speak further, who -are you Your name?" - -At this moment the tapestry door opened, through which the king -was accustomed to enter, and the monarch appeared suddenly before -the women. The queen and Eliza were silent in terror. The -stranger looked him fearlessly in the eyes. His wrathful look -fell only on her. With a curious mixture of hardness, -astonishment, and anger, he finally broke out into the words: - -"Whom do I see here? What is passing here? How did you come into -this room, Frau von Albo?" - -"Albo!" cried the queen, and threw herself upon the arm of her -trembling daughter. - -"You have not forgotten me, sire!" answered the lady, earnestly -and firmly. "For many years I have been unaccustomed to this -name, and just here where it is proscribed I hear it again. Your -presence, sire, decides my fate, which I would have intrusted to -friendly hands. Unjustly banished from your state, I know only -too well that I stand before you now as a criminal. I have -stepped over the ban, and death is my fate. Dispose of this gray -head as you will, only protect my grand-daughters, my king! Their -mother has departed. They do not bear the hated name of Albo. Let -them live in the home of their mother, to plant flowers on mine -and their uncle's grave." - -For a long time the king made no reply, but his expression was -dark and menacing. - -"I am no tyrant who thirsts for your blood," said he finally, -"but guilty you are. I must know how all this has come about." - -Eliza threw herself at her father's feet, and related to him what -had happened. - -"Guido!" replied the king, and pulled the bell, "this -presumptuous stranger shall answer to me on the spot." - -The servant, who had come, was ordered to bring the painter -immediately into the royal presence. The lady appeared to hear -nothing of all that was passing. Her eyes raised toward heaven -and her lips moving as if in prayer, she stood there as if -separated from her surroundings and belonging to another world. -The queen spoke conciliatingly to her husband, but his features -remained hard and dark. - -"Must pictures of a miserable past swing for ever before me?" -murmured he. "Must death resign the booty long due him in order -to torment me? And what could have induced you, Frau von Albo, -now that you are on the verge of the grave, and have lived so -long away, to put yourself into such a position?" - -"Age makes me a child again," replied the baroness quietly. "I -was miserable in the strange land; I must, even at the price of -my life, see once again the spot which bore me. It remains my -fatherland, in whose bosom my bones would gladly rest near those -of my son." - -"O sanctissima!" sang the two angel voices through the forest, -and the tones came through the open window, and the king thought -again of his fatherland, and sighed deeply. - -At that moment the painter Guido entered, quickly and boldly. -"Your command, your majesty," said he. The baroness interrupted -him with the words, "I have lost my play, most gracious prince, -and I commend to you the orphans whom I must leave." - -"That will God and the brave king's magnanimity not allow," -replied the betrayed, and went reverently to the royal pair. -{651} -"I am Prince Julius," said he. "I wished to convince myself, -without being recognized, whether the soul of the beautiful -princess, whose hand I wish to gain, were like her rare charms. -My hope has not deceived me, and my confidence in your majesty's -grace will surely be justified to the favor of the two innocent -suppliants whom I recommend to your mercy." - -The queen bowed pleasantly to the prince. Eliza, overcome by -delighted surprise, clung bashfully to her mother. The king -reached his hand to the prince and spoke with light reproach. - - ... - -"The young hero, who is so welcome to my court, had no need of -dissimulation in order to call out my justice. His word alone" -.... - -"Sire!" The prince interrupted him, "I flattered myself that the -circumstances themselves would speak to the heart of the wisest -of kings more than any word of the undistinguished man who would -consider himself happy if the ruler whom he so admires would -allow him to become his student and belong to his family." - -The ambition of the king was so flattered by these words from a -descendant of an old royal family that he, with joyful pride, led -the exultant Julius to Eliza, with the words, "My prince, your -bride." Turning toward the baroness, he spoke, "You have placed -yourself under the protection of the queen. I will not have seen -you, but a woman who conspires against me I will not endure in my -kingdom. Go back. An amount sufficient to meet your expenses -shall show that I do not allow private vengence to work against -you--I cannot do more." - -"Away from the home!" cried Frau von Albo sorrowfully; "no, no, -never! Be merciful, your majesty! I have never plotted against -you. The mother's heart commanded itself. I have never cursed -you. The calumniation of your dead chancellor ruined me and -chased me into banishment, and still I have never cursed you. -Therefore show mercy. Do not keep an old woman in doubt. My -daughter found her grave in the waves. I cannot seek it out to -die on it. The grave-mound of my son is in this land. I cannot -leave it again. Keep the gift of your graciousness, sire! Keep -the property which was unjustly taken from us. Take my life. Take -the last treasure, the legacy of my son; only let me finish my -days here where I was born." In the outburst of feeling, the -baroness had pulled a letter from her bosom, and with trembling -hands handed it to the king. A few withered forget-me-nots, -sprinkled with drops of blood, fell out on the floor. The king -and queen stood trembling, and "O sanctissima!" sounded anew, -blessing and entreating, through the silent grove. - -"Whence these wonderfully entrancing tones of home?" asked the -king quickly. - -"Cremato's daughters it is," answered Prince Julius, "and here -stands his mother. Albo's sister was Cremato's wife, and, shortly -before his death, perished on a pleasure excursion near the -coast. Grief for her loss hastened his death, and his family, to -whom your majesty to-day promised your protection, pray for a -home in their fatherland. Shall they pray in vain?" - -"Cremato the husband of your daughter?" asked the king, -astonished. "Riddles multiply." - -{652} - -"In our humiliation and poverty in a foreign land, the strange -man found us," answered the lady. "Less love than the warmest -thankfulness which we owed gave him my daughter. God bless the -noble man!" "God bless him!" said Julius quickly. "He was nobler -than even his family knew. I was his student. To me he disclosed -himself. His conscience had compelled him to discover that plot. -His feelings tortured him when he discovered that Albo's innocent -family had, through calumniation, become entangled in the -terrible affair. Unable to disarm the anger of the insulted -monarch, he sought untiringly the helpless family; found them, -and compelled himself to take the yoke of marriage in order to -become the protector of those whom he had undesignedly and -unknowingly driven into ruin. The noble man kept his relations -secret from the king, and left his court after he had proved that -the hatred against the name of Albo was ineradicable. The king -had never discovered that Cremato was his countryman. On his -death-bed he confided to me his family and that picture which I -have never seen. A picture which I finished after Cremato's plan, -and had exhibited, attracted the notice of the lord chamberlain, -and brought me here more quickly. Cremato's remembrance; that -fatherland song that Cremato had taught his children; the sight -of this worthy matron, of the noble queen, and your angel -daughter's entreaties, shall finally move the heart of the king; -and if I see rightly, if these be really tears which fill the -eyes of the most noble-hearted monarch, then has my plan -succeeded, and this night makes three happy." - -The king was silent, struggling with his emotion. All eyes were -fixed on him. - -"Take up the flowers," said he. Then, deeply moved, to Albo's -mother: "I am not able to give you anything more precious, even -when I return to you all the property that you have lost. Albo's, -Cremato's mother, be greeted! forget as I forget. The few days -that remain to you shall be peaceful, and your granddaughters -shall be my care." - -"Most noble king!" cried Julius, and fell on his breast. Wife and -daughter embraced him. The baroness folded her hands and prayed. -... "Oh! see, my Albo, how he redeems the past! Oh! forgive him, -the repentant, as I forgive him!" - -As the king freed himself from this embrace, two beautiful -maidens lay at his feet and moistened his hands with their tears. -They were Cremato's daughters. "O sanctissima!" he sighed, and -softly left the room to hide his tears. - - - -The monarch kept his word, and peace reigned in his kingdom. But -Cremato's picture he ventured not to look upon, and for long -years it stood locked behind that curtain. The baroness had long -since slept in her grave, and her granddaughters were happy -mothers by their own firesides. - -A host of blooming grandchildren, Eliza's and Sophia's sons, had -made the king himself a grandfather. Then death came upon him -slowly, and warned him to quit the stage of life. Joyfully he -made himself ready, and willingly allowed the crown, so valueless -to the dying, to glide from his hands. Satisfied with life, and -resigned to death, he asked calmly to see Cremato's picture. "I -am strong," he said to the weeping wife, the only one entrusted -with that secret. "Myself in the arms of death, the countenance -of the dead will no longer terrify me." The cover fell; -courageously the king threw his glance upon the glowing -background, and the light of transfiguration came over his face. -"It was no ghastly figure of death. A cherub, beaming in heavenly -light and glory, nodded from the clouds. Ethereally beautified, -Albo's features smiled upon him; the right hand of the angel -pointed above, and the left reached out conciliatingly the wreath -of forget-me-nots, taken from the golden hair. - -The work of the noble painter, a sign of his love for man and his -trust in God, transformed the last struggle of the monarch to the -gentlest peace. - -"Cremato! Albo!" stammered he, going smilingly. "Wife! Children! -My people! farewell! and thou, my fatherland, Forget me not!" - - -------- - -{653} - - - "Couture's Book." - - -Perhaps it would have been more according to rule to have headed -this article, "Painting-Room Method and Conversations," which is -the title the author gives his work. But as it is invariably -spoken of and thought of as "Couture's Book," I have but followed -in the wake of others. The fact is, this is no regular book; it -is but a series of printed talks, so characteristic, so entirely -stamped with the individuality of the writer, that those who know -him recognize his peculiar expressions, his eccentricities of -manner, and almost seem to see his familiar gestures through its -pages. Therefore it seems perfectly natural to call it "Couture's -Book." - -Couture, as all those well know who are at all familiar with -modern French art, is one of those who has done most to raise and -invigorate it. His great picture, the Roman Orgie, is in the -principal room of the Luxembourg, of which it is one of the -greatest ornaments. It is not my province to criticise him as an -artist; others, far more capable, have given a favorable verdict -long since. My purpose is to speak of his book, and to say -something of the author personally, as the best means of -understanding it. - -In his tenth chapter, M. Couture gives us an interesting glimpse -of his early days, and of the gradual development of his powers. -All through life, one of his most striking characteristics seems -to have been his utter inability to learn by rule; as a child, he -was looked upon as almost a dunce, and his elder brother, who, as -he expresses it, was "nibbling at Latin," looked down upon him -from his height. From his earliest years, however, he had the -passion of reproduction. Before he understood the use of pencils, -he would cut out, with his mother's scissors, the outlines of all -he saw. Later, he became painter-in-ordinary to all the boys of -the neighborhood, and, by the help of the little men and women he -drew and painted, became rich in tops and marbles. But, when his -father, a man of remarkable intelligence for his station in life, -placed him with a drawing-master, the "petit Thomas" could do -nothing; he did not understand his master's instructions; he -could not copy the models placed before him; he longed for -nature, and for liberty to imitate just what struck his fancy. -The result was, that the drawing-master, after a few months' -trial, declared him to be wanting in capacity, and he was taken -away! - -{654} - -The child is father to the man, and all through life, the cause -of nearly all his trials and disappointments, and perhaps, too, -of his successes, has been this inability to subject himself to -established rules. He entered the _atelier_ of Gros, as -student, and fell sick with disappointment when, on a certain -occasion, spurred on by the master's encouragement and advice, he -produced what he calls a most pitiable failure; while, on the -other hand, several of his attempts--the unaided works of his -own inspiration--excited great admiration, and turned the public -attention on the young painter. Finally, he determined to -renounce master and rules, to trust to his own instinct, and to -turn to public opinion for judgment. He succeeded; the public -recognized and appreciated him. Nevertheless, this same disregard -for established criterions, for academic dignities, etc., has -proved the source of much annoyance to him; and, for some years -past, M. Couture has refused to exhibit, or to bring himself -forward in any way, as an artist. Abandoning himself to the joys -and cares of a happy home-circle, enjoying his modest fortune as -only a man who has known poverty, and has fought hard against it -for nearly thirty years can, he lets people say what they will of -him, and, with sturdy independence, works when he likes, and at -what he likes. Of course, all sorts of reports circulate about -him, and I have been told more than once, "Oh! as for Couture, he -is dead; he can produce nothing more." - -Not long ago, an artist, a firm friend of M. Couture, took me to -see him. We were told by the _concierge_ that monsieur was -at home, _au premier, à droite_. So _au premier, à -droite_ we went; rang; the door was opened by a respectable -man-servant; but just behind him was an extraordinary looking -personage; it was M. Couture himself, who, with the curiosity of -a child, wanted to see who was there. Imagine a figure scarcely -five feet high, immensely fat--stout is not the word--with a red -scarf tied round the huge waist, the shirt-collar open, -untrammelled by any vestige of a cravat, and luxuriating in a -sort of loose woollen jacket. There he stood, shaking his -friend's hand, slapping him on the back, a hearty, kindly, -puffing, panting engine of humanity. When I heard him talk, -however, I forgot his unpoetic exterior; the flashing eye, the -wonderful power of mimickry, the modulating of the voice, -fascinated me. I have seen many good actors, but none who -possessed the art of bringing scenes, people, expressions, so -completely before one, as M. Couture. Everything he touches upon -becomes a picture, color and truth everywhere. This is eminently -the case with his book; he himself could only be taught through -pictures--brought to his mind by the colors of the painter, the -words of a writer, or the harmonies of the musician; through -pictures he instructs others. - -But to return to my visit. We were hospitably dragged into his -den; a simple room joining the parlor, with no pretensions of -being a studio about it. There was a picture on the easel, casts -and drawings scattered around, an admirable portrait of his -father, for whom he had an unbounded admiration, and a charming -little flower-piece which was the bouquet he presented to his -wife on her birthday; a few flowers in a glass, nothing more, but -these few flowers, with the dewy softness and fragrance of nature -about them, revealed the master's hand to me, as clearly as the -more pretentious picture on which he was then working. - -{655} - -"You have read my book, they tell me?" - -"Yes, M. Couture, and I admire it; for it is so simple, so easy -to be understood." - -This seemed to please him. - -But I find I have allowed myself to gossip on, and have not given -you as yet any of those foretastes of the book which I promised -myself should be the staple of this article. I want, by these -foretastes, to interest Americans in this work which, by the -simple wisdom of its maxims, the result of thirty years' work and -experience, is eminently fitted to be a guide to young artists. -Then, too, it is dedicated to America. M. Couture has a real -sympathy and admiration for our vigorous, ever-growing country. -Some of his favorite pupils were Americans, and of late years, -most of the pictures which have left his easel have been -purchased by our wealthy countrymen. I cannot resist the -temptation of telling you an anecdote _à propos_, which I -heard from a reliable source, and which is very characteristic: - -A New York amateur went to M. Couture, and bespoke a picture. But -the artist was probably in a lazy mood, and the picture lagged. -Some friends of the New York gentleman warned him that it was -often years before Couture would finish a commission, as he never -worked unless the fancy took him. - -"But," added one of them, "he is a strictly honorable man; attack -him from that point, and you will have your picture." - -So the amateur, writing a very polite note to the artist, -enclosed the sum agreed upon as the price of the picture. - -Before long, panting and puffing from the unusual exertion, -Couture rushed to the gentleman's apartments, exclaiming, as soon -as he could get breath: - -"But you other Americans, you are a people of very singular -customs! Here; what for you send me the pay before you get the -picture?" - -"O M. Couture! I have such perfect faith in your honor." - -The artist stopped, seemed to think it over a few moments, then -exclaimed: - -"You shall have it, your picture!" - -Accordingly, shortly after, the picture was finished and -delivered. - -In his original and clever introduction he says: - -"I am an unlearned man; I know nothing; having had no -instruction, I feel that I can inspire sympathy, only by a -profound sincerity. Can a man, owing what he has only to his -battle of life, his observations, and the shreds of knowledge and -glimpses of books which came to him like real godsends, inspire -interest? I doubt it, and I am even pretty sure that many people -will find it preposterous that one should dare to write a book -without having gone though the necessary studies. To these -persons I will answer by my book itself wherein I try to prove -that in everything a simple, sincere expression of sentiment is -preferable to a learned expression thereof; for this plain -reason, that men, getting their instruction through books are apt -to forget, in the multiplicity of documents which absorb them, -the good and true road--nature; to such I will say, 'You have the -university on your side; well, as for me, I have my God, and do -not fear you.' ... - -"It would be well, I think, to reassure the humble. Therefore, I -say, have faith in your soul; follow your God who is within you, -express what he inspires, and do not fear to oppose your divine -lights to the horrible Chinese lanterns of the university. -Enlighten and guide in your turn those who would restrain you by -ridicule. - -{656} - -"If you are a farmer, speak of the products of the earth; if you -are a business man, speak of that business which you understand; -if you are an artist, speak of your art. Do not fear the -inelegance of your language; it will always be excellent. -Whatever you may say, you who understand that of which you speak, -you can never express yourself more foolishly than those who make -an art of words. ... - -"I compare myself, in my literary mishaps, to a man surprised in -a storm. He seeks a refuge to save the brightness of his boots; -but the hour of rendezvous is close at hand, and it still pours. -He makes a dash, keeping close to the houses; the rain redoubles -its fury, and he is glad to find shelter under a -_porte-cochère_. There he stoops and examines himself; his -boots have lost their lustre, his pantaloons are covered with -mud; a porter, companion of his misfortune, has wiped the load of -vegetables he carried, on his back. The irreproachableness of his -attire is gone; he need no longer protect it; he accepts his fate -bravely, and ceases to concern himself. He starts with a firm, -grave step, and, as a first success, obtains the admiration of -others less brave. Encouraged in his new resolution, he walks on -unheeding the water which rises above the ankle; he comes to a -torrent; he throws himself in without hesitation, and swimming, -reaches the other side; another step, and he pulls the doorbell. -The door opens. What a triumph! Misfortune has crowned him with -her poetic charms. He is surrounded, cared for, and soon finds -himself clad in comfortable clothes, with his feet in the host's -slippers; he enlivens the guests with the recital of his Odyssey. - -"This is my portrait, dear reader; all bespattered with ink, I -come to ask you to take me in. - - ... - -"Let us return now to that which has given me courage to write. - -"I received my second lesson from the greatest writer of the age. -Madame George Sand was good enough to give me a seat in her box, -to hear the _Champi_. You know that in this charming play, a -young lover wants to speak too well to her he loves; he has -prepared his discourse with such care, and has so many fine -things to say, that, when the decisive moment comes, all his -ideas get inextricably mixed; the lover soon perceives that he is -talking very badly and that his defeat is owing to his unlucky -head; fortunately for him, however, his heart is on fire, and -will be heard; then he speaks as he feels, and you know if he -speaks well!" - -So much for the introduction; now let us turn to the real object -of his book--artistic instruction. I am sure all those who have -felt the difficulties to be undergone by all beginners in art, -will feel grateful to M. Couture for the simple, concise way in -which he explains what the experience of many years has taught -him. They will observe how carefully he avoids any fine phrases -which seem to say much, and which in reality merely serve to -bewilder the student. Listen to what he says of - -{657} - - Elementary Drawing. - -"What is to be done in order to draw well? - -"Place yourself in front of the object to be represented; have -good tools, which must be kept neat and clean; look at what you -see with much greater attention than at your own reproduction of -it; keep--pardon my arithmetic--three quarters of an eye for the -model, and one quarter for the drawing. - -"Commence your drawing from a first distance, compare those which -follow, making them subservient to the first. - -"Establish either an imaginary or a real horizontal and -perpendicular line before the objects to be represented; this -means is an excellent guide which should always be adhered to. - -"When, by slight indications, you have determined, established -your places, look at nature with your eyes half closed. This -manner of looking simplifies objects; details disappear; you then -perceive nothing but the great divisions of light and shade. Then -establish your masses; when these are correctly placed, open your -eyes completely, and add the details, but with great moderation. - -"Establish what I call dominants for your lights and shades. Look -at your model attentively, and ask yourself which is its -strongest light, and place it on your drawing there, where it is -in nature; as, by this means you establish a dominant, you must -of course, not exceed it; all other lights must be subordinate to -it. The same thing must be said, the same calculation must be -made, for the shadows; rub in your strongest vigor, your most -intense black; then use it as a guide, a diapason, in order to -find the value of your different shadows and half-tints." - -Nothing can be more to the point, more simple than this, and -surely M. Couture exemplifies what he says in his introduction: -that what is felt strongly, and understood clearly, will be -expressed with equal strength and clearness. He goes on to say -with regard to - - - Elementary Principles Of - Drawing From Nature. - -"You will only be able to copy the mobile objects of nature, when -you are very certain of finding your places with rapidity; the -means are always the same, but their application is more -difficult. Therefore constant practice is necessary. A musician -would say to you, Scales, more scales! and I say to you, Draw, -draw incessantly! Draw from morning to night, in order to -exercise your eye, and to acquire a steady hand." - -The practical part of his book, M. Couture enlivens and -illustrates by anecdotes taken from his own experience; these are -the pictures by which, principally, he seeks to convey -instruction. I will translate one of them for you: - -"A young German entered my _atelier_ to perfect himself, as -he said, in his art; he made, as a beginning, a drawing which -showed much technical ability. - -"I complimented him on his cleverness, but at the same time told -him that he had not copied his model faithfully, and that it -would give me great pleasure to see his talent dedicated to the -service of nature. - -"'But indeed, sir,' said the young man, 'I assure you that I -copied with the greatest exactitude.' - -"'You think so; did you look at your model very attentively?' - -"'Yes, sir, I did.' - -"'It may be so,' and while talking, I turned his drawing around. -'With whom did you study in Germany?' - -"The conversation continued--then looking at the model who was -standing, I said to him: - -"'That is a superb model of yours; beautiful form, fine color, is -it not so, what think you?' - -"'Yes, sir.' - -{658} - -"'See now, how the light inundates the chest; evidently that is -the most luminous part of the body.' - -"'Yes, sir.' - -"'Are you certain of it?' - -"'Yes, sir.' - -"'Then show me.' - -"'See,' said he showing me the part where the light struck most -forcibly; 'it is evidently there, that the most brilliant spot is -found.' - -"'I am willing to believe, and perceive with pleasure, that to a -skilful hand you join a sound judgment. Decidedly you have a -delicate perception of the value of light and shade; you will be -able to render me great services. Let us see now, which is the -most luminous point in your drawing.' - -"Not seeing my purpose, he replied with great _naivete_ that -it was found on the knee. - -"'It is not possible.' - -"'Yes, sir; permit me to observe to you that if one were to -compare that light to the other lights of the drawing, this one -would be found to be decidedly the brightest.' - -"'Very well, then; why is your light not placed as it is in -nature? You see very clearly that it is found on the chest, and -you put it on the knee; why not on the heel? And you will tell me -that you copy your model faithfully! You will allow me to tell -you that you have paid no attention to your differences of light. -... Very well; one may easily make mistakes;' and I once more -turned his drawing around. 'You have great painters in Germany. -Overbeck, Cornelius, Kaulbach, all have talent of a high order. -... Oh! just see how, at this moment, the model is well lighted; -what brightness; what vigor in the shadows! See that hair; it is -like velvet, and the shadows of the head, how transparent and -strong; it reminds one of Titian; do you not think so? the -crisping hair, matted; the blood rising to the head and the -throat; all this is splendid in color, and is of far greater -importance than all the rest. What think you? Suppose we turn -your drawing to see if you have rendered the effect we have just -been admiring. Let us see! Why, it is singular; you have -forgotten that too!' - -"'Yes, sir. I see it now.' - -"'You see your head is colorless, and gives the idea, of -papier-mache; you have the same fault in your shadows as in your -lights. ... In your work you compared nothing; absorbed by -details, you saw them only; drawing small parts, you forgot the -rest, and went on blindly.' - - ...... - - Occupations Of A Young Artist - Outside Of His Art. - -"'You know it now; you are to draw morning, noon, and night; you -have to bedaub a great many canvases, to use up a great many -colors, and that for a long time. These exercises, these -gymnastics not being very fatiguing, you can make good use of -this period, to improve your mind with reading good books; the -old classics, and our French classics too, it is well to study. -But for you, artist, there are certain authors which I wish to -point out to you, and which you will find of great use. Homer, -Virgil, Shakespeare, Molière, Cervantes, Rousseau, Bernardin de -Sainte Pierre. - -"In the first three, you will find grand lessons, useful to your -art. Homer gives us primitive simplicity; Virgil, rhythm; -Shakespeare, passion. Molière, too, will make you understand how -you may ally fine language, beauty of form, to the expression of -truth. - -{659} - -"Read a great deal; absorb much; you are young, you will find -digestion easy. - -"Keep good company, and frequent especially the society of young -men already advanced in art. - -"Above all, beware of wanting to appear more than you really are; -beware especially of using the sentiments of others, instead of -your own; there is ruin; there, is darkness. Dare to be yourself: -there is light. Be truly Christian; soften your heart; above all, -be humble; in the art of painting, humility is your greatest -strength. - - ...... - -"Being prepared by excellent reading, give your studies a good -direction. Be careful to avoid ugliness. - -"You should always carry about with you a small sketch-book, and -dash in, with a few lines, the beauties which impress you; any -striking effects, natural poses, etc. Do not forget to make -yourself ant, bee; work indefatigably, and make for yourself, as -soon as possible, a treasure-house of abundance. Exercise -yourself early in composition, but always with elements gathered -from your own experience. - -"Form the habit of absolute truth." .... - -Notice how in the foregoing admirable passages, the author -inculcates the spirit of truth, as the fundamental principle of -all art. This has proved the secret of his own success; his -honest, child-like faith in nature, and his simple earnestness in -copying it, are noticeable in all his works. It would be well if -our young artists took this lesson to heart. We have talent in -our country, great talent even; but it has no stamp of -individuality; it imitates, it is half afraid of being original, -therefore it stops short of greatness. This perhaps is the case -with other things beside painting, and plausible excuses are to -be found for it; we are a young nation, composed of heterogeneous -elements; this is true, but we shall not thoroughly command the -respect of the nations, and take our proper place among them, -until, as they say of young folks, our character is more formed. -Then we shall see more earnest truthfulness in everything. Art -will take shape and consistency, and we shall hear people talk of -the American school as an established fact, like those of France, -Belgium, England, etc. This exposition year has naturally been -one of comparison. It is a grand thought to have all the schools -brought together, to compete for superiority. Our place in the -huge building is a small one, and though there are clever -pictures in the American art department, yet we shall have to -make immense progress, before we conquer a place by the side of -the French and Belgians. But our time will come, I feel -confident. - -But I must interrupt my patriotic prophecies, and let you enjoy, -as I did, this anecdote of Béranger. I select it from others, for -I thought it would be interesting, both as giving an insight into -the artist's theory, and as affording a life-like glimpse of a -great poet. Couture relates it _à propos_ to his remarks on -portrait-painting; of the necessity under which the artist -labors, of being two men in one; of amusing, enlivening his -sitter, of bringing out his best expression, so that the light of -the inner man may shine through the features; and at the same -time of being the artist, watchful, eager, earnest, with his mind -intent on his work; catching the gleams of intelligence he -evokes, and transfixing them to the canvas. - -There are but few who possess this quality. - -{660} - - Béranger. - -"I was urged to paint a portrait of Béranger. This I did not care -to do. I had a great admiration for his talent and for his -character; I feared that seeing him, becoming acquainted with his -person, might lower the ideal I had formed of him. ... - -"At last a charming letter from Madame Sand, which was to serve -as an introduction, decides me; I start, and soon find myself in -Rue d'Enfer. - -"I ask the _concierge_ for M. Béranger. 'The right-hand -staircase, there, in the court.' I direct my steps toward said -staircase, ascend; before long I am stopped by a door; I. knock. -Shuffling steps are heard, an old man appears, wrapped in a gray -dressing-gown made of some common stuff. - -"'M. Béranger?' - -"'I am he.' - -"While answering, he held his door tight, leaving but a small -opening. - -"'What do you want?' - -"It would have been easy to present my letter of introduction; -but I had had the evil thought to keep it. It was a precious -autograph, signed with a very celebrated name. In it, it is true, -I was judged in terms far too flattering, but one willingly -abides by such kindly exagerations. In it too, my favorite poet -was spoken of--the temptation was too strong to be resisted. I -began to expiate my fault; I stammered a few words; I showed the -paper and crayon which I had brought with which to make my -drawing, for it was necessary to add action to words, so hostile -was the aspect of the great man ... alas! my defeat was complete, -the door was closing. ... - -"'No sir,' he said, 'it is disagreeable to me; there are many -portraits of me: among the number some are excellent; make use of -these portraits, and leave me in peace.' - -"Once more the door seemed on the point of being shut; all was -lost. - -"'Well, M. Béranger, I only get what I deserve, for I have been -guilty of a bad action; I was to have given you a letter; I kept -it. I thought, so great was my vanity, that I could present -myself without its aid, and commit this petty theft. I am -punished, and it is but just.' - -"I turned to go, covered with confusion and shame; the door -opens. - -"'What is your name?' - -"I turned to answer him. - -"'My name is Couture.' - -"'You are not Couture who painted the _Décadence des -Romains!_' - -"'Yes, sir.' - -"I felt myself seized by my waistcoat, pulled in violently, then -I heard the terrible door close but this time I was inside, -pushed up against the wall of the entry. - -"'You Couture? is it possible? you so young; why, what was I -about to do--I was going to shut the door in your face!' - -"'It was already done, M. Béranger.' - -"'But don't you know that I adore you? don't you know that it is -one of the dreams of my old age to have my portrait by you? do I -consent to sit? why, I am entirely at your disposition!' - -"Then, taking me by the hand, he presented me to his venerable -wife, saying: - -"'This is Couture, and I was on the point of sending him about -his business.' - -"I was deeply touched by this reception. When we were both -somewhat calmed, I told him that I could make the drawing at his -house, that I had brought all that was necessary, and that I -should be happy to spare him the trouble of coming to me. -{661} -He would listen to nothing, put himself entirely at my service, -insisted that I should name my own day and hour; and at the -appointed day and hour, he was at my room. - -"It was no small affair, for an old man to come all the way from -the Rue d'Enfer to the Barrière Blanche, where I then resided. He -was very tired, and said to me with a benevolent smile: - -"'Dear child, for any other but you. ... But come, where shall I -place myself? what if I were to take a little nap?--for I have -come a very long way.' - -"I pulled up an arm-chair; he sat down, and soon fell asleep. ... - -"I walked about my painting-room on tiptoe, for fear of waking -him; then I came near him to examine him as he slept. He had a -vast brain; by its size, by its form, it was easy to guess the -greatness of the mind. The lower part of the face, however, -seemed out of harmony with the upper. ... - -"My task was becoming difficult; to remain true to simple -reality, to give to the public the image of an intelligence in -its decline, was not what I wished. What should I do? I was -making these reflections when he woke. I looked at him for some -time fixedly, and I saw his eyelids lift themselves one after the -other, and then fall again over his eyes. ... - -"However, let us not despair; let us try; ... this was my method. - -"'Monsieur de Béranger, are you acquainted with that new air -composed for your _Vieux Caporal_?' - -"'No,' said he, 'some fellows came to sing it to me; there were -several of them; they said they had brought a piano in a -carriage. As I chose my airs myself, and I doubt whether others -can choose better than I, I do not wish to encourage these -encroachments on my work. Therefore I refused to receive them.' - -"'Oh! I know how you refuse like favors! Well, allow me to tell -you that you were in the wrong, for the air composed for the -thing seems to me more dramatic than the one you chose; since -circumstances are favorable to it, and that it need not disturb -you, I will sing you the _Vieux Caporal.'_ And I sang. - -"'Yes, you are right, it is very well; sing me the second verse. -... Why, it is charming; sing it all to me; I like to hear you -sing.' - -"At the end of the song, his face had changed its character; his -eyelids were sustained, and let me see his bright eyes, which -seemed to be the light of that fine mind. I kept him in this -atmosphere which made him young again; I made him live in the -past; I spoke to him of Manuel, his friend. Ah! then, it was a -veritable resurrection. We were then in 1850, but through the -enchantment of memory, he returned to the struggles of the -Restoration of 1820, thirty years' difference; well, I saw them -disappear as by magic. I saw this genius revive! He would get up, -walk about, come back to his seat, speaking of them, of the two -hundred and twenty-one, as though they were still there; the -arrows of Charles X., the aim reached, the plaudits of the -crowds--he seemed to hear it all. Béranger was before me. All I -had to do was to copy. ... - -"I have not been able to resist the temptation of relating an -anecdote, doubtless too flattering for me; but on reflection, I -have been so tormented by fools, that it is excusable in me to -take comfort in the praises of a great mind." - -Now let us turn once more to some of his practical instructions. -Of color he speaks thus: - -{662} - -"It must not be thought that he who reproduces color exactly is a -colorist. - -"Like the true draughtsman, the true colorist purifies, -embellishes. - -"If he is a true artist, he will bring in his coloring all the -laws of art: Discrimination, development, idealization. - -"I cannot help thinking of our critics who, in their innocence, -always make sharply defined divisions of colorists and -draughtsmen; being persuaded that a draughtsman cannot be a -colorist, and that a colorist can never be a draughtsman. They -carry this so far that when a picture seems to them detestable in -color, they feel compelled to find great qualities of drawing in -it; but if, on the contrary, a work is presented, with -incontestable beauties of drawing, it is necessary, and you will -never be able to convince them of the contrary, that the picture -should be wanting in color. - -"They do not know that all is in all, and that the value of -execution in a picture is in just proportion with its conception. - -"With great artists, there is a certain choice, an impulse toward -a particular beauty which captivates them; like real lovers, they -sacrifice every thing to their passion; but, understand it well; -sacrifice is not abandonment. - -"With great masters, such as Raphael, Poussin, the absence of -coloring is a voluntary surrender; besides, they have a coloring -peculiar to themselves, and of a superior order. ... - -"Now, let us turn toward the colorists. Rubens presents himself -as their king; but king though he be, he is not the equal of -Raphael, who is a veritable angel." - -In their compositions, Couture would have his disciples follow -nature, and the instincts of their own hearts. He wages war -against what he calls dead art, as seen in the works of certain -French artists who tried to imitate the Greeks exclusively. As he -strongly expresses it, they disinterred a dead body, and -galvanized it to give it the appearance of life. He would have -the pleasing scenes of common life represented and spiritualized; -nature, in her dewy, morning aspect, studied and loved. He says -to them: "Be French, be patriotic, be of your own times; create a -strong, healthy, modern school; do not imitate the Greeks; become -their equals." It must not be thought from this that the antique -is not appreciated; on the contrary, the young artist is urged, -after he has become comparatively skilled in drawing--not -before--to study the antique very seriously, and to take it as -the invariable basis of all his works. But what Couture urges -principally is originality and truthfulness. While pressing the -earnest study of nature, he says: - -"Love, that is the great secret; love enlightens. We are often -surprised at the tenderness of parents for their children, and at -the qualities which they see in them. We think they are mistaken, -whereas it is we who are mistaken. ... - -"Read a book with but little attention; look over the first few -pages; skip twenty pages, then forty; hasten to the conclusion at -once. What pleasure will you find in such reading? You would -certainly not have the audacity to judge of that work; you would -surely wait until you were more familiar with it. But now, when, -with a good will, you read page by page, the work captivates you, -and you leave it only when it is finished; then you say this work -is admirable! - -"It will be the same with nature, if you read it page by page. - -{663} - -"I do not think I am mistaken when I say that we are on the eve -of seeing French high art spring into life. I see guarantees of -it in the return of our young artists to nature; they are, if I -may so express myself, at the first stage of that road which -leads to the highest beauties." - -Somewhere about the middle of his book, our original author stops -for a familiar chat, "between the acts," as he calls it but, -after a few pages, the conversation gets more serious again, and -he gives a critique, or perhaps, more properly speaking, an -essay, on various artists. After wandering in the sixteenth -century with Jean Goujon--through the medium of a marvellously -learned coachman--he comes back to modern times, and speaks of -Ingres, Delacroix, and Decamps. It is not my province to question -his opinion of these artists; my task is to give you a correct -idea of his manner of doing so; therefore, leaving the critic to -be criticised by his brother artists, which is pretty sure to -happen, I choose his essay on the last named, Decamps, for -translation. It gives a good idea of his style, and in it he has -put away his severity, and indulges in genuine admiration, which -is certainly pleasanter to listen to. - - - Decamps. - -"Let us now turn toward the light, toward the sunshine; let us -speak of Decamps--that abridgment of all picturesque qualities. - -"In the grasp of his genius, he comprises everything; he makes -himself the echo of all. - -"His pictures speak to me of Salvator, Teniers, Poussin, Titian, -Rembrandt, Phidias .... they tell the story of our world: -infancy, old age, poverty, sumptuous wealth, war in all its -horrors, smiling hills and dales, shady villas. Here, the -intimacy of the home-circle, there the tempests of the -imagination. The Shakespeare of painters, he translates -everything into an adorable language of his own; he reminds one -of the masters, without copying them; he sings of nature and -exalts it; everything with him becomes lovable, charming, or -terrible; a mere nothing, a simple knife on a table, painted by -this marvellous genius, will awaken in one's mind, a whole poem; -less still, a simple line, a dash of his pencil, is enchanting. - -"I had the happiness of seeing this great artist; he was very -simple. Living principally in the country, his dress was that of -a somewhat careless sportsman; he was rather below the medium -height; his head had great delicacy of outline, and was of rather -a nervous character; he was fair; our sous stamped with the -effigy of Napoleon III., when somewhat worn, remind one -strikingly of Decamps. He was usually supposed to be a great -sportsman; but I, who knew him, and observed him with the -attention which my admiration of him inspired, noticed that his -hunting was a mere pretext. I would often see him stop in a -plain, lift his gun, take aim; one expected an explosion; not at -all; after a short pause, he would replace the gun on his -shoulder, and go on his way, to recommence the same game a little -later. He nearly always returned with an empty game-bag to the -inn of the 'Great Conqueror,' in the little village of Verberie; -there he would take an old account-book, which he used as an -album, and with whatever he happened to find, he would retrace -the effects which he had observed during his pauses. I had -several of these precious pages in my possession, but, -unfortunately for me, they were stolen. - -{664} - -"I remember also, that when we were conversing, after the evening -repast, he would roll little balls of bread in his fingers, then, -with pieces of matches, which he added to his paste, kneaded in a -peculiar manner, he would fashion charming little figures. I -remember, in particular, a hunter followed by his dog; the man -seemed weighed down by the game he carried; the tired dog -followed his master with drooping ears. It was charming: this -extraordinary artist gave life to everything he touched. - -"He was fond of painting in the studios of his brother artists. -It was at the room of a mutual friend that I saw him make the -preparation of his beautiful picture, Cheveaux de Hallage, which -is now at the Louvre. His sketch was reddish, solidly massed in; -he used a great deal of brown, red, and burnt sienna in his -preparations. - -"He made a drawing before me, one day. The most adorable ass's -head sprang into life from under his fingers. As soon as one of -the creature's ears was abandoned by the artist, it seemed to -quiver with impatience at having been restrained; all appeared by -degrees, progressively and completely formed. I saw in their -order of succession, a real head, a real neck, a real body -covered with its roughened hair; the good creature seemed to have -a name, a real character; one might have written its history. - -"I have been talking of his amusements; but when he attempted -higher productions, when, for example, he created his 'Bataille -des Cimbres'--I speak of the large drawing, that in which an -enormous chariot is dragged by oxen--what energy! what grandeur! -Those men live; one shares their ardor, or their fears; one wants -to help, to push, to save the women and children. See them -yonder: they come, they crush everything that comes in their way. -What a formidable mass! clouds of dust arise from under their -horses' hoofs, and go to join the clouds in the heavens, which -are numerous, and armed for combat, like the soldiers that cover -the earth. And up yonder, do you see? No. Where? There; no, still -higher ... that cloud of ravens ... they await the end of the day -of slaughter. - -"It is no longer a drawing; it is no longer a painting; it is an -animated world which appears as by magic, transformed into -wondrous marble, gilded by the sun of Greece. One looks, admires; -one comes back to it many times, without ever tiring; one leaves -so beautiful a thing with regret, to dream of it at night! - -"I should like to be able to talk to you of his Joseph, of -Sampson, of the Café Turc, of the Singes Cuisiniers, of the -Supplice des Crochets, and of all his other wonders; but that -would lead me too far; so, regretfully, I stop. - -"Decamps was of an organization rare in the art of painting; he -had the power of giving the qualities of greatness to small -pictures. One might cite the small works of Rubens and Rembrandt, -and even of the great Italian painters; but all these geniuses -seemed to grow less in proportion to the restricted dimensions of -their canvases. But Decamps is as great in his small pictures as -in his more important works. - -"I might hesitate to pronounce myself for or against certain -artists. But, as for this one, I maintain that he will always -keep a high place in the art of painting." - - ...... - -{665} - -In the foregoing selections I have endeavored to give some idea -of the author's manner; of his vigor, his clearness, his -originality. With all its irregularity, this book is, I feel -sure, destined to take an important place in art-literature. As a -handbook of painting, it is most useful, and I trust soon to see -a clear, truthful translation make it familiar to our American -public. I should like it to be in the hands of every art-student. - -Good advice, critiques on various artists, critiques on the -schools, familiar chit-chat, occasional reveries on nature, full -of poetry, anecdotes--all thrown together with a certain -picturesque confusion, warm from the author's heart and brain: -such is this book. It is a mirror of the man. Couture talks as he -writes, and writes as he talks; if other merits are denied it, it -certainly has that of perfect sincerity, and surely, in these -days of artificiality, that is a great charm; so great a charm -indeed, that many beside artists would find pleasure in reading -it. And now, trusting that I have said enough to arouse some -curiosity and interest in this work, I will let the author say -his - - Farewell! - -"I have animated your courage; your sympathy, I feel, increases -my strength; I have within me what it is well to possess--hope. -Shall I live to see true French art born into this world? ... I -see it coming. Ah! how happy you are to be young! "Everything -announces it to me, this art of which I dreamed; the indifference -of the public for that which exists is a good sign; why, indeed, -should it, so full of life, feel an interest in this painting, -issued from the grave? - -"Look around you, and produce pictures. As for me, I have -followed the order of nature; I have planted in you the good seed -of truth; I doubt not but that it will germinate. By simplifying -the means, by shielding yourself from the embarrassment of -complications, you will do a useful underground burrowing. When -the young shoot springs from the earth, cover it with a -protecting mantle; this shelter, this protection, this tutor, -must be your instinct. Grow, become strong, cover yourself with -leaves and fruits, and give refreshment and shade." - --------- - -{666} - - - Magas; or, Long Ago. - - A Tale Of The Early Times. - - - Chapter I. - -Yes, long ago, about the year of grace 55, that is, about four -years after the great apostle of the Gentiles had preached at -Athens, a small but evidently a select band of worshippers was -pouring forth from a small temple on the banks of the Illissus, -situated but a short distance from that renowned city. This -temple was dedicated to the sacred nine who preside over art, -science, music, poetry, and dancing. There had been a special -festival that day, and numerous pleasing exhibitions had been -brought before the gratified audience. The mystic dance of the -sacred sisterhood had typified most gracefully the harmony and -union that reign among the muses; and _peace_ presiding, -showed that under her mild rule alone, the harmonies of earth -could work their glorious mission to civilize and cheer the -drooping heart of man. No sacrifice of blood was here admitted, -but music, choral song, and recitation; poems, plays, and -oratorical displays; tableaux and dances, symbolized alike the -worship rendered, and the honor due to the chaste and favored -nine. Therefore was it, that the audience was so select. The -populace, which at that time consisted mainly of slaves, were for -the most part too coarse and unrefined to appreciate the higher -branches of the muses' lore, which were to-day brought forward: -the games of the Saturnalia and the mysteries of Cybele were more -in accordance with their taste, and, save the few slaves who -attended on their masters as a matter of state, or for the sake -of fashion, the spectators were of a dignified and refined -aspect. - -The games or exhibitions were about to close; a solemn dance -accompanied by song had proclaimed the benefits to earth, which -the sacred nine occasioned by their peaceful rule; and the last -strophe ran to the effect: - - Here no strifes must warm the veins; - For the muses' sister band - Comes to lighten earthly chains, - Comes to greet you hand in hand: - Science lightens up the land - Where the muses' sceptre rules, - Skilful art instructs the hand, - Strife is banished from their schools. - Chorus: Choral sisters, intertwine, - Sing the praise of muses high; - For the muses are divine; - Swell the anthem to the sky. - -The song had ceased when suddenly, as the audience rose, thinking -the performance concluded, a thrilling sweep of a lyre unseen -arrested their steps; and a voice sweeter and clearer than any -heard before sang out these words: - - The muse! a myth! is passed away, - With earthly types of things unseen: - 'Twas but a cloud--refracting ray, - Rolling the hidden world between - And man's aspiring panting soul! - Man's soul's divine, and yearns to clasp - (Freed from the yoke of earth's control) - That truth, but which eludes the grasp - While veiled in mythic forms unreal! - Awake! the day-star is arisen! - No more shall error's veil conceal - The lustrous, brilliant, light of heaven, - Now streaming, glory to impart - To vivify each human heart. - -The crowd which had suddenly paused, now wondered, and turned to -every side to look for the singer: in vain; the owner of that -splendid voice was not to be seen, any more than the player on -the silver-toned lute. - -{667} - -A strange influence had passed over the throng, unawares: it was -hushed, awed, mesmerized as it were into another state of -feeling. Exultation had passed away; bewilderment, questioning -followed. What did it mean? myth! truth! glory! was it -philosophy? was it poetry? or did an oracle speak? Man's soul -divine! that was Platonism; but Plato's school, at its height -some four hundred years previous, was now at a discount. Many -sects discussed and disputed: but truth? Truth seemed as far off -as ever; or rather it seemed a plaything or a something which men -used to sharpen their wits on, that they might display their -argumentative skill, in the intellectual arena; but for practical -conclusions, for a real rule of life, which might be used as an -every-day necessity, pooh! this was not to be thought of! - -The Grecian world, such of it as was free, that is, not actually -enslaved, not actually held as another man's chattel, was -speculative and fond of discussion, but it does not appear that -these discussions did much in forwarding the progress of truth -among the _majority_ of the population; for that majority -were slaves--slaves, held for the most part in bondage of mind as -well as of body. The dignity of manhood among these was unknown; -and the purity, beauty, and loveliness of woman were sacrificed -remorselessly to tyranny of the vilest description. We can but -shudder as we recall doings even in the palmiest days of Grecian -freedom, over which modesty compels the historian to cast a veil; -for Grecian freedom even then meant freedom to the _few;_ -the workers, the toiling multitude were slaves--slaves who, when -their numbers increased so as to alarm their masters, might be -sacrificed _en masse_, as was too often the case. They were -slaves not only in body, but in intelligence, for it was deemed -dangerous to develop mind. Plato himself had been of this -opinion, giving as his reason, "Lest they should learn to -resist." - -Philosophy was made for the few, for the free only, because only -the _free_ could carry out in practice the truths of the -soul's divinity which philosophy pointed to. - -The words which the poet Lucan puts into the mouth of Caesar, had -long been acted upon even by the "wise and good" of the pagan -world, though they dared not so openly express it. "_Humanum -paucis vivit genus._" (Lucan. Phar.) "The human race exists -but for the few." The workers, (that is, the slaves,) in other -words, the majority, were utterly incapable of being benefited by -the teachings of the sages of ancient Greece, not only by -position, but in consequence of the dulness of intellect which -the long maintenance of that position had occasioned. Poetry and -philosophy condemned them as beings of an inferior order. Homer -says in his Odys. 17, "that Jupiter has deprived slaves of half -their mind;" and in Plato we find the following: "It is said that -in the mind of slaves there is nothing sound or complete; and -that a prudent man ought not to trust that class of persons." The -consequence of this teaching was, that they were held to be a -mean race, little elevated above the brute, and born for the -convenience of their masters, and subject to their caprices; so -the worship of the _muses_ was, to them, with rare -exceptions, a thing out of the question. These rare exceptions -_did_, however, exist, and produced anomalous positions not -always fruitful in morality. - -{668} - -The congregation of worshippers issuing from the temple of the -muses was then composed almost entirely of the "_free_," -although some few of the slaves attended their masters for -purposes of state or style. Among the throng were three young -nobles thus attended; and, as they issued from the edifice, they -made their way to a grove in the rear, to which only a privileged -few had access, and stationing their attendants within call, yet -at some little distance, they stretched themselves in the shade, -and began to discuss the adventure. Their names were Magas, -Critias, and Pierus. - -"The voice was heavenly," said Critias, "and the music faultless; -but who could be the player, who the singer?" - -"Nay, surely the divine Euterpe, aided by the equally divine -Erato," said Pierus; "who but a muse could thus conceal herself?" - -"But," interposed Magas, "you forget that the muse would not -prophesy her own overthrow. The words we heard to-day portended -that the worship was to be supplanted by another of a higher -kind; it pronounced the muse 'a myth,' a type of something -unseen, unreal in herself, but pointing to a reality. Now, what -can this be?" - -"I know not," said Critias, "unless it is also a revelation to -make known the unknown, as that strange man said who preached -here some four or five years ago; his words made an impression on -me which haunts me still." - -"What man? what did he say?" asked Pierus. - -"His name was Paul," said Critias. "He was a small man; a Jew of -Tarsus, (think of a Jew pretending to philosophy!) He came here -and preached at first in the streets; then he was brought to the -Areopagus; my father was one of the council, and he took me with -him to hear what the new man would say. The place was thronged, -but most of the fathers took the matter lightly enough. The -impression he made was on the lowly, the slaves. They took his -words to _heart_ and _pondered_ them. I have caught -some of them at times repeating them to each other, as if they -were oracles. His theory seems made for them especially." - -"But what good will it do them?" asked Pierus. - -"Or him who dares foment sedition among them?" broke in Magas. -"He and others of his ilk had better beware. I remember something -of the circumstance since you mention it, but my father thought -it an attempt to raise an insurrection among the slaves. The -preacher did well to take himself off." - -"I do not see any harm he could do," said Critias. - -"Harm!" answered Magas. "Harm! Epicurean that you are, will you -never see harm till you hear the house is on fire? I tell you -there is harm; he preaches 'equality' to slaves, and what good -can come of that?" - -"What harm, rather? The poor varlets know it for a fact that they -are not the equals of their masters." "They are not equal; no, -they are not equal," said Magas vehemently; "and they must never -be permitted to think they are. Their numbers might give trouble -to us if they imbibed such an idea, while to them it could be of -no real service. They have muscle, but not intellect. Set them -free, they would soon be at loggerheads among themselves." - -"Intellectual greatness," said Critias, "is rare even among -freemen; but some slaves have manifested that there is no -deficiency in that respect." - -{669} - -"Some rare exceptions, perhaps, but that proves nothing. -Aristotle says, and truly: 'The woman and the slave are -distinguished by nature herself.'" - -"Yes," said Pierus, "I remember the passage. He says, 'If we -compare man to woman, we find that the first is superior, -therefore he commands; the woman is inferior, therefore she -obeys. The same thing ought to take place among all men. Thus it -is that those among them who are as inferior with respect to -others as the body is with respect to the soul, and the animal to -man; those whose powers principally consist in the use of the -body, (the only service that can be obtained from them,) they are -naturally slaves.'" - -"There can be no doubt about it," said Magas. "The very bodies of -the slaves are different from ours; they are strong, muscular, -and fitted for labor; ours are slimmer, more refined, more -sensitive." - -"I cannot see how you can build any argument on that," said -Critias; "your grand philosopher, even while he asserts a -different conformation of body to exist between the freeman and -the slave, admits that it sometimes happens that to a freeman is -given the body of a slave, and to a slave the soul of a freeman. -I have often found it so. I know some very despicable citizens; -and I have found some noble sentiments in slaves." - -"Sentiments," said Magas; "what business have slaves with -sentiments?" - -Critias laughed, and said, "Slaves have sentiment, and memory, -and reflection; by whose permission I do not know; but how are -you to get rid of it? That is the question." - -"They must be kept in their place and made to work," said Magas. - -"But," said Pierus, "we are losing sight of the question as to -what the last singer intended to convey. Who do you think it -was?" - -"Some follower of the Jew Paul; I know no other sect who would -dare call the muse a myth." - -"I would give something to know what the Jewish fellow did say; -do you remember?" asked Pierus. - -"I think I can summon some one who does." And Critias called -aloud to a slave, who drew near. - -"Merion, do you remember the Jew preacher?" - -"I do, most honored master." - -"Do you remember what he said?" - -"I have his words by heart, master," replied the slave. - -"By heart!" muttered Magas, "by Jove; but, you _did_ worship -the fellow!" - -"Well," rejoined Critias, "and what did he say?" - -The man addressed was a gray-headed, stolid-looking person; his -intelligence on common matters was not deemed great; he was, -however, esteemed faithful, trustworthy, and affectionate. A -sudden glow lighted up his features, as his master spoke to him, -and he became animated with an expression that puzzled his -hearers: he stood forth, threw out his right arm, and, in the -attitude of an orator impressed with the dignity and importance -of the subject, delivered word for word the speech made by the -great apostle of the Gentiles in the hall of the Areopagus. - -"My masters," said the slave, "when the preacher Paul was brought -to the court of the Areopagites, and questioned concerning the -new doctrine he was giving out to men, he stood in the midst of -Mars' Hill and said: - -"'Ye men of Athens, I perceive that, in all things, ye are too -superstitious; for as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I -beheld an altar with this inscription, To the unknown God; whom -therefore ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you. -{670} -God that made the world and all things therein, seeing he is Lord -of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands; -neither is worshipped with men's hands, as though he needed -anything, seeing he giveth to all life and breath, and all -things; and hath made of ONE BLOOD all nations of men for to -dwell on all the face of the earth; and hath determined the times -appointed, and the bounds of their habitations; that they should -seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after him, and find him; -though he be not far from every one of us. For in him we live, -and move, and have our being; as certain also of your own poets -have said, For we are also his offspring.'" - -"Stop," said Magas; "where did you find that written?" - -"It was not written, noble sir; it was _said_," returned the -slave. - -"Said! five years ago, and you repeat it now, word for word like -a task," said Magas; "did you hear it more than once?" - -"Yes, sir; some who can write, took it down, and read it to me -more than once." - -"You cannot read?" - -"I cannot." - -Magas frowned and rose to his feet. "A dangerous doctrine for our -slaves to have by heart," he muttered; then turning to his -companions he said, "Send the varlets home; let us have our talk -to ourselves." - -At a sign from the masters, the servitors left the premises, and -Magas resumed: "Do you leave that slave at large, Critias, with -such a doctrine as that in his bosom?" - -"And why not?" asked Critias; "poor, harmless old Merion, the -unwearied attendant on my father's infirmities; his place could -not be supplied in our household for his weight in gold." - -"You did not weigh that speech then; did not observe its -tendencies?" - -"Well, yes, it is pretty poetry enough, rhapsodical enough, but, -like all rhapsody, harmless." - -"Harmless! Did you watch the other slaves as the old man lighted -up; as he said: '_All mankind_ were of one blood, all the -offspring of God,' _master_ as well as _slave!_ I am -sure these varlets understood it so. Such teaching as that must -kindle fire in men's hearts, must engender rebellion. That one -slave, as you see, has got that and more by heart; do you think -it has no effect on him?" - -"No bad effect, at least; he is a good and faithful servant." - -"No bad effect! why, man, do you not see that if our slaves once -believe they are of one blood with their masters, that they are -equally the offspring of God, they will arise and assert their -dignity? Then who will do the work?" - -"You are troubling yourself very unnecessarily, my dear Magas; -there is no slave in our household who works so well or so -faithfully as Merion." - -"He's but biding his time," said Magas; "take care. The man that, -being unlettered, got that doctrine by heart, did so because -_he cherished_ it, made much of it; he has studied its -meaning, depend upon it; and the meaning to him must be freedom." - -"You did not hear him out," said Critias; "he believes in a -judgment after death, which shall right the wrongs of earth; the -followers of this Jew have the oddest ways in the world. You know -the Lady Damaris?" - -Magas nodded assent. - -{671} - -"Well," rejoined Critias, "I have heard her assert that 'work' -has a sanctifying tendency, whatever that means; and they say she -takes pains to instruct her slaves in this singular philosophy; -she often works with them, and treats them as if they were poor -relations she was bound to see well provided for. Strange! isn't -it?" - -"Strange enough," said Magas, "but more dangerous than strange. -The woman must be looked to." - -"Nay, leave her to regulate her own household," said Critias, -laughing: "if you want to make war, try your skill with men. -There's Dionysius, who deserted the Areopagus soon after that -preacher was here; he has freed some of his slaves, taught others -to read, and teaches this new philosophy to all." - -"The man must be crazed," said Magas; "these strange notions must -end by revolutionizing society if they are allowed to get to a -head. They must be put a stop to. Whom shall we have to work for -us, when the slave thinks himself as good as his master?" - -"We will work for ourselves then," said Critias. "And perhaps -that would not be so very hard, after all. In the early days of -the republic, our forefathers tilled their own fields; they were -perhaps as happy as we are now." - -"Are you also touched with this mania?" asked Magas, stamping his -foot fiercely. "I say the slaves are ours by right of conquest; -and, for the glory of my ancestral race, I'll keep my feet upon -their necks." - -"As the Roman keeps his foot on ours, eh, Magas? Could we rouse -the slaves to noble deeds, through the working of noble thoughts, -we might free our country yet." - -Magas looked gloomier yet. - -"Come not upon that strain," said he; "we cannot overrule fate! -Ha! what was that?" - -'Twas a sweep of the same lute, a silver chord of melody that -caught his ear. Breathlessly the trio listened, and soon these -words pealed forth: - - He comes! He comes in clouds of glory! - Haste, oh! haste to meet thy God! - Angels, hymn the thrilling story, - How on earth his footsteps trod; - How those footsteps, faint and weary, - Tracked thy path, thy soul to save. - Quit, oh! quit sin's path, so dreary, - Plunge thee in the saving waves. - Ransomed is thy soul for ever, - Ransomed by his precious blood, - If but now from sin thou sever, - Cleansed in the redeeming flood. - Haste! oh haste! he comes to save thee, - Then no more let sin enslave thee! - -"'Tis the same voice!" Why did Magas turn pale as he said so? The -trio separated to search the glades, the bushes, the thickets; -every nook and corner was probed in vain. The muse, mentor, -genius, or spirit, whatever it might be, was not to be found. - - - Chapter II. - -"Chione!" - -"Magas!" - -"Have I found thee at last?" - -"Alas!" - -Chione covered her face with her hands, her bosom heaved, tears -trickled through her fingers; it was no gladsome greeting that -she bestowed on her lover, yet it was she who had sought this -interview, or rather had given opportunity for it, even while -pretending to hide herself, and to shun the meeting she sought. - -"A whole year have you been invisible, my Chione; a whole year -have I sought you in vain; and, now that we meet, you do not -throw your-self into my arms for very joy; you turn away, and -your eyes are filled with tears!" - -"Alas!" - -"You are not glad to see me, Chione; you have lost your love for -me!" - -{672} - -"Oh! would it were so, Magas! would that the sight of you did not -move me thus; would I had never known you! Leave me, Magas!" - -"Leave you now when, after a year's search, I have found you! -Leave you! What is the meaning of this altered tone? Are you no -longer Chione? Am I not Magas?" - -"It is true," said Chione, in a very low voice; "it is true I am -the slave Chione." - -"The slave! O Chione! have I not promised you freedom if you but -return my love? Last year did I not bid you become to me what -Aspasia was to Pericles--my oracle, my inspirer, my divinity! and -you left me; and now that your glowing charms have become endued -even with a higher lustre; that your voice can at will enkindle -each noble emotion while it thrills the soul with ecstasy, now -your empire over me is all but overpowering." - -"Yet you did not recognize me when I sang in the temple a week -ago." - -"Not at first; the theme was so strange; it troubled me. But at -the first tone uttered in the grove I knew you; I felt that you, -and you only, could cause such a thrill as then agitated my whole -being. O Chione! you were ever to me as the tenth muse. Say what -has caused your absence?" - -"Did you heed the words of the last hymn?" - -"No, no. How should I? I knew the voice, the voice of my own -Chione, who had so long and so mysteriously disappeared, and I -listened in the hope of discovering her retreat. I searched, but -searched in vain; yet I felt sure it was to me she sang. Now tell -me truly, did you not recognize me and address yourself to me?" - -"Had you heard the words, you would not have asked that -question." - -"But I did not hear them. Even of the first I heard nothing -distinctly, or at least, nothing that I could understand; of the -last, not a word; only the _tones_, the tones of my Chione, -singing as of yore to enchant me; it sounded like a wail for -other days; a promise, perhaps, for happier ones to come." - -"It was neither; it was an invitation to a higher life!" - -"A higher life! Yes, a life of love with thee, my Chione. A life -of that sublime love where Cupid does honor to the muses, and -becomes himself the inspirer of sacred song. Yes, thou wilt not -deny it, though, for these eight days past, thou hast kept me on -the search for thee. Thou sawest me in the temple, and to me were -thy songs directed. I am sure of it; for the serving maidens -assured me 'twas a full year since thou hadst thyself ministered -there, and none had seen thee since save the daughter of the -philosopher of the day, save Lotis only! She acknowledged the -lute accompaniment, and that it was thy voice it accompanied." - -"The traitress!" - -"Nay, she was hard pressed; she could scarcely avoid the avowal. -But now, cease this dallying and confess the truth: was not thy -song for me?" - -But Chione answered no more. Perhaps she was asking that question -of her own heart, and could not answer it. She leant against a -tree in the grove in which they were standing and sobbed -bitterly, but no reply issued from her lips. At this juncture a -stately personage approached, whom Magas perceiving, saluted with -the respect due to his evident dignity. Chione, with her veil -gathered around her, had her features turned toward the tree, her -agitation betraying itself, however, by slight convulsions of her -frame. -{673} -The stranger paused, and looked from one to the other. Magas was -evidently a stranger to him; but when, surprised at the sudden -silence, the maiden for an instant changed her posture, and the -stranger uttered, in amazement, the name Chione, she started, -gazed distractedly, and, in an instant, fled from the spot like -an arrow shot from a bow, so swiftly did she disappear. - -Magas would have followed; but the stranger, speaking in a -courteous tone, yet with an authority he dared not disobey, -inquired: "Is that young damsel of your kindred, my son?" - -"Not so, my lord," said Magas; "I knew her a year ago, when she -ministered in the temple of the muses. Her ravishing voice then -enkindled all hearts; but she disappeared suddenly, and to-day I -first encounter her after a long absence." - -"She is a slave, as perhaps you know already." - -"She would adorn a diadem," fiercely rejoined Magas. - -"I see how it is," softly rejoined the elder man; "beware, my -son; set not your heart on one beyond your reach. Gold cannot -purchase Chione. You will find others as fair, others who will -serve you more readily in that very temple from which Chione has -been taken. Pursue not one who belongs to another master." - -"Who is her master now?" asked Magas impetuously. - -"You must forgive me for not answering you," replied the sage; -"in your present humor, it would but bring disorder to the -state." - -"One word," said Magas, springing forward so as to prevent the -old man from departing; "one word Is it yourself?" - -"It is not, my son," replied the other gently, as, slightly -pushing by the young man, he left him with a passing salute. - -Magas remained rooted to the spot, knitting his brows and -gnashing his teeth with vexation. "So near the goal of all my -hopes, and so suddenly foiled; but I will find her yet; and if -gold will buy her, well! if not, why, other means must be tried." - - ...... - -It is no longer a grove yielding its pleasant shades in the sunny -light of the beautiful climate of Greece; it is no longer the -impassioned tone of Magas pouring the honeyed tones of flattering -love into her ear; the slave is at the feet of her mistress, in -the women's apartment of a small but elegantly adorned dwelling -near unto the city, and again she is bathed in tears. Yet the -voice in which she is addressed is more sorrowful than angry; the -tones are rather those of a grieving mother than of an enraged -mistress. But there was a decision, a firmness in the voice that -told the lady was not to be trifled with. - -"What is this I hear of thee, my poor child?" - -"Forgive me, dearest lady, forgive me, Lady Damaris." - -"It is not a question of personal offence, my Chione; thou hast -injured thyself, not me. A year ago, thou didst put on Christ, -and vow allegiance to the one true God. Wilt thou now forsake -him, to follow thy own passion?" - -"I have not forsaken Christ! I will never, never forsake him." - -"No? then why dally with the tempter? why seek again what thou -hast once abjured? When our holy bishop rescued thee from the -service of the pagan altars, at thine own earnest entreaty, and -brought thee here, to serve the Lord Jesus, didst thou not -renounce paganism, its vices, its crimes, its _sweets_ as -well as its _bitters?_" - -"I renounce them still." - -{674} - -"And yet thou goest to a pagan temple, to attract the notice of a -young pagan noble, the enemy of our faith!" - -"I went not for that purpose, madam, though it ended so. I went -to see Lotis, as I told you; she was seeking instruction from me -as of yore; you are aware she was my pupil in music." - -"And you gave it her, by causing her to help you attract your -former admirer; fie! Chione, your tale hangs not well together." - -"Lady, believe me, I knew not of the presence of Magas, until I -saw him there; I was not thinking of him, until he stood beside -the pillar within which I was concealed. It was on a sudden -impulse that I acted. Lotis was beside me with her lute; we were -both effectually concealed within one of those hollow, vaulted -recesses used for emitting the more mysterious sounds of the -deities, and which are known to so few that I felt myself doubly -secure, when the sight of him who could not see me caused a rush -of blood to my head; I gave Lotis a signal, which she obeyed, as -thinking, perhaps, I had again a part in the performance as I -used to have, and I sang, not of the muse, save as a thing of the -past." - -"I know you cannot believe in paganism again, Chione," said the -lady solemnly; "it is not your _head_ that is likely to be -misled, at least not in the first instance. I fear your -_passions_, not your understanding. The rush of blood was, -methinks, to your heart, rather than to your head." - -"Lady, I love my religion, or I should not have desired to leave -the temple; I was honored there." - -"Yes, Chione; and here you are not honored in a way that flatters -your self-love; and that is why, after a year of trial, you seek -the flattery of Magas, rather than the unimpassioned love of your -Christian friends. Yet their love is less selfish, more sincere." - -"It is cold, cold," muttered Chione. Aloud she said, "Madam, I -dare assure you, my faith is as vivid now as it was a year ago." - -"My poor child!" said the lady, laying her hand upon Chione's -head, "go for to-night; another day, we will resume the subject. -You are under the influence of passion at this moment; you know -neither your own strength nor your own weakness; you scarcely -know what you believe, what you doubt. Your passions are -awakened, your self-love aroused, and perhaps wounded. These must -be _subdued_; not by the exercise of the understanding, -which is powerless against such formidable enemies; but by -_faith_, which is the exercise of the _heart_ in God; -for with the heart man believeth unto justice. [Footnote 58] If, -as you say, your faith is as vivid now as it was a year ago, go -and exercise it in prayer, and I too will pray with you, my poor -child, that our hearts may be fashioned after the pattern shown -us in the mount." - - [Footnote 58: Rom. x. 10.] - -Poor Chione! the tenth muse! with every pulse palpitating to the -inspirations of poetical and musical genius--a genius which in -her panted for expression, and nourished itself at the shrine of -self-love. Poor Chione! bred an orphan in the temple of the -muses; gifted with more than ordinary powers of mind, which had -been cultivated even by the residence which had been hers from -infancy; endowed with grace, beauty, and intelligence; fostered -by the praises of Magas, who, from being the patron of the -beautiful and interesting child, had become the admirer of the -still and ever increasing loveliness of the maiden. -{675} -Poor Chione! The truths of Christianity unfolded to her by -Merion, her uncle, also a slave, at a time when her understanding -was about to reject the mockeries of a worship beautiful and -fanciful indeed, but sustained by no interior power, appealing to -no standard on which she could rely unhesitatingly, had taken -hold of her imagination, had captivated her by their beauty, -their coherence, their consistency. They were the realization of -her fondest dreams, the filling up of the most beautiful pictures -that her fancy had ever painted; they were a logical appeal to -her understanding; and because they were all these, she adopted -them, not beginning to comprehend the _interior_ spirit, not -fathoming even to the first degree, the mystery of the cross, -_that stumbling-block to the Jews, and foolishness to the -Greeks._ [Footnote 59] Chione's understanding was Christ's, -and her imagination also, because the metaphysical propositions -of the apostle met her approval, and the poetry and imagery of -the church claimed her admiration; but her _heart_ seemed -still untouched, her thoughts still centred in herself, her loves -and her hatreds still found their source in human passion. She -judged all things as yet by a mere outward, human standard; and -the tragic scenes recounted in the Gospels but moved her in the -same manner, though in a higher degree, as would a tragedy of -Sophocles or Euripides. They excited her feelings to admiration, -nay to adoration; but for the regulation of the dispositions of -her heart, they were not yet brought into play. - - [Footnote 59: I Cor. i. 23.] - -In fact, she was disappointed in religion, although she did not -confess her disappointment even to herself. Up to the time she -had become a Christian, all things had ministered to her -self-love. When, yielding to the preaching of Merion, (for such -it was, although addressed to so limited an audience,) she had -besought his intercession to be removed from a place where, as -her years increased, her beauty and position as a slave exposed -her to danger, she had counted on _being appreciated_ by the -society which she entered; and as she had heard of many slaves -having been set free by the Christians on account of the esteem -in which they were held, she, fancying herself a very superior -being to the generality of slaves, (her beauty, grace, and genius -having ever called forth such unqualified admiration,) could not -but deem that she should soon be accounted well worthy of such an -advantage. When, then, she found herself at the age of sixteen, -secluded in the household of the Lady Damaris, treated kindly, -but not specially indulged; when she saw that her mistress, far -from deeming her a prodigy, seemed to find in her serious -failings needing correction, and that a probation was deemed -necessary ere allowing her to profess the faith; she was more -hurt than she permitted to appear: and the seclusion to which she -had committed herself, when requesting to be transferred from the -muses' temple to the silence and retirement practised by the -household of the Lady Damaris, weighed upon her spirit, for it -gave no scope to the love of display which excited her genius to -pleasurable expression. Her intellectual convictions, indeed, -remained unchanged, but her heart sought other interests than -those around her; and when it appeared that one after another of -the slaves attached to the lady received their freedom, according -as they demonstrated to the satisfaction of their mistress that -they were likely to make a good use of it, but that no hint was -ever given to herself that she might expect a like boon, she -began to wax impatient, to tax her mistress with partiality, and -finally to raise the question whether she had not a right to free -herself from tyranny. -{676} -Tyranny! The only restraint exercised in her regard was such as a -tender mother's vigilance would deem necessary. She saw not that, -at her years, the protection of the Lady Damaris was the greatest -benefit this world could give her, accompanied as it was by -genuine kindness, and an earnest desire to cultivate her heart -and her understanding in the right direction. - -Freedom! exterior, freedom for a girl of sixteen! this became her -dream by night, her exclusive idea by day, and in acting upon the -idea, she often violated the rules the noble and charitable lady -had laid down for the regulation of her household. - -On an occasion of this kind it was that she had visited the -muses' temple, saying to herself that it was to give instruction -to her former companion, whom she so much desired to meet again. -There the sight of Magas had brought back all the flatteries and -self-exulting thoughts of former days. She had then refrained -from making herself known, for--a slave! and the noble -Magas!--her heart revolted at the thought of what such a -connection must be! A year ago she had fled from it; her pride -had sustained her then; she had called it her virtue. Now she -felt the need of his praises; now she longed for his sweet -flatteries; the voice of truth had been too harsh for her -self-love. She needed adulation, passionate adoration. Would -Magas give it her? She had heard his exclamation recognizing her -voice: from her hiding-place she had seen the zeal with which he -had sought her; and eight days afterward, by dint of watching, -she had contrived to meet him as if by accident, as we have seen; -and what was to be the result? - - - Chapter III. - -"Chione, my niece; nay, my daughter in Jesus Christ, tell me, for -pity's sake, why do I find you here?" - -"Uncle, I weary of the tedious routine of our household. I come -to woo the naiads and the fauns of early days, for a little -relaxation of my spirit." - -"The naiads and the fauns! Strange worship for a Christian!" - -"Nay, uncle, do not cast religion at me for ever. I mean no harm -by speaking in the language of my childhood; and, indeed, I need -to recreate my soul; my spirit is fainting away amid the tedium -of our ever immaculate household." - -"What possible fault can you find with the Lady Damaris?" - -"None, none at all, absolutely none. Have I not just said she is -immaculate, faultless? too perfect, in fact, fair as the moon and -as chaste; ay, and as cold too!" - -"Cold! Lady Damaris who has spent her fortune in relieving the -indigent, in soothing the sorrows of the mourner, in setting free -the slave. Cold! Where, then, will you find the fire of charity?" - -"I wish she would set me free!" - -"You! Are you not too free already! as witness this unmaidenly -step of visiting these glades alone and unprotected? Free! Are -you not already as free as is safe for you? is not the Lady -Damaris more a mother than a mistress to you? Go to, your labors -are too light, your liberty too great, since you know not how to -make a better use of it. A Christian maiden should have more -reserve." - -{677} - -"What harm is there in sunning myself on the river-banks awhile?" - -"None, if that is your object, and that _alone_, though even -so, for one in your condition there might be danger. But, Chione, -you do not come here either to woo the naiads or the fauns, or to -sun yourself on the riverbanks. You come here to meet one you are -bound to avoid, and I come to take you home again." - -"By what right?" - -"Ay, by what right, base slave?" asked the voice of Magas, as he -suddenly came upon the couple. "By what right dare you to -interfere with the fairest muse of earth's bright temple? you who -have scarcely brains enough to know whether Apollo steers his -chariot from east to west or from north to south." - -"Noble sir," said Merion respectfully, as if unheedful of the -insulting tone in which he was addressed, "I am this maiden's -uncle, and seek but to conduct her to a place of safety." - -"I will dispense with thine office, by fulfilling it myself; take -thyself hence, I say." - -Merion looked at Chione, who, with an incomprehensible caprice, -settled the dispute by rapidly taking flight in the direction of -the abode of the Lady Damaris, thus again leaving Magas foiled at -the moment he thought himself certain of an interview; and, what -was still more perplexing, leaving him in a state of uncertainty -as to whether she desired to grant him an interview or otherwise. -He turned fiercely upon Merion: - -"Where is the girl flown to? Where does she live?" - -"I cannot tell you, noble sir," said the slave, turning away. - -"For cannot, say will not," said Magas, arresting him. "I insist -on knowing where Chione lives." - -"You cannot know it from me, sir," said Merion, breaking away, -while fortunately some persons appearing in sight, forbade the -noble Magas from renewing a contest with another person's -servant; and thus the faithful guardian of Chione effected his -escape. - -It was, however, to the house of Dionysius he betook himself to -consult with him concerning the measures to be taken to insure -the safety of his wayward niece. - -It was a difficult matter for the learned but simple-hearted -bishop, known in the city as Dionysius the Areopagite, to -interfere in. The conversion of this noble-hearted prelate had, -in his own case, been so sincere, so entire, it was difficult for -him to comprehend an adhesion given partly to the intellectual, -partly to the moral bearings of the religion of Christ, an -adhesion which more resembled a philosophical adoption of tenets, -than the surrender of the whole being into the keeping of his -divine Lord, such as he understood to be the requirement demanded -of himself when, under the tuition of the great apostle, he had -learned to put on Christ. The gospel had come to him, not in word -only, but also in power, and in the Holy Spirit, and in much -assurance. [Footnote 60] It filled his soul, not only with its -intellectual delights, with its wondrous solutions of the dread -mysteries of existence, with its harmonious developments and -sublime manifestations, but with _interior_ light. "Faith" -was to him as, alas! it is to so few, "the substance of things -hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." [Footnote 61] It -animated him wholly; it was a part of himself; he could say with -the great apostle in very truth, "I live, yet not I, but Christ -liveth in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live -by the faith of the Son of God who loved me, and gave himself for -me." [Footnote 62] - - [Footnote 60: Thes. i. 5.] - - [Footnote 61: Heb. xi. 1.] - - [Footnote 62: Gal. ii. 20.] - -{678} - -But Dionysius was the pastor of souls; he dared not refuse to -come to the assistance of one of his flock, albeit, that one was -a child, a slave, and that the request for his interference came -to him also from a slave. The true-hearted Merion was worthy of -his highest love; long since would he have redeemed him, and -associated him in his labors of love, but that the slave ever put -him off, pointing out to him others on whom the _material_ -chain weighed more heavily, so that its wearers were fainting -under the burden, while he walked erect. The truth had made him -free [Footnote 63] in soul, and he was not willing to encroach on -the limited means placed at the disposal of the bishop by the -faithful, while so many of the weaker brethren needed help to -sustain their fainting steps. Besides, as a slave, bearing his -own burden, Merion possessed a greater influence among his own -class than he would have done had he accepted the purchase of his -liberty. "The poor and lowly," said he to Dionysius, "have many -advantages which you in higher stations wot not of. Truth is not -veiled from them by politeness, or by the conventionalism of -society; they see things as they are, unmasked, and view -themselves also by another light than that which is shed on the -man to whom everybody bows. I have often thought, my lord, that -they need an extraordinary degree of grace, who are thus placed -above the multitude. Since our Lord has declared that it is the -'_poor_ who are blessed,' and he himself asks, 'How can ye -believe, ye who receive honor one of another?' [Footnote 64] -Believe me, then, my kind friend, there is a greater blessing in -a position to which no worldly honor is attached than to others; -at least for poor souls like mine, who cannot claim the -extraordinary graces needed to clear away the mists which obscure -the light from the great ones of this world." Thus pleaded Merion -against his own advancement, to which the bishop replied: - - [Footnote 63: St. John viii. 32.] - - [Footnote 64: St. John v. 44.] - -"It is true, my Merion, we must all become 'poor in spirit,' -giving all honor to God alone, for the good that is in us, since -all that man has done is to pervert his gifts." - -"And the more wonderful, the more exalted the gifts, the more -they are perverted. Chione's beauty and talent are already -turning her away from the religion she has professed." - -"Nay, not so bad as that, my Merion. Neither is it the beauty or -the talent that are in fault. These are God's gifts to Chione. It -is the human self-love, the self-centralization which craves -homage and admiration, that are to blame. It is the repetition of -the primeval sin, the wilful separation of the soul from God, for -the sake of inordinate gratification. But Chione has worshipped -Christ. She will see her error and repent." - -"Would I could think so," sighed the slave. - -"Nay, now it is you who are wanting in confidence, my good -friend. Chione is the child of your prayer. You begot her in the -Lord, and He will preserve her for you. How, is not so plain. May -be, she will _fall_. Gifts like hers too often lack -humility, and humility, the foundation of the Christian -character, sometimes needs a fall, in order to produce it. Faith -you have already won for her, from God. Now set yourself to -intercede for her again, to win other gifts which shall render -her faith available to salvation. Ask for her, humility, at any -price of suffering to yourself or her. God will grant your -prayer, be assured of that, my friend. Now, as to what we can do -for the exterior circumstance, let me know your wishes." - -{679} - -"Is it possible to remove her from the path of that Magas?" - -"We might try; though, rich and ardent as he is, he would be apt -to trace her to any place within our power to send her. I have -friends at Corinth. Should you be satisfied to send her there?" - -"They are Christians?" - -"Else I would not have named them. But, reflect, to none is she -as dear as she is to you. None will take the same interest in -her, watch over her--" - -"But she will be out of the way of Magas." - -"Her person will. How her mind will be affected, is another -question. We cannot change the affections or annihilate desires -by change of place. But it shall be as you wish." - -"Will the Lady Damaris consent?" - -"You know, full well, that the welfare of her household, temporal -and eternal, is the object of that lady's constant solicitude. -She will agree to anything she deems will promote it." - - ...... - -Chione was scarcely surprised when she was told that she was to -be sent to Corinth. Nay, to do her justice, she was not -altogether grieved. She knew her danger. Her pride and -self-respect revolted from any degrading connection with Magas. -And what other could she hope for? Neither as a slave nor as a -freed-woman could Magas elevate her to the rank of his wife. He -himself had proposed Aspasia for her model; but Aspasia to a -Christian maiden! Dazzling as was the ideal, not for a moment did -Chione suffer herself to believe it could be hers. Why, then, did -she hover around her destruction, as a moth hovers around the -candle? Why did her thoughts perpetually dwell on Magas as the -only one who understood her, the sole being on earth who could -appreciate her? Why had she endeavored, why did she still -endeavor, to attract his attention the more that she knew the -burning passion which fired his impetuous and vehement nature? - -Chione felt but too truly the inward conflict of her soul. She -loved Magas. She could not conceal herself from him if he were -near--could not even avoid him. The attraction was too great. But -at Corinth she could forget him, at Corinth other objects would -occupy her, at Corinth she would again learn to love Christ. So -to Corinth she consented to go, making so little opposition to -the measure, that Merion half persuaded himself he had overrated -her weakness. - -Chione was conveyed away stealthily, in company with a Christian -family who were making the journey homeward. Days elapsed; and -Magas watched in vain, set spies in vain. Chione was not to be -met with. - -"The girl must be ill, or bewitched," said he. "Three -appearances, and nothing heard of her! A whole year since I saw -her before, and she so changed, beautified, and _silenced_ -when we met again! What can it mean?" - -"What can _what_ mean, Magas, that you are here talking to -yourself, and flinging yourself about like a madman?" - -"Critias!" - -"Yes; it is long since we met. What have you been doing since?" - -"Tracing the girl who imposed upon us in the muses' temple." - -"What! not forgotten that yet?" - -"No. It was scarcely an adventure to be forgotten, save by one -who cares for nothing, like yourself." - -"Well, what have you discovered?" - -{680} - -"This much, at least: the girl is Merion's niece." - -"So! Then we may suppose her rhapsodies referred to the new -sect?" - -"Yes; and that they must be looked to. I wish you would let me -question your slave awhile." - -"Question all you like; but I warn you, Merion is not likely to -answer you unless _he_ likes." - -"Then we can apply the torture?" - -"No! not to Merion! no! Not on a subject which interferes with no -one, even though you have assumed it as a cobweb to your brain. -Merion is a faithful servant. I consent to no torture while he -continues such." - -"Not if you learn that he is concerned in hatching a conspiracy -against the state?" - -"Magas, I think you are taking leave of your senses." - -But Magas was in love, and would neither hear reason nor be -turned away from his purpose. Merion would tell him nothing. He -said only that he had not seen the girl for many days, and that -it was not his business to inquire to what place she had been -sent. Lotis, the daughter of the principal philosopher of the -day, had been her frequent companion in early days, but of late -had seen her little, and, since the adventure in the temple, not -at all. Lotis was suspected to know the name of Chione's owner; -but, if she did, she kept it to herself. Months passed; and then -Magas disappeared also, and, for a while, was not again heard of -in Athens. - - - Continued. - --------- - - Philosophy Not Always Vain. - - -There are persons who think we err, and make our magazine too -heavy by devoting so large a portion of it to quasi-philosophical -discussions. All readers, we are aware, are not and need not be -interested in such discussions; but there are some who want them, -value them, and profit by them. One of our contributors has -received the following letter from a distinguished professor in a -Southern university, which proves that our heavy articles are -read by some, at least, and have served the cause of truth. - - October 26, 1867. - - To The Author Of The Article On - "The Cartesian Doubt," - Published In The November Number - Of _The Catholic World_: - - Dear Sir: - I beg you to accept the presentation of this copy of a book I - published, as you see, in 1860. - - I do not offer it with any idea that you will find in it - anything new or instructive to you, or with any expectation - that you will give it approval or praise. I have become - conscious of several of the errors it contains. - - I send it to you under the influence of two motives: 1st. To - offer you a token of the deep gratitude I feel toward you for - the article on "The Cartesian Doubt," and other articles (which - I take also to be from your pen) entitled "Problems of the - Age," published in _The Catholic World_; this gratitude - being felt for the flood of religious and intellectual light - they have shed upon my mind and heart, and for their having - convinced me of the truth of many Catholic doctrines I had - obscurely perceived, and which, through the clearness and force - of your language and arguments, now shine to my eyes with - unsullied lustre. Second. I also offer you this token, that you - may thereby judge for yourself how far I was behind, and - therefore what great advance I must have made toward a clear - understanding of the true relation and subordination of - philosophy to Catholic doctrine, now that I admit that doctrine - as received through your articles, which I have no doubt are - approved by the Church. - -{681} - - Hoping, sir, you will kindly receive this expression of my - heartfelt thanks, I subscribe myself, affectionately and - respectfully, yours. - -The professor is mistaken in supposing that the article on T_he -Cartesian Doubt_ and those on _The Problems of the Age,_ -are from the same writer. This, however, is a matter of no -consequence; for in both the profoundest principles of philosophy -are treated; and both, for the most part, set forth and defend -the same philosophical doctrine. We lay before our readers -another letter, from a distinguished lawyer, a recent convert to -the church, which shows that our philosophical articles are read -by eminent men, and with respect, even when their doctrine is not -accepted. - - December 10, 1867. - To The Editor Of The Catholic World: - - Dear Sir: In _The Catholic World_ for December, you say, - on page 427, "The school Sir William Hamilton founded ... - avowedly maintains that philosophy cannot rise above the - sensible, and that the supersensible, as well as the - superintelligible, must be taken, if at all, on the authority - of faith or revelation." Just before this, you also say, "The - science neither of language nor of logic can be mastered by one - who holds Sir William Hamilton was a philosopher," etc. Again, - on page 424, you say, "The tendency of all inductive - philosophy, as any one may see in the writings of ... Sir - William Hamilton and his school, is to restrict all science to - the phenomenal, and, therefore, to exclude principles and - causes, and consequently laws." - - The ideas here advanced are new to my mind, and my object in - troubling you with this letter is to request you to refer me to - some philosophical work in which they are fully developed. I - came into the Catholic Church in the spring of 1865, as I - supposed by a process of induction, and by process of induction - I am thoroughly convinced that we have higher and better - evidence of the truth of the dogmas of the church, than of any - scientific fact; indeed, better than we have of any other fact, - save that of existence. But I have failed to discover in the - writings of Sir William Hamilton (the only one of the writers - you mention with whom I am even slightly acquainted) the - tendency you describe, and I cannot understand how such a - result could be produced by a legitimate inductive philosophy. - Sir William Hamilton shows that induction, when applied to - Deity, to the infinite or to the absolute, (he ought to have - said to any spiritual existence also,) fails to yield even - apparent truth, because it yields contradictions. It seems to - me that this must be a very near approach to a true catholic - philosophy, that is, to a definition of the field in which - induction is to operate; and I find it a weapon which silences, - if it does not convince, my Protestant friends; for if they - admit that their reasoning powers--those faculties which enable - them to make the boasted progress in physical science--give no - help in explaining the relation which exists between them and - their Creator, they then have to deny, with the deist, that any - such application exists; or if it does exist, admit that it - rests on authority, thus destroying the right of private - judgment, a result in either case fatal to Protestant - Christianity. - - I don't think I am mistaken about what Sir William Hamilton - teaches, for I have his works before me; but it is very - possible that I do not comprehend the tendency of it; and I may - be entirely wrong in regarding him as a philosopher second to - but few since Aristotle. I am not seeking controversy, but - information; and if you can refer me to a book, not too large - for a hard-working lawyer to read, which will clearly define - what is regarded in the Catholic Church as the philosophy or - _rationale_ of religion, you will confer a favor which - will be long remembered. - Very respectfully. - -The old controversy with heresy has lost its former importance, -for heresy in our time gives way to downright infidelity, or -total religious indifference, and the intelligent Catholic, who -understands his age, is more disposed to recognize and cherish -the fragments of Christian truth still retained by the sects -respectively, than to point out and refute their heresies. He -would be careful not to break the bruised reed or to quench the -smoking flax. In these times all who are not against our Lord are -for him. -{682} -The field of controversy has changed. The non-Catholic world is -either slowly retracing its steps toward the church, or rushing -headlong into rationalism, naturalism, humanitarianism, -pantheism, atheism. The modern atheists are a far more numerous -class than is commonly supposed. Virtually all naturalists, -humanitarians, and pantheists are atheists, and the God admitted -by the rationalists is not the living God, an ever-present -Creator and upholder of the universe, but an abstraction, a vague -generalization, or a God so bound hand and foot by the so-called -laws of nature, as to be powerless, and incapable of a single -free movement, or an efficient act. - -These several classes of unbelievers pretend to base their denial -of divine revelation, the supernatural, the Christian religion, -the freedom, and even the very being of God, on science and -philosophy; and it is only on scientific and philosophical ground -that we can meet, and logically refute them. No doubt their -objections are sophistical, unscientific, and unphilosophical, -yet we can show that fact only by means of true science and sound -philosophy. We say nothing here of what grace may do; for it -works by a method of its own, and by inspiring the will and -enlightening the understanding, it enables one, by a single -bound, to rise from the lowest deep of infidelity to the -sublimest height of faith--to a faith that penetrates within the -veil--lays hold of the unseen and the eternal, and conquers the -world. We speak now only of the human means of meeting and -overcoming the objections of unbelievers to our most holy faith. -We can meet and overcome them, and produce what theologians call -_fides humana_, only by opposing the true philosophy to -their false philosophy--genuine science to their pretended -science, real logic to their shallow sophistries. - -Is this a work that Catholics can prudently neglect? We think -not. Every age has its own special work to perform, its own -special enemies to combat, and there is neither wisdom nor -utility, nor true courage in turning our backs upon the enemies -that assail us, and dealing forth vigorous blows against enemies -long since vanquished, and now dead, and ready to be buried. We -must face the evil of to-day, the enemy that is actually in front -of us, and with the arms that promise to be effective against -him. This is not only wisdom, but a necessity, if we would defend -the treasure committed to us. Error is constantly changing its -forms, and we must attack it under the form it assumes here and -now. To-day it apes the form of science and philosophy. It will -avail us nothing to denounce philosophy as vain, or science as -unreal or valueless. We must accept both, and oppose to the -unreal or false the real and the true. We must meet and beat the -enemy on his own ground, and with his own weapons. As the enemy -chooses to attack us on the ground of science, reason, -philosophy, we must meet him on that ground, and show that on -that ground, as on every other, Catholicity is invincible, and -able to command the victory. - -All the great theologians of the church have been great -philosophers; St. Athanasius, St. Basil, St. Gregory Nazianzen, -St. Augustine, St. Thomas, St. Bonaventura, Suarez, Bossuet, -Fénélon, to name no others: and all the glorious ages of the -church have been marked by profound and vigorous philosophical -and theological studies, as the fourth, the twelfth, the -thirteenth, and seventeenth centuries. -{683} -If the decline of faith marks a decline of science and -philosophy, so also does the decline of science and philosophy -mark usually a decline of faith. The revival of faith in our -century has followed or been accompanied by a revival of the -strong masculine philosophy of the fathers and the mediaeval -doctors. In proportion as men cast aside the _frivolezza_ of -the eighteenth century, engage in serious studies, and learn to -think, and think deeply and earnestly, faith revives, and men who -as yet are not believers look with reverence and awe on the -grandeur and beauty of the Catholic Church, over which time and -place have no influence, exempt from human vicissitudes, and on -which the storms and tempests of the ages beat in vain. All -serious and thinking men turn toward her, and she only is able to -give free and full scope to thought, and to satisfy its demands. - -We do not, of course, fall into the absurdity of seeking to -convert faith into philosophy, nor to substitute philosophy, for -faith. Philosophy, strictly taken, is the rational element of -faith, or, more strictly still, the preamble to faith. It does -not give us supernatural faith, which is the gift of God; it only -removes the intellectual _prohibentia_ or obstacles to -faith, and establishes those rational or scientific truths or -principles which faith or revelation presupposes, which precede -faith, and without which faith could have no rational basis or -connection with science. All faith in the last analysis is belief -and trust in the veracity of God, or the affirmation, _Deus est -verax,_ and presupposes that God is. We cannot talk of faith -till we have proved from reason with certitude the existence of -God. The immortality of the soul brought to light through the -Gospel is not the simple existence of the soul in a future life, -but the immortal life of the blest in glory, rendered possible -and actual through the incarnation, and to which man by his -natural powers neither does nor can attain. This immortality -presupposes what is commonly meant by the immortality of the -soul, an immortality common to the beatified and the reprobate. -The immortality or continued existence of the soul is a rational -truth, and was held by the heathen in all ages, and must be -capable of being proved with certainty by reason prior to faith. -Faith reveals to us a state of future rewards and punishments. -But rewards and punishments presuppose free agency, or the -liberty of man, which is a truth of reason, and to be proved from -reason alone. Hence the Holy See required the traditionalists, -who seemed disposed to build science on faith, or to found faith -on scepticism, to subscribe a declaration that the existence of -God, the spirituality of the soul, and the liberty of man are -provable with certainty from reason alone prior to faith. These -are philosophical truths, and the philosophy that denies them or -declares itself unable to prove them is no philosophy at all. It -is because these great truths are provable by natural reason that -we are morally bound to believe the revelation of God when duly -accredited to us as his revelation, and that refusal to believe -it when so accredited is a sin. - -It is easy to see, therefore, that Christian faith not only -leaves a wide field to reason or philosophy, but makes large -demands on philosophy, requires of natural reason the very utmost -it can do; for the highest victory of reason is precisely in -proving with certainty these three great scientific or -philosophical truths just named. How little do they understand of -our religion, who pretend that it dwarfs the intellect, gives no -scope to reason, and appeals only to the external senses and the -ignorance and credulity of the people! These considerations show -that reason, science, or philosophy has a great and important -part in relation to Catholic faith, and must have; for all the -theologians agree that grace supposes nature, _gratia supponit -naturam._ It is to the rational soul that God speaks. - -{684} - -Now, it is an undeniable fact, that what passes for philosophy -with non-Catholics either denies those great truths which are -prior to faith, or fails to prove them with certainty. With what -effect, then, can we meet the errors of the age or of our -country, and advance the cause of Catholic faith with those who -reject it, without entering even deeply into scientific and -philosophical discussions? To restore faith, we must restore -reason and philosophy, which is its expression; for reason is, at -present, more seriously assailed than faith. The controversy -to-day is not, as it was a hundred and fifty years ago, between -catholicity and heresy, but between catholicity and infidelity, -between the church and those who deny all religion deserving the -name; and this controversy is precisely in the field of -philosophy. In denying the church and rejecting the Christian -mysteries, the movement party of the age have lost reason, while -professing to rely on it and to be guided by it. They have fallen -below reason, and must be brought up to it, and be made to -respect it. The so-called advanced party of humanity, the -march-of-intellect or the progress-of-the-species party, deny not -the faith only, but, in act, reason too. The party has no -tolerable appreciation of the powers and capacities of natural -reason; and the moment we can get its members to reason, to -understand what reason can do, and is called upon to do, -controversy is over. We have got their face turned toward the -truth, and themselves making their way toward the church. Hence -the great work immediately at hand is the defence of reason. - -Those Catholics who have not been in a position to learn, or who -have no call, in the way of duty, to study the wants and -tendencies of the age, may not be aware of any necessity for this -defence of reason, and therefore, for the philosophical essays, -which, from time to time, we publish, and may well think that we -fill with them a space that could be better filled with matter -less heavy and more attractive to the bulk of readers. But those -who, from their position or vocation, are obliged to study and -comprehend the age, whose duty it is to master the literature and -science of the non-Catholic world, and who are in habits of daily -intercourse with fair-minded and liberal non-Catholics, feel the -need of such essays, both for themselves and for those who hold -our religion to be illogical, unintellectual, unphilosophical, -and hostile to science. The age is earnest, terribly in earnest -in the pursuit of material gain, and even in the cultivation of -the material or inductive sciences; but, in spiritual matters, in -the higher philosophy which is the preamble to faith, it is sadly -deficient, and even indifferent; and this defect and this -indifference must be overcome. We could not effect our purpose in -publishing this magazine, or discharge our duty to our -countrymen, if we did not do our best to overcome them; to -stimulate those we are able to influence to devote themselves -with greater earnestness to the study of the highest and gravest -problems of reason now up for solution. Our readers know well -that our aim is not simply to amuse or to render ourselves -popular. -{685} -We do not believe it necessary to piety to put on a long face, to -speak with a nasal twang, or to go about with the head bowed down -like a bulrush. We delight to see the flowers bloom and to hear -the birds sing; we love art and all the amenities of social life; -but, with all this, we publish our magazine with a serious and -earnest purpose. _Ernst ist das Leben_. We aim to serve the -cause of faith, morals, intellectual culture, freedom, and -civilization; to do what in us lies, God helping us, to restore -our countrymen to faith in Christianity, and to Christianity in -its unity and integrity; and to make them work with intelligence -and zeal for the high destiny to which God, in his providence, is -calling our beloved country. - -The two letters we publish, among many other evidences that reach -us, prove to us that we do not err in devoting a large space to -the discussion of the highest and most difficult philosophical -questions of the day. These letters are from men of education, -culture, and the first order of intellect and intelligence. The -first, which the author of the article on _The Cartesian -Doubt_ has kindly placed at our disposal, proves that our -so-called heavy articles have cleared up the mind, at least, of -one soul, and enabled him to see and admit the Catholic truth. -The second letter proves equally the part that philosophy plays -in bringing men of a high order of intellect to the faith, even -when the particular system of philosophy followed is not -precisely that which we ourselves defend. His letter shows that -its writer takes an interest in philosophy, and believes in its -utility. This is enough to justify us in our course. - -The writer of this letter appears to be a little startled at our -censure of the inductive philosophy, and especially of Sir -William Hamilton. We cannot call that eminent and erudite -Scottish professor a philosopher, for we understand by philosophy -the science of principles and causes. All real principles are -ontological, and Sir William Hamilton denies that ontology is or -can be any object of human science. The only things pertaining to -philosophy he admits are logic and psychology. But how can there -be psychology without ontology? a soul without being? or science -of the soul without science of being, that is, without ontology? -The soul is not self-existent, has not its being in itself, but -in God; "for in him we live, and move, and are," or have our -being. How, then, construct a real science of the soul, or -psychology, without science of being, and of the relation of the -soul to real and necessary being, that is, of the divine creative -act? Logic is both a science and art. Men may, no doubt, practise -the art without a scientific knowledge of its principles; but, to -understand logic as a science, he must understand its principles, -and these are ontological. No man fully comprehends logic as a -science till he has seen its type and origin in the -tripersonality of God, and recognized its principle in the divine -creative act. Sir William Hamilton, then, by excluding ontology, -excludes from our science principles and causes, and leaves both -logic and psychology without any scientific basis. - -The writer says, "Sir William Hamilton shows that induction, when -applied to deity, to the infinite, or to the absolute, (he ought -to have said to any spiritual existence also,) fails to yield -even apparent truth, because it yields contradictions." We say -the same, and therefore, while we admit inductive sciences, we do -not admit inductive science or philosophy. -{686} -Principles are given _à priori_, not obtained, as Kant has -amply proved, by induction from the facts of experience, because -without them no experience is possible. We agree with the writer, -not that this "is a near approach to a true Catholic philosophy," -but, "to a definition of the field in which induction is to -operate." Induction is restricted to the analysis and -classification of facts, which fall or may fall under sensible -observation, or experiment, and therefore the inductive sciences -are empirical, not apodictic. This is what we said, when we said, -"The tendency of all inductive philosophy, as any one may see in -the writings of Sir William Hamilton, is to restrict all science -to the phenomenal, and therefore to exclude principles and -causes, and therefore laws." - -The writer says, "I came into the Catholic Church in the spring -of 1865, as I supposed by a process of induction," etc., and very -legitimately too, we doubt not. We by no means exclude inductive -reasoning in its place. We do not depreciate the inductive -sciences, but we hold with Bacon that, while the inductive method -is the true method of studying the facts of the external world, -or of constructing the physical sciences, it is inapplicable in -the study of philosophy or metaphysics. Philosophy has been -well-nigh banished from the English-speaking world by neglecting -the admonition of Bacon, and attempting to construct philosophy -by the inductive method very properly adopted in the construction -of the physical sciences, thus reducing the philosopher to a -simple physicist, and philosophy simply to one of the physical -sciences, instead of recognizing her as their queen, the -_scientia scientiarum_. The difference between our friend -and us is not that we differ from him with regard to induction or -the inductive sciences, but that we hold that there is a science -above them, which controls them, gives them their law, and -renders them possible, and which is not obtainable by induction. -This science, which corresponds to the _sophia_ or -_sapientia_ of the ancients, and which Aristotle held to be -not empirical, and the science of first principles, is what we -call, and the only science that we call, philosophy. What our -friend understands by inductive philosophy lies below what we -call philosophy, and begins where our philosophy ends. - -In proving the miracles as historical facts, or the historical -identity of the church in all ages, and her commission to teach -all men and nations all things whatever our Lord has commanded or -revealed to her, we follow the inductive process, and must do so, -for no other is possible. But it must be observed that the -inductive process would have even here no scientific value -without the science of the principles, what we call the preamble -to faith, namely, the existence of God, the spirituality of the -soul, and human liberty. Without this science, the induction -would conclude nothing, and our friend as well as we holds that -this science is not attainable by any inductive process. It must -also be observed that the inductions we draw from the historical -facts in the case do not give us divine faith, but simply a human -faith, or rational belief in the Catholic Church, as we have -already explained. The Catholic believer is more certain of the -truth of what the church teaches than he is of any historical -fact; but this higher certainty is not the result of induction, -for induction can give no certainty greater than we have of the -facts from which it proceeds. -{687} -The greater certainty is the result of the _donum fidei_, or -the supernatural gift of faith, by which the soul is born again -or initiated into the order of regeneration, and begins its -return to God as its final cause. The soul is thus really joined -by grace to Jesus Christ, who is the real head of every man in -the order of regeneration, and lives his life, as really as, in -the order of generation, we live the life of Adam our progenitor. -This certainty or firm persuasion, which St. Paul tells us "is -the substance of things to be hoped for, the evidence of things -not seen," _rerum substantia sperandarum, argumentum non -apparentium_, which is of grace, must not be confounded with -the _fides humana_, or certainty which is the product of -induction. This latter certainty, which results from the motives -of credibility fairly considered, and fully comprehended, and -which, after all, leaves us outside the door of the church, is as -great as any historical or inductive certainty can be, but it can -be no greater. - -The writer says he has failed to discover in the writings of Sir -William Hamilton the tendency we describe, and that he cannot -understand how such a result could be produced by the inductive -philosophy; but he himself acknowledges that Sir William shows -that induction, applied to the infinite or the absolute, fails to -yield even apparent truth, and says he should have added, "or to -any spiritual existence." This, with the proposed addendum, -excludes from the inductive philosophy all but finite and -material or sensible existences, as we asserted. Sir William -maintains expressly that the infinite, the absolute, the -unconditional cannot even be thought, because, if thought, it -would be bounded and conditioned by our thought--an absurd -reason, for it supposes that our thought affects the object we -think! We think things because they are, not they are because we -think them. The object conditions the thought, not the thought -the object. Sir William's reason proves not that the object -thought is not infinite, absolute, unconditioned, but simply that -our thought on its subjective side is finite, or, in other words, -that we are not infinite, and cannot think an infinite thought or -perform an infinite act--no very novel assertion. - -Exclude from philosophy the infinite, the absolute, the -unconditional, you exclude God, and deny that the existence of -God can be proved with certainty by reason, prior to faith. If -you exclude all spiritual existences, you deny all but material -existences, and that the spirituality of the soul is provable -with certainty from natural reason. If you exclude God from your -philosophy, you exclude the _causa causarum_, and therefore -all finite or second causes. Unable to assert any cause or -causes, your philosophy can recognize only, as we said, sensible -phenomena; nay, not so much, but simply affections of the -sensibility, without any power to refer them to any external -object or cause producing them. We think it very easy, therefore, -to understand wherefore the inductive philosophy, as gathered -from the school of Sir William Hamilton, should, as we said, -"tend to restrict all science to the phenomena, and therefore to -exclude principles and causes, and consequently laws." Can our -friend name anything more that can be an object of knowledge with -Sir William Hamilton and his school? Will he say this is all -philosophy can give? that is, all that can be known or proved by -natural reason? -{688} -If so, what answer shall we make to Saint Thomas and all Catholic -theologians who, with one accord, maintain that the existence of -God, universal, necessary, immutable, real, self-existent and -most perfect being, is demonstrable by reason? or to the Holy See -who has required the traditionalist to subscribe the declaration -we have already mentioned, namely, "Ratiocinatio Dei existentiam, -animae spiritualitatem, hominis libertatem cum certitudine -probare potest"? or to Saint Paul, who says, (Rom. i. 20,) "The -invisible things of God, even his eternal power and divinity, are -clearly seen from the creation of the world, being understood by -the things that are made, _per ca quae facta sunt -intellecta?_ - -We have dwelt the longer on this point because Sir William -Hamilton happens just now to be esteemed by a large class of our -countrymen as a great philosopher, and his writings are exerting -a bad influence on philosophic thought. He, perhaps, had no -contemporary who surpassed him in the literature of philosophy or -philosophical erudition; he knew all systems, ancient, mediaeval, -and modern, but he lacked the true _ingegno filosofico_, and -though a born critic, he cannot as an original and comprehensive -genius be compared even with Dr. Thomas Reid, the founder of the -Scottish school. His great merit was in completing the doctrine -of perception left imperfect by Reid, by proving that we perceive -in 'the sensible order things themselves, not merely their -phantasms, and that perceiving and perceiving that we perceive -are one and the same thing. So far he asserted real objective -knowledge, but knowledge only in the external or sensible order. -But he undid all this again by maintaining that we see things -under the forms of our own understanding; not as they are in -themselves, but as we are intellectually constituted to see them. -To an intellect constituted differently from ours they would -appear different from what they do to us. This has an ugly squint -toward the subjectivism of Immanuel Kant, and brings us back to -the apparent or purely phenomenal. This supposes that all our -knowledge is only knowledge relatively to us, or in relation to -the present constitution of our minds. Hence, there is nothing -absolute or apodictic in our science. Things may be in reality -very different from what we see them, or from what they appear to -us. This renders all our knowledge on its objective side -uncertain, and opens the door to universal scepticism. We think -we have done no injustice to Sir William Hamilton. - -We rank Sir William Hamilton with the Positivists, as we do Mr. -Herbert Spencer and Mr. J. Stuart Mill, because he restricts our -science to the sensible and material order, and denies virtually -that we can know principles and causes. We do not pretend that -he, Mill, or Spencer agrees in all things with Auguste Comte, the -founder of Positivism; we have no reason to suppose that he -sympathized knowingly with Comte's avowed atheism, or with his -deification and worship of humanity. But the fundamental -principle of positivism, that which excludes ontology from the -domain of science, is common to them all; and it is impossible to -establish the existence of God, the spirituality of the soul, or -the liberty of man, or anything else without the aid of -ontological principles. Mr. Mansel, the ablest of Sir William -Hamilton's disciples, seems well aware of it, and attempts to -found science on faith, and faith on--nothing. - -We would willingly comply with our friend's request, but we know -of no philosophical work in our language such as he wishes us to -name. The English-speaking world, since Hobbes and Locke, has had -no philosophy, and we are aware of no English treatise on -philosophy that has any philosophical value, though some good -things may be found in old Ralph Cudworth, Henry More, and in -Reid and Beattie. -{689} -We know nothing within a moderate compass in any other modern -tongue that would meet the wishes of our friend much better. -Balmes's Fundamental Philosophy, translated from the Spanish by -H. F. Brownson, with an introduction by his father, Doctor O. A. -Brownson, and published by the Sadliers in this city, is the best -that occurs to us. Several Latin text-books, used in our -colleges, such as Rothenflue's, Fournier's, Branchereau's, and -the Lugdunensis, are, though not free from objection, yet good -introductions to the study of philosophy. For ourselves, we -collect our philosophy from Plato, Aristotle, the fathers and -theologians, more especially from the mediaeval doctors of the -church, aided by various modern writers, and our own reflections. -We follow no one author, but regard St. Augustine and St. Thomas -as the two greatest masters of Catholic philosophy that have yet -appeared. As philosophy is the science of reason, we depend on -the reason common to all men to confirm or to reject such -philosophical views as we from time to time put forth. - --------- - - Father Lacordaire. [Footnote 65] - - [Footnote 65: The Inner Life of the Very Reverend Père - Lacordaire, of the Order of Preachers. Translated from the - French of the Rev. Père Chocarne, O.P., with the author's - permission. By a Religious of the same Order. With preface by - the Very Rev. Father Aylward, Prior Provincial of England. - Small 8vo, pp. 556. Dublin: William B. Kelly. New York: The - Catholic Publication Society.] - - -A complete biography of the eloquent Dominican whose name is one -of the most brilliant in the history of the modern French Church -is yet to be looked for. If it is ever adequately written, it -will be a work of singular fascination. Rich, however, as Father -Lacordaire's life was in materials for such a book, it was a life -comparatively poor in striking incidents--a life whose best side -lay apart from the world, and whose beauty could be clearly seen -only by the light of a genuine religious spirit. In a word, it -was his _inner_ life which best merits our notice and -awakens our sympathy. We shall hardly be going too far if we say -that the history of his soul is a positive romance. This romance -Father Chocarne has endeavored to relate in his excellent -narrative of "The Inner Life of the Very Rev. Père Lacordaire." -As a biography, it is defective; but it does not pretend to be a -biography. It is, rather, a description of the mental and -spiritual progress of the man, and a picture of his virtues. - -Henry Lacordaire was the son of a village doctor of -Recey-sur-Ource, in Burgundy, where he was born in 1802. The -gentleness of temper for which he was afterward remarkable, -distinguished him from his cradle, and the fiery eloquence by -which he was to work such wonders may almost be said to have been -a gift of his boyhood. As a child, his favorite amusement was to -play at being priest, and from his mimic pulpit to inveigh -against the sins of the world with an energy which often became -alarming. -{690} -An incident, which he relates himself, and which may be found in -his "Letters to Young Men," published by the Abbé Perreyve, -illustrates at once the remarkable delicacy of feeling which -formed, through life, so important an element of his character, -and the piety which distinguished his early youth. At the age of -ten he had been sent to school at the Lyceum of Dijon. - - "From the very first day," says he, "my schoolfellows selected - me as a kind of plaything or victim. I could not take a step - without being pursued by their brutality. For several weeks - they even deprived me, by violence, of any other food than my - soup and bread. In order to escape their ill-treatment, I used, - as often as possible, to get away from them during the time of - recreation, and, going into the schoolroom, conceal myself - under a bench from the eyes alike of my masters and companions. - There, alone, without protection, abandoned by every one, I - poured out religious tears before God, offering him my childish - troubles, as a sacrifice, and striving to raise myself, by - tender sentiments of piety, to the cross of his divine Son." - -Father Chocarne's remark upon this story, though it may seem not -altogether free from French fancifulness, is, after all, a just -one. - - "This little sufferer, hidden under a bench in the college of - which he was afterward to be the honor, and taking refuge at - the feet of the Great Victim, gives the key to the entire life - of Father Lacordaire. He was not to be raised by God until he - had been abased. He was to know glory, but only at the price of - hard humiliations and bitter disappointments; and in the hour - of success, as in that of trial, his refuge, his resource, his - life, his very passion, was to be the cross, the cross of Him - who sought the little schoolboy hidden under his bench." - -There was nothing at Dijon to keep alive the fervor of his -religious sentiments, and it was a time indeed when, in the -confusion of the political upheaval which was soon to wreak havoc -in the social life of France, faith was an unfashionable -weakness, devotion was an exclusively feminine accomplishment, -and piety was supplanted by a pinchbeck philosophy. What wonder, -therefore, that he left college at the age of seventeen, with his -faith practically destroyed--not an open infidel, but only a -nominal Christian? At the age of twenty he went to Paris to -commence the practice of the law. It may readily be supposed that -in the society of the metropolis, which was then seething with -political excitement, and intoxicated with dreams of impossible -liberty, in the stirring occupations of his career at the bar -where he achieved at once a very signal success, his religious -impressions would be still further weakened. At first this -certainly was the case; yet there was one peculiarity of his -disposition which preserved him from a good many of the dangers -of his way of life, and probably contributed, under God, to his -conversion. He was one who thirsted for love, yet was without a -single bosom friend. He never was attracted by the society of -women; but he longed for the affection of some congenial -companion of his own sex, who could enter into all his hopes and -feelings, and share his disappointments and his pleasures. -Without this--and his natural reserve long debarred him from it-- -Paris was to him a desert. He was forced to withdraw into -himself. Solitude and habits of reflection begot an abiding -melancholy. "There are in me," he writes at this time, "two -contrary principles, which are always at war, and which sometimes -make me very unhappy--a cold, calm reason, opposed to a burning -imagination--and the first disenchants me of all the illusions -which the second presents. -{691} -Nobody would commit more follies than I should do on one side of -my being, were I not withheld by a habit of reflection which -presents things to me in all their aspects. I have played the -game of the material interests of this world, and, without having -much enjoyed its pleasures or been intoxicated with its delights, -I have tasted enough to be convinced that all is vain under the -sun; and this conviction comes both from my imagination, which -has no limits save the Infinite, and from my reason, which -analyzes all it touches. I have a most religious heart, and a -very incredulous mind; but, as it is in the nature of things that -the mind must at last allow itself to be subjugated by the -affections, it is most likely that I shall one day become a -Christian. I am alike capable of living in solitude, and of -plunging into the vortex of human affairs: I love quiet when I -think of it, and bustle when I am in it, sometimes making my -Castle in the air to consist in the life of a village curé, and -then saying good-by to my day-dream as I pass the Pont-Neuf--held -in my present position by that force of reason which convinces me -that to try everything and to be always changing one's place is -not to change one's nature, and that there are wants in the heart -which earth is powerless to satisfy." - -By what process he was led out of this darkness into the light of -religious happiness, we do not know. Probably he never knew -himself the precise means by which the grace of God wrought his -conversion. "Would you believe it," he wrote in 1824, "I am every -day growing more and more a Christian? It is strange, this -progressive change in my opinions. I am beginning to believe, and -yet I was never more a philosopher. A little philosophy draws us -from religion, but a good deal of it brings us back again." His -progress toward the truth was rapid. He shunned the society of -his acquaintances. Sometimes he was detected on his knees behind -the columns of silent churches. Sometimes his friends surprised -him wrapt in sorrowful meditation among his books. At length the -clouds broke away. The divine light burst upon him in all its -magnificence. The loving friend whom he had sought so long he -found in the person of his Saviour. The affectionate heart which -had yearned for an object upon which to pour out its wealth found -one in Jesus Christ. The eloquent lips had at last a theme worthy -of their powers. He resolved to become a priest, and at the age -of twenty-two accordingly entered the Seminary of St. Sulpice. - -The serenity and peace of mind which came upon him in his new -life was like the reaction after long restraint. He seemed -created for the priesthood, for he had all the natural gifts most -fitting the sacred calling; but his life had been forced into the -wrong channel, and now that the pressure was removed, his soul -rebounded with an elasticity at which his directors now and then -stood aghast. The strict formalism of St. Sulpice, with its -rigorous rules of propriety, was but little suited to his -independent character; yet it was something more than a natural -repugnance to unnecessary restraint which inspired him with a -gaiety little known in the prim precincts of the seminary. - - "It sometimes happened that his lively and original nature, not - yet under much control, betrayed itself in sallies which - manifested something of the _gallica levitas_, seasoned - with Burgundian love of fun. The good directors were astounded, - and hastened to repress this boisterous levity. He never could - accustom himself to the square cap, that strange head-dress, - the shape of which is so grotesque that one dares not call it - by its true name. Against these caps Lacordaire declared war, a - war at first carried on by epigrams, but which soon became one - of extermination. -{692} - He would snatch them out of the hands of his friends and throw - them into the fire. This gave rise to a great commotion, and - very lively discussions ensued, some declaring in favor of the - square cap, and others for the biretta, which was then a - novelty. But novelty and argument were two things which St. - Sulpice held in equal abhorrence. In the evening, therefore, at - the hour of spiritual reading, the superior addressed them a - grave reproof, and order was once more restored. - - "The Abbé Lacordaire always displayed perfect submission to his - directors; and if they were sometimes puzzled by the contrasts - of his singular character, they never had occasion to complain - of his want of humility, modesty, or obedience. He was beloved - by all his companions: his deep and earnest nature, wholly - given up to his new and sacred duties, was adorned with a - certain freshness of poetry, with the fragrance of worldly - refinement, and the grace of a character long pent up within - itself, but now freely poured forth; and all this gave an - indescribable charm to his personal intercourse which made him - generally loved and sought after. All his masters, however, did - not understand him; the singularity of some of his ways, his - liberal opinions, and his instinctive repugnance to certain - points of ordinary routine, doubtless now and then deceived - their observant eyes, and prevented them from at once - appreciating at its just value the pure gold which lay hidden - at the bottom of the vessel." - -The consequence of all this was that his superiors remained a -long time in doubt about his vocation, and he was not allowed to -receive holy orders at the usual time. - - "They felt uneasy when they observed his ardor for debates, and - the large claims which he made for reason. When he opened his - lips in class to raise any objection, his words took so lively - and original a turn, and his conclusions were so bold, that - they often proved somewhat embarrassing to the professors. At - last, in order to save time, they begged him to put off his - difficulties till the end of the lecture. He forgot this - sometimes; perhaps it was to relate a story, but the story - generally ended in some treacherous question, or some - home-thrust at the thesis of the master." - -A project which he seriously began to entertain of becoming a -Jesuit put an end to this hesitation, and in 1827 he was ordained -priest. Very soon afterward an appointment as auditor of the Rota -at Rome was offered him. It was an office pretty certain to lead -to the episcopacy, but he refused it, and accepted the humble -post of chaplain to a convent of visitation nuns in Paris, where -his widowed mother came to live with him. The abundant leisure -which remained to him in this humble position he diligently -employed in study. At one time he had nearly made up his mind to -become a missionary in the United States, and he had an interview -respecting the project with Bishop Dubois, of New York, when that -venerable prelate visited France in 1830. The bishop offered him -the post of vicar-general. It would be curious to speculate what -effect his acceptance of this proposal would have had upon the -history of either the French or the American Church. Had he been -vicar-general, he would probably have been the coadjutor and -successor of Bishop Dubois, and the brilliant career of -Archbishop Hughes would have been missed from our annals. In no -other diocese than New York would Archbishop Hughes have found a -proper field for the full exercise of his remarkable powers; in -no other position than the one he actually occupied could he have -done such good service to the church as he effected in this chief -city of the new world. On the other hand, there can be no -question that Henry Lacordaire was but imperfectly fitted for the -hard and laborious work required in those days of an American -bishop. It was rough work, and the tools needed to be not -delicate but strong. To one who had refused a tempting offer from -Rome, the prospect of a vicar-generalship in America cannot be -supposed to have held out strong inducements; but there were some -reasons why a career in this country presented itself to his mind -in a strangely enticing light. -{693} -He had not forgotten his early aspirations for political -independence. He had already given deep thought to the problem -which was afterward to bring him into such prominence before the -world, of associating society and the church, and breaking the -unholy alliance between democracy and infidelity. Politically he -was an earnest liberal; religiously he was a devout priest. In -France, men did not readily see how the two characters could be -united; but in America he believed that Catholicism was placed -under conditions of development and action more favorable than in -any country of Europe. "Who is there," he exclaimed, "who, at -moments when the state of his own country saddens him, has not -turned his eyes toward the republic of Washington? Who has not, -in fancy, at least, sat down to rest under the shadow of her -forests and her laws? Weary with the spectacle I beheld in -France, it was on that land that I cast my eyes, and thither I -resolved to go to ask a hospitality she has never refused to a -traveller or a priest." Having obtained the consent of his -archbishop, he went to Burgundy to bid farewell to his family. -But while there, he received a letter from his friend, the Abbé -Gerbet, which changed his course and determined him to remain in -France. - -In the spring of 1830, he had become intimate with the Abbé de la -Mennais, in whom the hopes of so many of the most zealous of the -religious party in France then centred. He was fascinated by the -genius of that remarkable man; he believed in many of his -theories; he tried, with only incomplete success, to accept his -philosophy; but De la Mennais was an absolutist in politics, and -Lacordaire was an earnest liberal. The revolution of 1830, -however, swept away this barrier which had hitherto kept the two -men apart. De la Mennais frankly accepted the great changes which -followed the abdication of Charles X., and, in conjunction with -some of his disciples, prepared to discuss the same problem of -the church and society of which Lacordaire was about to seek the -solution in America. In this work Lacordaire was invited to take -part. "Nothing," says Father Chocarne, "could have caused him -greater joy; it amounted to a sort of intoxication. ... And thus -the same enthusiastic love of liberty which was carrying this -ardent and generous soul to a country blest with a larger freedom -than his own, stopped him at the very moment of his departure, -and fixed him for ever to take part in the destinies and -struggles of his native land." - -The _Avenir_ newspaper, which was to be the vehicle of this -discussion, was founded on the 15th of October, 1830. The noise -of it had no sooner gone abroad than a young French gentleman of -brilliant parts, then in Ireland, hastened home to claim a share -of the labor. This was Montalembert, and in him Lacordaire found -the friend for whom he had long sought, and a worthy object for -the affection which he was burning to bestow. They met for the -first time at the house of De la Mennais, and loved each other -from the first with a love such as knit together the souls of -Jonathan and David. De la Mennais, Lacordaire, and Montalembert -were three of the principal editors of the new journal. - -{694} - - "They declared their object plainly enough: it was to claim - back for the church of France every privilege of liberty, - whilst rejecting none of its burdens. The revolution had just - made a clean sweep of all ancient traditions. Since the - restoration of order and public worship at the beginning of the - century, the clergy had learnt to their cost the real value of - that protection granted by a power which was ill-informed as to - the real nature of its relations with the church; they had - found out by experience what they had gained in consideration - under the empire, under the restoration, and under the recently - established _régime_ of the _bourgoisie._ What - attitude were they to assume toward the new government? Would - the old endeavors to form an alliance between the throne and - the altar now recommence? The _Avenir_ was founded to - preserve them from this temptation. Its programme was, respect - for the charter and for just laws; but for the rest, an - absolute independence of the civil government. It consequently - advocated liberty of opinion for the press, and war against - arbitrary power and privilege; liberty of education, and war - against the monopoly of the university; liberty of association, - and war against the old anti-monastic laws revived in evil - times; the liberty and moral independence of the clergy, and - war against the budget of public worship. Very vague and - uncertain limits were assigned to these different liberties, - and the reserves stipulated for in the declarations of doctrine - disappeared often enough when the writers were carried away by - the ardor of discussion, and the vehemence of invective. They - were more frequently engaged, we must confess, in obtaining the - thing they sought than in preventing its abuse. Far too radical - in their principles, the polemics of the journal were yet more - so in the course of action which they recommended. 'Liberty is - not given, it is taken,' was a phrase continually repeated; nor - did they scruple to add example to precept. Every morning the - charge was sounded, and every day witnessed some new feat of - arms. The clergy were addressed as an army drawn up in battle - array. Every means was tried to kindle their ardor; the zeal of - the tardy was stimulated, and deserters were set in the - pillory. The chiefs of the party were harangued, the plan of - campaign indicated beforehand, the enemy pointed out and - pursued to death. Philosophers, enemies of religion, ministers, - miserable pro-consuls, members of the university, citizens, and - Gallicans were all attacked at once. Resistance did but rouse - the spirit of the combatants; it seemed as though the sun - always set too early on their warlike ardor. Patience and - discretion were not much regarded in their system of tactics; - they wanted to have everything at once, and could not wait for - to-morrow, and what was not granted with a good grace was to be - snatched by force, and at the point of the sword. This haughty - and antagonistic attitude, this want of experience in men and - things, more excusable in the young disciples than it was in - their master, formed, in our opinion, the greatest fault of the - _Avenir_. Its errors and exaggerations of doctrine might - have been corrected with time, good advice, and the practical - teaching of facts. But those haughty accents, so strange when - heard from the lips of priests, alarmed even their friends, and - created a certain consternation at Rome--Rome ever calm as - truth, and patient as eternity. The responsibility of this - false attitude must be charged chiefly on the Abbé de la - Mennais and the Abbé Lacordaire. It was the latter who drew up - the most incendiary harangues, and opened the most difficult - questions. - - ...... - - "The philosophic opinions of M. de la Mennais, and the absolute - theories of his journal, particularly those which represented - the state payment of the clergy as the badge of shame and - slavery, had excited a certain feeling of distrust among the - episcopacy, which daily increased. The young disciples of M. de - la Mennais were never afraid of a combat; but their faith and - loyalty could not endure the vague suspicions raised against - their orthodoxy. They began to desire a clear, open - explanation, and they determined to go and demand it from the - judge of all ecclesiastical controversies, the successor of St. - Peter." - -The first suggestion of this course came from Lacordaire. He -reached Rome, with his two companions, about the end of December, -1831, and besought an audience with the Holy Father Gregory XVI. -for the purpose of explaining their views and intentions, and, we -may suppose, of defending their orthodoxy. But Rome is not -readily moved by the dreams of young enthusiasts, and their -reception was a cold one. They were denied a personal interview, -and were required to put what they had to say into writing. At -the end of two months, Cardinal Pacca condescended to notice -their memorial, promised that it "should be examined," and -courteously bade them go home. -{695} -The effect of this treatment upon De la Mennais and Lacordaire -respectively, is a remarkable illustration of their characters. -The one, deeply wounded in his pride, is sullen under the reproof -and at last throws away for ever the precious gift of faith. The -other acknowledges his errors, bows humbly to the command of God, -and, delivered from "the most terrible of all oppressions, that -of the intellect," starts afresh upon a more glorious career than -the one he is forced to abandon. "When I arrived at Rome," he -writes, "at the tomb of the holy apostles, St. Peter and St. -Paul, I knelt down and said to God, 'Lord, I begin to feel my -weakness, my sight fails me, truth and error alike escape my -grasp; have pity on thy servant, who comes to thee with a sincere -heart; hear the prayer of the poor.' I know neither the day nor -the hour when it took place, but at last I saw what I had not -before seen, and I left Rome free and victorious. I had learned -from my own experience that the church is the deliverer of the -human intellect; and as from freedom of intellect all other -freedoms necessarily flow, I perceived the questions which then -agitated the world in their true light." "It was at this moment, -as I venture to believe," says Montalembert, "that God for ever -marked him with the seal of his grace and laid up for him the -reward due to his unshaken fidelity, so worthy of a priestly -soul." - -Lacordaire now resolved to return at once to France, and abandon -the _Avenir_ entirely. De la Mennais persisted in remaining -at Rome longer and resuming the suspended periodical; but when -the pope decided at last in his Encyclical Letter of August 15th, -1832, and decided against him, he made a temporary submission, -and withdrew to his country-house at La Chesnaie. In this -solitary retreat, where, in the days of his greatness, a knot of -favorite disciples used to sit at his feet, he was once more -joined by Lacordaire, who had more confidence in the reality of -his master's obedience to the Holy See than after events -justified. Before long, others of the young school gathered under -the roof of the lonely manor-house. De la Mennais chafed daily -more and more under the affront to his intellect. He gave signs -of rebellion. His heart was torn by passion, and his lips let -fall dark threats and alarming murmurs. "The harrowing -spectacle," says Lacordaire, "became too much for me to bear." He -wrote M. de la Mennais an affecting letter of farewell; and left -La Chesnaie alone and on foot. It was not long before the -apostasy of De la Mennais brought the sad history to an awful -close. - -The young priest, who had escaped from the snare, hastened to -present himself to the Archbishop of Paris, Mgr. de Quélen. He -was received with open arms, as a son who had returned wounded -and weary from some dangerous adventure. "You want another -baptism," said the archbishop, "and I will give you one." He -reappointed him to the chaplaincy of the Visitation, and in the -retirement of that peaceful retreat he found rest for his -disturbed soul, and girded up his loins for a fresh battle with -the world. - -He spent about a year in this solitude, and then accepted an -invitation from the officers of the Stanislaus College in Paris, -to preach a series of conferences to the students. Here, at last, -was the vocation for which God had designed him. The pulpit was -his proper sphere. After the first day, the pupils had to give up -their places to crowds of strangers, and the chapel could not -contain the numbers who flocked to listen to his indescribable -eloquence. -{696} -It was an eloquence not restricted by rules. The orator trampled -under foot the artificial forms which for centuries had cramped -and confined the utterances of the pulpit. He outraged at -pleasure all the canons of the schools. His conferences were -neither lectures, nor homilies, nor sermons, but rather were -brilliant discourses on sacred subjects in which all the -sympathies of the audience were by turns engaged. He spoke not -merely as a priest, but as a citizen, a poet, a philosopher, as a -man of the day, appreciating the spirit and the wants of his own -time. But, like all men who strike out in a new path, and are not -satisfied to follow exactly in the footsteps of their -grandfathers, he encountered bitter opposition from a certain -class of purblind formalists. His style, they said, was too -human; his rhetoric was too erratic; his disrespect for the -text-books of the schools of eloquence was positively appalling. -Nay, was he not one of that pestiferous brood which De la Mennais -had hatched in the woods of La Chesnaie, and which the Pope had -solemnly condemned? Was he not a liberal in politics, a friend of -liberty, an admirer of American republicanism? He had recanted -his errors; but that was forgotten. He had given the strongest -proofs of the steadfastness of his faith and the completeness of -his submission to the Holy See; but these were overlooked. He was -not merely an orator, but an accomplished theologian, for he had -always been a hard student; but to this his opponents resolutely -shut their eyes. They denounced him as a dangerous man, a -fanatic, an innovator, and a corrupter of youth. Their clamor at -last prevailed, and by order of the archbishop the conferences -were suspended. This second humiliation, which he accepted with -the same docility as the first, was of short duration. M. Affre, -afterward Archbishop of Paris, pleaded so earnestly for his -reinstatement that he was not only restored to the pulpit but -appointed a series of conferences in the great cathedral of Notre -Dame. We shall tell in his own words how, after a brief -hesitation, he entered upon this important duty: - - "The day having come, Notre Dame was filled with a multitude - such as had never before been seen within its walls. The - liberal and the absolutist youth of Paris, friends and enemies, - and that curious crowd which a great capital has always ready - for anything new, had all flocked together, and were packed in - dense masses within the old cathedral. I mounted the pulpit - firmly but not without emotion, and began my discourse with my - eye fixed on the archbishop who, after God, but before the - public, was to me the first personage in the scene. He listened - with his head a little bent down, in a state of absolute - impassibility, like a man who was not a mere spectator, nor - even a judge, but rather as one who ran a personal risk by the - experiment. I soon felt at home with my subject and my - audience, and as my breast swelled under the necessity of - grasping that vast assembly of men, and the calm of the first - opening sentences began to give place to the inspiration of the - orator, one of those exclamations escaped from me which, when - deep and heartfelt, never fail to move. The archbishop visibly - trembled. I watched his countenance change as he raised his - head and cast on me a glance of astonishment. I saw that the - battle was gained in his mind, and it was so already in that of - the audience. Having returned home, he announced that he was - going to appoint me honorary canon of the cathedral; and they - had some difficulty in inducing him to wait until the end of - the station." - -The effect of these discourses was irresistible. All Paris came -to hear them; and over the young men especially, into whose -wants, tastes, feelings, hopes, aspirations, disappointments -Father Lacordaire entered so thoroughly, because he had -experienced them all himself, his influence was almost unbounded. - -{697} - - "What above all distinguished his preaching, and marked its - providential mission, whilst it formed the chief reason of his - success, was its adaptation to social needs. It gave to society - what society was hungering and thirsting after; that Living - Bread, the long privation of which had brought it to the verge - of death; it spoke to the world of God, and of his Son, our - Lord and Saviour. Christianity has a social existence, not only - in the sense that it is itself a society, the most united, the - most universal, the most ancient, the most Catholic, and the - most perfect of all societies; but also in this, that all - societies depend on and live by it, as the body depends on the - soul, and draws its life from thence, and as man depends and - lives on God. Now the society which the Abbé Lacordaire - addressed was remarkable precisely in this, that it was - _without_ God. For the first time, perhaps, since - civilized nations have had a history, men were to be seen - endeavoring to progress without the aid of any positive - commerce with heaven. But if it is with difficulty that an - individual can live without religious faith, much more is it - impossible for a nation to do so. What, in fact, is a nation - but a great community of sufferings, miseries, weaknesses, and - maladies of mind and body? Without religion, and above all, - without Christianity, where is the remedy for all these evils, - the consolation for all these misfortunes? The Abbé Lacordaire, - himself brought back to Catholicism by his deep conviction that - society could not do without the church, received as his - peculiar mission the task of developing this truth to the eyes - of his countrymen. 'The old state of society,' he said, - 'perished because it had expelled God; the new is suffering, - because God has not yet been admitted into it.' His constant - aim, the thought which ran through all his instructions, his - labors, and his entire career, was to contribute what he could - in order that he might reenter into the faith and life of the - age." - -The conferences went on for two years without interruption, and -with constantly increasing success. The archbishop bestowed upon -the preacher the title of "the new prophet." All at once, in May, -1836, without any ostensible reason, he resigned his pulpit and -went to Rome. The fact was, he had not succeeded in living down -the misrepresentations and misconceptions which had embarrassed -him before. He was still regarded in many quarters as a dangerous -man, whose zeal was too rash, and whose orthodoxy was, at the -best, but unfirm. What better could he do than seek refuge from -detraction in the very bosom of the church? How could he better -prove his devout obedience to the Holy Father than by seating -himself at the very foot of the papal throne? In the retirement -of the Christian capital, he pondered upon his future career. A -life such as he had hitherto led he saw was impossible; whatever -good he might effect by his preaching would hardly counterbalance -the evil of the opposition he aroused among those who could not -or would not understand him. Moreover, the archbishop had kindly -intimated to him that there was no line of duty open to him -except in the routine of regular parochial duty. For this he had -neither fitness nor vocation. His only resource was consequently -in one of the religious orders. None of them except the Society -of Jesus had yet been restored in France. What a glorious task -for him to bring back some of them to his native country! After -long deliberation, his choice settled upon the Dominicans. The -difficulties to be overcome were enormous; and not the least of -the obstacles which he had to place under his foot was his own -character, his independence of spirit, his love of liberty, his -boldness in stepping out of the beaten path. We have no space to -relate in detail how he fought and conquered. He made his -novitiate at Viterbo, pronounced his vows in May, 1840, and the -next day set out for Rome, where the convent of Santa Sabina had -been consigned for his use and that of the six companions who -were to join him in his mission. - -{698} - -His stay here was but brief, for he was eager to get back to -France. In December, he reappeared in his native country, wearing -the habit which had been banished from the kingdom for half a -century. - - "Here and there he met with a few marks of astonishment, and - sometimes of hostility. At Paris, where he was expected by no - one excepting his most intimate friends, many rejoiced to see - him. His former enemies had no time to think of their old - rancors, nor the lawyers their musty statutes. Everything else - gave way before the sentiment of curiosity. All the world - wished to see the friar, the spectre of past ages, the son of - _Dominic the Inquisitor;_ and especially to know what he - was going to do and to say. Mgr. Affre, the new Archbishop of - Paris, received Père Lacordaire with delight, saw no difficulty - in his preaching at Notre Dame in his new habit, and only - begged him to name whatever day he liked. We must leave Père - Lacordaire himself to relate the story of this bold adventure. - - "'I appeared in the pulpit of Notre Dame with my white tunic, - gray-black mantle, and my tonsure. The archbishop presided, the - keeper of the seals, and minister of public worship, M. Martin, - (du Nord,) was also present, as he wished to observe for - himself a scene of which no one could tell the issue. Many - other distinguished persons concealed themselves in the - assembly, in the midst of the crowd which filled the church - from the doors to the sanctuary. I had chosen for the subject - of my discourse the _Vocation of the French Nation_, in - order to veil the audacity of my presence under the popularity - of my theme. In this I succeeded, and next day the keeper of - the seals invited me to a dinner-party of forty persons, which - he gave at the chancellor's mansion. During the repast, M. - Bourdain, formerly minister of justice under Charles X., leant - toward one of his neighbors, and said, "What a strange turn of - events! If, when I was keeper of the seals, I had invited a - Dominican to my table, my house would have been burnt down next - day." However, the house was not burnt, and no newspaper ever - invoked the secular arm against my _auto-da-fé_.' - - "This was, in fact, one of his happiest strokes--one of those - surprises which he was fond of, and which suited the - adventurous side of his character. The effect of this - reappearance was immense; the religious standard had been - planted in the very heart of the stronghold; but the victory - was not yet completely gained, and many of those who had been - dazzled and disconcerted by the brilliancy and unforeseen - character of the attack, were not long ere they turned against - him, and demanded an explanation of his illegal triumph, in the - name of the state." - -The establishment of the order in France was not effected without -a good many troubles. There was trouble at Rome, where he was -suspected and misunderstood until he proved his humility and -obedience. There was trouble in France, where the government -opposed the introduction of an order which was still forbidden by -law, and threatened him with penalties which, after all, they -lacked the courage to enforce; and where the timid and -short-sighted among the clergy would rather have had him submit -to wrong than compromise a sleepy sort of tranquillity by -standing up boldly for the right. There was even a tedious -controversy which, at this distance of time and place, seems -wonderfully trivial, whether he should be permitted to preach in -his white habit. But his courage conquered. One or two houses of -the order were soon opened; and, when the revolutionary troubles -came in 1848, the eloquent Dominican was one of the most popular -men in France. With the establishment of the republic, a somewhat -embarrassing question presented itself for his decision. It was -not easy for him, occupying such a position as he did in the -public eye, to stand aloof from the great public questions of the -day. The good of religion seemed to require that he should mingle -in the turmoil of politics. He tells how his determination was at -last effected: - - "Whilst I was thus deliberating with myself, the Abbé Maret and - Frederic Ozanam called on me. They spoke to me of the trouble - and uncertainty that reigned among Catholics; all old - rallying-points were disappearing in what seemed likely to - become a hopeless anarchy, which might render the new - _régime_ hostile to us, and deprive us of all chance of - obtaining those liberties which had been refused by preceding - governments. -{699} - 'The republic,' they added, 'is well-disposed toward us; we - have no such acts of barbarity and irreligion to charge it with - as disgraced the Revolution of 1830. It believes and hopes in - us; ought we to discourage it? Moreover, what are we to do?--to - what other party can we attach ourselves? What do we see before - us but ruin? and what is the republic, but the natural - government of a society that has lost all its former anchors - and traditions?' - - "To these reasons, suggested by the situation of affairs, they - added higher and more general views, drawn from the future of - European society, and the impossibility that monarchy should - ever again find any solid resting-place. On this point I did - not go so far as they. Limited monarchy, in spite of its - faults, had always seemed to me the most desirable of all forms - of government, and I only saw in the republic a momentary - necessity until things should naturally take another course. - This difference of opinion was serious, and hardly allowed of - our working together in concert. Nevertheless, the danger was - urgent, and it was absolutely necessary either to abdicate at - this solemn moment, or frankly to choose one's party, and bring - to the help of society, now shaken to its very foundations, - whatever light and strength each one had at his command. - Hitherto I had taken a definite position with regard to public - events; ought I now to take refuge in a selfish silence because - the difficulties were more serious? I might indeed say that I - was a religious, and so hide myself under my religious habit; - but I was a _religious militant_, a preacher, a writer, - surrounded by a sympathy which created very different duties - for me from the duties of a Trappist or a Carthusian. These - considerations weighed on my conscience. Urged by my friends to - decide, I at length yielded to the force of events, and though - I felt a strong repugnance to the idea of returning to the - career of a journalist, I agreed, in concert with them, to - unfurl a standard on which should be inscribed together the - names of Religion, the Republic, and Liberty." - -This was the origin of a new political journal, the _Ere -Nouvelle_, of which he commenced the publication in the spring -of 1848. Nor was this all. The city of Marseilles elected him a -representative in the constituent assembly; and, in his white -Dominican habit, he took his seat there on the extreme left. We -need hardly say that his political career was a bitter -disappointment to himself, and a disappointment, too, to many of -his friends. There was only one party with which his principles -permitted him to ally himself; but that party, as he saw it in -the assembly, could not enlist his sympathies. "I could not sit -there," he said, "apart from democracy, and yet I could not -accept democracy as I saw it there displayed." He held his seat -only two weeks. On the 15th of May, a mob invaded the hall of -meeting, and for three hours held their representatives -intimidated. The next day Lacordaire resigned in disgust. "I -found out," said he afterward, "that I was nothing but a poor -little friar, and in no way a Richelieu; a poor friar, loving -nothing but retirement and peace." Very soon afterward he -withdrew likewise from the _Ere Nouvelle_, and here it may -be said that his public life came to a close. He preached for -some time longer in Notre Dame, but the boldness of his language -gave offence, and, after the _coup d'état_ of December, -1851, he resisted all entreaties to appear again in the cathedral -pulpit. The strengthening and propagation of his order now took -up all his attention. He visited his brethren in other countries, -and made a short trip to England. Then, at the age of fifty, he -resolved to devote himself to the education of the young. He -founded houses of the third order of Dominicans for the express -purpose of carrying on this important work, and in one of them, -at Sorèze, he finally settled down to pass the remainder of his -days. Here, with powers yet unimpaired, the man whose eloquence -had stirred all France applied himself to teaching the Greek and -Latin grammar. He had no fixed system of education, but his -personal magnetism made up for other defects; he gathered around -him the best instructors; he lived like a father in the bosom of -his family; he filled the place with the odor of gentleness and -piety. Here, on the 21st of November, 1860, after an illness of -nearly a year, he preached his last. - -{700} - -Important as the labor was in which Father Lacordaire had spent -the closing years of his life, we cannot help feeling that it was -not the labor for which he had been specially endowed, nor was it -that in which his heart was most deeply engaged. It is rather as -the preacher of Notre Dame than as the president of Sorèze, -rather as the reconciler of religion and society than as a -teacher of boys, that he stands before us in the page of history. -What a bitter comment is it upon the condition of affairs in -France, fifteen or twenty years ago, that such a man could be -stopped in such a career! The story of Lacordaire often reminds -us of a passage in one of George Eliot's novels, where the life -of one who had gone through bitter sorrow and disappointment is -described as being "like a spoiled pleasure-day, in which the -music and processions are all missed, and nothing is left at -evening but the weariness of striving after what has been failed -of." It was partly so with his life; not wholly, of course, for -the reward of the striving came at evening, though the object of -the struggle had been missed. Disappointment and weariness were -the burdens which God laid upon him, and he leaves a brighter -renown, as well as reaps a brighter reward, for the sweetness -with which he bore them. - --------- - - Sayings Of The Fathers Of The Desert. - - -Abbot Isaac said: I know a brother who was reaping, and who -wished to eat an ear of corn, and he said to the master of the -field: Are you willing I should eat one ear of corn? And he, -hearing these words, was astonished and said: The field is thine, -Father, and dost thou ask me? So scrupulous was the brother. - - -Abbot Sisois once said in confidence: Believe me, I have been -thirty years without praying to God on account of my sins; but -when I pray I say this: O Lord Jesus Christ, save me from my -tongue. And yet it causes me to fall every day, and be -delinquent. - - -Abbot Pastor said: As the bees are driven from their hives by -smoke so that their honey may be obtained, even so does bodily -rest banish the fear of the Lord from the soul, and take from it -every good work. - - -A certain old man determined that he would drink nothing for -forty days. Whenever he was tormented by burning thirst, he took -a vessel, and, having filled it with water, placed it before him. -And when his brethren asked why he did this, he answered: In -order that, seeing what I greatly desire, and yet not tasting it, -my suffering may be the more intense, and hence that the reward -which God shall give me may be greater. - --------- - -{701} - - - Providence. - - - When I remember all my days, - And note what blessings each displays, - What words can speak my grateful praise? - - What varied beauty thrills my sight! - What sounds my listening soul delight! - What joys of touch and appetite! - - And, more than any joy of sense, - The happiness serene, intense, - That comes to me, I know not whence, - - Unless it be that He is near, - And speaks some words I cannot hear, - But which unto my soul are clear. - - For there are times--ah! who can tell - The gladness inexpressible - With which my soul doth overswell! - - Ev'n sorrows that once seemed to press - My soul to brinks of wretchedness, - I know were but his means to bless. - - Out of the deeps of pain and fear, - He led me to a higher sphere, - Where all his purpose is made clear. - - Had not such sorrow struck my ways, - I had lived out my earthly days, - Barren of either prayer or praise. - - Wherefore each day, when I recall - The blessings which his hands let fall, - For _this_ I thank him most of all; - - And would not, if I could, forego - The sorrow which he made me know, - For unto it so much I owe. - -{702} - - This happy life, this lovely earth, - These joys which every day brings forth, - Are now to me of tenfold worth. - - Such wondrous love all things disclose, - Such joy through all my being glows, - That in my soul a longing grows - - That I might see this One All-Good, - And tell him all my gratitude, - In words however weak and rude. - - But ah! I fear it cannot be - That I this loving God can see, - For he fills out infinity; - - And out of him there is no place - Where I can stand to see his face: - Enough, I lie in his embrace, - - And sometimes, albeit dimly, feel - That he is near, and doth reveal - Himself in joy unspeakable. - - I said, indeed, 'I shall not see - Him face to face;' yet it may be - That joy of joys awaiteth me. - - For when this grossness, that doth fence - My being in the bonds of sense, - Falls off when I am taken hence, - - New powers of which I do not know - May be revealed in me, and show - The One to whom myself I owe, - - And I may see him face to face. - Lord, grant it of thy boundless grace, - The crown of all my happiness! - --------- - -{703} - - From The Etudes Religieuses, - Historiques Et Litteraires, - Par Des Peres De La Compagnie De Jesus. - - - The Pre-historical Congress Of Paris. - - -An "_International Congress of Anthropology and Pre-historical -Archaeology_" assembled in the amphitheatre of the _Ecole de -Médecine_, at Paris, on the 17th of last August, and held -sessions until the 30th. The meaning of the terms anthropology -and archaeology is familiar; but the word _pre-historical_, -being of recent origin, requires an explanation. It is used to -designate either material objects, or events and epochs, or even -men, _anterior_ not only to written history, but also to all -oral tradition and to every monument having a certain date and an -origin historically determined. - -In the lowest strata of the earth which we tread, in caverns -unknown for centuries, under the _tumuli_ or heaps of shells -and fossils; in the bottom of lakes where formerly dwellings and -villages were built on piles; and in cromlechs and raths, are -found, with the bones of animals now extinct, arms, instruments, -and utensils of stone, evidently fashioned by the hand of man. In -the next stratum above, the same stone objects are found; but -this time the stone is polished and accompanied with bones of a -different character--most frequently the bones and horns of the -reindeer. Human remains, skulls, jaw-bones, and teeth, begin to -appear in greater quantity. But in these two first layers of the -earth no metal is discovered. It is only in the third stratum -that brass, then iron, often all the other metals, are met. These -singular fossils, and the invariable order of their existence, in -France as well as in other countries, are the facts of which the -present essay treats. - -The epoch in which iron begins to appear in the layers of the -earth is one the date of which is known to us either by the -relations of historians, or by traditional recollections, or by -inscriptions and medals found in the soil. These strata, -therefore, and their antiquities, belong to the historical epoch. -But the lower strata, of more ancient formation, all the fossils -found in them, curious specimens of primitive industry, monuments -of the social state and manners of the first men; human remains -also which bear testimony to man's physical conformation; all -these, anterior to history, belong to _pre-historical_ -archaeology and anthropology. These sciences are very young in -years and manners, but very old by their object and the age to -which they carry back our thoughts. - -The Paris Congress met to compare the discoveries of different -countries, and thus obtain a more perfect knowledge of the -_pre-historical_ period, and draw more general inferences -from it. - -A first congress assembled in 1866, at Neufchâtel, in -Switzerland; the second is that of Paris, last August; the third -will meet this year in England. The Congress of Paris was -singularly favored by the Universal Exposition. The most eminent -representatives of European science were there. Russia alone was -not represented. Among the foreign members who spoke were Franks, -Squier, Vorsaae, Nilsson, Desor, Clément, Virchow, and especially -Carl Vogt, the learned naturalist. -{704} -It was this outspoken and venturesome _savant_ who at -Neufchâtel declared himself a partisan of the _man-monkey_. -France had there her Lartet, President, De Mortillet, Secretary, -De Longperier, the learned antiquarian of the Louvre, and De -Quatrefages, the eminent naturalist of the museum. These two last -illustrious members of the French Institute had a preponderating -influence in the congress, for the interest of science and the -glory of their country. The Abbé Bourgeois, the Marquis de -Vibraye, Alexander Bertrand, Alfred Maury, Henry Martin, and -Doctor Broca, were also present and addressed the assembly. - -If we are to believe certain reports, of which the positivist -sheet _La Pensée Nouvelle_ is the organ, it was proposed to -prove satisfactorily that the appearance of man on the earth -dates from one hundred to sixty, or at least from forty thousand -years; that this appearance is not the result of a creation -properly so called, but the term of a slow and necessary -evolution, as would be, for instance, the progressive -transformation of the monkey type into the human; imperceptibly -taking place for thousands or rather millions of ages! In this -way the authority of the Bible would be set at naught, as being -old, and gradually falling to pieces; but more especially because -it is revealed and undoubtedly true. We could then do without the -_hypothesis_ of a God, Creator of man, since our learned men -would show that they could do without the _hypothesis_ of a -God, Creator of heaven and earth. - -Was this the real aim of the Paris Congress? If so, it was the -same as that which well-informed men allege to have been the -object of the first hall of the history of labor in the French -Exposition. It is certain that, for several years, many books, -reviews, journals, and even so-called official discourses which -every one may read, have openly tended in this direction. - -But let us confine our remarks to the congress. We dislike to -affirm that such was the fixed thought of the majority of the -foreign and French members. The love of science, the praiseworthy -desire of collecting information, or of giving it regarding facts -very ancient in themselves, but very new in regard to us; these -motives gathered in Paris important strangers, and Frenchmen of -different classes and opinions. On the other hand, it seems -impossible to deny that an ardent minority had the intention of -overthrowing the biblical theory of creation both as to time and -character; of this minority all except one were Frenchmen. - -Yet--let us hasten to say it--the minority did not succeed. The -scandal did not take place. The majority was not convinced of the -falsity of the traditional teaching. The new doctrines were not -found to be certain. A few affirmations and eccentric theories -were expressed. But they were so justly, learnedly, and wittily -answered, that the theorists had to doubt their ill-judged -systems. This is a very important result, in such an affair. - -A programme of all the excursions to be made in common to the -Exposition, to the Museum, to the Palace of Saint Germain, to the -megalithic monument at Argenteuil, to the environs of Amiens, to -the Museum of Artillery, and to the Museum of the Anthropological -Society, was traced in advance. Six principal questions occupied -the six evening sessions at the _Ecole de Médecine_. -{705} -The day after these sittings, the members met again in the same -place, in free session, each to propose his difficulties, hear -the written communications of absent members; examine packages -arriving daily, containing new specimens of the primitive works -of man, arms, utensils, different instruments in stone, in bone, -in bronze, or in iron found in the bowels of the earth, in -caverns, or lakes and in Druidical cromlechs, raths, or mounds, -in France, Switzerland, Italy, Germany, Great Britain, -Denmark--in short, everywhere. - -The six fundamental questions formed six theses, comprising the -entire domain of _pre-historical knowledge_. "What are the -most ancient vestiges of man's existence? In what geological -conditions, among what _fauna_ and _flora_ have they -been found in the different parts of the globe; and what changes -have taken place since then, in divisions of land and water?" -This was the first question. Next question: "Has the dwelling of -the primitive man in caverns been general? Is it true of one race -alone, referable to one and the same epoch?" Third question: -"What relations are there between the men to whom we owe the -megalithic monuments, and those who formed the lake dwellings?" -The fourth was: "Is brass the product of indigenous industry, the -result of a violent conquest, or the effect of new commercial -relations?" This had reference to the use of brass in the west. -Fifth question: "What are, in the different countries of Europe, -the chief characteristics of the first epoch of iron? Is this -epoch anterior to the historical period?" The sixth and last was -the most important question: "What are the notions acquired -regarding the anatomical characteristics of man in the -pre-historical times, from the most remote times to the -appearance of iron? Can the succession of several races, and -their traits, be discovered, especially in Western Europe?" - -It is easy to see that the five first questions are delicate, -difficult, and important, though they all centre in a point of -chronology. But chronology in this case is the history of man. It -is the Bible and revelation. It is tradition. It is faith. We -must assign a reasonable date for those ancient _débris_ of -labor, or of the human beings whom we certainly meet in all the -strata called _quaternary_; and probably also in the last -layers of the _tertiary_ strata, much more ancient than the -quaternary. This date must in no wise change the sacred text. -This date once found and demonstrated, would settle the dispute -which still exists regarding the chronology of the Bible. We know -that the Catholic Church gives us full liberty on this point. But -the moment has not yet come for pre-historical archaeology to -define the limits of the ages or years which it calls _the age -of cut stone; the age of polished stone_, or of the -_reindeer;_ the age of _brass_, and the _age_ of -_iron_. The congress understood this well. Only two or three -orators were bold enough to speak of thousands of years or of -millions of years. Some _savans_ have wonderful -imaginations! But in general, no one ventured to determine or -define the time. Almost always the gentlemen used the words -_epoch, age, period,_ without wishing to be more precise. -They were afraid to compromise their reputations. - -Without doubt, for the same reason, no _savant_ or person of -consequence wished in the beginning to sign his name to the -catalogues of the Exposition, relating to the pre-historical -antiquities, or hold himself personally responsible for them. -{706} -But behold! after five months, when the _Exposition_ was -near its close, on Thursday, August 29th, M. de Mortillet offered -timidly to the congress a little volume of his composition, -entitled, _Pre-historical Promenades in the Universal -Exposition_. M. de Mortillet is also the author of an other -book, _The Sign of the Cross before Christianity_. He is -also collecting materials for the _positive_, or rather -_positivist_ and philosophical history of man. For M. de -Mortillet imagines that it is necessary for men of genius to -astonish others, if not by discoveries in truth, at least by -their eccentricities. M. de Mortillet is a man of genius. The -world may deny it. But M. de Mortillet is a better authority on -the subject than any one else. This learned gentleman concludes -his _Promenades_ with these beautiful phrases: "The -chronology taught in all our schools is _terribly -distanced_. It hardly comprises the historical period. The law -of the progress of humanity, the law of the development of races, -and the great antiquity of man, are three consequences which -follow clearly, distinctly, precisely, and irrefragably from the -work which we have made on the Exposition." In these three -phrases we perceive the wonderful wit, profundity, brilliancy, -and genius of the author. It is astonishing how a gentleman of -his extraordinary science, although he was secretary of its -deliberations, could not exercise the smallest influence on the -congress, either by his speeches or his books! - -Pre-historical archaeology was enriched by many new discoveries -at the congress. The Abbé Bourgeois, among other important facts, -observed that traces of man were found in the tertiary stratum. - -The anthropological question came last. Eight days before the -close of the congress, M. de Quagrefages proposed that question, -in presenting to it the first copy of his fine work, _Rapport -sur les Progrès de l'Anthropologie_. With great science, -clearness, and modesty, the illustrious naturalist, in rendering -an account of his investigations, held the whole assembly -attentive. The applause which he received showed the esteem in -which the author was held, and the value of his book. - -Other incidents formed a prelude to the final thesis; but some in -an opposite direction. We cite a single example. It was asked -whether the first men had been anthropophagi or not. It is well -known that there is a school in France, as well as elsewhere, -which deems it no dishonor to be descended from cannibals or -monkeys. A member of the congress made a profession of faith on -this point. The admitted head of this school (Doctor Broca) asked -leave to speak on primitive anthropology. He began by saying that -he had long hesitated before adopting the affirmative, and that -the proofs so far given did not satisfy him; but a human bone, -which he showed to the assembly, had finally convinced him. This -bone had scratches at the end of it made by a flint. A man of the -age of _cut stone_ had tried to break the bone at this spot. -He could not succeed. He had then tried to saw the bone in the -middle with a flint, in order to obtain the marrow, with which he -wished to regale himself. Some of the members laughed, especially -when one, interrupting the orator, remarked that the pretended -marks made by the stone saw seemed fresh, and produced by recent -rubbing. When the demonstration was finished, the eminent -archaeologist, M. de Longpérier showed, from the example of -several historical races, and by specimens which are found in -public museums, that objects of luxury, as well as utensils, were -often made out of human bones. -{707} -Instances were given of mallets, bodkins, and musical -instruments. As to the bone in question, nothing showed that the -cuts and scratches on it pointed out by Doctor Broca were not -caused by _some one trying to make a whistle!_ The reader -may guess the impression left on the congress by this remark, and -the expression of the doctor's physiognomy. - -In anthropology as in archaeology the celebrities of the congress -alleged well-proven facts; either real fossils of the human body, -bones, skulls, jaw-bones, teeth; or signs naturally connected -with the subject, as hilts of swords, or bracelets fitting hands -or arms much smaller than ours. But it was first required to -prove the authenticity of these antique objects. Theories could -not be established until after the discussion of these facts. So -the theorists were not at ease. They may have complained of -having been troubled or gagged. By whom? By men too learned to be -the slaves of a system. If such complaint were made--and such is -the rumor--they are the highest eulogium of those eminent men. - - "Si forte virum quem - Conspexere, silent." [Footnote 66] - - [Footnote 66: The vulgar herd in silence awestruck scan The - face of him whom nature marks a man!] - -At the closing session some human skulls, very ancient or -supposed to be, were ranged on a table. Those heads were -remarkable for the extraordinary length of the occiput, by their -retreating foreheads, high cheek-bones, and prominent jaw-bones. -The object of these skulls was to show the great similarity -between the primitive man and the monkey. Doctor Broca, standing -before the table, made a speech more than an hour long about -those skulls, discussing the authenticity of some and reasoning -on the others. He spoke also of a singular jaw-bone. He said a -few words about the small hands. He should logically have -concluded that the primitive man was a brother of the ape. Every -one expected this. But at the decisive moment, he wheeled about, -and confessed that there were not yet proofs enough to justify -such a conclusion, and that it should not be urged. Was he afraid -of ridicule or was he really convinced in making this concession? -Let us say that it was conviction on his part. But the doctor's -premises were not as inoffensive as his conclusion. M. de -Quatrefages made short work of them. He so pulverized the -arguments of Doctor Broca, that Carl Vogt, summoned against his -will to help the doctor, admitted the conclusion of his -colleague. - -Vogt began by declaring himself a Darwinian. Although the theory -of Darwin cannot satisfy the best naturalists, it knocks the -man-monkey completely off his legs. Vogt admitted that it was -impossible, in the actual condition of science, to hold the -man-monkey opinion; so great is the distance between the lowest -human type and the highest ape type. The Genevan Darwinian indeed -added, that we might _imagine_, or might discover at some -future day a common type of both races; but he was not very -sanguine on this point. Only one thing, said he in conclusion, -remains indisputable after all our discussions on the capacity of -skulls and the shape of the head, namely, the progressive -development of the brain and of the human skull, in proportion to -the increasing development of intelligences. - -We shall not dispute this double progress. It has the sanction of -that most eminent naturalist and anthropologist M. de -Quatrefages. We even admit a third progress with this -_savant_; that made from Congress of Neufchâtel to the -Congress of Paris. Even though we the should be accused of -optimism, we shall even hope for greater progress in the future -congresses. Yes, we expect it. Pre-historical studies will add to -the facts already known others more significative still; and the -learned will finally and unanimously adopt, in default of -certitude, theories more probable and more convincing as they -approach nearer to the truth. - ------- - -{708} - - Miscellany. - - -_Singular Effects of Lightning_.--Sir David Brewster has -published an account of the effects of lightning in Forfarshire, -which is of much interest. In the summer of 1827, a hay-stack was -struck by lightning. The stack was on fire, but before much of -the hay was consumed the fire was extinguished by the farm -servants. Upon examining the hay-stack, a circular passage was -observed in the middle of it, as if it had been cut out with a -sharp instrument. This circular passage extended to the bottom of -the stack, and terminated in a hole in the ground. Captain -Thomson, of Montrose, who had a farm in the neighborhood, -examined the stack, and found in the hole a substance which he -described as resembling lava. A portion of this substance was -sent by Captain Thomson to Sir David's brother, Dr. Brewster, of -Craig, who forwarded it to Sir David, with the preceding -statement. The substance found in the hole was a mass of silex, -obviously formed by the fusion of the silex in the hay. It had a -highly greenish tinge, and contained burnt portions of the hay. -Sir David presented the specimen to the Museum of St. Andrew's. - ----- - -_Ancient Glacier in the Pyrenees_.--M. Charles Martens, who -was present at the meeting of the British Association, read a -paper on the ancient glacier of the Valley of Argelez. This -glacier and its affluents descended from the crest of the -Pyrenees, whose summits now reach an altitude varying from 6000 -to 9000 feet. The roots of the glacier were in the _cirques_ -of Gavarnie, Troumouse, Pragnères, etc., and the glacier extended -into the plain as far as the villages of Peyrouse, Loubajac, Ade, -Juloz, and Arcisac-les-Angles. Along the valley, polished and -striated rocks, scratched pebbles, glacial mud, moraines, and -erratic boulders, are the proofs of its existence. At Argelez, -the thickness of the glacier was about 2100 feet, and, at the -opening of the valley at the foot of the Pic de Geer, near -Lourdes, 1290 feet. Between Lourdes and the village of Ade, the -railway runs across seven moraines; and the railway from Lourdes -to Pau is cut, as far as the village of Peyrouse, through glacial -deposits. The Lake of Lourdes is a glacial lake, barred by a -moraine, and surrounded by numerous erratic boulders proceeding -from the high Pyrenean mountains. Some of the boulders are of -large dimensions: thus one of them, between the lake and the -village of Poueyferré, is thirty feet in length, twenty-three -feet in width, and eleven feet in height. This lake of Lourdes, -surrounded by hills covered with briars, reminds one, in many -respects, of the small lakes of Scotland. - ------ - -_A Burning Well_.--While some artisans were engaged in -making borings for an artesian well at Narbonne, France, the -water rushed forth with great violence, and soon burst into -flame. The flame, which arises from the combustion of carburetted -hydrogen, is reddish and smoky, and does not emit a smell either -of bitumen or sulphuretted hydrogen. -{709} -The "sinking" for the spring was made on the left branch of the -Aude, in a plain situate about two metres above the sea-level, -and composed of alluvial mud. The alluvial mud extends to a depth -of six metres; then follow tertiary limestones and marls, with -the remains of marine shells. At the depth of seventy metres, the -spring containing the inflammable gas was met with. - ----- - -_Comets and Meteors_.--In a paper on this subject, laid -before a late meeting of the Astronomical Society, Mr. G. J. -Stony, Secretary to the Queen's University in Ireland, makes the -following interesting observations, which tend to show, as -Schiaparelli has already pointed out, that there is a very -natural relationship between comets and meteors. If interstellar -space, external to the solar system, be, as is most probable, -peopled with innumerable meteoric bodies independent of one -another, a comet while outside the solar system would in the -lapse of ages collect a vast cluster of such meteorites within -itself. Each meteorite which approached the comet would in -general do so in a parabolic orbit; and, if it came near enough -to pass through a part of the comet, this parabolic orbit would, -by the resistance of the matter of the comet, be converted into -an ellipse. The meteor would, therefore, return again and again, -and on each occasion that it passed through the comet its orbit -would be still further shortened, until at length it would fall -in, and add one to whatever cluster had been brought together by -the previous repetitions of this process. In this way a comet, -while moving in outer space, beyond the reach of the many -powerful disturbing influences which prevail within the solar -system, would inevitably accumulate within itself just such a -globular cluster of meteors as the November meteors must have -been before they became associated with the solar system. - ----- - -_How the Earth's Rotation affects Gunnery_.--Some may be -found to doubt that the movement of the earth affects the -direction of a ball expelled from a cannon; nevertheless, the -fact is correct. In the _Astronomical Register_, Mr. Kincaid -says that a simple illustration of this effect may be made by -attaching to the same axis two wheels of different diameters, so -that both shall rotate together. If the one have a diameter of -three feet, and the other of one foot, it is evident that any -point on the circumference of the larger will, during a -revolution, move through three times as much space as a similar -point on the periphery of the lesser circle, and will, therefore, -move with three times the velocity. The figure of the earth may -be considered as made up of an infinite number of such wheels, -diminishing in size from the equator to the poles, and all -revolving in twenty-four hours. Now, if a gun be fired from the -equator in the direction of the meridian, which is obviously that -of maximum deviation, at an object nearer the pole, it is plain -that that object, being situated on a smaller circle than the -gun, but revolving in the same interval of time, will move, -during the flight of the projectile, through less space eastward -than the shot, which will have imparted to it the greater -velocity of the larger circle from which it started, and the -latter will therefore tend to strike eastward from its butt. - ----- - -_Dodo-like Birds of the Mascarene Islands_.--The Committee -appointed in 1865 to investigate this group, has produced little -result beyond the collection of a number of bones from Rodriguez. -Professor Newton made some general remarks upon the specimens -collected, and he especially dwelt on an unexpected confirmation -of the testimony of Leguat, by the discovery of an extraordinary -bony knob near the extremity of the wing. Leguat, whose account -of the "Solitaire's" habits was the only one we possessed, -mentioned a curious "ball," as big as a "musket-bullet," which -the male birds possessed under their wing-feathers. Now, the -existence of this ball was proved by the bony knob exhibited, and -thus the veracity of old Leguat, on this point, as on so many -others, was confirmed. In conclusion, Professor Newton called -attention to the fact that at present we only knew of the didine -bird of the island of Reunion, _that it was white_. -{710} -In the course of last year, Mr. Tegetmeier had shown him an old -water-color painting of a white dodo, and this, he was inclined -to believe, might represent this lost species, of which he -trusted the French naturalists in that island would succeed in -obtaining actual relics. - ----- - -Mr. Foley's model for the O'Connell National Monument in Dublin -has been unanimously adopted by the Committee. The work will be -forty feet high, executed in bronze and granite. £10,000 is -already subscribed toward the cost of its erection. - ----- - -_A Slander Refuted_.--A work has lately appeared in England, -in which everything Spanish is spoken of with the greatest -contempt. In reply to the accusations made against the queen's -chaplain, the Reverend Canon Dalton writes thus to the -_Athenaeum_: "Will you allow me to _protest_ against -the character drawn by Miss Edwards of Padre Claret in her recent -work entitled, _Through Spain to the Sahara_, which was -reviewed in your last number, December 14th? When I was in Spain -last year, I had several interviews with the queen's confessor. -The estimate which I was then enabled to form of his character -was the very _opposite_ to that drawn by the authoress. I -should like to know if Miss Edwards ever spoke a single word to -Padre Claret, or even ever saw him. Then there is the testimony -of Lady Herbert, in her work entitled _Impressions of Spain_ -in 1866, (London, Bentley, 1867,) at pages 211-12; her ladyship -draws a very different character of the Padre, taken from a -personal interview with the illustrious prelate. Again I should -like to know what reasons Miss Edwards has for styling Claret's -work, _La Clave de Oro_, a _coarse_ work? All the works -which he has published are purely of a devotional or literary -character, and I am quite confident that nothing 'coarse' or -unbecoming can be found in any one of them. Lastly, I never heard -of Padre Claret's coach being driven by _four splendid -mules_, because I believe he is not possessed even of a cab! -J. Dalton." - --------- - - New Publications. - - - Lectures On Reason And Revelation. - Delivered in St. Ann's Church, New York, - during the Season of Advent, 1867. - By the Rev. Thomas S. Preston. - New York: The Catholic Publication House, 126 Nassau Street. - -The Lectures published in this volume were delivered during the -Sunday evenings of Advent, in St. Ann's Church. They are five in -number, on the following subjects: The Office of Reason, -Relations of Reason and Faith, Conditions of Revelation, -Revelation and Protestantism, Revelation and the Catholic Church. -The author's thesis may be thus stated: The Catholic Church is -proved by reason alone, from the evidences of credibility by -which the Christian revelation is demonstrated. The Introduction, -which is a distinct essay in itself, disposes of two objections; -first, that the evidence of Christianity can be applied to pure -Protestantism, and second, that the Catholic Church ought to be -proved by miracles occurring in every age of her history, as well -as at the outset. The Rev. author has handled his topics with -great ability, in a clear, neat, and attractive manner, and with -a brevity and simplicity which detract nothing from the force of -the reasoning, while they lighten very much the task of the -reader. These Lectures will be of great service both, to -Catholics and to well-disposed inquirers after truth. The -typographical execution of the volume is in the best style. As a -specimen of our author's method and style, we extract the -following passage from the introduction. - -{711} - - "In the following lectures it is the aim of the author to set - forth, in a clear and concise manner, a simple argument whereby - the claims of the Catholic Church are substantiated by reason - alone. In the midst of the excitements of our day some of the - plainest truths are forgotten, and men hold opinions or pass to - conclusions without any logical grounds whatever. They even - sometimes contradict the propositions which are self-evident to - reason in their zeal for intellectual progress and emancipation - from the thraldom of the past. That which is new is sought - after, even though it overthrow the belief of truths heretofore - generally admitted. We are not believers in total depravity, - and have, therefore, great confidence in the good which still - remains in human nature. And as we know that God's grace is - ever with man to assist him to the knowledge of the truth, and - to lead him in the way of virtue, we have great hopes that the - intellectual and moral movements of our day will guide the - honest and sincere mind to the true light which is its only - illumination. It is a great mistake to suppose that the - Catholic Church requires of any man that he should do away with - his reason, or cease to exercise those powers which God has - given him for the proper appreciation of truth and goodness. To - man's intelligence revelation is addressed, and every new light - from above only serves to enlarge the thirst for knowledge. The - divine ways are ever harmonious, and the supernatural truth - will never contradict the natural. The argument of these - lectures depends upon the force of reason alone. We briefly - explain the nature of human reason and the sphere of its - operation. We show how the divine revelation gives its unerring - evidence, to which a just intelligence must submit. We - vindicate all the natural powers, and defend the exercise of - their just prerogatives. God, speaking to man, is bound to give - him unmistakable signs that he is speaking, and that no - deceiver is imposing upon us. When these signs are given, then - we are bound to believe the divine testimony, and entirely to - accept truths which the veracity of our Maker vouches for. - Private judgment has its full scope, as to it are clearly - presented the tokens of every supernatural intervention. The - extrinsic credibility of doctrines proposed to faith is thus - assured to the full conviction of the understanding. If we go - on to say that reason assured of a revelation cannot then be - the judge of the intrinsic credibility of a dogma clearly - revealed, we only say that reason must act in its own sphere, - and that the finite must not venture to measure the infinite. - - "It seems to us that no logical objection can be made against - such a restriction of private judgment. If man, by his unaided - powers, could find out all necessary truth, there would be no - need of a revelation. Of things beyond the scope of his - understanding, man can certainly be no judge, while it is - equally certain that the word of God can never deceive. - - "It is also a great misunderstanding to suppose that Catholics - are not allowed to use their reason, or that faith has taken - the place of our ordinary intelligence. So far from the truth - is this supposition, that the aim of the present work will be - to show that Catholics alone are the followers of true reason, - always yielding obedience to its just dictates, and never - swerving in any way from its rigid conclusions. The Catholic - faith presents all its unanswerable claims before the mind, and - then, as it appeals to our natural sense of truth and justice, - it cannot contradict itself by doing away with the very faculty - which is made the judge of its pretensions. Reason, rightly - understood, leads with certainty to the light of revelation, - and that light does in no way extinguish the spirit or vitality - of nature. There is full scope for the play of the highest - intelligence, not in the contradiction of evidence clearly - established, nor in doubting truth already manifest, but in the - constant and daily increasing appreciation of the beauties of - God's revelation whereby all our faculties are brought into - perfect harmony. There is neither manliness nor wisdom in the - state of perpetual doubt which appears to be chosen by many as - the exercise of a precious liberty. The Catholic believes - because he has evidence of the divine power and goodness, and - in the very highest exercise of reason bows down to God and him - only. No human organization has a right to bind our - consciences, and no body of men can form or direct our faith. - God alone is our master, whose word is a law to our - understandings and our hearts. The church is recognized by us - because he has established it, and given to it authority to - teach in his name, and we are ever ready to give to any honest - mind a reason for the faith we hold and profess." - - ----- - -{712} - - Poems. - By Ellen Clementine Howarth. - Newark: Martin R. Dennis & Co. 1868. - -Poets are said to deal in fiction, which does not, however, imply -that what they sing is false. One may relate a purely fictitious -story, and it be "an ower-true tale" for all that. In fact, -poetry is the most beautiful form of the expression of truth. -Tell the truth in honest plain prose, and the chances are that -you tell something very unpalatable. Facts are proverbially hard. -On the contrary, poetry (if it deserves the name) is ever -charming, winning, and popular. We say without hesitation, few of -our living lyric poets have wreathed more charming verses than -Mrs. Howarth. Simple and unaffected as they are, every line -breathes the purest sentiment, and sends its touching pathos -straight to the heart. The reason is plain. She reveals the truth -as her own heart has known it. Here she guilelessly tells more of -her own life, with all its struggles, toil, and bitter sorrows, -than we think she intended. In a word, it is a volume not for the -eye of strangers, but for the loving perusal of friends to whom -she would wish to speak "eye to eye and soul to soul." We do not -wonder, therefore, that, when these poems appeared a few years -ago under the title of "The Wind Harp," without any prefatory key -to their origin, a few careless critics should have failed to -penetrate the hidden depths of their meaning. Our space does not -permit us to quote as freely as we could wish. There are some -undoubtedly better than others, but there is not one which our -readers would not find worthy of particular choice and of special -merit. - -The first, "The Passion Flower," well deserves its place of -honor. We give the opening verse: - - "I plucked it in an idle hour, - And placed it in my book of prayer; - 'Tis not the only passion flower - That hath been crushed and hidden there. - And now through floods of burning tears - My withered bloom once more I see, - And I lament the long, long years, - The wasted years afar from Thee." - -From a poem entitled "Gethsemane" we cull this most beautiful and -truly sublime thought. - - "'Tis said that every earthly sound - Goes trembling through the voiceless spheres, - Bearing its endless echoes round - The pathway of eternal years. - Ah! surely, then, the sighs that He - That midnight breathed, the zephyrs bore - From thy dim shades, Gethsemane, - To thrill the world for evermore!" - -And who can read the following without emotion? - - My Soldier Comes No More - - "Yes, many a heart is light to-day, - And bright is many a home, - And children dance along the way - The soldier heroes come: - And bands beneath the floral arch - The gladdest music pour; - While beats my heart a funeral march-- - My soldier comes no more. - - One morn from him glad tidings came, - Joy to my heart they gave; - At night I read my hero's name - Amid the fallen brave. - I know not where he met the foe, - Nor where he sleeps in gore; - Enough of woe for me to know, - My soldier comes no more. - - Now here they come with heavy tramp, - And flags and pennons gay, - Who were his comrades in the camp, - His friends for many a day. - The music ceases as they pass - Before my cottage door; - The flags are lowered; they know, alas! - My soldier comes no more. - - What care I for the seasons now? - The world has lost its light: - No spring can clothe my leafless bough, - No morn dispel my night; - No longer may I hopeful wait - For summer to restore: - My heart and home are desolate-- - My soldier comes no more. - - -Judging from such poems as "The Tress of Golden Hair," "Adrift," -"The Stranger's Grave," and other pieces suggested by some -ordinary accident in life, Mrs. Howarth possesses one of those -finely strung natures which, like the AEolian harp, are moved to -give forth harmony at the slightest breath that passes. The -former title of her book, "The Wind Harp," was, to our thinking, -singularly appropriate. The present volume is published in -first-class style. - ----- -{713} - - An Epistle Of Jesus Christ To The Faithful Soul. - Written in Latin - by Joannes Lanspergius, a Charter-House Monk, - and translated into English by - Lord Philip, XIXth Earl of Arundel. - New York: Catholic Publication Society. - -This little book will be hailed by the faithful soul who desires -to increase very much in the love of God, as if it were, what its -title expresses, a letter written by the Saviour of the world -himself, and addressed to him personally. It embodies the very, -spirit and life of his instructions, and teaches us practically -how to carry out in a systematic way the teaching of the Sermon -on the Mount. It is easy to read that divine sermon in a -sentimental way, to feel somewhat good while reading it, but -without gathering much of its meaning, or with any desire to -practise it any more than may be convenient. This book will not -be very palatable to such persons. It contains the strong meat -for vigorous and earnest souls, rather than the light and -unsubstantial froth which merely nourishes a sickly -sentimentalism. We do not doubt there are thousands of devout -persons in this country who would find in this little work an -invaluable treasure, and, once possessing it, they would on no -account be willing to part with it. They would find its -directions plain and simple, and eminently fitted to lift them up -out of a low spirituality to the highest state of religious peace -and perfection. Would to God this notice may meet their eye, so -that they may not be without it. We need just such books now in -this country, to serve to make a number of saints and saintly -persons, who shall draw down from heaven a benediction on not -only themselves, but on the church of God and all our -fellow-citizens. May more of them be drawn out of the storehouse -of old true Catholic piety and devotion, for our spiritual joy -and edification. - -It is only necessary to add, that the English of the translation -is delightful, while the mechanical getting up of the book, its -paper and type, render it most agreeable to read. - ----- - - 1. Napoleon And The Queen Of Prussia. - An Historical Novel, by L. Mühlbach. - Translated from the German, by F. Jordan. - Complete in one volume, with illustrations. - New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1867. 8vo, pp. 265. - - 2. The Daughter Of An Empress. - An Historical Novel, by L. Mühlbach; - translated from the German by Nathaniel Greene. - Complete in one volume, with illustrations. - New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1867, 8vo, pp. 255. - - 3. Marie Antoinette And Her Son. - An Historical Novel, by L. Mühlbach. - Complete in one volume, with illustrations. - New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1867. 8vo, pp. 301. - -On a former occasion we noticed three of the Mühlbach books, all -we had then read, as favorably as our conscience would permit; -for we wish to be thought capable of recognizing literary merit -in books written by others than Catholics. Now, Catholics have at -least nature, and, though we do not recognize the sufficiency of -nature without grace, we yet do not hold it to be totally -corrupt, or count it good for nothing. We are always ready to -recognize merit in literary works, by whomsoever written, if -able, and true to genuine nature. The Mühlbach novels are written -with spirit and ability, a talent almost approaching to genius, -with some touches of nature, and with considerable historical -information. Having said so much, we have exhausted our praise. -The works are true throughout neither to nature nor to history, -and their moral tone is low and unwholesome--pagan, not -Christian. Their popularity, which can be but short-lived--for -it is hardly possible to read one of them a second time--speaks -very little in favor of the taste, the knowledge of history, or -the moral tone of our American reading public, as far as -published. The least faulty, and to us the least repulsive of the -series, is _Napoleon and the Queen of Prussia_, though it -shows less ability than _Joseph II._ and his Court. We broke -down before we got half through _The Daughter of an -Empress_, and we have read only a few pages of _Marie -Antoinette and her Son_. We have had no desire to have our -feelings harrowed up by a fresh recital of the horrors of the -French Revolution, especially of the wrongs of the beautiful and -lovely Queen of France, and the young Dauphin. _Napoleon and -the Queen of Prussia_ is, however, a book we can read, and -some portions of it with deep interest; but even this is -disfigured by namby-pamby sentiment. -{714} -Adulterous love, self-murders, and horrors of all sorts, enough -both to disgust the Christian reader, and to give even a reader -of strong nerves the nightmare for weeks after reading it. The -Mühlbach is in ecstasy of delight when Napoleon overcomes the -virtue of the Countess Walewski, and has no doubt that the -self-murderer has ended all his troubles and rests in peace. She -seems, through all her books, not to regard adultery, if prompted -by love, or suicide either, if inspired by disappointed -patriotism, as a sin. Indeed, throughout she writes as a -low-minded pagan, not as a high-minded Christian. She -apotheosizes persons who die with imprecations of vengeance on -their enemies in their mouths, and by their own hands; and even -the beautiful and slandered Queen Louisa has no higher -aspirations than those of patriotism. - -We have heretofore said of the Mühlbach books that they have too -much fiction for history, and too much history for fiction; but -even a great part of her history is itself fiction, in the sense -of being untrue, which fiction never need be. Scott, in his -historical novels, commits a thousand anachronisms, mistakes one -person for another, and is rarely accurate in the minuter -details; but he never falsifies history, and the impression he -gives of an epoch or a historical person is always truthful. The -impression the Mühlbach gives, even when historically correct as -to details, is unhistorical and untrue. We are no believers in -the immaculate virtue or high-mindedness of the royal and -imperial courts of the eighteenth century, but no one who -reflects a moment can believe that the Mühlbach gives a true -picture of them. There is no doubt at all times much illicit -love, cunning, intrigue, cruelty, vice, and crime, in the ranks -of the great, but our experience proves that there is something -else there also. At the time of the French Revolution the -nobility were corrupt enough, but were they more so than the -people who warred against them? Were the murderers and applauders -of the murder of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette superior to them -in either public or private virtue? If the great are bad, the -little are seldom better; and nothing can have a more unwholesome -effect on society than the multitude of novels poured forth by -little women and less men, professing to describe the manners and -morals, but really traducing the manners and morals of the upper -classes. Such novels are untrue in fact, and serve only to -gratify the mean curiosity and malice of the envious and the -malignant. Whoever reads the late book of the Queen of Great -Britain and Ireland will find that she and her husband furnished -a model of the domestic virtues and affections. Even when the -Mühlbach professes to write history, she does not write it, and -perverts it quite unnecessarily when by no means demanded by the -aesthetic exigencies of her story. We pass over the calumnies of -the Jesuits and the private life of Ganganelli, Pope Clement XIV. -They please us better than would her praise. But she represents -Charles III., King of Spain, as refusing his consent to the -suppression of the Society of Jesus after he had expelled the -Jesuits from his own dominions, and when he was most urgent of -all the Bourbon princes for their suppression. She represents -France as in favor of the suppression, but holding back her -formal assent till she could secure that of Spain, when it is -well known, that the King, Louis XV. and Choiseul, then at the -head of the French government, were rather favorable to the -Jesuits than otherwise, and gave them up only after a decree of -parliament had been rendered against them, and even then only in -order to obtain from the parliament, always their bitter enemies, -the registering of certain edicts in which the minister believed -France was more interested than in preserving the society. The -Spanish, French, Portuguese, and several of the Italian princes, -demanded of the pope, under threats of schism, the suppression of -the order before the Empress Marie Theresa reluctantly consented, -at the order of the pope, to allow the Bull suppressing the -society to be published in her dominions, as the Mühlbach has -herself described in her _Joseph II. and his Court._ -{715} -These works are not only not trustworthy in their history, not -only in their grouping and coloring falsify it, but they pervert -the judgment, prejudice the mind so against the truth that it is -able only with great difficulty to recognize it when it comes to -be presented by learned and faithful historians. - -The real name of the writer of the Mühlbach books is no secret. -She is a widow, said to be personally a very estimable lady; and -it has been reported that she intends coming to this country and -taking up her residence with us, and certainly we would not treat -her uncourteously. But if the report be true, it is a good proof -that her works are not very popular in Germany, and bring her but -small pecuniary remuneration. Her works will not long be popular -even in this country; for their popularity here has, to a great -extent, been due to their supposed value as truthful pictures of -the courts of Berlin, Vienna, St. Petersburg, Paris, and Rome, in -the last century, not to their weak and sickly sentimentalism, -their low moral tone, their worship of Venus or Anteros, or their -cynicism in religion. The American people are excessively fond of -reading about courts, kings and queens, emperors and empresses, -dukes and duchesses, counts and countesses; and chiefly because -they have no such things among themselves, they see them only as -shrouded in mystery. But when they find that the Mühlbach books -do not, after all, raise the veil, or give any trustworthy -account of them, they will drop them; for they adopt as their -motto, _Ernst ist das Leben_, and can never be long -fascinated by the debased paganism of the Mühlbach. We would by -no means do the author the slightest harm in character or purse, -but we advise her in the future not to make her novels sermons or -moral lectures, but to animate them with a real ethical spirit, -so that they will make the reader stronger and better, not weaker -and worse even in the natural order. - ------- - - Two Thousand Miles On Horseback. - - Santa Fe And Back. - - A Summer Tour Through Kansas, - Nebraska, Colorado, And New-Mexico, - In The Year 1866. - - By James F. Meline. - New York: Hurd & Houghton. 1867. - -Really good books of travel have been found so entertaining and -successful in time past, that more recently every quarter of the -accessible globe has spawned tourists, and journals, and diaries, -and "notes," and "visits," of a thousand varieties of vapidness. -England, as usual in matters of _superficial_ mediocrity, -has been completely distanced by America. We have dozens of -diarists who are promising candidates for the compliment some -wicked spirit once paid Bayard Taylor--of having travelled more -and seen less than any man living. Singularly enough, our own -country has fared the worst at our own hands; singularly, -because, full of natural wonders of its own, it has not to send -its Winwood Reades to Senegambia for interesting material, and -its charming, boy-beloved Captain Mayne to swear at the luckless -"closet-naturalist" from all the corners of the world. We could -turn all the Royal Societies loose along the Mississippi, and -furnish them matter for a quarto to each F.R.S. Yet since Porte -Crayon sharpened the lead-pencil into the war-spear, and his -charming cousins stepped finally out of the carriage, and "Little -Mice" sank to the level of a "man and a brother, and possible -Congressman," only one traveller worth following has kept the -field--the inimitable, the perennial Ross Browne, in Washoe, or -Italy, or St. Petersburg, still the prince and paladin of -tourists. Thus there is wondrous great room in the upper story of -this literature, with a whole fresh young continent to hold the -mirror to. Mr. Meline has challenged boldly and well for a good -place in the front rank of our books of travel. He has great -advantages and great aptitude for the task. His advantages are -that, unless our spectacles and his artifice deceive us, he is a -thorough good fellow--the _sine qua non_ of the traveller -everywhere--the shibboleth of the brotherhood of cosmopolites. -But besides this, _mores hominum multorum vidit et urbes_. -{716} -If we are not mistaken in remembering Mr. Meline as the same -gentleman who was formerly French Consul in Cincinnati, he is a -man who has known European capitals and landmarks, and, what is -better, galleries and sculptures, and not known them in vain. And -apt he certainly is. In the difficult art not to harp on -anything, this book displays consummate judgment, and the choice -of subjects shows a tact and skill most remarkable in what we -understand to be a first book. There is just about enough fact to -make the work decently solid, a good deal of fancy and -impression, and above all, a light hand. The style as a whole is -really good, because it does pretty evenly just what it attempts -and professes--sometimes more, seldom less. The descriptions of -Denver and Central City, and the account of the Pueblos of New -Mexico interested us especially the former for its manner, the -latter for its interesting and curious facts. But another reader -would call our selection invidious, and cite quite another set of -incidents. The fact is, Mr. Meline is everywhere vivid, easy, and -suggestive, and we do think we like those two parts best because -we have friends in Denver, and take a special interest in the old -Poltec question. - -Only one thing, barring a little pedantry here and there, we have -to growl at in taking a grateful leave of a beguiling book. The -author feels it his duty at painfully short intervals to say -something funny, and has preserved and dished up the selectest -assortment of aged, stale, and stupid jests we ever saw. We -suspect him to be one of those terrible people who enjoy a -witticism not wisely but too well. The moment he tries humor, his -wonted taste and sparkle seem to take flight, and he grows to a -dotage of inane merriment. It is hard to say whether the jokes he -cracks himself, or those which he rehashes, ready cracked, are -the more benumbingly dismal. The most provoking thing is, that -the man is not at all wanting in play of wit; there are a hundred -good and a few clever little side-hits in his volume. Only he -must not force it. The moment he sets out systematically to be -jocose, he is flatness itself. - -But take him for all in all, Mr. Meline has written no -commonplace book on a subject where commonplace has been achieved -frequently and fully; and if he will learn to sketch like Ross -Browne, or half so well, or else hire one of those private -ubiquities, a "special artist," make no more jokes, quote some, -if quote he must, that others have made within twenty years, and -rely more on his liveliness of style, he has a future before him -as a writer of travels. - ------- - - Golden Truths. - Boston: Lee & Shepherd. 1868. - -The aim of the above volume is a good one. The purpose of its -author is to aid the soul on its way in Christian perfection. The -"truths" which it contains are taken from various Protestant -authors, and a few from Catholic sources. The selections struck -us at first as having been made without any sectarian bias or -bigotry. Had we found it so unto the end, we should have given it -our approval. But on page 166 we find the following: - - "Will the martyrs, who sowed the seed of the church in their - blood, have no part in the final harvest? The mighty reformers, - who battered down the walls of tyrant error about the ears of - wicked priests," etc. - -Who G. W. Bethune is, from whose writings the above is extracted, -we know not; we would, however, advise him, whoever he may be, -when writing for the public, to respect its intelligence more, -rant less, and remember there is a commandment which reads as -follows, - - "Thou shalt not bear false witness." - -The aim of this volume was to be acceptable to all readers; the -quotations from the above writer omitted, would remove at least -what is offensive to some. - -It is not often that a neglected catholic truth finds so -beautiful an expression as in the following passage by the -"Country Parson:" - - "There are few who have lived long in this world, and have not - stood by the bed of the dying; and let us hope that there are - many who have seen a Christian friend or a brother depart--who - have looked on such a one as life, but not love, ebbed away as - the eye of sense grew dim, but that of faith waxed brighter and - brighter. -{717} - Have you heard such an one, in bidding you farewell, whisper - that it was not for ever? have you heard such an one tell you - so to live, as that death might only remove you to a place - where there is no dying? And as you felt the pressure of that - cold hand, and saw the earnest spirit that shone through those - glazing eyes, have you not resolved and promised that, God - helping you, you would? And ever since have you not felt that, - though death has sealed those lips, and that heart is turning - back to clay, _that_ voice is speaking yet, _that_ - heart is caring for you yet, _that_ soul is remembering - yet the words it last spoke to you? From the abode of glory it - says, 'Come up hither.' The way is steep, the ascent is - toilsome; it knows it well, for it trod it once; but it knows - now what it knew not then, how bright the reward, how pleasant - the rest that remaineth, after the toil is past. And if we go - with interest to the grave of a much-loved friend, who bade us - when dying, sometimes to visit the place where he should be - laid when dead; if you hold a request like _that_ sacred, - tell me, how much more solemnly and earnestly we should seek to - go where the conscious spirit lives, than where the senseless - body moulders! If day after day sees you come to shed the - pensive tear of memory over the narrow bed where that dear one - is sleeping; if, amid the hot whirl of your daily engagements, - you find a calm impressed as you stand in that still spot where - no worldly care ever comes, and think of the heart which no - grief vexes now; if the sound of the world melts into distance - and fades away on the ear, at that point whence the world looks - so little; if the setting sun, as it makes the gravestone glow, - reminds you of evening hours and evening scenes long since - departed, and the waving grass, through which the wind sighs so - softly, speaks of that one who 'faded as a leaf' and left you - like 'a wind that passeth away and cometh not again,' oh! how - much more should every day see you striving up the way which - will conduct you where the living spirit dwells, and whence it - is ever calling to you, 'Come up hither!' It was a weak fancy - of a dying man that bade you come to his burying-place; but it - is the perpetual entreaty of a living seraph that invites you - to join it _there._" - ----- - - The Layman's Breviary. - From the German of Leopold Shefer. - By C. T. Brooks. - Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1868. - -Whatever may be the merit of the original German, certain it is, -this English version flows like a free rivulet. Mr. Brooks is -singularly happy in his versification. It might, however, just as -well have been entitled by the author, the "Priest's Breviary" as -the "Layman's Breviary," for it is quite plain he thinks both of -those terms convertible. We search in vain for any trace of faith -in the supernatural, and, considering the beauty of the -sentiments, are sorry to find it wanting. The lack of it jars -upon our Catholic nerves from the beginning of its perusal to its -ending. - ----- - - The Young Fur Traders, A Tale Of The Far North; - - The Coral Island, A Tale Of The Pacific; - - Ungava, A Tale Of Esquimaux Land; - - Morgan Rattler; or, - A Boy's Adventures in the Forests of Brazil. - - By R. M. Ballantyne. - New York: Thomas Nelson & Sons. - -In these "books for boys" amusement and instruction are admirably -combined, the adventures met with being varied and thrilling, -while the local descriptions embody so thoroughly the natural -features of the regions visited, the productions, atmospheric -phenomena, etc., as to render them not unworthy the perusal of -children of a larger growth; they are also well got up; good -paper, neat binding, numerous illustrations. - -Where so much is praiseworthy, we are sorry their universal -diffusion should be so seriously impeded, or rather utterly -destroyed, by a most wanton display of sectarian rancor. In the -_Young Fur Traders_, for instance, we meet with the -following definitions, certainly not according to Webster: -"Papist, a man who has sold his liberty in religious matters to -the pope;" "Protestant, one who protests against such an -ineffably silly and unmanly state of slavery." And in _Morgan -Rattler_, a virulent attack on the Brazilian clergy, who, we -are told, "totally neglected their religious duties; were no -better than miscreants in disguise, teaching the people vice -instead of virtue a--curse not a blessing to the land," etc. - -{718} - -We regret this pitiful outpouring the more that, as books of -adventures for boys, they are otherwise all that could be -desired. - ----- - - The Spirit Of St. Vincent De Paul; - Or, A Holy Model Worthy Of - Being Imitated By Ecclesiastics, - Religious, And All The Faithful. - - Translated from the work of the learned M. Andre--Joseph - Ansart, converted Priest of the Order of Malta, etc. - By the Sisters of Charity, - Mount St. Vincent, New York. - New York: P. O'Shea, 27 Barclay street. 1868. - -It is a valuable service to present to the public, as the author -of the above translation has done, the pith of other and more -compendious lives of the great St. Vincent de Paul. The life of -our Saint cannot be read too often by priests, by the people, and -by all lovers of their race. His zeal for religion and his love -of the poor were unbounded almost; and the extent of his labors, -and the good he did to the poor and distressed of humanity, were -never perhaps equalled by any other man. To our non-Catholic -readers we would say, read the life of this man, great in -goodness, if you would obtain a true idea of the genuine and -perfect fruit of the catholic faith. No one, whatever may be his -creed, can read the life of St. Vincent de Paul without feeling -his love for God and his fellow-men increased and inflamed. May -it please God to raise up in his holy church in our own country a -priest like St. Vincent de Paul! - ----- - - Rome And The Popes. - Translated from the German of Dr. Karl Brandes, - by Rev. W. J. Wiseman, S.T.L. - Benziger Brothers. 1868. - -This is a volume containing, within a small compass, and in a -popular style, suited to the generality of readers, a history of -the temporal power of the popes, by an author well acquainted -with his subject. The translator has done a service to the -public, in giving them the chance of reading it in English. Just -at present it is quite appropriate as an offset to the ignorant -and silly abuse of the papal sovereignty with which the public -ears are filled. We recommend it to all our readers who wish to -get some solid information on this subject. We must repeat, once -more, in regard to this volume, a criticism we have to make too -often, that its generally neat appearance is marred by many -typographical errors. Cannot our Catholic publishers wake up to -the importance of correcting their proofs properly? - ----- - - Selections From Pope, Dryden, And Various Other Catholic Poets, - who preceded the Nineteenth Century: with biographical and - literary notices of those and other British Catholic Poets of - their class, comprising a brief history of British Catholic - Poetry, from an early period. Designed not only for general - use, but also as a text-book or reader, and a prize-book for - the higher classes in Catholic educational institutions. - By George Hill, author of the "Ruins of Athens," "Titania's - Banquet," and other poems. - Examined and approved by competent Catholic authority. - New York. 1867. - -Mr. Hill expresses so succinctly in this old-fashioned title-page -the real character and aim of his useful compilation that he -leaves us, in fact, nothing further to say than that he has made -his title good. - ----- - - The Life Of St. Francis Of Assist, - and a sketch of the Franciscan Order. - By a Religious of the Order of Poor Clares, - (in England.) With emendations - and additions, by Very Rev. - Pamfilo da Magliani, O.S.F., (Superior - of one of the branches of the - Franciscan Order in the U. S.) - New York: P. O'Shea, 27 Barclay street. 1867. - -Many beautiful lives of the Saints have been written in England -within the last few years. This one deserves to be classed among -them, and is, on the whole, the best history of the romantic and -poetic life of St. Francis we have ever read. The sketches of the -history of the Order, especially those relating to missions in -heathen countries, and the short biographies of distinguished -Franciscans, are of great value. The Life of St. Francis has a -charm entirely its own, which never wears out, and his pious -daughter has narrated it well. Such a book cannot be too warmly -recommended in this age of avarice, worldliness, and luxury. We -wish, however, that the proofs had been more carefully corrected. - ----- - -{719} - - Claudia. - By Amanda M. Douglas, - author of "In Trust," "Stephen Dane," etc. - Boston: Lee & Shepard. - -In this novel, the characters are strongly drawn, the incidents -varied and striking, the dialogue well sustained, but the general -effect somewhat marred by a vein of moralizing, which, in light -literature, unless of absolute necessity and of a high order, -always degenerates into prosiness, causing in that vast majority -of readers who seek amusement only, weariness, if not disgust. - ----- - - The Queens Of American Society. - By Mrs. Ellet, author of "The Women - of the American Revolution," etc. - New York: Charles Scribner & Co. - -This volume is a signal illustration of one of the prevailing -passions of the nineteenth century; a craving which brushes the -bloom from the lives of our lovely young girls, and makes our -charming matrons _common_; a passion for notoriety; a morbid -desire to peep into other people's windows, or engage them in the -improving occupation of looking into ours. Here we have the -_entrée_ not only into the _minutiae_ of the -drawing-rooms of these _queens_, but into their bedchambers, -and stand beside their toilet-tables, and descend into their -kitchens; in short, there is no part of the houses of these -ladies living and moving in our midst, unransacked by the -gossiping pen, save the _nurseries_, and we are left to -doubt if these sumptuous homes contain such old-fashioned -apartments. But the gossiping spirit of this book is not the only -exceptionable feature; it is extremely snobbish. To have -descended from the nobility, to have a thick volume of genealogy -to fall back upon, (by the way, we may all have even a more ample -chronicle than is here given us of these noble scions, if we will -look at the records of the garden of Eden for our pedigree,) to -be decked in velvets, point-lace, and diamonds, to have given -"select dinners," or "lavish and gorgeous suppers," seems to be -the most apparent end and aim of the majority of these living -"queens." A sprinkling of pietism and charitable deeds is -interpolated through the volume, apparently to give an "odor of -sanctity" to the otherwise sensuous details. A catechism for the -use of the rising generation of queens might be compiled from the -pages before us. Here are two or three questions and answers -taken at random from the proposed text-book: - - "Q. What is the chief end of one aspiring - to be a queen in American society? - - "A. To be clothed in purple and fine - linen, and to fare sumptuously every day. - - "Q. How many gods are there in the 'best society'? - - "A. Three. - - "Q. Which are they? - - "A. Genealogy, gold, and good eating. - - "Q. What directions are given for dress? - - "A. Whose adorning let it be the outward adorning, wearing - of gold and pearls, and putting on of apparel." - -Other questions and answers will readily suggest themselves. - ----- - - The Comedy Of Convocation, in the - English Church. In two scenes. - Edited by Archdeacon Chasuble, D.D. - New York: Catholic Publication Society. - -This unique work, of which a notice appeared in the last issue of -_The Catholic World_, is without doubt one of the most -remarkable satires ever penned. The thorough knowledge it -displays of the Anglican establishment, its incisive -argumentation, the purity of its style, and its irresistible -humor have never been surpassed in any essay of its kind. - -{720} - -These characteristics have led many critics in England and in -this country to attribute its authorship to Dr. Newman; but while -we think it in every respect worthy of that great writer, we feel -disposed, from a more careful study of it, to believe that it has -not emanated from his mind, while at the same time we are obliged -to confess that we know of no other man in England who wields -such a mighty pen. It has given the Anglican Church an herculean -blow, and we cannot see how an honest member of the English -Church or of its sister denomination, the "Protestant Episcopal -Church of the United States," can rise from its perusal without -an utter loss of confidence in the discordant, illogical, and -unauthoritative system to which they have hitherto given their -adherence. The baseless fabric crumbles at the touch of this -literary giant, and sinks to a level where it can hardly elicit -the admiration of its most zealous partisans. - ----- - - Sadlier's Catholic Directory, Almanac, And Ordo For The Year Of - Our Lord 1868: with a full report of the various Dioceses in - the United States and British North America, and a list of the - Archbishops, Bishops, and Priests in Ireland. - New York: D. & J. Sadlier & Co., - 31 Barclay street. 1868. - -The Catholic Almanac for this year makes its appearance a little -earlier than it has for some years past. From a cursory glance at -its contents, we think it is more correct in its details than -some of its predecessors. It is gotten up with an eye to the -strictest kind of economy. - ----- - -We have received from THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION HOUSE, where they -are for sale, the following new works just published in England: - - _The Monks of the West_, by Count Montalembert, - Vols. IV and V. - - _Saint Louis, King of France_. The curious and - characteristic life of this monarch, - by De Joinville, translated from the French. - - _The Story of Chevalier Bayard_, from the French - of the loyal servant, M. de Berville and - others. - - _The Life of Las Casas_, - by Arthur Helps. - - _Learned Women and Studious Women_, - by Bishop Dupanloup. - - _Cradle Lands: Egypt, Syria, and the Holy Land_. - By the Right Hon. Lady Herbert of Lea, illustrated. - - _The Round Towers of Ancient Ireland_, by Marcus Keane. - - _The History of Irish Periodical Literature_, from the end - of the seventeenth century to the middle of the nineteenth - century: its Origin, Progress, and Results. - By Richard Robert Madden. - 2 vols. 8vo. - ----- - - Seek And Find; Or, The Adventures Of A Smart Boy. - By Oliver Optic. - - Tommy Hickup; Or, A Pair Of Black Eyes. - By Rosa Abbott. - Boston: Lee & Shepard. - -Two handsome volumes of pleasantly told though rather marvellous -adventure. - ----- - - Books Received. - -From Leypoldt & Holt, New York: - - Nathan the Wise. - A dramatic poem, by Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. - Translated by Ellen Frothingham, preceded by a brief account of - the poet and his works, and followed by an essay on the poem by - Kuno Fischer. - - La Littérature Française contemporaire, - recueil en prose et en vers de morceaux empruntés, aux - écrivains les plus renommés du XIXe Siècle. - - Histoire d'une Bouchée de Pain: - L'Homme, par Jean Macé. With a French and English vocabulary, - and a list of idiomatic expressions. A Manual of Anglo-Saxon - for Beginners; comprising a grammar, reader, and glossary, with - explanatory notes. - By Samuel M. Shute, Professor in Columbian - College, Washington, D. C. - - Condensed French Instruction, consisting of - grammar and exercises, with cross references. - By C. J. Delille. - -From Harper & Brothers, New York: - - Lives of the Queens of England, from the Norman Conquest. - By Agnes Strickland, author of Lives of the - Queens of England. Abridged by the Author. - Revised and edited by Caroline G. Parker. - - Manual of Physical Exercises. - By William Wood, Instructor in Physical Education. - With one hundred and twenty-five illustrations. - - Home Fairy Tales. By Jean Macé. - Translated by Mary L. Booth, with engravings. - - Folks and Fairies. - Stories for Little Children. - By Lucy Randall Comfort. - With engravings. - - French's First Lessons in Numbers. - French's Elementary Arithmetic. - By John H. French, LL.D. - - The Lover's Dictionary. - A Poetical Treasury of Lover's Thoughts, Fancies, Addresses, - and Dilemmas, indexed with nearly ten thousand references, and - a Dictionary of Compliments, and a Dictionary of the study of - the Tender Passion. - --------- - -{721} - - The Catholic World. - - Vol. VI., No. 36. March, 1868. - ----- - - Canada Thistles. - - -The accident of a heavy snowstorm detained me, a little while -ago, at the house of a friend in the country. It was certainly a -pleasant place to be cast away in. My friend was a -gentleman-farmer, who united a strong taste for rustic pursuits -with an equally strong as well as an intelligent fondness for -literature and art. In the matter of books and pictures, -philosophy and religion, we were in sympathy with each other; but -when he came to milch cows and turnips, my city education got the -better of me. I could neither understand his conversation nor -appreciate his enthusiasm. It was agreed, therefore, that as soon -as he put on his long boots and set out for the barnyard, I -should retire into his cheerful library, where a blazing fire of -hickory-logs, shelves well stored with all that is best in -literature, and a great green-covered table, on which papers, -reviews, and magazines were piled in pleasant confusion, kept me -in excellent spirits while he was attending to the daily duties -of the farm. How I enjoyed those idle hours! Throwing myself back -in a wide arm-chair, I passed the winter mornings skimming over -the pages of my favorite authors, half reading them and half -dreaming; and when my friend returned from his rounds, and -stretched himself in another chair on the opposite side of the -fire-place, we used to chat over the various subjects that had -occupied my mind since breakfast. After dinner, we usually went -back to the library with our cigars. The evening we always spent -with the rest of the family in the parlor. - -My friend read a great deal, and was also something of an author. -He contributed essays on agricultural subjects to one or two -magazines. He had even published a book or so in the course of -his life; and he still amused himself by penning literary -criticisms, for a periodical printed in New York. I was not -surprised, therefore, to find his table burdened with a good many -volumes, newspapers, and pamphlets, which I knew he would never -have been at the trouble of ordering. - -"Yes," said he, when I made a remark about the worthless -character of some of these publications; "there is trash enough -here to make a man melancholy. -{722} -People send me these things for their own purposes, and I read -them sometimes for mine. I should be tempted to be sorry for the -invention of printing, only if we lost the bane, we should lose -the antidote with it. Besides, I have little faith in the -negative sort of virtue which is founded on ignorance. We ought -to grow wiser, day by day, with the number of our teachers; but -what I see here often makes me doubt it. You will find that -mankind have the same propensity to use calumny instead of -argument that they had two or three hundred years ago. In matters -of religion and history, I believe that lies are very much like -Canada thistles: let them once take root, and it is next to -impossible to get the field clear of them. You may cut them all -down to-day, and to-morrow their ugly heads will be as high as -ever. Now, here," he continued, picking up a handful of pamphlets -and newspapers, "is a crop of Canada thistles. These are all -philippics against the Catholic Church. I suppose their authors -call them polemical publications; but there is not an argument in -one of them. They are nothing whatever but slanders which have -been demolished a hundred times; and yet here they are, as bold -as ever. It is consoling to be told, as we often are, that 'Truth -crushed to earth will rise again;' but if a lie crushed to earth -has not an incorrigible habit of rising again, then I am no -reader of current literature. You and I may go out into the field -of theological controversy, and, being well armed and on the -right side, we may cut down every one of the calumnies which are -marshalled against the church; but we know that they will jump -right up again as soon as our backs are turned, and swear that -they never went down. It is rather discouraging to fight against -a man who doesn't know when he is dead. To answer these things -now, that I hold in my hand, would be like running around the -battle-field in chase of a rabble of lively corpses." - -"Well," said I, "you are partly right and partly wrong. We have -got to cut away at the Canada thistles, as you call them, whether -we root them out or not; if we don't, they will stifle the grain. -Besides, your lively corpses cannot run for ever. You may -galvanize a dead body into spasmodic activity, but you cannot -bring it to life again; and I believe that, every time a lie is -exposed, there is good done to somebody, though the exposure may -have been made a hundred times before. Take the old fiction of a -female pope; one of the most preposterous of anti-Catholic -calumnies, and one of the easiest to demolish, because the -admitted facts of history were so plain against it. That was an -incredibly long time dying; but it is dead at last--so dead that -even Mr. Murphy, of Birmingham, probably does not believe it. -Well, that lie would never have been laid on the shelf if -Catholics had not hammered away at it until they forced their -enemies to listen to them. Take the St. Bartholomew massacre--" - -"I don't know about that," interrupted my friend; "there is a -good deal of vitality in that thistle yet. Two things have been -proved, and are now admitted by the most candid Protestant -historians--that the massacre was the crime of a political, not a -religious, party, and that the number of the slain has been -frightfully exaggerated. The old story used to be that 100,000 -fell, and Lingard has shown that the number, in all probability, -did not exceed 1500. -{723} -Notwithstanding this, I have a volume here, called _Willson's -Outlines of History_, which, I learn, is used as a text-book -in the College of the City of New York, and which represents the -massacre as a rising of the 'Catholics of Paris' against their -Huguenot brethren, declares that it lasted in the capital 'eight -days and eight nights without any apparent diminution of the fury -of the murderers,' and estimates the number of the victims at -50,000. Then the writer goes on to say that the pope caused -medals to be struck in commemoration of the auspicious event, and -returned public thanks to heaven. A student would never suspect -from this that the assassins were not the Catholic inhabitants, -but the hirelings of the queen mother. Besides, the massacre -lasted, not eight days and nights, but three days and two nights. -This fact is of more importance than at first appears. If the -slaughter had lasted so long, and so many persons had been -killed, it could hardly have been the work of a band of -cutthroats; but if we remember that, as all reputable historians -admit, it was over on the third day, and that the number of -victims, according to Froude, who is the latest Protestant -authority, certainly did not exceed 2000 in Paris, and 10,000 in -all France, or, according to Lingard, 1500 in the whole kingdom, -it is evident that it _could not_ have been shared in by the -Catholic inhabitants." - -"Froude, you say, puts the number at 10,000?" - -"Yes, and admits that the French Catholics cried out with horror -at the outrage. Yet Froude is a most unwilling witness in our -favor. His bias, as you know, is all the other way. The -Calvinistic author of the martyrology of the Huguenots, published -only ten years after the massacre, made careful search, and was -able to find the names of only 786 persons who perished. Froude's -estimate is too high, and Willson's is altogether preposterous. -Then about that medal and the _Te Deum_ at Rome; everybody -knows that, as soon as the horrible deed was over, the first care -of the French king was to justify himself at the other European -courts by false accounts of what had taken place. His ambassador -informed the pope that his majesty had discovered a Huguenot -conspiracy against his life and throne, and had overcome it by -promptly executing the criminals. It was in the belief of this -lie that the pope caused public thanks to be given for the king's -victory. This is a fact as well established as any other of the -16th century. Yet Mr. Willson, and men like him, choose to go on -quietly disregarding it. I think it simply a sin that anybody so -grossly ignorant or so shamefully perverse should be allowed to -deceive the young with what they presume to call 'history.'" - -"How does Froude stand in this matter of the rejoicings at Rome?" - -"Froude has too melodramatic a mind, if I may use the expression, -to be a good historian. He has a dangerous gift of sarcasm and -invective, and a fatal knack of putting things together so as to -make an effective situation. If an inconvenient truth pops up to -mar the scene, he quietly knocks it on the head, and arranges the -stage to suit himself. For instance, he wants to paint the -duplicity of Charles, so he mentions his lying bulletins to the -pope and the other sovereigns; but he also wants to impress us -with the heartless bigotry of the pontiff; so, after showing on -one page that the pope could not know the truth, he coolly -assumes on the next that he did know it." - -"I think the best account of the massacre I ever read in a -Protestant publication is that in _The New American -Cyclopaedia_. Not a perfect book, of course, but upon the -whole, very honest." - -{724} - -"Yes, if you want to get a plain statement of facts, without -party coloring, you must go to some work in which many heads and -hands have worked together. You know an ordinary refracting -telescope of the old sort shows distant objects, not as they -really are, but tinged with prismatic colors, because no one lens -has the power of transmitting all rays with equal impartiality; -but by a combination of lenses we get at the exact truth; one -corrects another. So, if you want a thoroughly impartial, -achromatic account of anything, let a number of men work at it -together For this reason, a good cyclopaedia is better than a -volume of history; it is perfectly cold-blooded." - -"Our friend Willson," I said, turning over the leaves as I spoke, -"is certainly a telescope of the old sort. His book is as gay -with prismatic colors as a parlor candelabrum. See here: 'The -doctrine of infallibility means _the pope's entire exemption -from liability to err;_' 'Indulgences are billets of -salvation, professing to remit the punishment due to sins even -before the commission of the contemplated crime.' Mr. Willson -knows that neither of these definitions is correct." - -"No, I don't believe he does. Remember what we said just now -about thistles. To you and to me these statements seem--I don't -know whether to say ludicrous or shocking. We know, as well as we -know the alphabet, that while the church cannot err in defining -dogmas, the pope, as a private individual, is as liable to err as -Mr. Willson himself; that no sin can be forgiven before it is -committed, and no past sin pardoned so long as the culprit -purposes committing another; but I dare say Mr. Willson is -ignorant of all this. There is a certain class of unfortunate -Christians, now happily dying out, who are catechised in their -youth into a hatred of the pope and all his works. They look upon -his holiness as a superior sort of devil, rather more wicked and -dangerous upon the whole than Satan, and not half so much of a -gentleman. Willson was crammed full of these sentiments when he -was a boy, and now he is trying to cram the coming generation. -Here is a specimen of the moral nutriment which men of his stamp -are brought up on. I cut it out of an old number of _The -Sunday-School Advocate_, where it appeared as a comment on a -picture of a Spanish flower-girl. There must be a funny twist in -the mind of the writer who could get a lesson against popery out -of that. - - "'SELLING FLOWERS. - - "'You never saw such a flower-seller, did you? You have not - unless you have lived in Spain. The picture is meant to show - you a Spanish lady, a Spanish flower-dealer, and a Spanish - mule. - - "'Spain is a beautiful land, but the people are not as happy as - they are here. Why? Because they are Roman Catholics. Once - they were a brave, powerful, rich, liberty-loving people; but - a set of priests, called Jesuits, stole into the country, - quenched their love of liberty, put out the lights of - learning, trampled upon the true religion, and made the - Spaniards boasters, bigots, and almost slaves to their kings - and queens. Pity the Spaniards, my children, and pray to your - heavenly Father to save this glorious land from ever being - ruined by that great enemy to all that is good--the Roman - Catholic Church. - x. x.' - -"How can you wonder that a man who learns such nonsense in his -childhood should say foolish things when he grows up? Still, Mr. -Willson's ignorance does not excuse him. Any one who undertakes -to write history is bound _not_ to be ignorant. He cannot -plead the prejudices of education in justification of his -blunders. -{725} -To teach calumny and religious error is as much a crime as to -administer medicines without knowing the properties of drugs. We -have little tenderness for an ignorant chemist's boy who poisons -us by mistake, and I don't know why we should have any more for -an ignorant historian who lies out of prejudice. Besides, even if -Mr. Willson did not know the truth, he knew there were two sides -to the story, and he was bound to study and weigh them both, -which he evidently has not done. His ignorance was not -invincible." - -"I think, however, that the faculty of the College of New York -are more to blame for adopting this work as a text-book than the -author was for writing it. You know, I suppose, what that college -is. It is a part of our common school system, designed for the -youth of every faith, and supported by tax on all citizens alike. -To allow a word taught there which could offend the religious -feelings of either Catholics or Protestants is a gross outrage -upon public right. It only shows, what wise men of our church -have all along maintained, that Catholics need hope for no good -from state education. We must be taxed for what we don't approve, -and support our own schools and colleges besides.--But enough of -this. Let us see the rest of your thistles." - -"Oh!" said he, laughing, "there are enough of them, I can assure -you. Here, for example, is _The Free-Will Baptist Quarterly_ -for January, 1868. It contains an article on 'The Perversions of -the Gospel a Proof of its Divinity,' and in the course of it -occurs this sentence about the pope: 'He can remit sins _or -permit them_, and _his pardon_ and indulgences have been -_purchased with money_.' Now, a quarterly is supposed to be -edited with care and deliberation, and when such a periodical -states that the holy Father has power 'to permit sins' it is -guilty of a misstatement which I hardly know how to distinguish -from a deliberate falsehood. The editor of _The Baptist -Quarterly_ is utterly inexcusable for not knowing that the -doctrine which he attributes to the church is repudiated with -horror by every theologian who ever wrote on our side. It has -never been either maintained in theory or acted upon in practice. -The statement of _The Quarterly_ is one of the most -atrocious calumnies ever uttered, and the editor was bound to -know it. If he is so ignorant as not to know it, he is criminally -presumptuous in undertaking the functions of a popular teacher. -Then, again, he says that the pope's 'pardon and indulgences have -been purchased with money.' This, too, is a positive falsehood, -though we are willing to believe not an intentional one. In no -case, and under no color, can pardon be obtained for money. The -only price ever required, the only price which can ever suffice, -is hearty repentance. After pardon has been granted, there -remains, as we all know, a temporal penalty to be exacted by way -of satisfaction, and for this the pope may decree the -contribution of money for a charitable object or any other good -deed. If the editor of _The Baptist Quarterly_ does not know -that this is the extent of an indulgence, then he has no business -to be an editor. Ignorance does not excuse him. But let this -pass. We were speaking just now of education here is an article -quite _à propos_ to that subject in _The Churchman_. It -is called 'Rome and the Scriptures.' The writer begins by -wondering at the insolence of 'Romanists' in denying that the -church withholds the Bible from the laity; and how do you think -he proceeds to prove that she does withhold it? -{726} -Why, by showing that she lays some very necessary restrictions -upon the _indiscriminate_ circulation of _translations_ -of the Bible. But, it is objected, every English-speaking -Catholic family has a copy of the Douay Bible in the house. Yes, -says _The Churchman_, because the church lets you have it; -she could forbid it if she chose. What do you think of that as a -specimen of argument? The church forbids the Bible, because she -might, if she pleased, only she doesn't. Besides, this writer -continues, the English of the Douay version is so bad that it is -practically not the vernacular; the book is as much sealed to the -comprehension of the common reader as if it remained in the -original Hebrew and Greek. Thus, he says, 'in Galatians v. 19-23, -we have a list of the "works of the flesh," and the "fruits of -the Spirit." In our version occur the words, "lasciviousness, -drunkenness, revellings, long-suffering." But in the Douay -version instead of such honest English, which any person of -ordinary attainments can understand, we have the words, -"impudicity, elrieties, [ebrieties?] comessations, and -longanimity." In Hebrews ix. 23, our version reads, "the patterns -of things in the heavens;" but the Douay has it, "the exemplars -of the celestials." Again, in Hebrews xiii. 16, instead of "to do -good, and to communicate, forget not; for with such sacrifices -God is well pleased," as in our version, the Douay reads, -"Beneficence and communication forget not, "for with such hosts -God is promerited." Is this what the Romanists call the Bible in -the vulgar tongue?' Now, in point of fact, not a single one of -the preceding texts is given in the form he quotes in the -Catholic Testaments now in use. The passage from Galatians reads, -'immodesty, drunkenness, revellings.' Instead of 'the exemplars -of the celestials,' we have 'the patterns of heavenly things;' -and the verse from Hebrews xiii. runs thus: 'And do not forget to -do good and to impart; for by such sacrifices God's favor is -obtained.' In the first edition of the Douay Bible there were -many obscure expressions which have since been amended. If the -translators knew English but imperfectly, whose fault was it? The -English government would not allow Catholics to get an education -in their native country--hanged them if they caught them at it. -That we have corrected their shortcomings is proof enough that we -are anxious to facilitate the study of the sacred books. What -would _The Churchman_ say if we accused the Anglican -establishment of trying to conceal the Scriptures from the common -people, because the translations of Wickliffe and Coverdale -contain many antiquated expressions? That would be every whit as -just as to found a similar charge against us upon the -imperfections of the first editions of Douay and Rheims, (which -are older, it should be remarked, than the Bible of King James.)" - -"After all," said I, "I cannot regard the authorized English -Protestant Bible as a model of what a popular translation ought -to be." - -"Of course not. Don't you remember what Hallam says about it? -Here is the passage: 'It is held to be the perfection of our -English language. I shall not dispute this proposition; but one -remark as to a matter of fact cannot reasonably be censured, -that, in consequence of the principle of adherence to the -original versions, which had been kept up ever since the time of -Henry VIII., _it is not the language of the reign of James -I._ -{727} -It may, in the eyes of many, be a better English, but it is not -the English of Daniel, or Raleigh, or Bacon, as any one may -easily perceive. _It abounds, in fact_, especially in the -Old Testament, _with obsolete phraseology, and with single -words long since abandoned_ or retained only in provincial -use.' (_Literature of Europe_, vol. ii. chap. 2.) The early -Protestant versions are proof enough of the wisdom of our church -in setting bounds to the license of careless or incompetent -editors. You know there is one edition which is called by -book-collectors '_the Breeches Bible_,' on account of its -rendering of a passage in the third chapter of Genesis, where -Adam and Eve are said to have 'sewed together fig-leaves and made -themselves _breeches._' The king's printers, in 1632, were -fined for publishing a Bible in which one of the commandments -appeared in this form, 'Thou shalt commit adultery.' During the -Commonwealth, a large impression of the Bible was confiscated on -account of its corruptions, many of which were the result of -design. One edition contained 6000 errors. Archbishop Usher, on -his way to preach once, bought a London Bible in a bookseller's -shop, and was dismayed to find that the text he had selected was -omitted! In one of the English Bibles the first verse of the -fourteenth (or in our Bible the thirteenth) Psalm is printed, -'The fool hath said in his heart, there is a God,' instead of 'no -God.' Just see what that famous old Protestant divine, Thomas -Fuller, says of this matter: 'Considering with myself the causes -of the growth and increase of impiety and profaneness in our -land, amongst others this seemeth to me not the least, viz., the -late many _false_ and _erroneous_ impressions of the -Bible. Now know, what is but _carelessness_ in other books -is _impiety_ in setting forth of the Bible. As Noah, in all -unclean creatures, preserved but two of a kind, so among some -hundreds in several editions, we will insist only on two -instances. In the Bible printed at London in 1653, we read, "I -Corinthians vi. 9, Know ye not that the unrighteous shall inherit -the kingdom of God?" for "not inherit." Now, when a reverend -doctor in divinity did mildly reprove some libertines for their -licentious lives, they did produce this text from the authority -of this corrupt edition in justification of their vicious and -inordinate conversations. The next instance shall be in the Bible -printed at London in quarto (forbearing the name of the printer, -because not done wilfully by him) in the singing Psalms, Psalm -lxvii. 2: - - "That all the earth may know - The way to worldly wealth," - -for "godly wealth."' Such blunders too are by no means confined -to early impressions. Why, there is an edition of the Anglican -Liturgy printed at Oxford, of all places in the world, in 1813, -in which occurs this dreadful blunder: 'Lamb of God, who takest -away the sins of the _Lord_.'" - -"After this, it looks well, doesn't it, for _The Churchman_ -to blame us for repressing the indiscriminate circulation of wild -versions of the Scriptures?" - -"My dear friend, if all men were consistent, the whole world -would be Catholic. Protestantism from beginning to end is nothing -but a huge inconsistency. But come: have we any more weeds to -look at?" - -"Here is a copy of _The Observer_; if we don't find -something startling in it, it will be strange. Yes; here is a -letter from the well-known _Irenaeus_ on 'the relics at -Aix-la-Chapelle.' Read what he says: - -{728} - - "'I found that pictures of the relics were for sale in all the - shops, and I bought a few as souvenirs of my accidental - pilgrimage; particularly I sought for a good representation - of that one which is first on the list, and first in the - admiration of the people. _As the Virgin Mother Mary is - held in higher honor by all good Catholics than the Son of - God himself,_ so they likewise venerate, with a deeper - reverence, the linen garment that she wore, than the cloth - which was around the loins of the Saviour on the cross.' - -What do you say to that? For my part, I cannot believe that a man -so well informed on most subjects as _Irenaeus_ is really -thinks that 'Catholics hold the Virgin Mary in higher honor than -the Son of God himself.' If he knows anything at all about the -Catholic Church, he must know that this is a downright slander." - -"In point of fact, I suppose he does know it; but he belongs to a -class of persons who seem to think it no harm to say anything -evil of Catholics for the sake of producing a sensation. The -church in their eyes is merely a convenient subject for turning -an eloquent sentence; a sort of _corpus vile_, upon which it -is allowable to try all manner of oratorical experiments. -Besides, you know _The Observer_ is nothing but a -journalistic stuffed Guy Faux, brought out periodically for the -purpose of reminding mankind of the wickedness of the bloody -papists." - -"Do you know I pity the editor of that paper? he must have such -awful nightmares. Just think of perpetually dreaming that the -pope sits scowling on your stomach ready to strangle you, and a -grand inquisitor lurks under the bed! I suppose _The -Observer_ never goes up-stairs in the dark without dread of -stumbling over a rack, or running his hand into a thumbscrew, and -never falls asleep without apprehensions of a popish massacre -before morning. Has he any special bugaboo to-day?" - -"'The Confessional.' I will not read the whole article. Some of -it is too nasty. But here is a specimen: - - "'The confessional in the Roman Catholic Church, and in every - church that becomes corrupt enough to introduce it, and - slavish enough to submit to it, is an engine of tyranny over - the social, domestic, and private life of the people, with an - extent, power, and wickedness it is hardly possible to conceive. - - "'It operates chiefly through the women. In most of the Roman - Catholic countries men have substantially deserted the - confessional. They go once a year, at Easter, if at all. Many - of them, nominally Catholics, do not take the communion, and - therefore do not come under the ecclesiastical necessity of - confessing. But women are more religious, more superstitious, - and more submissive to priestly domination than men. Men have - their business to think about, and often worship mammon. - Religion is the highest of all mental occupations for women; - their life is in it; it is their life--this and that to come. - In Protestant as well as Roman churches women are the most - and the best of the members. It has been so from the time - they outnumbered the disciples at the cross and the grave of - the Saviour. The confessional has its grasp on the women of - the Roman Catholic Church; and through them it rules the - households where those women are wives, mothers, sisters, - children, or servants. It is enough for the purpose of the - priests that they have one spy in a house; but the more the - better, and the nearer that spy is to the head of the house - the more valuable her service. The conduct of servants is - carefully watched; and they are changed from time to time by - the direction of priests, when the family has not the - slightest suspicion of the cause. The priests often select - willing and capable agents, who, in the capacity of servants, - male and female, act as spies and emissaries in households - they wish to supervise. The information thus obtained is - recorded, transmitted to higher powers, and used, without - scruple, in the secret and constant operations of the church - to get control over the political and material interests of - the state.' - -"There is no excuse for this sort of thing. There is an untruth -in almost every line. I don't charge _The Observer_ with -deliberate falsehood, but it needs a good deal of charity, in a -case like this, to remember the difference between a mistake and -a lie. -{729} -Mark you, the writer does not say: 'I believe the confessional to -be used for purposes of oppression,' 'I suspect that the priests -keep spies in every household.' 'I dare say the church interferes -with our servants,' 'I take it for granted that the priests -repeat what is said to them in confession;' but all these vague -and ridiculous notions are stated in the broadest manner, as -admitted historical facts. That is to say, _The Observer_ -makes the most atrocious charges against us without a particle of -evidence to support them. 'I guess they are true,' says the -writer; 'any way, I will make them.' The less the proof, the more -emphatic the assertion. Suppose I have a vague suspicion that my -neighbor has stolen money, and on the strength of that suspicion, -not knowing whether it is well-founded or not, and having no -means of knowing, I proclaim him as a thief all over town. -Whether he is one or not, I commit a grave sin by defaming him on -mere suspicion; and if he turn out to be an honest man after all, -the fact that I believed my own story will not save me from the -consequences of uttering slander. The old grannies of -Protestantism act upon the principle that it is quite fair to -ascribe any imaginable sin either to the pope or the devil. The -wickedness of both being infinite, it is impossible to overshoot -the mark." - -"Even if all priests were demons, I don't see why they must also -be described as idiots. 'Spies in the household!' Can you imagine -anything more childish than listening to Bridget's and Mary Ann's -reports of the daily life of their master and mistress? Can you -imagine any use to which such information could be turned by the -church? _The Observer_ no doubt supposes that the archbishop -of New York has daily morning audiences with his domestic -emissaries, who tell him what time _The Observer_ editor got -up, how many eggs he ate for breakfast, what remarks he made at -family prayers, whether the children were good, and how much -butcher's meat was used in the house during the previous week. -Then just think of the Roman Catholic Church being a vast -intelligence-office, through which servants are changed about -from house to house! You flatter yourself that you chose your -cook out of a number of applicants for the place. Nothing of the -kind she was sent to your house by the priests, and forced on you -by a kind of legerdemain, just as a juggler forces a card. You -think you discharged your last chambermaid. Oh! no; she went away -because the priests had duties for her elsewhere. And the reports -of all these spies, _The Observer_ assures us, are actually -written out, and transmitted to headquarters! I believe there is -no limit to the credulity of a no-popery zealot." - -"I am glad to see, however, that some Protestants have recognized -the value of the confessional to society, and have spoken warmly -of its sacred influence. I suppose you know how much attention -has lately been drawn to the great appalling sin of modern -American women--the murder of their offspring yet unborn. It is a -sin so prevalent that, as I remember reading some time ago in -_The Congregationalist_, it is said that in a certain -populous district in a large western city, not a single -Anglo-American child had been born alive in three years! It has -not escaped the notice of physicians that no such practice -prevails among the Catholic population. -{730} -Dr. Storer, of Boston, (a Protestant,) explains this difference -in his well-known essay on the subject, by the influence of the -confessional; and _The Congregationalist_ took the same -view. Indeed, both virtually admit that, if it were not for the -confessional, the natural increase of population in the United -States would be almost entirely checked." - -"That is a good thing for _The Observer_ to meditate upon; -but I am afraid the venerable old alarmist is incorrigible. It is -hard to reason with a man whose hair perpetually stands on end -with fright." - -"Yes, or with a professional dealer in bugaboos. But even if he -believes all his stories, I don't see what good he can possibly -expect to come of telling them. They are only irritating." - -"Irritating! they are criminally dangerous. The greatest enemy to -a community is the man who stirs up the animosity of religious -denominations against each other. The natural effect of such -stories is to inspire the ignorant and passionate on the one side -with contempt and hatred, on the other with resentment; and how -long can society be sure of peace when it is filled with such -dangerous elements? Of course, the Catholics are not so silly or -so wicked as to fly to arms whenever an insult is uttered against -the church, neither are Protestants going to defend Luther and -Henry VIII. with fire and riot; but suppose some unforeseen -circumstance produces an outbreak, what a terrible responsibility -will rest upon those who prepared the materials of combustion! -Mr. Froude, speaking of the St. Bartholomew massacre, says, the -guilt was the queen's, but her plan could never have been carried -out, had not theological frenzy already been heated to the -boiling-point. He is wrong in this case, for it is proved that -theological frenzy had nothing to do with the slaughter; -political frenzy is sometimes quite as dangerous; but I wish -those who think he is right would apply his principle to the -regulation of their own conduct. The frenzy which instigated the -burning of the Charlestown convent, the bloodshed and -incendiarism of the Native American movement in Philadelphia, and -the Know-Nothing riots in different parts of the country, had -been gathered up and nursed long beforehand by preachers like -_The Observer_. They did not know what they were doing, I -suppose, but others foresaw and predicted the consequences. Rant -is always the forerunner of riot. The periodical excitement on -the subject of popery which breaks out in the United States, like -the cholera or yellow fever, has always been followed by -lamentable disturbances. The man who makes his living by -thundering at the corruptions of the Church of Rome, is an -incendiary in fact, though he may not be in intention. Of course, -it is a pity that men should be prone to anger. It is a pity that -we are not always meek, and long-suffering, and forgiving; that -we do not bear reproaches with patience, and repay calumnies with -good deeds. Our Lord tells us to love our enemies, but only a few -of us are good enough to obey him. If all Catholics were perfect -Christians, _The Observer_ might shout hard names at us -until it was black in the face, and there would be no danger; but -there is a good deal of human nature in us, after all, and it is -better not to go near gunpowder with a lighted candle. I do not -mean to say, of course, that there is danger of our deliberately -resenting such attacks. We are far too sensible for that. No -amount of abuse would, of itself, provoke us to break the peace. -{731} -But such calumnious harangues tend first to draw a broad line of -distinction between Catholics and Protestants, and keep them -apart, which, alone, is a social evil; then they inevitably fill -the two parties with mutual dislike, and, in time, drive them to -antipathy; the bad feeling gets worse and worse; and some day -accident brings about a clash, and there is a terrible explosion, -nobody knows exactly how, and nobody knows who is most to blame. -All we can determine about it is, to use Froude's words, that it -could not have happened 'had not theological frenzy already been -heated to the boiling-point.' I think it is high time that all -decent citizens, all honest theological disputants, should set -their faces against the Gospel of Frenzy. I am willing to meet -any man in a fair controversy, but there is nothing but danger -and aggravation in bandying hard names. The only legitimate -object of controversy is to make converts, and you can't do that -without good temper and honest argument. The apparent purpose of -such tirades as those of _The Observer_, is merely to show -the preacher's own party how much better they are than the rest -of the world. Nobody but a fool could expect them to do any good -to the Catholics; you can't make friends with a man by abusing -his mother. It ought to be clearly understood that calm -theological discussion over points of discipline or dogma is -always in order; but atrocious charges, unsupported by a tittle -of evidence, deserve no name but that of sheer calumny, and all -good men ought to detest them. If Protestant preachers only -carried into the pulpit and the editorial chair the same rules of -morality which, I am happy to believe, they generally practise in -private life, they would observe this cardinal principle, not to -publish infamous accusations against their neighbors unless they -have personal knowledge of their truth." - --------- - - Abscondita. - - - Flower of the forest, that, unseen, - With sweetness fill'st the vernal grove, - Where hid'st thou? 'Mid the grasses green, - Or those dim boughs that mix above? - - Thou bird that, darkling, sing'st a song - That shook the bowers of paradise, - Thou too art hid thy leaves among: - Thou sing'st unseen of mortal eyes. - - Of her thou sing'st whose every breath - Sweetened a world too blind to heed; - Of Him--Death's Conqueror--that from death - Alone would take the crown decreed. - - Thou sing'st that secret gifts are best; - That only like to God are they - Who keep God's secret in their breast, - And hide, as stars are hid by day. - - Aubrey De Vere. - --------- - -{732} - - Translated From The French. - - The Story of a Conscript. - - - XV. - -When I returned to myself, I looked around. I was in a long hall, -with posts all around. I was in a bed, and beside me was an old -gray-mustached soldier, who, when he saw my eyes open, lifted up -my head and held a cup to my lips. - -"Well," said he cheerfully, "well! we are better." - -I could not help smiling as I thought that I was yet among the -living. My chest and arm were stiff with bandages; I felt as if a -hot iron were burning me there; but no matter, I lived! - -I gazed at the heavy rafters crossing the space above me; at the -tiles of the roof, through which the daylight entered in more -than one spot; I turned and looked to the other side, and saw -that I was in one of those vast sheds used by the brewers of the -country as a shelter for their casks and wagons. All around, on -mattresses and heaps of straw, numbers of wounded lay ranged; and -in the middle, on a large kitchen-table, a surgeon-major and his -two aids, their shirt-sleeves rolled up, were amputating the leg -of a soldier, who was shrieking in agony. Behind them was a mass -of legs and arms. I turned away sick and trembling. - -Five or six soldiers were walking about, giving drink to the -wounded. - -But the man who impressed himself most on my memory was a surgeon -with sleeves rolled up, who cut and cut without paying the -slightest attention to what was going on around; he was a man -with a large nose and wrinkled cheeks, and every moment flew into -a passion at his assistants, who could not give him his knives, -pincers, lint, or linen fast enough, or who were not quick enough -sponging up the blood. - -They had just laid out on the table a Russian carbineer, six feet -in height at least; a ball had pierced his neck near the ear, and -while the surgeon was asking for his little knives, a cavalry -surgeon passed before the shed. He was short, stout, and badly -pitted with the small-pox, and held a portfolio under his arm. - -"Ha! Forel!" cried he cheerfully. - -"It is Duchêne," said our surgeon, turning around. "How many -wounded?" - -"Seventeen to eighteen thousand." Our surgeon left the shed to -chat with his comrade; they conversed tranquilly, while the -assistants sat down to drink a cup of wine, and the Russian -rolled his eyes despairingly. - -"See, Duchêne; you have only to go down the street, opposite that -well, do you see?" - -" Very well indeed." - -"Just opposite you will see the canteen." - -"Very good; thank you; I am off." - -He started, and our surgeon called after him-- - -"A good appetite to you, Duchêne!" - -Then he returned to his Russian, whose neck he had laid open. He -worked ill-humoredly, constantly scolding his aids. - -{733} - -The Russian writhed and groaned, but he paid no attention to -that, and at last, throwing the bullet upon the ground, he -bandaged up the wound, and cried, "Carry him off!" - -They lifted the Russian from the table, and stretched him on a -mattress beside the others; then they laid his neighbor upon the -table. - -I could not think that such horrors took place in the world; but -I was yet to see worse than this. - -At five or six beds from mine was an old corporal with his leg -bound up. He closed one eye knowingly, and said to his neighbor, -whose arm had just been cut off: - -"Conscript, look at that heap! I will bet that you cannot -recognize your arm." - -The other, who had hitherto shown the greatest courage, looked, -and fell back senseless. - -Then the corporal began laughing, saying: - -"He did recognize it. It always produces that effect." - -He looked around self-approvingly, but: no one laughed with him. - -Every moment the wounded called for water. When one began, all -followed, and the old soldier had certainly conceived a liking -for me, for each time he passed, he presented the cup. - -I did not remain in the shed more than an hour. A dozen -ambulances drew up before the door, and the peasants of the -country round, in their velvet jackets and large black, slouched -hats, their whips on their shoulders, held the horses by the -reins. A picket of hussars arrived soon after, and their officer -dismounting, entered and said: - -"Excuse me, major, but here is an order to escort twelve wagons -of wounded as far as Lutzen. Is it here that we are to receive -them?" '"Yes, it is here," replied the surgeon. - -The peasants and the ambulance-drivers, after giving us a last -draught of wine, began carrying us to the wagons. As one was -filled, it departed, and another advanced. They had given us our -great-coats; but despite them and the sun, which was shining -brightly, we shivered with cold. No one spoke; each was too much -occupied thinking of himself. - -At moments I was terribly cold; then flashes of heat would dart -through me, and flush me as in fever; and indeed it was the -beginning of the fever. But as we left Kaya, I was yet well; I -saw everything clearly, and it was not till we neared Leipsic -that I felt indeed sick. The hussars rode beside us, smoking and -chatting, paying no attention to us. - -In passing through Kaya, I saw all the horrors of war. The -village was but a mass of cinders; the roofs had fallen, and the -walls alone remained standing; the rafters were broken; we could -see the remnants of rooms, stairs, and doors heaped within. The -poor villagers, women, children, and old men, came and went with -sorrowful faces. We could see them going up and down in their -houses; and in one we saw a mirror yet hanging unbroken, showing -where dwelt a young girl in time of peace. - -Ah! who of them could foresee that their happiness would so soon -be destroyed, not by the fury of the winds or the wrath of -heaven, but by the rage of man! - -Even the cattle and pigeons seemed seeking their lost homes among -the ruins; the oxen and the goats scattered through the streets, -lowed and bleated plaintively. At the last house an old man, with -flowing white hair, sat at the threshold of what had been his -cottage, with a child upon his knees, glaring on us as we passed. -His furrowed brow and stony eyes spoke of despair. -{734} -How many years of labor, of patient economy, had he passed to -make sure a quiet old age! Now all was crushed, ruined; the child -and he had no longer a roof to cover their heads. - -And those great trenches--fully a mile of them--at which the -country people were working in such haste, to keep the plague -from completing the work war began! I saw them, too, from the top -of the hill of Kaya, and turned away my eyes, horror-stricken. -Russians, French, Prussians were there heaped pell-mell, as if -God had made them to love each other before the invention of arms -and uniforms, which divide them for the profit of those who rule -them. There they lay, side by side; and those of them who could -not die knew no more of war, but cursed the crimes that had for -centuries kept them apart. - -But what was sadder yet, was the long line of ambulances, bearing -the agonized wounded--those of whom they speak so much in the -bulletins to make the loss seem less, and who die by thousands in -the hospitals, far from all they love; while at their homes -cannon are firing, and church-bells are ringing with joyous -chimes of victory. - -At length we reached Lutzen, but it was so full of wounded that -we were obliged to continue on to Leipsic. Fatigue and weariness -overpowered me, and I fell asleep, and only awoke when I felt -myself lifted from the ambulance. It was night, the sky seemed -covered with stars, and innumerable lights shone from an immense -edifice before us. It was the hospital of the market-place at -Leipsic. - -The two men who were carrying me ascended a spiral stairway which -led to an immense hall, where beds were laid together in three -lines, so close that they touched each other. On one of these -beds I was placed, in the midst of oaths, cries for pity, and -muttered complaints from hundreds of fever-stricken wounded. The -windows were open, and the flames of the lanterns flickered in -the gusts of wind. Surgeons, assistants, and nurses came and -went, while the groans from the halls below, and the rolling of -ambulances, cracking of whips and neighing of horses without, -seemed to pierce my very brain. While they were undressing me, -they handled me roughly, and my wound pained me so horribly that -I could not avoid shrieking. A surgeon came up at once, and -scolded them for not being more careful. That is all I remember -that night; for I became delirious, and raved constantly of -Catharine, Monsieur Goulden, and Aunt Grédel, as my neighbor, an -old artilleryman, whom my cries prevented from sleeping, -afterward told me. I awoke the next morning at about eight -o'clock, and then learned that I had the bone of my left shoulder -broken. I lay in the middle of a dozen surgeons; one of them a -stout, dark man, whom they called Monsieur the Baron, was opening -my bandages, while an assistant at the foot of the bed held a -basin of warm water. The baron examined my wound; all the others -bent forward to hear what he might say. He spoke a few moments, -but all that I could understand was, that the ball had struck -from below, breaking the bone and passing out behind. The -surgeon, passing to another bed, cried: - -"What! You here again, old fellow?" - -"Yes; it is I, Monsieur the Baron," replied the artilleryman, -proud to be recognized; "the first time was at Austerlitz, the -second at Jena, and then I received two thrusts of a lance at -Smolensk." - -{735} - -"Yes, yes," said the surgeon kindly; "and now what is the matter -with you?" - -"Three sabre-cuts on my left arm while I was defending my piece -from the Prussians." - -The surgeon unwound the bandage, and asked: - -"Have you the cross?" - -"No, Monsieur the Baron." - -"What is your name?" - -"Christian Zunnier, second _artillerie-a-cheval._" - -"Very good!" - -He dressed the wounds, and went to the next, saying, - -"You will soon be well." - -The old artilleryman's heart seemed overflowing with joy; and, as -I concluded from his name that he came from Alsace, I spoke to -him in our language, at which he was still more rejoiced. He -called me _Josephel_, and said: - -"Josephel, be careful how you swallow the medicines they give -you, only take what you know. All that does not taste well is -good for nothing. If they would give us a bottle of -_Rikevir_ every day, we would soon be well." - -When I told him I was afraid of dying of the fever, he laughed -long and loud, and said: - -"Josephel, you are a fool. Do you think that such tall fellows as -you and I were born to die in a hospital? No, no; drive the idea -from your head." - -But he spoke in vain, for every morning the surgeons, making -their rounds, found seven or eight dead. Some died in fevers, -some in a deadly chill; so that heat or cold might be the presage -of death. - -Zunnier said that all this proceeded from the evil drugs which -the doctors invented. "Do you see that tall, thin fellow?" he -asked. "Well, that man can boast of having killed more men than a -field-piece; he is always primed, with his match lighted; and -that little brown fellow--I would send him instead of the emperor -to the Russians and Prussians; he would kill more of them than a -_corps d'armée_." - -He would have made me laugh with his jokes if the litters were -not constantly passing. - -At the end of three weeks my shoulder had begun to heal, and -Zunnier's wounds were also doing well, and they allowed us to -walk in the large garden, full of elms, behind the hospital. -There were benches under the trees, and we walked the paths like -millionaires in our gray great-coats and forage-caps. The -increasing heat presaged a fine year, and often, when looking at -the beautiful scenery around, I thought of Phalsbourg, and the -tears came to my eyes. - -"I would like to know what makes you cry so," said Zunnier. -"Instead of catching a fever in the hospital, or losing a leg or -arm, like hundreds of others, here we are quietly seated in the -shade; we are well fed, and can smoke when we have any tobacco; -and still you cry. What more do you want, Josephel?" - -Then I told him of Catharine; of our walks at Quatre-Vents; of -our promises; of all my former life, which then seemed a dream. -He listened, smoking his pipe. - -"Yes, yes," said he; "all this is very sad. Before the -conscription of 1798, I too was going to marry a girl of our -village, who was named Margrédel, and whom I loved better than -all the world beside. We had promised to marry each other; and -all through the campaign of Zurich, I never passed a day without -thinking of her. But when I first received a furlough and reached -home, what did I hear? Margrédel had been three months married to -a shoemaker, named Passauf. - -{736} - -"You may imagine my wrath, Josephel; I could not see clearly; I -wanted to demolish everything; and, as they told me that Passauf -was at the _Grand-Cerf_ brewery, thither I started, looking -neither to the right nor left. There I saw him drinking with -three or four other rogues. As I rushed forward, he cried, 'There -comes Christian Zunnier! How goes it, Christian! Margrédel sends -you her compliments.' I seized a glass which I hurled at his -head, and broke to pieces, saying, 'Give her that for my wedding -present, you beggar!' The others, seeing their friend thus -maltreated, very naturally fell upon me. I knocked two of three -of them over with a jug, jumped on a table, sprang through a -window, and beat a retreat." - -"It was time," I thought - -"But that was not all," he continued, "I had scarcely reached my -mother's when the gendarmerie arrived, and they arrested me. They -put me on a wagon and conducted me from my brigade to my -regiment, which was at Strasbourg. I remained six weeks at -Finckmatt, and would probably have received the ball and chain, -if we did not have to cross the Rhine to Hohenlinden. - -"From that day, Josephel, the thought of marriage never troubled -me. Don't talk to me of a soldier who has a wife to think of. -Look at our generals who are married, do they fight as they used -to?" - -I could not answer, for I did not know; but day after day I -waited anxiously to hear from home, and my joy can be more easily -imagined than described when, one day, a large, square letter was -handed me. I recognized Monsieur Goulden's handwriting. - -"Well," said Zunnier, laughing, "it is come at last." - -I did not answer, but thrust the letter in my pocket, to read it -at leisure and alone. I went to the end of the garden and opened -it. Two or three apple-blossoms dropped upon the ground, with an -order for money, on which Monsieur Goulden had written a few -words. But what touched me most was the handwriting of Catharine, -which I gazed at without reading a word, while my heart beat as -if about to burst through my bosom. At last I grew a little -calmer and read: - -"My Dear Joseph: I write you to tell you I yet love you alone, -and that, day by day, I love you more. - -"My greatest grief is to know that you are wounded, in a -hospital, and that I cannot take care of you. Since the -conscripts departed, we have not had a moment's peace of mind. My -mother says I am silly to weep night and day, but she weeps as -much as I, and her wrath falls heavily on Pinacle, who scarcely -now dares come to the market-place. When we heard the battle had -taken place, and that thousands of men had fallen, mother ran -every morning to the post-office, while I could not move from the -house. At last your letter came, thank heaven! to cheer us. We -hope now to see you again, but God's will be done. - -"Many people talk of peace, but the emperor so loves war, that I -fear it is far off. - -"Now, Monsieur Goulden wishes to say a few words to you, so I -will close. The weather is beautiful here, and the great -apple-tree in the garden is full of flowers; I have plucked a -few, which I send in this letter. God bless you, Joseph, and -farewell!" - -{737} - -As I finished reading this, Zunnier arrived, and in my joy, I -said: - -"Sit down, Zunnier, and I will read you my sweetheart's letter. -You will see whether she is a Margrédel." - -"Let me light my pipe first," he answered; and having done so, he -added: "Go on, Josephel, but I warn you that I am an old bird, -and do not believe all I hear; women are more cunning than we." - -Notwithstanding this bit of philosophy, I read Catharine's letter -slowly to him. When I had ended, he took it, and for a long time -gazed at it dreamily, and then handed it back, saying: - -"There! Josephel. She is a good girl, and a sensible one, and -will never marry any one but you." - -"Do you really think so?" - -"Yes; you may rely upon her; she will never marry a Passauf. I -would rather distrust the emperor than such a girl." - -I could have embraced Zunnier for these words; but I said: - -"I have received a bill for one hundred francs. Now for some -white wine of Alsace. Let us try to get out." - -"That is well thought of," said he, twisting his mustache and -putting his pipe in his pocket. "I do not like to mope in a -garden when there are taverns outside. We must get permission." - -We arose joyfully and went to the hospital, when the -letter-carrier, coming out, stopped Zunnier, saying: - -"Are you Christian Zunnier, of the second -_artillerie-à-cheval_?" - -"I have that honor, monsieur the carrier." - -"Well, here is something for you," said the other, handing him a -little package and a large letter. - -Zunnier was stupified, never having received anything from home -or from anywhere else. He opened the packet--a box appeared--then -the box--and saw the cross of honor. He became pale; his eyes -filled with tears, he staggered against a balustrade, and then -shouted "_Vive l'Empereur!_" in such tones that the three -halls rang and rang again. - -The carrier looked on smiling. - -"You are satisfied," said he. - -"Satisfied! I need but one thing more." - -"And what is that?" - -"Permission to go to the city." - -"You must ask Monsieur Tardieu, the surgeon in chief." - -He went away laughing, while we ascended arm-in-arm, to ask -permission of the surgeon-major, an old man, who had heard the -"_Vive l'Empereur!_" and demanded gravely: - -"What is the matter?" - -Zunnier showed his cross and replied: - -"Pardon, major; but I am more than usually merry." - -"I can easily believe you," said Monsieur Tardieu; "you want a -pass to the city?" - -"If you will be so good; for myself and my comrade, Joseph -Bertha." - -The surgeon had examined my wound the day before. He took out his -portfolio and gave us passes. We sallied forth as proud as -kings--Zunnier of his cross, I, of my letter. - - - XVI. - -I walked dreamily through the streets, led by Zunnier, who -recognized every corner, and kept repeating: - -"There--there is the church of Saint Nicholas; that large -building is the university; that on yonder is the _Hôtel de -Ville_." - -He seemed to remember every stone, having been there in 1807, -before the battle of Friedland, and continued: - -{738} - -"We are the same here as if we were in Metz, or Strasbourg, or -any other city in France. The people wish us well. After the -campaign of 1806, they used to do all they could for us. The -citizens would take three or four of us at a time to dinner with -them. They even gave us balls, and called us the heroes of Jena. -Let us go in somewhere and see how they will treat us. We named -their elector King of Saxony, and gave him a good slice of -Poland." - -Suddenly he stopped before a little, low door, and cried: - -"Hold! Here is the Golden Sheep Brewery. The front is on the -other street, but we can enter here. Come!" - -I followed him into a narrow, winding passage, which led to an -old court, surrounded by rubble walls. To the right was the -brewery, and in a corner a great wheel, turned by an enormous -dog, which pumped the beer to every story of the house. - -The clinking of glasses was heard coming from a room which opened -on the Rue de Tilly. The sweet smell of the new March beer filled -the air, and Zunnier, with a look of satisfaction, cried: - -"Yes, here I came six years ago with Ferré and Rousillon. Poor -Rousillon! he left his bones at Smolensk; and Ferré must now be -at home in his village, for he lost a leg at Wagram." - -At the same time he pushed open the door, and we entered a lofty -hall, full of smoke. I saw, through the thick, gray atmosphere, a -long row of tables, surrounded by men drinking--the greater -number in short coats and little caps, the remainder in the Saxon -uniform. They were mostly students, and the oldest of them--a -tall, withered-looking man, with a red nose and long flaxen -beard, stained with beer--was standing upon a table, reading the -gazette aloud. He held the paper in one hand, and in the other a -long porcelain pipe. His comrades, with their long, light hair -falling upon their shoulders, were listening with the deepest -interest; and as we entered, they shouted "_Vaterland! -Vaterland!_" - -They touched glasses with the Saxon soldiers, while the tall -student bent over to take up his glass, and the round, fat brewer -cried: - -"_Gesundheit! Gesundheit!_" - -Scarcely had we made half a dozen steps toward them, when they -became silent. - -"Come, come, comrades!" cried Zunnier, "don't disturb yourselves. -Go on reading. We do not object to hear the news." - -But they did not seem inclined to profit by our invitation, and -the reader descended from the table, folding up his paper, which -he put in his pocket. - -"It is finished," said he, "it is finished." - -"Yes; it is finished," repeated the others, looking at each other -with a peculiar expression. - -Two or three of the soldiers rose and left the room, and the fat -landlord said: - -"You do not perhaps know that the large hall is on the Rue de -Tilly?" - -"Yes; we know it very well," replied Zunnier; "but I like this -little hall better. Here I used to come, long ago, with two old -comrades, to empty a few glasses in honor of Jena and Auerstaedt. -I know this room of old." - -"Ah! as you please, as you please," returned the landlord. "Do -you wish some March beer?" - -"Yes; two glasses and the gazette." - -"Very good." - -{739} - -The glasses were handed us, and Zunnier, who observed nothing, -tried to open a conversation with the students; but they excused -themselves, and, one after another, went out. I saw that they -hated us, but dared not show it. - -The gazette spoke of an armistice, after two new victories at -Bautzen and Wurtschen. This armistice commenced on the sixth of -June, and a conference was then being held at Prague, in Bohemia, -to arrange on terms of peace. All this naturally gave me -pleasure. I thought of again seeing home. But Zunnier, with his -habit of thinking aloud, filled the hall with his reflections, -and interrupted me at every line. - -"An armistice!" he cried. "Do we want an armistice, after having -beaten those Prussians and Russians three times? We should -annihilate them! Would they give us an armistice if they had -beaten us? There, Joseph, you see the emperor's character--he is -too good. It is his only fault. He did the same thing after -Austerlitz, and we had to begin over again. I tell you, he is too -good and if he were not so, we should have been masters of -Europe." - -As he spoke, he looked around as if seeking assent; but the -students scowled, and no one replied. - -At last Zunnier rose. - -"Come, Joseph," said he; "I know nothing of politics, but I -insist that we should give no armistice to those beggars. When -they are down, we should keep them there." - -After we had paid our reckoning, and were once more in the -street, he continued: - -"I do not know what was the matter with those people to-day. We -must have disturbed them in something." - -"It is very possible," I replied. "They certainly did not seem -like the good-natured folks you were speaking of." - -"No," said he. "The students, long ago, used to pass their time -drinking with us. We sang _Fanfan la Tulipe_ and 'King -Dagobert' together, which are not political songs, you know. But -these fellows are good for nothing." - -I knew, afterward, that those students were members of the -_Tugend-Bund_. No wonder they hated Frenchmen! - -On returning to the hospital, we learned that we were to go, that -same evening, to the barracks of _Rosenthal_--a sort of -depot for wounded, near Lutzen, where the roll was called morning -and evening, but where, at all other times, we were at liberty to -do as we pleased. We often strolled through the town; but the -citizens now slammed their doors in our faces, and the -tavern-keepers not only refused to give us credit, but attempted -to charge double and triple for what we got. But my comrade could -not be cheated. He knew the price of everything as well as any -Saxon among them. Often we stood on the bridge and gazed at the -thousand branches of the Pleisse and the Elster, glowing red in -the light of the setting sun, little thinking that we should one -day cross those rivers after losing the bloodiest of battles, and -that whole regiments would be submerged in the glittering waters -beneath us. - -But the ill-feeling of the people toward us was shown in a -thousand forms. The day after the conclusion of the armistice, we -went together to bathe in the Elster, and Zunnier, seeing a -peasant approaching, cried: - -"Holloa! comrade! Is there any danger here?" - -"No. Go in boldly," replied the man. - -{740} - -Zunnier, mistrusting nothing, walked fifteen or eighteen feet -out. He was a good swimmer, but his left arm was yet weak, and -the strength of the current carried him away so quickly that he -could not even catch the branches of the willows which hung over -him; and were it not that he was carried to a ford, where he -gained a footing, he would have been swept between two muddy -islands, and certainly lost. - -The peasant stood to see the effect of his advice. I rushed at -him, but he laughed, and ran, quicker than I could follow him, to -the city. Zunnier was wild with wrath, and wished to pursue him -to Counewitz; but how could we find him among four or five -hundred houses? - -Returning to Leipsic, we saw joy painted on the countenances of -the inhabitants. It did not display itself openly; but the -citizens, meeting, would shake hands with an air of huge -satisfaction, and the general rejoicing glistened even in the -eyes of servants and the poorest workmen. - -Zunnier said: "These Germans seem to be merry about something. -They do not always look so good-natured." - -"Yes," I replied; "their good humor comes from the fine weather -and good harvest." - -But when we reached the barracks, we found some of our officers -at the gate, talking eagerly together, and then we learned the -cause of so much joy. The conference at Prague was broken off, -and Austria, too, was about to declare war against us, which gave -us two hundred thousand more men to take care of. - -The day after, twelve hundred wounded were ordered to rejoin -their corps. Zunnier was of the number--I accompanied him to the -gates. My arm was yet too weak for duty. My existence was them -sad enough, for I formed no more close friendships, and when, on -the first of October, the old surgeon, Tardieu, gave me my orders -to march, telling me I was fully recovered, I felt almost -relived. - - - XVII. - -It was about five o'clock in the evening, and we were approaching -the village of Risa, when we descried an old mill, with its -wooden bridge, over which a bridle-path ran. We struck off from -the road and took this path, to make a short cut to the village, -when we heard cries and shrieks for help, and, at the same -moment, two women, one old, and the other somewhat younger, ran -across a garden, dragging two children with them. They were -trying to gain a little wood which bordered the road, and, at the -same moment, we saw several of our soldiers come out of the mill -with sacks, while others came up from a cellar with little casks, -which they hastened to place on a cart standing near; still -others were driving cows and horses from a stable, while an old -man stood at the door, with uplifted hands, as if imprecating -Heaven's malison upon them. - -"There," cried the quartermaster, who commanded our party, an old -soldier named Poitevin, "there are fellows pillaging. We are not -far from the army." - -"But that is horrible!" I cried. "They are robbers." - -"Yes," returned the quartermaster coolly; "it is contrary to -discipline, and if the emperor knew of it, they would be shot -like dogs." - -We crossed the little bridge, and found the thieves crowded -around a cask which they had pierced, passing around the cup. -This sight roused the quartermaster's indignation, and he cried: - -{741} - -"On what authority do you commit this pillage?" - -Several turned their heads, but seeing that we were but three, -for the rest of our party had gone on, one of them replied: - -"Ha! what do you want, old joker? A little of the spoil, I -suppose. But you need not curl up your mustaches on that account. -Here, drink a drop." - -The speaker held out the cup, and the quartermaster took it and -drank, looking at me as he did so. - -"Well, young man," said he., "will you have some, too? It is -famous wine, this." - -"No, I thank you," I replied. - -Several of the pillaging party now cried: - -"Hurry, there it is time to get back to camp." - -"No, no," replied others; "there is more to be had here." - -"Comrades," said the quartermaster, in a tone of gentle reproof -and warning, "you know, comrades, you must go gently about it." - -"Yes, yes, old fellow," replied a drum-major, with half-closed -eyes, and a mocking smile; "do not be alarmed; we will pluck the -chicken according to rule. We will take care; we will take care." - -The quartermaster said no more, but seemed ashamed on my account. -He remained in a meditative mood for some time after we started -to overtake our companions, and, at length, said deprecatingly: - -"What would you have, young man? War is war. One cannot see -himself starving, with food at hand." - -He was afraid I would report him; he would have remained with the -pillagers but for the fear of being captured. I replied, to -relieve his mind: - -"Those are probably good fellows, but the sight of a cup of wine -makes them forget everything." - -At length, about ten o'clock, we saw the bivouac fires, on a -gloomy hill-side. Further on, in the plain, a great number of -other fires were burning. The night was clear, and as we -approached the bivouac, the sentry challenged: - -"Who goes there?" - -"France!" replied the quartermaster. - -My heart beat, as I thought that, in a few moments, I should -again meet my old comrades, if they were yet in the world. - -Two men of the guard came forward to reconnoitre us. The -commandant of the post, a gray-haired _sous-lieutenant_, his -arm in a sling under his cloak, asked us whence we came, whither -we were going, and whether we had met any parties of Cossacks on -our route. The quartermaster answered. The lieutenant informed us -that Sonham's division had that morning left them, and ordered us -to follow him, that he might examine our marching-papers, which -we did in silence, passing among the bivouac fires, around which -men, covered with dried mud, were sleeping, in groups of twenty. -Not one moved. - -We arrived at the officers' quarters. It was an old brick-kiln, -with an immense roof, resting on posts driven into the ground. A -large fire was burning in it, and the air was agreeably warm. -Around it soldiers were sleeping, with happy faces, and near the -posts stacks of arms shone in the light of the flames. One -bronzed old veteran watched alone, seated on the ground, and -mending a shoe with a needle and thread. - -The officer handed me back my paper first, saying: - -"You will rejoin your battalion tomorrow, two leagues hence, near -Torgau." - -{742} - -Then the old soldier, looking at me, placed his hand upon the -ground, to show that there was room beside him, and I seated -myself. I opened my knapsack, and put on new stockings and shoes -which I had brought from Leipsic, after which I felt much better. - -The old man asked: - -"You are rejoining your corps?" - -"Yes; the sixth at Torgau." - -"And you came from--" - -"The hospital at Leipsic." - -"That is easily seen," said he; "you are fat as a beadle. They -fed you on chickens down there, while we were eating cow-beef." - -I looked around at my sleeping neighbors. He was right; the poor -conscripts were mere skin and bone. They were bronzed as -veterans, and scarcely seemed able to stand. - -The old man, in a moment, continued his train of questions: - -"You were wounded?" - -"Yes; at Lutzen." - -"Four months in the hospital!" said he whistling; "what luck! I -have just returned from Spain, flattering myself that I was going -to meet the _Kaiserliks_ of 1807 once more--sheep, regular -sheep--but they have become worse than guerrillas. Things are -spoiling." - -He said the most of this to himself, without according me much of -his attention, all the while sewing his shoe, which from time to -time he tried on, to be sure that the sewn part would not hurt -his foot. At last he put the thread in his knapsack and the shoe -upon his foot, and stretched himself upon a truss of straw. - -I was too fatigued to sleep at once, and for an hour lay awake. - -In the morning I set out again with the quartermaster Poitevin, -and three other soldiers of Sonham's division. Our route lay -along the bank of the Elbe; the weather was wet and the wind -swept fiercely over the river, throwing the spray far on the -land. - -We hastened on for an hour, when suddenly the quartermaster -cried: - -"Attention!" - -He had halted suddenly, and stood listening. We could hear -nothing but the sighing of the wind through the trees, and the -splash of the waves; but his ear was finer than ours. - -"They are skirmishing yonder," said he, pointing to a wood on our -right. "The enemy may be toward us, and the best thing we can do -is to enter the wood and pursue our route cautiously. We can see -at the other end of it what is going on; and if the Prussians or -Russians are there, we can beat a retreat without their -perceiving us." - -We all thought the quartermaster was right; and, in my heart, I -admired the shrewdness of the old drunkard, for such he was. We -kept on toward the wood, Poitevin leading, and the others -following, with our pieces cocked. We marched slowly, stopping -every hundred paces to listen. The shots grew nearer; they were -fired at intervals, and the quartermaster said: - -"They are sharp-shooters reconnoitering a body of cavalry, for -the firing is all on one side." - -It was true. In a few moments we perceived, through the trees, a -battalion of French infantry, about to make their soup, and in -the distance, on the plain beyond, platoons of Cossacks defiling -from one village to another. A few skirmishers along the edge of -the wood were firing on them, but they were almost beyond -musket-range. - -"There are your people, young man," said Poitevin. "You are at -home." - -{743} - -He had good eyes to read the number of a regiment at such a -distance. I could only see ragged soldiers with their cheeks and -famine-glistening eyes. Their great-coats were twice too large -for them, and fell in folds along their bodies like cloaks. I say -nothing of the mud; it was everywhere. No wonder the Germans were -gleeful, even after our victories. - -We went toward a couple of little tents, before which three or -four horses were nibbling the scanty grass. I saw Colonel Lorain, -who now commanded the third battalion--a tall, thin man, with -brown mustaches and a fierce air. He looked at me frowningly, and -when I showed my papers, only said: - -"Go and rejoin your company." - -I started off, thinking that I would recognize some of the -Fourth; but, since Lutzen, companies had been so mingled with -companies, regiments with regiments, and divisions with -divisions, that, on arriving at the camp of the grenadiers, I -knew no one. The men seeing me approach, looked distrustfully at -me, as if to say: - -"Does _he_ want some of our beef? Let us see what he brings -to the pot!" - -I was almost ashamed to ask for my company, when a bony veteran, -with a nose long and pointed like an eagle's beak, and a worn-out -coat hanging from his shoulders, lifting his head, and gazing at -me, said quietly: - -"Hold! It is Joseph. I thought he was buried four months ago." - -Then I recognized my poor Zébédé. My appearance seemed to affect -him, for, without rising, he squeezed my hand, crying: "Klipfel! -here is Joseph!" Another soldier, seated near a pot, turned his -head, saying: - -"It is you, Joseph, is it? Then you were not killed." - -This was all my welcome. Misery had made them so selfish that -they thought only of themselves. But Zébédé was always -good-hearted; he made me sit near him, throwing a glance at the -others that commanded respect, and offered me his spoon, which he -had fastened to the button-hole of his coat. I thanked him, and -produced from my knapsack a dozen sausages, a good loaf of bread, -and a flask of _eau-de-vie_, which I had the foresight to -purchase at Risa. I handed a couple of the sausages to Zébédé, -who took them with tears in his eyes. I was also going to offer -some to the others; but he put his hand on my arm, saying: - -"What is good to eat is good to keep." - -We retired from the circle and ate, drinking at the same time; -the rest of the soldiers said nothing, but looked wistfully at -us. Klipfel, smelling the sausages, turned and said: - -"Hollo! Joseph! Come and eat with us. Comrades are always -comrades, you know." - -"That is all very well," said Zébédé; "but I find meat and drink -the best comrades." - -He shut up my knapsack himself, saying: - -"Keep that, Joseph. I have not been so well regaled for more than -a month. You shall not lose it." - -A half-hour after, the recall was beaten; the skirmishers came -in, and Sergeant Pinto, who was among the number, recognized me, -and said: - -"Well; so you have escaped! But you came back in an evil moment! -Things go wrong--wrong!" - -{744} - -The colonel and commandants mounted, and we began moving. The -Cossacks withdrew. We marched with arms at will; Zébédé was at my -side and related all that passed since Lutzen; the great -victories of Bautzen and Wurtzen; the forced marches to overtake -the retreating enemy; the march on Berlin; then the armistice, -the arrival of the veterans of Spain--men accustomed to pillaging -and living on the peasantry. - -Unfortunately, at the close of the armistice, all were against -us. The country people looked on us with horror; they cut the -bridges down, and kept the Russians and Prussians informed of all -our movements. It rained almost constantly, and the day of the -battle of Dresden, it fell so heavily that the emperor's hat hung -down upon his shoulders. But when victorious, we only laughed at -these things. Zébédé told me all this in detail; how after the -victory at Dresden, General Vandamme, who was to cut off the -retreat of the Austrians, had penetrated to Kulm in his ardor; -and how those whom we had beaten the day before fell upon him on -all sides, front, flank, and rear, and captured him and several -other generals, utterly destroying his _corps d'armée_. Two -days before, owing to a false movement of Marshal Macdonald, the -enemy had surprised our division, and the fifth, sixth, and -eleventh corps on the heights of Luwenberg, and in the -_mélée_ Zébédé received two blows from the butt of a -grenadier's musket, and was thrown into the river Katzbach. -Luckily he seized the over-hanging branch of a tree, and managed -to regain the bank. He told me how all that night, despite the -blood that flowed from his nose and ears, he had marched to the -village of Goldberg, almost dead with hunger, fatigue, and his -wounds, and how a joiner had taken pity upon him and given him -bread, onions, and water. He told me how, on the day following, -they had marched across the fields, each one taking his own -course, without orders, because the marshals, generals, and all -mounted officers had fled as far as possible, in the fear of -being captured. He assured me that fifty hussars could have -captured them, one after another; but that by good fortune, -Blücher could not cross the river, so that they finally rallied -at Wolda, and further on at Buntzlau their officers met them, -surprised at yet having troops to lead. He told me how Marshal -Oudinot and Marshal Ney had been beaten; the first at -Gross-Beeren, and the other at Dennewitz. - -We were between three armies, who were uniting to crush us; that -of the north, commanded by Bernadotte; that of Silesia, commanded -by Blücher; and the army of Bohemia, commanded by Schwartzenberg. -We marched in turn against each of them; they feared the emperor -and retreated before us; but we could not be at once in Silesia -and Bohemia, so march followed march, and countermarch, -countermarch. All the men asked was to fight; they wanted their -misery to end. A sort of guerrilla, named Thielmann, raised the -peasantry against us, and the Bavarians and Wurtemburgers -declared against us. We had all Europe on our hands. - -On the fourteenth of October, our battalion was detached to -reconnoitre the village of Aken. The enemy were in force there -and received us with a scattering artillery fire, and we remained -all night without being able to light a fire, on account of the -pouring rain. The next day we set out to rejoin our division by -forced marches. Every one said, I know not why: - -"The battle is approaching! the fight is coming on!" - -{745} - -Sergeant Pinto declared that he felt the emperor in the air. I -felt nothing, but I knew that we were marching on Leipsic. The -night following, the weather cleared up a little, millions of -stars shone out, and we still kept on. The next day, about ten -o'clock, near a little village whose name I cannot recollect, we -were ordered to halt, and then we heard a trembling in the air. -The colonel and Sergeant Pinto said: - -"The battle has begun!" and at the same moment, the colonel, -waving his sword, cried: - -"Forward!" - -We started at a run, and half an hour after saw, at a few -thousand paces ahead, a long column, in which followed artillery, -cavalry, and infantry, one upon the other; behind us, on the road -to Duben, we saw another, all pushing forward at their utmost -speed. Regiments were even hastening across the fields. - -At the end of the road we could see the two spires of the -churches of Saint Nicholas and Saint Thomas in Leipsic, rising -amidst great clouds of smoke through which broad flashes were -darting. The noise increased; we were yet more than a league from -the city, but were forced to almost shout to hear each other, and -men gazed around, pale as death, seeming by their looks to say: - -"This is indeed a battle!" - -Sergeant Pinto cried that it was worse than Eylau. He laughed no -more, nor did Zébédé; but on, on we rushed, officers incessantly -urging us forward. We seemed to grow delirious; the love of -country was indeed striving within us, but still greater was the -furious eagerness for the fight. - -At eleven o'clock, we descried the battle-field, about a league -in front of Leipsic. We saw the steeples and roofs of the city -crowded with people, and the old ramparts on which I had walked -so often, thinking of Catharine. Opposite us, twelve or fifteen -hundred yards distant, two regiments of red lancers were drawn -up, and a little to the left, two or three regiments of -_chasseurs-à-cheval_, and between them filed the long column -from Duben. Further on, along a slope, were the divisions Ricard, -Dombrowski, Sonham, and several others, with their rear to the -city; and far behind, on a hill, around one of those old -farm-houses with flat roofs and immense outlying sheds, so often -seen in that country, glittered the brilliant uniforms of the -staff. - -It was the army of reserve, commanded by Ney. His left wing -communicated with Marmont, who was posted on the road to Halle, -and his right with the grand army, commanded by the emperor in -person. In this manner our troops formed an immense circle around -Leipsic; and the enemy, arriving from all points, sought to join -their divisions so as to form a yet larger circle around us, and -to inclose us in Leipsic as in a trap. - -While we waited thus, three fearful battles were going on at -once; one against the Austrians and Russians at Wachau; another -against the Prussians at Mockern on the road to Halle; and the -third on the road to Lutzen, to defend the bridge of Lindenau, -attacked by General Giulay. - - - XVIII. - -The battalion was commencing to descend the hill, opposite -Leipsic, when we saw a staff-officer crossing the plain beneath, -and coming at full gallop toward us. In two minutes he was with -us; Colonel Lorain had spurred forward to meet him; they -exchanged a few words, and the officer returned. Hundreds of -others were rushing over the plain in the same manner, bearing -orders. - -{746} - -"Head of column to the right!" shouted the colonel. - -We took the direction of a wood, which skirts the Duben road some -half a league. Once at its borders, we were ordered to re-prime -our guns, and the battalion was deployed through the wood as -skirmishers. We advanced, twenty-five paces apart, and each of us -kept his eyes well opened, as may be imagined. Every minute -Sergeant Pinto would cry out: - -"Get under cover!" - -But he did not need to warn us; each one hastened to take his -post behind a stout tree, to reconnoitre well before proceeding -to another. We kept on in this manner some ten minutes, and, as -we saw nothing, began to grow confident, when suddenly, one, two, -three shots rang out. Then they came from all sides, and rattled -from end to end of our line. At the same instant I saw my comrade -on the left fall, trying, as he sank to the earth, to support -himself by the trunk of the tree behind which he was standing. -This roused me. I looked to the right and saw, fifty or sixty -paces off, an old Prussian soldier, with his long red mustaches -covering the lock of his piece; he was aiming deliberately at me. -I fell at once to the ground, and at the same moment heard the -report. It was a close escape, for the comb, brush, and -handkerchief in my shako were broken and torn by the bullet. A -cold shiver ran through me. - -"Well done! a miss is as good as a mile!" cried the old sergeant, -starting forward at a run, and I, who had no wish to remain -longer in such a place, followed with right good-will. - -Lieutenant Bretonville, waving his sabre, cried, "Forward!" -while, to the right, the firing still continued. We soon arrived -at a clearing, where lay five or six trunks of felled trees, but -not one standing, that might serve us for a cover. Nevertheless, -five or six of our men advanced boldly, when the sergeant called -out: - -"Halt! The Prussians are in ambush around. Look sharp!" - -Scarcely had he spoken, when a dozen bullets whistled through the -branches, and, at the same time, a number of Prussians rose, and -plunged deeper into the forest opposite. - -"There they go! Forward!" cried Pinto. - -But the bullet in my shako had rendered me cautious; it seemed as -if I could almost see through the trees, and, as the sergeant -started forth into the clearing, I held his arm, pointing out to -him the muzzle of a musket peeping out from a bush, not a hundred -paces before us. The others, clustering around, saw it too, and -Pinto whispered, - -"Stay, Bertha; remain here, and do not lose sight of him, while -we turn the position." - -They set off to the right and left, and I, behind my tree, my -piece at my shoulder, waited like a hunter for his game. At the -end of two or three minutes, the Prussian, hearing nothing, rose -slowly. He was quite a boy, with little blonde mustaches, and a -tall, slight, but well-knit figure. I could have killed him as he -stood, but the thought of thus slaying a defenceless man froze my -blood. Suddenly he saw me, and bounded aside. Then I fired, and -breathed more freely as I saw him running, like a stag, toward -the wood. - -At the same moment, five or six reports rang out to the right and -left; the sergeant, Zébédé, Klipfel, and the rest appeared, and a -hundred paces further on, we found the young Prussian upon the -ground, blood gushing from his mouth. He gazed at us with a -scared expression, raising his arms, as if to parry -bayonet-thrusts, but the sergeant called gleefully to him: - -{747} - -"Fear nothing! Your account is settled." - -No one offered to injure him further but Klipfel took a beautiful -pipe, which was hanging out of his pocket, saying: - -"For a long time I have wanted a pipe, and here is a fine one." - -"Fusilier Klipfel!" cried Pinto indignantly, "will you be good -enough to put back that pipe? Leave it to the Cossacks to rob the -wounded! A French soldier knows only honor!" - -Klipfel threw down the pipe, and we departed, not one caring to -look back at the wounded Prussian. We arrived at the edge of the -forest, outside which, among tufted bushes, the Prussians we -pursued had taken refuge. We saw them rise to fire upon us, but -they immediately lay down again. We might have remained there -tranquilly, since we had orders to occupy the wood, and the shots -of the Prussians could not hurt us, protected as we were by the -trees. On the other side of the slope we heard a terrific battle -going on; the thunder of cannon was increasing, it filled the air -with one continuous roar. But our officers held a council, and -decided that the bushes were part of the forest, and that the -Prussians must be driven from them. This determination cost many -a life. - -We received orders, then, to drive in the enemy's tirailleurs, -and as they fired as we came on, we started at a run, so as to be -upon them before they could reload. Our officers ran, also, full -of ardor. We thought the bushes ended at the top of the hill, and -that then we could sweep off the Prussians by dozens. But -scarcely had we arrived, out of breath, upon the ridge, when old -Pinto cried: - -"Hussars!" - -I looked up, and saw the _Colbacks_ rushing down upon us -like a tempest. Scarcely had I seen them, when I began to spring -down the hill, going, I verily believe, in spite of weariness and -my knapsack, fifteen feet at a bound. I saw before me, Pinto, -Zébédé, and the others, making their best speed. Behind, on came -the hussars, their officers shouting orders in German, their -scabbards clanking and horses neighing. The earth shook beneath -them. - -I took the shortest road to the wood, and had almost reached it, -when I came upon one of the trenches where the peasants were in -the habit of digging clay for their houses. It was more than -twenty feet wide, and forty or fifty long, and the rain had made -the sides very slippery; but as I heard the very breathing of the -horses behind me, without thinking of aught else, I sprang -forward, and fell upon my face; another fusilier of my company -was already there. We arose as soon as we could, and at the same -instant two hussars glided down the slippery side of the trench. -The first, cursing like a fiend, aimed a sabre-stroke at my poor -comrade's head, but as he rose in his stirrups to give force to -the blow, I buried my bayonet in his side, while the other -brought down his blade upon my shoulder with such force, that, -were it not for my epaulette, I believe that I had been well-nigh -cloven in two. Then he lunged, but as his point touched my -breast, a bullet from above crashed through his skull. I looked -around, and saw one of our men, up to his knees in the clay. He -had heard the oaths of the hussars and the neighing of the -horses, and had come to the edge of the trench to see what was -going on. - -"Well, comrade," said he, laughing, "it was about time." - -{748} - -I had not strength to reply, but stood trembling like an aspen -leaf. He unfixed his bayonet, and stretched the muzzle of his -piece to me to help me out. Then I squeezed his hand, saying: - -"You saved my life! What is your name?" - -He told me that his name was Jean Pierre Vincent. I have often -since thought that I should be only too happy to render that man -any service in my power; but two days after, the second battle of -Leipsic took place; then the retreat from Hanau began, and I -never saw him again. - -Sergeant Pinto and Zébédé came up a moment after. Zébédé said: - -"We have escaped once more, Joseph, and now we are the only -Phalsbourg men in the battalion. Klipfel was sabred by the -hussars." - -"Did you see?" I cried. - -"Yes; he received over twenty wounds, and kept calling to me for -aid." Then, after a moment's pause, he added, "O Joseph! it is -terrible to hear the companion of your childhood calling for -help, and not be able to give it! But they were too many. They -surrounded him on ail sides." - -The thoughts of home rushed upon both our minds. I thought I -could see grandmother Klipfel when she would learn the news, and -this made me think too of Catharine. - -From the time of the charge of the hussars until night, the -battalion remained in the same position, skirmishing with the -Prussians. We kept them from occupying the wood; but they -prevented us from ascending to the ridge. The next day we knew -why. The hill commanded the entire course of the Partha, and the -fierce cannonade we heard came from Dombrowski's division, which -was attacking the Prussian left wing, in order to aid General -Marmont at Mockern, where twenty thousand French, posted in a -ravine, were holding eighty thousand of Blücher's troops in -check; while toward Wachau a hundred and fifteen thousand French -were engaged with two hundred thousand Austrians and Russians. -More than fifteen hundred cannon were thundering at once. Our -poor little fusilade was like the humming of a bee in a storm, -and we sometimes ceased firing, on both sides, to listen. It -seemed as if some supernatural, infernal battle were going on; -the air was filled with smoke; the earth trembled beneath our -feet; old soldiers like Pinto declared they had never seen -anything like it. - -About six o'clock, a staff-officer brought orders to Colonel -Lorain, and immediately after a retreat was sounded. The -battalion had lost sixty men. - -It was night when we left the forest, and on the banks of the -Partha among caissons, wagons, retreating divisions, ambulances -filled with wounded, all defiling over the two bridges--we had to -wait more than two hours for our turn to cross. The heavens were -black; the artillery still growled afar off, but the three -battles were ended. We heard that we had beaten the Austrians and -the Russians at Wachau, on the other side of Leipsic; but our men -returning from Mockern were downcast and gloomy; not a voice -cried _Vive l'Empereur!_ as after a victory. - -Once on the other side of the river, we marched on amid the din -of the retreat from Mockern, and at length reached a -burial-ground, where we were ordered to stack arms and break -ranks. - -{749} - -By this time the sky had cleared, and I recognized Schoenfeld in -the moonlight. How often had I eaten bread and drank white wine -with Zunnier there at the Golden Sheaf when the sun shone -brightly and the leaves were green around? But those times had -passed! I sat against the cemetery wall, and at length fell -asleep. About three o'clock in the morning, I was awakened. - -It was Zébédé. "Joseph," said he, "come to the fire. If you -remain here, you run the risk of catching the fever." - -I arose, sick with fatigue and suffering. A fine rain filled the -air. My comrade drew me toward the fire which smoked in the -drizzling atmosphere; it seemed to give out no heat; but Zébédé -having made me drink a draught of brandy, I felt at least less -cold, and gazed at the bivouac fires on the other side of the -Partha. - -"The Prussians are warming themselves in our wood," said Zébédé. - -"Yes," I replied; "and poor Klipfel is there too, but he no -longer feels the cold." - -My teeth chattered. These words saddened us both. A few moments -after, Zébédé resumed: - -"Do you remember, Joseph, the black ribbon he wore the day of the -conscription, and how he cried that we were all condemned to -death, like those who had gone to Russia?" - -I thought how Pinacle had held out the black ribbon for me; and -the remembrance, together with the cold, which seemed to freeze -the very marrow in our bones, made me shudder. I thought Pinacle -was right; that I had seen the last of home, and I cursed those -who had forced me from it. - -At day-break, wagons arrived with food and brandy for us. The -rain had ceased; we made soup, but nothing could warm me; I had -caught the fever. I was not the only one in the battalion in that -condition; three fourths of the men were suffering from it; and, -for a month before, those who could no longer march had lain down -by the roadside weeping and calling upon their mothers like -little children. Hunger, forced marches, the rain, and grief had -done their work, and happy was it for the parents that they could -not see the miserable end of their cherished sons. - -As the light increased, we saw to the left, on the other side of -the river, burnt villages, heaps of dead, abandoned wagons, and -broken cannon, stretching as far as the eye could reach. It was -worse than at Lutzen. We saw the Prussians deploy, and advance -their thousands over the battle-field. They were to join with the -Russians and Austrians and close the great circle around us, and -we could not prevent them, especially as Bernadotte and the -Russian General Benningsen had come up with twenty thousand fresh -troops. Thus, after fighting three battles in one day, were we, -only one hundred thousand strong, seemingly about to be entrapped -in the midst of three hundred thousand bayonets, not to speak of -fifty thousand horse and twelve hundred cannon. - -From Schoenfeld, the battalion started to rejoin the division at -Kohlgarten. All the roads were lined with slow-moving ambulances, -filled with wounded; all the wagons of the country around had -been impressed for this service; and, in the intervals between -them, marched hundreds of poor fellows with their arms in slings, -or their heads bandaged--pale, crestfallen, half dead. - -We made our way, with a thousand difficulties, through this mass, -when, near Kohlgarten, twenty hussars, galloping at full speed, -and with levelled pistols, drove back the crowd, right and left, -into the fields, shouting as they pressed on: - -{750} - -"The emperor! the emperor!" - -The battalion drew up, and presented arms; and a few moments -after, the _grenadiers-à-cheval_ of the guard--veritable -giants, with their great boots, their immense bear-skin hats, -descending to their shoulders and only allowing their mustaches, -nose, and eyes to remain visible--passed at a gallop. Our men -looked joyfully at them, glad that such robust warriors were on -our side. - -Scarcely had they passed, when the staff tore after. Imagine a -hundred and fifty to two hundred marshals, generals, and other -superior officers, mounted on magnificent steeds, and so covered -with embroidery that the color of their uniforms was scarcely -visible; some tall, thin, and haughty; others short, thick-set, -and red-faced; others again young and handsome, sitting like -statues in their saddles; all with eager look and flashing eyes. -It was a magnificent and terrible sight. But the most striking -figure among those captains, who for twenty years had made Europe -tremble, was Napoleon himself, with his old hat and gray -over-coat; his large, determined chin and neck buried between his -shoulders. All shouted, "_Vive l'Empereur!_" but he heard -nothing of it. He paid no more attention to us than to the -drizzling rain which filled the air, but gazed with contracted -brows at the Prussian army stretching along the Partha to join -the Austrians. - -"Did you see him, Joseph?" asked Zébédé. - -"I did," I replied; "I saw him well, and I will remember the -sight all my life." - -"It is strange," said my comrade; "he does not seem to be -pleased. At Wurzen, the day after the battle, he seemed rejoiced -to hear our "_Vive l'Empereur!_' and the generals all wore -merry faces too. To-day they seem savage, and nevertheless the -captain said that we bore off the victory on the other side of -Leipsic." - -Others thought the same thing without speaking of it, but there -was a growing uneasiness among all. - -We found the regiment bivouacked near Kohlgarten. In every -direction camp-fires were rolling their smoke to the sky. A -drizzling rain continued to fall, and the men, seated on their -knapsacks around the fires, seemed depressed and gloomy. The -officers formed groups of their own. On all sides it was -whispered that such a war had never before been seen; it was one -of extermination; that it did not help us to defeat the enemy, -for they only desired to kill us off, knowing that they had four -or five times our number of men, and would finally remain -masters. - -Toward evening of the next day, we discovered the army of the -north on the plateau of Breitenfeld. This was sixty thousand more -men for the enemy. I can yet hear the maledictions levelled at -Bernadotte--the cries of indignation of those who knew him as a -simple officer in the army of the republic, who cried out that he -owed us all--that we made him a king with our blood, and that he -now came to give us the finishing blow. - -That night, as we drew our lines still closer around Leipsic, I -gazed at the circle of fires which surrounded us, and it seemed -as if the whole world was bent on our extermination. But I -remembered that we had the honor of bearing the name of -Frenchmen, and must conquer or die. - - - To Be Concluded In Our Next. - ------- - -{751} - - The Old Roman World. [Footnote 67] - - [Footnote 67: _The Old Roman World: - the Grandeur and Failure of its Civilization._ - By John Lord, LL.D. - New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1867.] - - -Did Doctor Lord dream that the world would pronounce him immortal -for having formed an ill-assorted museum of effete ideas gathered -from all the kingdoms of thought? While he was writing the sheets -of _The Old Roman World_, was he thinking of a political -world, or an ecclesiastical world, or a literary world, or a -military world, or conjuring up a visionary world? Did he base -his claims to an imperishable name on his faculty to extract -philosophical truth from historical facts, or on his powers of -describing facts and communicating truths so as to be useful to -his fellow-man, or on his irrepressible fluency in saying again -and again, what had been better said again and again by others -before? Did he intend to write a book; or are the sixteen -chapters of his volume sixteen independent and unrelated -pamphlets, or sixteen stump speeches, or sixteen lectures, or -sixteen spiritualistic effusions in a meandering mood of mind? - -Did he write to instruct the student, or amuse the indolent, or -delight the world, or add to the lore of the learned? Did he ever -read, in the original languages, the historians, the -philosophers, the critics, the poets, the scientific writers on -whose minds and merits he wrote; or has he seen them only as in a -mirror, by means of encyclopedian dissertations, hand-books, and -such second-hand depositories? Did he think that the world would -regard his compilations as a faithful reflector of ancient minds -and ancient life? - -There is, however, in Dr. Lord's _Old Roman World_ food for -thought. No one denies the importance of the high and momentous -questions connected with the Roman name. It is an unquestionable -fact that, in the history of the human race, the Romans occupy -the most prominent position. To the eyes of the historian, the -Roman world is, amongst the nations of bygone centuries, what, to -the eyes of the astronomer, the sun is amongst the heavenly -bodies. The generative causes of that outshining social edifice -have occupied the most splendid intellects in past ages, and have -been analyzed anew in our day, according to his generalization, -by Dr. Lord. To his mind it seems that the nations of the earth -were welded into one body by the superior military mechanism of -the Romans, and that the impaired efficiency of this military -machinery, together with a certain mysterious fatality, produced -the disintegration of the Roman empire, by destroying the -cohesive qualities of Roman rule. Such is the pervading idea of -his chapters. We know that vast empires have been born of the -sword; but we have yet to learn that an empire embracing the -nations, religions, and languages of the earth, could have been -founded on, and conserved for centuries by, military mechanism. -The Romans, like Attila, or Genghis Khan, or Alexander, or -Sesostris, might have gone forth, and, either by bravery, or -superior tactics, or vast levied armies, have overrun the nations -of the earth; but military mechanism could never have raised and -sustained through a long lapse of ages a mighty empire built on -vanquished peoples. -{752} -And yet Rome not only conquered and incorporated independent -races, but glued them to the centre Rome; so much so, that they -lost animosity, language, institutions, and nationality to become -Romans. Rome not only romanized Italy, but italianized the then -known world. In the days of Hadrian and Trajan, the waves of the -Mediterranean knew no lord but the Roman; from the margin of -those seas were wafted the wealth and the produce of the world -toward Rome; and far beyond that margin, through hundreds of -miles, the genius and power of Rome were transforming the -nations, building roads and palaces, founding cities, subdividing -provinces, spreading the Latin language, and stamping the mind of -Latium on the human race. From the Padus to Japugium the names of -the Italian tribes were merged into the name of Rome. The men of -Mesraim bowed before the Roman eagle, and saw the traditions of -two thousand years vanish away before the institutions of Rome. -The Asiatic cities renounced their pride of birth, and Greece -yielded up a rich heritage of literary and military glory. The -fiery valor of the Gauls and the martial memories of western -nations were surmounted by the unconquerable energy of the Roman -mind. To Rome the known nations of the world became as handmaids, -and paid homage through a dozen generations. Whatever had been -great in the world, whatever powerful, whatever beautiful, -whatever renowned, whatever ennobling, was swallowed up in the -mighty name of Rome. And when, amid the upheaving of humanity and -the undulations of races, Rome sank as a ship in a troubled -ocean, her spirit lived to elevate the Italian, the Frank, the -Spaniard, the Norman, to be the princes of the families of -mankind. Could military mechanism have accomplished such results? -Could military mechanism, when it was no more, possess a -renovating influence? Does not Sallust assert the superiority of -the Gauls to the Romans in war? Besides, it is a questionable -point whether the military systems of the Greeks are not -preferable to the war tactics of the Romans. The Thessalian -cavalry, and the Macedonian phalanx with its adaptability to -evolutions, can stand a strict critical comparison with the Roman -equites and Roman legion. The variety of movements in the -phalanx, despite its inflexible and inseparable character, may -well compensate for the individual and displayed energy of the -Roman combination. That Polybius judges the mechanism of the -Roman superior to that of the Greek, may be ascribable to the -fact that he preferred attributing the subjugation of his -countrymen, not to a superiority of valor, but of military -manoeuvres. Does any one suppose that the army of Pompey, twice -as numerous as that of Caesar, was worsted through the defect of -theoretic military mechanism, rather than through the deficiency -of the qualities which make a soldier? If any one will take the -trouble of writing, in parallel columns, the organization, the -sub-organizations, the war habiliments, the aggressive and -defensive weapons, the laws of army management in sieges, in -march, in battle, and in the tent, as they existed in Italy and -Greece, we would leave to his candid judgment the decision on the -speculative excellence of Grecian and Roman war systems, -considered as a whole. And on the sea, the Romans were tyros when -the Greeks had attained considerable perfection. The Romans -defeated the Carthaginians, not on a system indigenously reared -on the waters of Latium, but with a fleet formed after the -fashion of an inimical craft wrecked on the Italian shore. -{753} -In the progressive days of Rome, the nomenclature of the parts -and naval acts of a Roman vessel was suggested by, or adopted -from, the preexisting terminology of Greece. What thence? Do we -depreciate the military mechanism of Rome? By no means. But we -unhesitatingly object to placing it as the primary cause of the -elevation of Rome to the pinnacle of power. Where Doctor Lord -placed Roman military mechanism, he should have mentioned Roman -character and Roman institutions. In no place did character and -institutions more powerfully concur to elevate the individual -than in the city of old Rome, in the state of Latium, on the -banks of the Tiber. The kings imparted a multifold and vigorous -development to the martial, the religious, the aesthetical, the -governmental, the utilitarian tendencies of the people. These -fountains of grandeur poured their united streams of glory during -the five centuries of the republic into a magnificent reservoir, -to empty which there was demanded the lapse of five hundred years -of enfeebling despotism. It would be long to trace the single -developments. But we can see, and might explain by facts that, in -as far as Rome incorporated with an equalization other powers, so -far did she strengthen and aggrandize herself; whereas, -incorporations subject to inequality were co-causes of her -destruction. In the books of the Machabees we see that the Jews, -in their emergency, called in the Romans as the justest amongst -the Gentiles. In his preface Livy says: "Caeterum aut me amor -negotii suscepti fallit, aut nulla unquam respublica nec major, -nec sanctior, nec bonis exemplis ditior fuit; nec in quam tam -serae avaritia luxuriaque immigraverint: nec ubi tantus tamdiuque -paupertati ac parsimoniae honos fuerit: adeo quanto rerum minus -tanto minus cupiditatis erat. Nuper divitiae avaritiam at -abundantes voluptates desiderium per luxum atque libidinem -pereundi perdendique omnia invexere." It is always safer to -accuse those that are dead than those with whom we live; and -surely, the historian that did not dread to attack the living, -would not have failed to arraign the dead, had the dead deserved -it. The expulsion and cause of expelling Tarquin, consecrated an -individual self-respect which evermore remained an important -element in the Roman character. This self-respect is the bulwark -of individual freedom, and the most indestructible foundation of -a social edifice. From it arose the acquisition by the populace -of the _jus suffragii, jus commercii, jus connubii, jus -honorum_. It was the mine which blew up, first, the -patricians, and then the nobles. Where did Dr. Lord learn that -patricians and nobles are synonymous terms? This self-respect -imparted fortitude to the soldier, wisdom to the statesman, honor -to the merchant. The individual was clothed with the majesty of -his country. To uphold that majesty was the first duty of the -Roman. Allied with self-respect, unchangeableness of purpose -appears as a trait of the Roman character. Athens might have been -a Rome, had the Athenian spirit the persistency of the Roman. -There was, perhaps, no formative element of the Roman character -so prominent as the practical common sense which made them -learners in all the departments of life. The Romans admitted the -perfectibility of their institutions and practices, so as to -adopt from foreigners whatever they deemed an improvement. -{754} -The Spartan loved his country as intensely and as devotedly as -the Roman, but Sparta, rejecting the eclecticism of Rome, -remained cramped and undeveloped in its exclusiveness. These -qualities of the mind, together with a physical strength, such as -appears from the saying of Pyrrhus, "Had I the Romans for -soldiers, I could conquer the world," led Rome along the highway -of glory and power. - -It would be folly to follow Dr. Lord through the many subjects on -which he speaks. We take the first chapter of his work as a -specimen of the wild, thoughtless, rambling manner in which he -writes. It is headed "The Conquests of the Romans;" but in it one -finds a paragraph on "the lawfulness of war," a paragraph on "the -evils of war," a few pages on "Providence," a disquisition on the -immediate and ultimate consequences of the Crusades, a paragraph -on Providence again, something on the aspirations of the South, a -paragraph to show "how petty legends indicate the existence of -great virtues," a paragraph to show "how petty wars with -neighboring states develop patriotism," something on morals and -Cato, whom he characterizes as "a _hard, narrow_ statesman," -a _chronicon Romanum_, the history of the helepolis, a -paragraph to show the necessity for the empire. Would any one -imagine that the same man wrote of Rome under the emperors the -following passages: "The real (page 13) grandeur of Rome is -associated with the emperors. Great works of art appear, and they -become historical. The city is changed from brick to marble, and -palaces, and theatres, and temples become colossal. There are -more marble busts than living men. A liberal patronage is -extended to artists. Medicine, law, and science flourish. ... The -_highest state of prosperity is reached_ that the ancient -world knew." Again "Rome (p. 69) yields her liberties, and -imperial despotism begins its reign--hard, immovable, resolute-- -under which genius is crushed. Empire is added, _but prosperity -is undermined_. The _machinery is perfect_, but life is -fled." Dr. Lord tells us that he loves to ponder on the sacred -geese, but we would respectfully direct his pondering to the -inconsistencies, contradictions, and false pronouncements with -which his volume teems. He considers the Crusades the worst wars -in history, uncalled for, unscrupulous, fanatical; but, though -they were uncalled for, unscrupulous, and fanatical, he styles -Bernard, Urban, Philip, and Richard, great men, far-sighted -statesmen, and asserts that "the hand which guided that warfare -between Europe and Asia was the hand that led the Israelites out -of Egypt across the Red Sea;" and those wars which he pronounces -worst he declares to have developed the resources of Europe, -built free cities, opened the horizon of knowledge, and given a -new stimulus to all the energies of the European nations. There -are few who will agree with Dr. Lord when he says that the Romans -"despised literature, art, philosophy, agriculture, and even -luxury when they were making their grand conquests." He need only -read his own description of the heroes who made the conquests to -see the falsehood of his statements. There are few, too, who will -say that he describes the characters of the ancients with -accuracy. We would especially notice his defect of appreciation -in the case of Homer, of Sophocles, and of the Latin historians. -The grand excellence of Homer remains unseen by him. -{755} -The raising up of hero after and over hero, and the transference -of a collective glory to Achilles may be said to constitute the -greatest marvel of the Iliad. This generates the oneness which -has been noticed and praised by all the ancients. The Doctor -praises extravagantly Virgil's epic, but every candid reader will -confess that he feels unconcerned, and, it may be, weary, as he -wades though the last half of the AEneid, whereas he becomes more -and more enraptured as he advances through the books of the -Iliad. Diomedes is as grand a warrior as AEneas, and we doubt -very much whether Virgil could have raised a higher model than -AEneas, whereas Homer has worked the climax through four or five -to Achilles. Who believes, or has believed, that Demosthenes' -Philippics are more brilliant than his De Corona? To us Dr. Lord -seems, in judging of the ancients, to have acted as a compiler -rather than to stand boldly before the extant originals and -pronounce his own judgment. When he does speak for himself, he -seems to be more anxious to make himself singular than to see and -tell the truth with accuracy. Speaking of "the solitary grandeur -of the Jewish muse and the _mythological myths_ of the -ante-Homeric songsters," he looks rather in the light of a -_foolish fool_ than a serious writer communicating truth to -a criticising world. - -It is curious, touchy, and, we might say, laughable, to read over -Dr. Lord's notions of the connection of the old Roman world with -the church. Bossuet's idea of the old Roman empire being an -instrument in the hands of God to propagate Christianity, has a -deep fascination for our author; but Bossuet never gets the -credit of it. We err very much if, in writing _The Old Roman -World_, Dr. Lord did not intend to elaborate this conception -in a work which the world would recognize as the rival of -Gibbon's _Decline and Fall_. How does he do it? He discovers -that there had existed an ineffable fatalism, according to which -the Roman empire was doomed to die. What was old and heathen -should disappear, that what was new and Christian might arise. -The fading away of the Roman reign was unworthy to be compared -with the glories about to be manifested. What were they? Were -they the beauties of a grand society whose teaching authority as -to the things of eternity was to be the Holy Spirit, whose head -and sanctifier was to be Christ--of a society to be sustained by -the hand of God, elevated above all societies, extended and -visible through the world such as Bossuet conceived? Dr. Lord -opines that, when Christianity is embraced by all, it is -corrupted, and may be said to be dead except with a few chosen -spirits; and when Christianity is embraced only by a few and is -pure, it is valueless for the mass of mankind, being limited and -uninfluential. On either horn of the dilemma, Christianity may be -regarded as an unimportant and unprofitable school for the -multitude. Yet he says that the world marches on in Christian -progress. There are always some revivalists, some believers, as -the Puritans, in a pure and personal God; and Providence, which -"grandly and mournfully" eliminates the Roman world, consoles the -human race by casting up, here and there, some select ones, some -pure ones, some godly ones. But, if Dr. Lord merely wished to act -the part of a noonday somnambulist or a dreamy rhapsodist, we -would fain permit him to revel undisturbed in his reveries. We -have, however, a right, as Catholics, to object to -misrepresentations of Catholic doctrine. There are many honest -and righteous Protestant minds whose vision may become jaundiced -by the assertions of this writer. -{756} -Where has he learned that the Virgin has been made the object of -absolute worship? When he speaks of ceremonies, and festivals, -and pomps, he ought to look upon them as those do who use them. -We have always been at a loss to understand what special enmity -some people have against a special sense. If the senses are -channels for communicating thought, why decry the legitimate use -of any one of them performing its own function? Why instruct -through the ear and not through the eye? Does not a map surpass -all language in communicating geographical knowledge? Logically, -one ought to praise God through the intuition of spirit -_vis-a-vis_ spirit and disown corporeal agents, eyes, -tongue, ears, hands, physical actions; or recognize all, provided -they be means of communicating thought. There is not and there -never has been in the church, any imposing altar typical of -Jewish sacrifices. As to the monks, either Lord admits the truth -of what are called evangelical counsels, or he does not; if he -does, he should not be at war with the monks for actuating what -is true; if he does not, how does he get rid of the texts of the -Bible which contain them? Did the monks effect nothing for the -good of humanity? Were all the monks in pursuit of a purely -contemplative life? Were there no teachers, no benefactors of the -poor, no cultivators of deserts, and woods, and wildernesses -amongst them? Were there no founders of cities, no evangelizers -of savages? Surely, the disciples of Columbanus, of Benedict, of -Basil, deserve something better than the following turgid -rigmarole of a visionary _fanfaron_: "Monastic life (p. 559) -ripened also in a grand system of penance and expiatory rights, -such as characterized oriental asceticism. Armies of monks -retired to gloomy and isolated places, and abandoned themselves -to rhapsodies, and fastings, and self-expiations in opposition to -the grand doctrine of Christ's expiation. They despaired of -society and abandoned the world to its fate--a dismal and -fanatical set of men overlooking the practical aims of life. They -lived more like beasts and savages than enlightened -Christians--wild, fierce, solitary, superstitious, ignorant, -fanatical, filthy, clothed in rags, eating the coarsest food, -practising gloomy austerities, introducing a false standard of -virtue, regardless of the comforts of civilization, and careless -of those great interests which were entrusted to them to guard. -... - -The monks and hermits sought to save themselves by climbing to -heaven by the same ladder that had been sought by the soofis and -fakirs, which delusion had an immense influence in undermining -the doctrines of grace. Christianity was fast merging itself into -an oriental theosophy." It is a sad thing to see, and a -tormenting thing to have to follow, through over six hundred -pages, a man, rushing madly from subject to subject. We have no -interest, except in the cause of truth and right, to censure Dr. -Lord; and could we fairly, in the capacity of critic, have -awarded him praise, we should have, without reluctance, and with -warmth, performed the task. We should say that he must have -labored long to compile his work; but if anything distinguishes -that work, it is an unlikeness to the sources from which it is -presumed to have been gotten up. The ancients conceived of a -whole, and elaborated the natural component parts to form that -whole; in the work before us the formative materials produce as -grotesque a union as that in the minotaur, or centaur, or gorgon, -or chimaera, or hydra, or sphinx. In the ancients, we are pleased -with a modesty which dreads alike the overstatement or the -withholding of the truth; Dr. Lord astounds us with an unblushing -and unthinking recklessness of assertion. In presenting their -thoughts to the world, the Greeks and Romans were scrupulous down -to the collocation of a particle; Dr. Lord's production is -overgrown with expletives, ambiguities, redundancies, and -repetitions. To any one accustomed to gaze on the chaste, -crystal, and refreshing pages of classic lore, his volume is an -unendurable eyesore. - --------- - -{757} - - The Divine Loadstone. - - - "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, - will draw all things to myself." - - - The Disciple. - - "Ah me! what doth my feet restrain, - That I thy cross behold-- - A loadstone all divine-- - Drawing men's hearts with mystic chain - As misers lured by gold, - And yet it draws not mine?" - - - The Master. - - "My word is very truth, my son; - All hearts to me should freely run; - And if I draw not thee - As sweetly as the rest, - 'Tis thou who wouldst the loadstone be, - And draw the hearts of men to thee-- - Their love doth mine contest." - - - The Disciple. - - "Nay, Lord; 'tis only for thy heart I pine." - - - The Master. - - "Say'st so? Then give me, also, all of thine." - ----------- - -{758} - - Translated From The German. - - The Rival Composers. - - -Late one afternoon, in the autumn of the year 1779, a gentleman, -walking in the garden of the Tuileries, was observed by the guard -near the gate of the palace private grounds, gesticulating in a -manner to excite suspicion. He was plainly dressed, and advanced -in years. When the sentinel saw him, after walking briskly to and -fro, and muttering half aloud, stop and lift his hand in a -threatening manner toward the royal abode, he promptly arrested -him. Calling two _gens d'armes_, he put the suspected man, -supposed guilty of designs against the king, into their hands, to -be conveyed to prison. - -At the gate they met a richly gilded open carriage, in which sat -two ladies, with a child and nurse. The taller of the ladies wore -a hat of dark velvet, with drooping plumes, and a mantle of the -same, with a flowing dress of satin, the sleeves trimmed with -rich lace. The soldiers stopped to salute the young Queen Marie -Antoinette, and the prisoner removed his hat and bowed low. At -the same instant the lady leaned from the carriage, exclaiming, -"Ah! Master Gluck!" - -The queen laughed heartily when she heard her old music-master -had just been arrested for disloyal practices near the palace; -when he was only declaiming a passionate recitative out of his -new opera! She insisted on his entering the carriage and going to -the palace with her; while the astonished guards went to report -their mistake. - -Not unfrequently had the celebrated composer been the guest of -the royal lady. He was wont to visit her in the garden of the -Trianon, talking German with her, and exchanging reminiscences of -Vienna. When the opera-house in Paris had resounded with the -applause called forth by the representation of one of his operas, -and he was sent for to the royal box, the queen's own hand had -crowned him with the chaplet his genius had won. - -At this period the music-loving population of Paris was divided -into partisans of the two rival composers, Gluck and Piccini. The -merits of each were discussed in every circle, and comparisons -were made, often with a confused war of tongues; the dispute -being, to whom the palm of superior greatness should be awarded. -Each had composed a piece on the same subject, which was shortly -to be represented; the success deciding which of the two should -keep the field. - -Late the same evening a number of the Parisian connoisseurs and -artists were assembled in the brilliantly illuminated -_salon_ of the Café du Feu. Many of the _noblesse_ were -to be seen, surrounded by critics, amateurs, etc., and the -company was in a Babel of declamation and argument; the -battle-cries all over Paris being "Gluck" and "Piccini." Three -young men, who had just entered, secured a place in a quiet -side-room, where three others were seated; one in a corner, deep -in the shadow of a pillar. Comfortably ensconced in an arm-chair, -this man sat with head leaning back, drumming with the fingers of -one hand on the table, and taking no notice of anything that -passed. -{759} -Another occupant of the room was a handsome young Frenchman, with -deep blue eyes shaded with heavy brown lashes, and complexion of -the rich brown of Provence; he was poorly dressed, but his manner -was graceful and spirited. His companion at the table was a long, -thin, middle-aged man, with an air of discontent and spite in his -whole demeanor. He wore a rough brown peruke; his features were -heavy, and he had a pair of keen, squinting eyes, with a peevish, -sinister twist about the mouth. He spoke French badly, his accent -betraying the Saxon. He was speaking of Gluck, and ended his -remarks by saying: "I cannot understand what a people of so much -judgment and taste as the French find so great in this man!" - -"Are you speaking," cried the young Frenchman, "of the creator of -_Armida_, of _Orpheus_, of _Iphigenia?_" - -"Ahem! yes. He is not esteemed highly among us in Germany, for he -knows little or nothing of art-rules, as the learned Herr Forhel -in Göttingen and other distinguished critics have proved." - -"And you, a musician, a composer, a German, speak thus!" -exclaimed the young man. "I know little of art-rules; but one -thing I know and feel, the Chevalier Gluck has a grand and noble -spirit. His music awakens elevated feeling; no low or common -thought can approach me while I listen to it; even when -spiritless and dejected, my despondency takes flight before the -lofty joy I feel in Gluck's creations." - -"And think you," cried young Arnaut, who belonged to the other -faction, "that the great Piccini would enter into a contest with -your chevalier, did he not know he was to strive with a worthy -adversary!" - -The German, nettled at the question, shuffled a little as he -answered, "Hem! I suppose not; I only maintain that M. Gluck is -not the best composer, as the learned Herr Forhel has proved. -With regard to a church style--" - -"Who is talking of church styles!" interrupted the brown youth, -with vivacity. "The point is, a grand opera style! Would your -learned critics change Gluck's _Armida_ into a nun's hymn, -or have his wild motets of _Tauris_ sung in the style of -Palestrina?" - -The squinting man moved in his seat, sipped his orangeade, and -muttered: "The learned Herr Forhel has proved that the Chevalier -Gluck understands nothing of songs." - -"Nothing of songs!" echoed all the company, in surprise. The -German continued: "He cannot carry through an ordinary melody -according to rule; his song is but an extravagant declamation." - -The brown youth started to his feet in glowing indignation. "You -are not worthy to be a German, sir," he cried, "thus to speak of -your great countryman. All Paris acknowledges in Gluck a mighty -artist; the dispute is only whether he or Piccini is the greater. -Gluck's music is the true expression of feeling, alike removed -from the cold constraint of rules and from capricious innovation! -Whether he would excel in church or concert music--or would -attempt it--we cannot tell! He has set himself one glorious task, -and pursues that with all the strength of a great spirit!" - -"What is your name, young man?" sounded a sonorous voice from the -corner behind him. - -The stranger, whom all turned to look at, had risen from his -seat, and the light of the candles shone full upon his face. - -{760} - -"The Chevalier Gluck!" exclaimed several voices. Gluck smiled and -bowed; then turning to the brown youth, he repeated his question. - -"My name is Etienne Mehul," was the modest reply. - -"You are a musician, I perceive," said Gluck. "Will you call at -my house? Here is my address." - -Handing him the card, he turned to the squinting German, who sat -embarrassed, and spoke to him with undisguised contempt: - -"Mr. Elias Hegrin! It is an unexpected pleasure to see you in -Paris; yet a pleasure--for I like to tell you honestly what a -miserable rascal you are! You think I understand nothing of the -rules of music or of songs--eh! You thought differently in -Vienna, when you almost lived at my house, and received -instructions in music from me, and took what I procured for you -from patrons, and what I gave you out of my own pocket! You -became my enemy because I candidly told you you could master only -the lifeless form, not the spirit. You seek what you can never -obtain--not for the sake of art, but for your own temporary -advantage. You would do better as an honest tailor or shoemaker, -than a mean musician! You could not forgive my telling you this! -and so you go and abuse me in Göttingen! Go and do better, if you -can; but I think that will be difficult; for he who belies art -because he cannot compass her, will be likely to remain the -rascal he has shown himself! Adieu, Messieurs!" - -Gluck nodded to young Mehul, and went out. - -Queen Marie Antoinette had a private morning reception of her -friends at her favorite Trianon. Comte d'Artois, just returned to -Paris from his hunting castle, had come with his brother, the -Comte de Provence, to pay his respects to his beautiful -sister-in-law. They talked of the latest news in the capital, the -balls, flirtations, witticisms, spectacles, etc., and of the new -entertainment expected in the contest between Gluck and Piccini; -the anticipations of which kept all Paris in dispute. - -D'Artois declared himself for Gluck. "Your countryman," he cried -to the queen, "is a splendid fellow! He went on the chase with -me, and made five shots one after the other. As to the Italians, -they do not know how to hold a gun!" - -"I like the Italian music best," said the Comte de Provence. "You -cannot well sing or dance to the German, as Noverre justly -observes." - -"Noverre had to dance to German music, though!" cried the queen, -laughing. Then she told the story of the great dancing-master's -visit to Gluck, and how he had ventured to tell him that no -dancer in the grand opera could dance to his music in the -Scythian ballets; and how Gluck, enraged, had seized the little -man, and danced him through the whole house, up-stairs and -down-stairs, singing the Scythian ballets; and had asked him, -when the breath was nearly knocked out of Noverre, "Well, sir, -think you, now, a dancer in the grand opera can dance to my -music?" to which the poor panting victim had gasped out an eager -affirmative! The story was much laughed at, and the arrogance of -the opera artists commented on. - -A page entered and announced, "The Chevalier Gluck, come to give -the queen a lesson on the piano." - -Marie Antoinette ordered him to be admitted. - -"We were talking of you, M. Gluck," said the Princess Elizabeth; -"and her majesty praised you for an excellent dancing-master." - -"And my brother thinks you an expert in hunting, and on that -account he belongs to your party," remarked the Comte de -Provence. - -{761} - -"Come," cried the queen, "you must not tease my good master! -Leave him to save all his patience for his pupil--myself! He will -have need of it, I assure you!" - -"Because, Antoinette," said Gluck gravely, speaking in German, -"you do not play half so well as queen, as when you were -archduchess." - -The queen laughed as she answered in the same language, "Wait but -a little, Christophe! your ears shall ring presently. Ladies and -gentlemen, will you be quiet?" She spoke to them in French, as -she went to open the piano. - -She inserted the key and turned it, perhaps too hastily; for she -could not open the instrument. After several vain attempts, she -called impatiently: - -"Come hither, Gluck, and help me!" - -Gluck tried, but with no better success; the others took their -turn; but the lock resisted all their efforts. The queen looked -vexed. - -"What fool can have made such a lock?" exclaimed Gluck. - -"Take care, chevalier, what you say," said the Comte de Provence; -"the lock is of the king's own making--of a new sort, I -believe." - -D'Artois went out, and in a few moments returned with the king. -Louis XVI. wore a short jacket, his head covered with an -unsightly leathern cap, his face glowing and begrimed with soot, -his hands were rough as those of a locksmith, and a bundle of -keys and picklocks were fastened to his belt. He went up to the -piano, and examined the lock with the earnest manner of an -artisan, tried several keys without success, shook his head -dissatisfied, and tried others. Finding the right one at last, -the lock yielded, and with an air of triumph, as if he had won a -battle, he said, smiling on his wife, - -"There, the piano is open! Now, madame, you can play!" - -But so long a time had passed, that the queen had lost the -inclination. As she would not take her lesson, the Princess -Elizabeth asked Gluck to play them something from his -_Iphigenia_. He played the frenzy scene of Orestes. When he -had finished it, the king exclaimed: "Excellent, chevalier! I am -delighted. I will have your opera produced first, with all the -care you like; and I hope the success will gratify you." - -Two more visitors were announced--Signor Piccini and the -Chevalier Noverre, who started and colored in some embarrassment -when he saw Gluck. The king commanded the two composers to salute -each other, which they did with dignity, cordiality, and easy -grace. After the queen had spoken to them, the Chevalier Noverre -reminded her majesty that she had been pleased to grant -permission to Signor Piccini to play some new airs from his -_Iphigenia_ before her. - -Marie Antoinette assented, and asked Piccini what selection he -had made; to which he replied that Noverre had wished him to play -the first Scythian dance. - -D'Artois burst into a laugh; but the others restrained their -mirth. At the queen's command, Piccini seated himself at the -piano, the Comte de Provence and Noverre beating time to his -music. All the company thought Piccini's Scythian dance more -pleasing and better adapted to the grace of motion than that of -Gluck. But D'Artois whispered to the king that the dance, though -admirable and full of melody, was better suited for a masked ball -in the _salon_ of the grand opera than for a private abode -in Tauris. -{762} -Gluck listened with earnest attention, evidently appreciating the -merits of his opponent; but a light curl of his lips was seen, -when Piccini indulged too freely in his pretty quaverings and -tinklings. There was great applause when it was ended. Noverre -praised the performance as displaying the inspiriting rhythmus -which alone would enable the dancer to give true expression to -his _pirouettes_ and _enterchats_. - -"I agree with you, Monsieur Noverre," interrupted Louis, "that -Signor Piccini's music is admirable; but I hope you will also -make yourself acquainted with the music of the Chevalier Gluck." - -Noverre replied timidly, that the Chevalier Gluck and he -_were_ on the most friendly terms. - -After the artists had left the royal abode, Gluck and Piccini -took a courteous leave of each other. As Gluck stepped into his -carriage, he said to Noverre: "Do not, chevavalier, forget his -majesty's command. If I made you dance against your will, it was -to introduce you to my music. I regret I am not a proficient in -the art of dancing; yet I am, like yourself, chevalier of the -order _de l'Esprit_, and in that character I wish you a good -morning." - -Piccini laughed at this, but Noverre looked vexed as Gluck drove -away. - -The rehearsals and preparations for the representation of the two -_Iphigenias_ were nearly complete, and the day was appointed -when the masterpiece of Gluck was to receive the sentence of the -Parisians. It was to be performed first; the preference having -been yielded to him as the oldest of the two composers. He was at -that time sixty-five. - -Treatises, learned and superficial, were published, upon Gluck -and Piccini, the differences in their style and in the two -operas; all tinctured with party spirit, and many showing gross -ignorance of music. The performers, too, fell into dissension. -Piccini had hard work to propitiate, by attentions and favors, -some who were opposed to him, that his work might not be spoiled -by their perversity. Gluck resorted to threats, and made his -enemies afraid of him. He trusted to the excellence of his motto, -"Truth makes its way through all things;" and reflected that the -worst success would not make a good work a bad one. - -On the morning of the final rehearsal, the day before the first -representation, young Mehul was announced. Gluck cordially -welcomed him, and asked why he had not seen him before. - -"I feared to disturb you," answered the young man. "But to-day my -anxiety brings me." - -"Anxiety?" questioned Gluck. - -"You have enemies; your opera is to be produced to-morrow! Should -the success fall short of its merits--" - -"Then be it so," said the master, smiling. - -"You can say that so calmly?" - -"Why not? Do you think of devoting yourself to dramatic -composition?" - -"It is my wish to do so." - -"Work, then, with bold heart! Lay hold on what glowing -inspiration brings you, and mould it with earnest heed! The great -thing is, to stand firm, and go on with spirit and strength. The -world makes this hard for the artist, and many fall in the -conflict." - -"You have won!" - -"If I have gone through life neither a fool nor a knave, still I -have my faults. To some the All-Benevolent has granted to know -but little, till what they have attained is wasted, or in danger -of being lost. Happy he who apprehends the better part, and holds -it fast, though his heart be torn in the struggle! -{763} -What will you say when I confess to you, that perception of the -highest--the _only_ good, came late--fearfully late to me! -Music was all to me from earliest youth. When a boy, in lovely -Bohemia, I heard her voice in the dense forest, the gloomy -ravine, or the romantic valley; on the bold, stark cliff; in the -cheerful hunter's call, or the hoarse song of stream and torrent. -I thought there was nothing so great and glorious, that man, -impotent man, could not achieve it. Too soon I learned that -something was impossible. How soon are the spirit's wings -clipped! Then come harassing doubts, false ambition, thirst of -gain, envy, disappointed vanity, worldly cares; the hateful -gnomes of earth, that cling to you and drag you downward, when -you would soar like the eagle toward the sun. Thus it is in -youth, in manhood, in old age. One among many, redeemed from -folly, discerns and appreciates the right, and might create the -beautiful. But by that time the ardor and vigor of youth are -gone; and to his enthusiasm, his newly acquired knowledge, there -remains a grave!" - -"More--much more--to you!" cried Mehul in deep emotion. - -"Perhaps it is true; for when I burst the fetters of the unworthy -and the base, there came to me a radiant vision from the pure, -bright Grecian age. The work of holding it fast, and shaping it -in the external world, is my last. And melancholy it is that a -whole vigorous lifetime could not be consecrated alone to such a -theme--or to yet higher ones. But I must submit in repentance -and humility, for my shortcomings! I will bear it, whether these -Parisians adjudge me fame and wealth, or hiss down my work." - -The hour struck for the rehearsal, and Gluck, accompanied by his -young friend, went to the Royal Academy of Music. - -Nicolo Piccini, morose and out of humor, was walking up and down -his room, glancing now and then at the manuscript of his opera -that lay upon his writing-desk. At times he would go to the desk -as if a happy thought had struck him, to add something to the -notes; but the next instant he would let fall the pen, shake his -head with a dissatisfied and melancholy air, and resume his walk -through the room. - -A knocking was heard; and after it was repeated twice, Piccini -opened the door. Elias Hegrin came in. The composer seemed -disturbed at his presence, and gloomily asked what he wanted. -Hegrin answered that the Chevalier Noverre had informed him -Signor Piccini wished to see him. - -After a pause, Piccini admitted that he had sent for him. - -"And in what can I serve my honored patron?" asked Elias. - -"By speaking the _truth!_" sternly answered Piccini. -"Confess that you spoke falsely, when you told me Gluck stirred -up all his friends to make a party against me!" - -Elias Hegrin changed color, but he collected himself, and -answered, "I spoke the truth." - -"It is _false_, Elias! It was the same when you told me you -had read the manuscript of my adversary, and that the work hardly -deserved the honors of mediocrity." - -"It was the truth, Signor Piccini, and I repeat my opinion of the -opera of the Chevalier Gluck." - -"So much the worse for your judgment! I have heard five -rehearsals, and I must--ay, and _will_ declare before all -the world, that Gluck's _Iphigenia_ is the greatest opera I -know, and that in its author I acknowledge my master." - -{764} - -Elias stared in amazement. - -"I believed I had accomplished something worthy in my own work," -continued Piccini; "and, indeed, my design was pure; nor is my -work altogether without merit; but oh! how void and cold, how -weak and insignificant does it seem to me, compared with Gluck's -gigantic creation! Yes, creation! mine is only a work! a work -that will vanish without a trace; while Gluck's _Iphigenia_ -will endure as long as feeling for the grand and the beautiful is -not dead in the hearts of men!" - -"But, Signor Piccini," stammered Elias. - -"Silence!" interrupted Piccini. "Why have you slandered the noble -chevalier, and striven to bring down his works and his character -to your own level? Are you not ashamed of such pitiful behavior? -In spite of Noverre's recommendation, I have never fully trusted -you; for I know that Noverre hated Gluck for having wounded his -ridiculous vanity. But I never thought you capable of such -meanness as I find you guilty of. Gluck stir up his friends to -make a party against me! Look at these letters in Gluck's own -hand, written to Arnaud, Rollet, Maurepas, wherein he judges my -work thoroughly, dwelling upon the best parts, and entreats them -to listen impartially to my opera as to his own, and to give an -impartial judgment, as he is anxious only for the truth! My -patron, the Comte de Provence, persuaded those gentlemen to send -me these letters, to remove my groundless suspicions. I am deeply -mortified that I ever condescended to make common cause with you! -You have deceived me! Now, tell me, what induced you to act in -this dishonorable manner toward your benefactor?" - -Elias, shrunk into himself, replied in a lachrymose tone, "Ah! I -am an unhappy man, and deserve your sympathy! From boyhood I -heard it said at home that I had extraordinary talent for music, -and would become a great composer, and win both wealth and fame. -I studied zealously; my first work was praised in the town where -I lived; but when I went to Vienna, I could do nothing." - -"Gluck took you by the hand in Vienna, supported you, gave you -instruction, and corrected your works." - -"He did so; but he likewise told me I had no genius, and that I -never could be a great composer." - -"And did he deceive you? What have you proved yourself? You hate -and slander him, then, because he honestly advised you to desist -from useless efforts?" - -Elias squinted sullenly, and shrugged his shoulders. - -"Yes, I hate him!" he exclaimed fiercely. "Confound him! All the -fame and gold are for him, and none for me! I will do him all the -harm I can! I will embitter his life!" - -"Begone!" cried Piccini, full of horror. "We have nothing more in -common. Honor, religion, guide the true man; your divinities are -vanity, envy, cowardly malice! Such as you deserve no sympathy!" - -Full of spite and vexation, Elias Hegrin left the house. - -Piccini's opera was admired, but that of Gluck obtained the -victory, awakening universal enthusiasm. After its third -representation, Gluck left the opera-house, followed by the -acclamations of the enraptured multitude. Mehul was with him, -going to sup at his house. - -When they entered Gluck's drawing-room, both started with -surprise to see a man wrapped in his mantle standing at the -window and looking out. As they came in, he turned round and -faced them. - -{765} - -"Signor Piccini!" exclaimed Gluck in surprise. - -"I am not an unwelcome guest, I hope?" said the composer, with a -smile. - -"Most welcome!" cried Gluck cordially, taking the offered hand -and warmly pressing it, "I esteem and honor so noble an -adversary!" - -"We are no longer adversaries!" exclaimed Piccini. "Our strife is -at an end. I acknowledge you as my master, and shall be happy and -proud to call you my friend! Let the Gluckists and Piccinists -dispute as they like; Gluck and Piccini understand each other!" - -"And love each other, too!" cried Gluck, with vivacity. "Indeed -it shall be so!" - -The supper was enjoyed by the whole party. - --------- - - The Irish In America. [Footnote 68] - - [Footnote 68: _The Irish in America_. - London: Longman, Rees & Co. - New York, Boston, and Montreal: D. & J. Sadlier & Co. 1868.] - -This is the title of a book recently published simultaneously in -London and New York, and which bids fair to excite considerable -attention east and west of the Atlantic. The author, Mr. John -Francis Maguire, M.P., has long since attained to honorable -distinction not only in Ireland, his own country, but in the -British House of Commons. His visit to this country during the -past year strengthened the favorable impression already made on -those who had known him only through his published speeches and -the prominent part he has taken for many years in the affairs of -his native country. Heart and soul devoted to the best interests -of that country, and of the Irish race everywhere; thoroughly -acquainted with the Celtic nature, its capabilities for progress -and improvement, and fervently devoted to the faith which is the -richest inheritance of Catholic Ireland, Mr. Maguire felt anxious -to see with his own eyes the actual condition of the Irish in -America, what advantages they had gained by emigration, and how -far they had retained and carried out in their new country the -Christian traditions of the old. He accordingly visited America, -availing himself of the interval between the sessions of -parliament, and, in so far as his limited time permitted, took -personal observations on the state of "the Irish in America." The -book before us is the result of these observations. - -In the main, Mr. Maguire has given his readers a fair and correct -view of his subject, vast and comprehensive as it is; he has -taken pains to find out the exact condition of the people of whom -he writes, in the new home across the wave to which they have -carried their broken fortunes as a race. The opening paragraph of -the first chapter is well adapted to interest the general reader. -It is as follows: - - "Crossing the Atlantic, and landing at any city of the American - seaboard, one is enabled, almost at a glance, to recognize the - marked difference between the position of the Irish race in the - old country and in the new. Nor is the condition of the Irish - at both sides of the ocean more marked in its dissimilarity - than are the circumstances and characteristics of the country - from which they emigrated and the country to which they have - come. -{766} - In the old country, stagnation, retrogression, if not actual - decay--in the new, life, movement, progress; in the one - oppression, want of confidence, dark apprehension of the - future--in the other, energy, self-reliance, and a perpetual - looking forward to a grander development and a more glorious - destiny. That the tone of the public mind of America should be - self-reliant and even boastful, is natural in a country of - brief but pregnant history--a country still in its infancy, - when compared with European states, but possessing, in the - fullest sense, the strength and vigor of manhood--manhood in - all its freshness of youth and buoyancy of hope. In such a - country man is most conscious of his value: he is the architect - of his country's greatness, the author of her civilization, the - miracle-worker by whom all has been or can be accomplished. - Where a few years since a forest waved in mournful grandeur, - there are cultivated fields, blooming orchards, comfortable - homesteads, cheerful hamlets--churches, schools, civilization; - where but the other day a few huts stood on the river's bank, - by the shore of a lake, or on some estuary of the sea, swelling - domes and lofty spires and broad porticoes now meet the eye; - and the waters but recently skimmed by the light bark of the - Indian are ploughed into foam by countless steamers. And the - same man who performed these miracles of a few years since--of - yesterday--has the same power of to-morrow achieving the same - wondrous results of patience and energy, courage and skill. But - for him, and his hands to toil and his brains to plan, the vast - country whose commerce is on every sea, and whose influence is - felt in every court, would be still the abode of savage tribes, - dwelling in perpetual conflict, and steeped in the grossest - ignorance. Labor is thus a thing to be honored, not a badge of - inferiority." - -Mr. Maguire commences his American _tour_ at Halifax, which, -he says, "an enthusiastic Hibernian once described as 'the wharf -of the Atlantic.'" He finds that, in that city, and indeed, -throughout the provinces generally, the Irish form an important -and influential element in the population. Of Halifax he says in -particular: - - "This Irish element is everywhere discernible; in every - description of business and in all branches of industry, in - every class and in every condition of life, from the highest to - the lowest. There are in other cities larger masses of Irish, - some in which they are five times and even ten times as - numerous as the whole population of Halifax; but it may be - doubted if there are many cities of the entire continent of - America in which they afford themselves fuller play for the - exercise of their higher qualities than in the capital of Nova - Scotia, where their moral worth keeps pace with their material - prosperity."--P. 3. - -Speaking of the progress of the faith in Nova Scotia, and of the -arduous labors of the devoted missionaries of years past and -present, our author relates some facts that will no doubt -astonish his European readers. In America they are neither new -nor strange; for what is told of Nova Scotia either applies, or -has applied, within the memory of some living, in a greater or -less degree, to every part of the new world. - - "Within the last ten years a Nova Scotia priest has discharged - the duties of a district extending considerably over one - hundred miles in length; and while I was in Halifax, the - archbishop appointed a clergyman to the charge of a mission - which would necessitate his making journeys of more than that - many miles in extent. And when a missionary priest, in 1842, - the archbishop would make a three months' tour from Halifax to - Dartmouth, a distance, going and returning, of 450 miles; and - would frequently diverge ten or even twenty miles from the main - line into the bush on either side, thus doing duty for a - population of 10,000 Catholics who had no spiritual resource - save in him and a decrepit fellow-laborer on the brink of the - grave. - - "It is not three years since a young Irish priest, then in the - first year of his mission, received what, to him, was literally - a death-summons. He was lying ill in bed when the 'sick call' - reached his house, the pastor of the district being absent. The - poor young man did not hesitate a moment; no matter what the - consequence to himself, the dying Catholic should not be - without the consolations of religion. To the dismay of those - who knew of his intention, and who remonstrated in vain against - what to them appeared to be an act of insanity, he started on - his journey, a distance of thirty-six miles, which he - accomplished on foot, in the midst of incessant rain. -{767} - It is not possible to tell how often he paused involuntarily on - that terrible march, or how he reeled and staggered as he - approached its termination; but this much is well ascertained-- - that scarcely had he reached the sick man's bed, and performed - the functions of his ministry, when he was conscious of his own - approaching dissolution; and there being no brother priest to - minister to him in his last hour, he administered the viaticum - to himself, and died on the floor of what was then, indeed, a - chamber of death. Here was a glorious ending of a life only - well begun. - - "Bermuda is included within the jurisdiction of the Archbishop - of Halifax, and to this fact is owing one of the most - extraordinary instances of a 'sick call' on record. A Catholic - lady in Bermuda was dying of a lingering disease, and knowing - that further delay might be attended with consequences which - she regarded as worse than death, she availed herself of the - opportunity of a vessel then about to sail for Halifax to send - for a clergyman of that city. The day the message was delivered - to the clergyman, a vessel was to sail from Halifax to Bermuda, - and he went on board at once, arrived in due course at the - latter place, found the dying lady still alive, administered to - her the rites of the church, and returned as soon as possible - to his duties in Halifax; having, in obedience to this - remarkable 'sick call, 'accomplished a journey of 1600 - miles."--P. 16. - -Not quite so interesting as this is the somewhat prolix account -Mr. Maguire gives of his visit to Pictou, N. S., where he took -passage for Prince Edward's Island. We do not think his readers -would have sustained any loss by his omission of several pages in -which a certain "Peter," resident in those parts, acted as his -_cicerone_. "Peter" may have interested Mr. Maguire, but he -will not interest his readers. There is one paragraph, however, -in connection with the visit to Prince Edward's Island that we -may not pass over here, for the reason that it, too, is of -general application. Mr. Maguire is speaking of St. Dunstan's -College in Charlottetown: - - "This college is supplied with every modern requirement and - appliance, and is under the able presidency of the Rev. Angus - McDonald, a man well qualified for his important task, and - whose title of 'Father Angus' is as affectionately pronounced - by the most Irish of the Irish as if it were 'Father Larry,' or - 'Father Pat.' The Irish love their own priests; but let the - priest of any other nationality--English, Scotch, French, - Belgian, or American--only exhibit sympathy with them, or treat - them with kindness and affection, and at once he is as - thoroughly 'their priest' as if he had been born on the banks - of the Boyne or the Shannon. 'Father Dan' McDonald, the - vicar-general, is a striking instance of the attachment borne - by an Irish congregation to a good and kindly priest; and I now - the more dwell on this thorough fusion of priest and people in - love and sympathy, because of having witnessed with pain and - sorrow the injurious results, alike to my countrymen and to the - church, of forcing upon almost exclusively Irish congregations - clergymen who, from their imperfect knowledge of the Irish - tongue, could not for a long time make themselves understood by - those over whom it was essential they should acquire a - beneficial influence."--Pp. 46, 47. - -Very interesting is our author's account of the Irish settlements -in Prince Edward's Island and New Brunswick; one of the latter, -Johnville, commenced within a few years, under the auspices of -Right Rev. Dr. Sweeny, Bishop of New Brunswick, furnishes a -striking proof of the advantages to be gained by settling on the -land, instead of congregating in the over-crowded cities. The -beneficent effect on their morals, the cultivation of kind -feeling and fraternal charity amongst the settlers by the -formation of these rural colonies is happily described in the -following passage: - - "The settlers of Johnville are invariably kind to each other, - freely lending to a neighbor the aid which they may have the - next day to solicit for themselves. By this mutual and - ungrudging assistance, the construction of a dwelling, or the - rolling of logs and piling them in a heap for future burning, - has been quickly and easily accomplished; and crops have been - cut and gathered in safety, which, without such neighborly aid, - might have been irrecoverably lost. This necessary dependence - on each other for mutual help in the hour of difficulty draws - the scattered settlers together by ties of sympathy and - friendship; and while none envy the progress of a neighbor, - whose success is rather a subject for general congratulation, - the affliction of one of these humble families brings a common - sorrow to every home. -{768} - I witnessed a touching illustration of this fraternal and - Christian sympathy. Even in the heart of the primitive forest - we have sickness, and death, and frenzied grief, just as in - cities with histories that go back a thousand years. A few days - previous to my visit a poor fellow had become mad, his insanity - being attributed to the loss of his young wife, whose death - left him a despairing widower with four infant children. He had - just been conveyed to the lunatic asylum, and his orphans were - already taken by the neighbors, and made part of their - families."--P. 68. - -"On our return to St. John," says Mr. Maguire, "we met the -postmaster-general--a Scotchman--who had recently paid an -official visit to the settlement; and he was loud in the -expression of his astonishment at the progress which the people -had made in so short a time, and at the unmistakable evidences of -comfort he beheld in every direction. The settlement of -Johnville," he goes on, "is but one of four which Dr. Sweeny has -established within a recent time. He has thus succeeded in -establishing, as settlers, between 700 and 800 families, or, at -an average of five persons to each family, between 3500 and 4000 -individuals." - -This one fact shows what might be done in that way for the social -and moral improvement of many, many thousands of "the Irish in -America," who need some favorable change in their condition, if -they are to be saved from total destruction. If the vast -superfluous populations of the cities could only be induced to -scatter abroad through the rural districts, and work as laborers -until they could afford to purchase land, much misery and -degradation would be avoided. The Irish are chiefly an -agricultural people at home; why will they not understand that -those who were farmers or laborers "in the old country" would be -most likely to succeed by following the same pursuits here? All -the portions of Mr. Maguire's book relating to these Irish -settlements are both useful and interesting. Of the progress of -the Irish and their cherished faith in St. John's, the capital of -New Brunswick, our author says: - - "Forty years since, an ordinary room would have afforded - sufficient accommodation to the Catholic worshippers of that - day: now congregations of two thousand or three thousand pour - out on Sundays and holidays through the sculptured portals of - the Church of the Immaculate Conception. On All Saints' Day I - beheld such a congregation issuing from an early mass, filling - the street in front of the splendid building; and from the - appearance of the thousands of well-dressed, - respectable-looking people, who passed before me, I could - appreciate not only the material progress of the Irish in St. - John, but the marvellous development of the Catholic Church in - that city."--P. 89. - -Passing on into the Canadas, Mr. Maguire finds the Irish -occupying as prominent a position as in any of the Lower -Provinces. "Entering Canada at Quebec," he says, "the presence of -a strong and even influential Irish element is at once -observable. In the staple industry of this fine old city--the -lumber trade--the Irish take a prominent part. . . . It is -pleasant to hear that not only are the Irish in Quebec, and -indeed along the St. Lawrence, among the most industrious and -energetic portion of the population, but that they are thrifty -and saving, and have acquired considerable property. Thus, along -the harbor, from the Champlain market westward to the limits of -the city, an extent of two miles, the property, including -wharves, warehouses, and dwelling-houses, belongs principally to -the Irish, who form the bulk of the population in that quarter. -And by Irish I here mean Catholic Irish." - -Following the course of the St. Lawrence, he reaches Montreal, -and he thus describes the position of the Irish there: - -{769} - - "In no part of the British Provinces of North America does the - Catholic Irishman feel himself so thoroughly at home as in the - beautiful and flourishing city of Montreal. He is in a Catholic - city, where his religion is respected, and his church is - surrounded with dignity and splendor. In whichever direction he - turns, he beholds some magnificent temple--some college, or - convent, or hospital--everywhere the cross, whether reared - aloft on the spire of a noble church, or on the porch or gable - of an asylum or a school. In fact, the atmosphere he breathes - is Catholic. Therefore he finds himself at home in the thriving - commercial capital of Lower Canada. In no part of the world is - he more perfectly free and independent than in this prosperous - seat of industry and enterprise, in which, it may be remarked, - there is more apparent life and energy than in any other - portion of the British Provinces. It is not, then, to be - wondered at that the Catholic Irish are equal in number to the - entire of the English-speaking Protestant population, including - English, Scotch, and Irish. It is estimated that the Irish - Catholics are now not less than thirty thousand. Of these a - large proportion necessarily belong to the working classes, and - find employment in various branches of local industry. Their - increase has been rapid and striking. Fifty years since, there - were not fifty Irish Catholic families in Montreal. It is about - that time since Father Richards, an American, took compassion - upon the handful of exiles who were then friendless and - unknown, and gathered them into a small sacristy attached to - one of the minor churches, to speak to them in a language which - they understood. In thirty years afterward their number had - increased to eight thousand, and now they are not under thirty - thousand."--P. 96. - -Much more than he has said, Mr. Maguire might have said about the -Irish in Montreal, and the positions of honor and emolument to -which many of them have attained. Of the city itself, he -digresses to speak as follows: - - "It is foreign to the purpose of this book to describe the - public institutions and buildings of any place; but I cannot - refrain from expressing my admiration of Montreal, which is in - every respect worthy of its high reputation. It has an air at - once elegant and solid, many of its streets spacious and alive - with traffic and bustle, its places of doing business - substantial and handsome; its public buildings really imposing, - and its churches generally splendid, and not a few of them - positively superb. This description of the churches of Montreal - is not limited to the Jesuits' Church, the stately - _Paroisse_, and the grand church of St. Patrick, of which - the Irish are deservedly proud; it applies with equal propriety - to the Episcopalian Cathedral, and more than one church - belonging to the dissenting bodies. Montreal is rich in all - kinds of charitable, educational, and religious institutions; - and such is the influence and power of the Catholic element, - that this beautiful city, which is every day advancing in - prosperity and population, is naturally regarded by the - Catholic Irishman as a home. The humble man sees his - coreligionists advancing in every walk of life, filling - positions of distinction--honored and respected; and, instead - of mere toleration for his faith, he witnesses, in the - magnificent procession of Corpus Christi, which annually pours - its solemn splendor through the streets, a spectacle consoling - alike to his religious feeling and his personal pride." - -Although it is not exactly germane to our subject, we must be -pardoned for giving in this connection Mr. Maguire's observations -on the admirable system of education, of which Catholic Lower -Canada may well be proud. - - "Education in Lower Canada is entirely free. Each denomination - enjoys the most complete liberty, there being no compulsion or - restriction of any kind whatever. And the magnificent Laval - University, so called after a French bishop, enjoys and - exercises every right and privilege possessed by the great - universities of England. This university, which is eminently - Catholic, obtained a charter conferring upon it all the powers - that were requisite for its fullest educational development. - - "The rights of the Protestant minority are protected in the - amplest manner, as well by law as by the natural tendency and - feeling of the majority; for there are no people more liberal - and tolerant, or more averse to any kind of aggression on the - faith or opinions of others, than the French Canadians; and the - Irish Catholics too well remember the bitterness caused by - religious strife in the old country, to desire its - introduction, in any shape or form, or under any guise or - pretence, into their adopted home. There are abundant means of - education within every man's reach; and it is his own fault if - his children do not receive its full advantage. -{770} - But the Irishman, whatever may be his own deficiencies as to - early training, rarely neglects that of his children; and in - Canada, as in the States, the fault attributed to him is not - that he neglects to educate them at all, but that he is tempted - to educate them rather too highly, or too ambitiously, than - otherwise."--Pp. 95, 96. - -Following the widely-scattered Irish race along the rivers and -through the forests of the great northern countries, Mr. Maguire -happily describes what they have done and are doing in Upper -Canada, as Protestant, nearly, as Lower Canada is Catholic. Even -there, he shows us, Catholicity is making as rapid progress as in -any part of America, and there, as in many other parts of the -world, its marvellous growth corresponds with that of the Irish -race. Mr. Maguire's account of his travels in Upper or Western -Canada is, indeed, highly interesting. It was his good fortune to -meet in Hamilton, C. W., a well-known and much-honored -patriarch-priest, Very Rev. Mr. Gordon, vicar-general of that -diocese, from whom he obtained much valuable information -concerning the Irish Catholic people of Western Canada. Mr. -Maguire says in this connection: - - "There is still living in Hamilton, Western Canada, as - vicar-general of the diocese, an Irish priest--Father Gordon, - from Wexford--who has witnessed astonishing changes in his - time. He has seen the city founded, and the town spring up, the - forest cleared, and the settlement created; the rude log - chapel, in which a handful of the faithful knelt in the midst - of a wood, replaced by the spacious brick church in which many - hundreds now worship. And not only has he witnessed astonishing - changes, but has himself done much to effect the changes which - he has lived to see accomplished. ... Father Gordon had charge - of the back townships, twenty-four in number. We must - appreciate the extent of his spiritual jurisdiction when we - learn that a township comprised an area of twelve miles square - and Father Gordon had to attend twenty-four of these. ... - Father Gordon spent half his time in the saddle; and though he - spared neither himself nor his horse--but himself much less - than his horse--it was with the utmost difficulty that he could - visit the more distant portions of his mission oftener than - twice or thrice a year; many a time did the active missionary - lose his way in the midst of the woods, and after hours of - weary riding find himself, in the dusk of the evening, in the - very same spot from which he set out in the morning!"--Pp. 112, - 117. - -Some of Father Gordon's early adventures in the wild Canadian -forests, are extremely interesting, but for them we must refer -the reader to the book itself. Father Edward Gordon is nearly the -last of the noble band of Irish missionaries who went to those -remote regions with the first instalments of the Irish exodus -that reached there. Another, his friend and fellow-laborer, Very -Rev. Mr. McDonagh, died but a year or two ago at Perth, in the -diocese of Kingston, of which diocese he was vicar-general. A -third, if we mistake not, is still living, namely, Father -Brennan, of Bellville, C. W. These are the men who laid the -foundations of the Catholic Church in those parts of Upper -Canada. In the Scotch settlements farther east, there are still a -very few of the old Scotch missionaries remaining, chiefly -McDonalds. One of the most thrillingly interesting portions of -the book is that devoted to the account of the terrible -ship-fever brought to Canada by the Irish emigrants in the -ever-memorable years of 1847-8. Our author's description of its -ravages at Grosse Isle, the quarantine station of Quebec, at -Point St. Charles, Montreal, and in the cities of Upper Canada, -is of deep and painful interest. The adoption of the orphan -children of the poor Irish emigrants--of whom twelve thousand -perished at Grosse Isle alone--by the friendly French Canadians, -is beyond expression touching. How the good Canadian priests and -bishops took charge, and induced their people to take charge of -these "children of the faithful Catholic Irish," as they -expressively called the poor orphans, is told by Mr. Maguire with -the grace of a poet and the skill of a dramatist. -{771} -Yet the picture is nothing overdrawn, as the writer of this, and -many others yet living, can bear witness from their own sad -memories of those sorrowful days. - -Outside the Catholic Church no such spectacle of charity was ever -seen as that which met the eyes of the Canadian people in -Montreal and their other cities in those two disastrous years, -but especially the first. The following passage will give some -idea of the extent to which Christian heroism was carried then -and there: - - "The horrors of Grosse Isle had their counterpart in Montreal. - - "As in Quebec, the mortality was greater in 1847 than in the - year following; but it was not till the close of 1848 that the - plague might be said to be extinguished, not without fearful - sacrifice of life. During the months of June, July, August, and - September, the season when nature wears her most glorious garb - of loveliness, as many as eleven hundred of 'the faithful - Irish,' as the Canadian priest truly described them, were lying - at one time in the fever-sheds at Point St. Charles, in which - rough wooden beds were placed in rows, and so close as scarcely - to admit of room to pass. In these miserable cribs the patients - lay, sometimes two together, looking, as a Sister of Charity - wrote, 'as if they were in their coffins,' from the box-like - appearance of their wretched beds. Throughout those glorious - months, while the sun shone brightly, and the majestic river - rolled along in golden waves, hundreds of the poor Irish were - dying daily. The world outside was gay and glad, but death was - rioting in the fever-sheds. It was a moment to try the devotion - which religion inspires, to test the courage with which it - animates the gentlest breast. First came the Grey Nuns, strong - in love and faith; but so malignant was the disease, that - thirty of their number were stricken down, and thirteen died - the death of martyrs. There was no faltering, no holding back; - no sooner were the ranks thinned by death than the gaps were - quickly filled; and when the Grey Nuns were driven to the last - extremity, the Sisters of Providence came to their assistance, - and took their place by the side of the dying strangers. But - when even their aid did not suffice to meet the emergency, the - Sisters of St. Joseph, though cloistered nuns, received the - permission of the bishop to share with their sister religious - the hardships and dangers of labor by day and night. - - "'I am the only one left,' were the thrilling words in which - the surviving priest announced from the pulpit the ravages that - the 'ocean plague' had made in the ranks of the clergy. With a - single exception, the local priests were either sick or dead. - Eight of the number fell at their posts, true to their duty. - The good Bishop, Monseigneur Bourget, then went himself, to - take his turn in the lazar-house; but the enemy was too mighty - for his zeal, and having remained in the discharge of his - self-imposed task for a day and a night, he contracted the - fever, and was carried home to a sick-bed, where he lay for - weeks, hovering between life and death, amid the tears and - prayers of his people, to whom Providence restored him after a - period of intense anxiety to them, and long and weary suffering - to him. - - "When the city priests were found inadequate to the discharge - of their pressing duties, the country priests cheerfully - responded to the call of their bishop, and came to the - assistance of their brethren; and of the country priests not a - few found the grave and the crown of the martyr."--Pp. 145, - 146, 148. - -After a glance at the Irish in Newfoundland, where, in proportion -to their numbers, and the extent of the island, they have done -fully as much for their own advancement and that of religion, as -in any other part of America, Mr. Maguire, before crossing the -great waters that separate British America from the United States -makes these pertinent remarks on the Irish exodus generally: - - "There are few sadder episodes in the history of the world than - the story of the Irish exodus. Impelled, to a certain degree, - by a spirit of adventure, but mainly driven from their native - land by the operation of laws which, if not opposed to the - genius of the people, were unsuited to the special - circumstances of their country, millions of the Irish race have - braved the dangers of an unknown element, and faced the perils - of a new existence, in search of a home across the Atlantic. At - times, this European life-stream flowed toward the new world in - a broad and steady current; at others, it assumed the character - of a resistless rush, breaking on the shores of America with so - formidable a tide as to baffle every anticipation, and render - the ordinary means of humane or sanitary precaution altogether - inadequate and unavailing."--P. 179 - -{772} - -Having crossed into the territory of the United States, Mr. -Maguire very judiciously prefaces his account of what he saw -amongst the Irish there, by a long and carefully written account -of the dangers to which emigrants and their pockets are exposed -in New York, the great centre of emigration. This is one of the -most useful portions of the work, and should be read, if -possible, by every intending emigrant to the United States. The -greater part of Chapter X. is devoted to it, comprising some -amusing and characteristic anecdotes and some very important -directions for the guidance of newly-arrived emigrants. - -Mr. Maguire next turns his attention to the tenement-houses of -New York, and the sanitary condition of their inhabitants. He -devotes much space to this, and his remarks are clear, practical, -and judicious. He evidently examined the condition even of the -poorest and most wretched of the Irish in this metropolis. He -speaks, in this connection, earnestly and feelingly on the great -mistake, the terrible mistake made by those emigrants who, being -farmers or country people at home, remain huddled together in the -great cities here, instead of spreading abroad over the fertile -regions of America, where land is to be had cheap, in some places -almost for the asking. - - "Let it not be supposed that, in my earnest desire to direct - the practical attention of my countrymen, at both sides of the - Atlantic, to an evil of universally admitted magnitude, I - desire to exaggerate in the least. From the very nature of - things, the great cities of America--and, in a special degree, - New York--must be the refuge of the unfortunate, the home of - the helpless, the hiding-place of the broken-down, even of the - criminal; and these, while crowding the dwelling-places of the - poor, and straining the resources and preying on the charity of - their communities, multiply their existing evils, and add to - their vices. Still, in spite of the dangers and temptations by - which they are perpetually surrounded--dangers and temptations - springing even from the very freedom of republican - institutions, no less than from the generous social habits of - the American people--there are thousands, hundreds of - thousands, of Irish-born citizens of the United States, - residing in New York and in other great cities of the Union, - who are, in every respect, the equals of the best of American - population--honorable and upright in their dealings; - industrious, energetic, and enterprising in business; - intelligent and quick of capacity; progressive and go-ahead; - and as loyally devoted to the institutions of their adopted - country as if they had been born under its flag. Nevertheless, - I repeat the assertion, justified by innumerable - authorities--authorities beyond the faintest shadow of - suspicion--that the city is not the right place for the Irish - peasant, and that it is the worst place which he could select - as his home."--Pp. 235-236. - -Mr. Maguire's limited time did not permit him to travel much in -the interior of any State; he could but visit the principal -cities. His account of the Middle, Southern, and great Western -States, is written in general terms; he speaks at some length of -the Irish settlements in the new States and territories, of the -vast resources of the country, and the enormous quantity of -public lands at the disposal of the United States government. -After describing the progress of the Irish in the West and -North-west, he adds: - - "It is not at all necessary that an Irish immigrant should go - West, whatever and how great the inducements it offers to the - enterprising. There is land to be had, under certain - circumstances and conditions, in almost every State in the - Union. And there is no State in which the Irish peasant who is - living from hand to mouth in one of the great cities as a - day-laborer, may not improve his condition by betaking himself - to his natural and legitimate avocation--the cultivation of the - soil. Nor is the vast region of the South unfavorable to the - laborious and energetic Irishman. On the contrary, there is no - portion of the American continent in which he would receive a - more cordial welcome, or meet with more favorable terms. This - would not have been so before the war, or the abolition of - slavery, and the upset of the land system, which was based upon - the compulsory labor of the negro. -{773} - Before the war, the land was held in mass by large proprietors, - and, whatever its quantity, there was no dividing or selling - it--that is, willingly; for, when land was brought to the hammer, - the convenience of the purchaser had to be consulted. But there - was no voluntary division of the soil, no cutting it up into - parcels, to be occupied by small proprietors. Now, the state of - things is totally different."--P. 252. - -Our author seems much impressed with the advantages offered by -the "magnificent State of California" to Irish emigrants. Of it -he says: - - "There is not a State in the Union in which the Irish have - taken deeper and stronger root, or thriven more successfully, - than California, in whose amazing progress--material, social, - and intellectual--they have had a conspicuous share. For nearly - twenty years past, this region has been associated in the - popular mind with visions of boundless wealth and marvellous - fortunes; and it may be interesting to learn under what - circumstances the Irish became connected with a country of such - universal repute, and of whose population they form a most - important and valuable portion."--P. 262. - -Mr. Maguire waxes eloquent over the benefits conferred on his -countrymen, in all the cities of America, by temperance -societies. He deplores, over and over again, the fatal propensity -to spirituous liquors, of which he everywhere saw lamentable -instances amongst his countrymen in America. He says, in many -places, that drink, and drink alone, is the cause why so many of -the Irish do not find in the new world that success which crowns -the efforts of so many thousands and even millions of their race. -"Drink, accursed drink," he says, "is the cause why so many of -the Irish in America fail, and fail miserably." On the other -hand, he saw, wherever he went, east, west, north, and south, -that those among them who attained to wealth and position were -all sober men, many of them "teetotalers." - -The love of home and kindred, which is one of the most beautiful -as it is one of the strongest traits in the Irish character, is -duly noted by Mr. Maguire as distinguishing them in America. The -many and great sacrifices made by Irish emigrants here, and -especially by servant-girls, are thus described by our author: - - "The great ambition of the Irish girl is to send 'something' to - her people, as soon as possible after she has landed in - America; and, in innumerable instances, the first tidings of - her arrival in the new world are accompanied with a remittance, - the fruits of her first earnings in her first place. Loving a - bit of finery dearly, she will resolutely shut her eyes to the - attractions of some enticing article of dress, to prove to the - loved ones at home that she has not forgotten them; and she - will risk the danger of insufficient clothing, or boots not - proof against rain or snow, rather than diminish the amount of - the little hoard to which she is weekly adding, and which she - intends as a delightful surprise to parents who, possibly, did - not altogether approve of her hazardous enterprise. To send - money to her people, she will deny herself innocent enjoyments, - womanly indulgences, and the gratifications of legitimate - vanity; and such is the generous and affectionate nature of - these young girls, that they regard the sacrifices they make as - the most ordinary matter in the world, for which they merit - neither praise nor approval. To assist their relatives, whether - parents, or brothers and sisters, is with them a matter of - imperative duty, which they do not and cannot think of - disobeying, and which, on the contrary, they delight in - performing. And the money destined to that purpose is regarded - as sacred, and must not be diverted to any object less - worthy."--P. 315. - -A very important and deeply interesting portion of Mr. Maguire's -book is that which treats of the share the Irish have had in -building up and sustaining the church in America. In all the -checkered history of the Irish race, there is no page more -glorious than that which records their fidelity to the faith, in -foreign lands as well as at home; their heart-warm attachment to, -and profound reverence for, their clergy; the mighty sacrifices -they make, and have made to promote the interests of religion, -and the important part they have played in the propagation of the -faith: - -{774} - - "It has been confidently stated, that the moment the Irish - touch the free soil of America, they lose the old faith--that - there is something in the very nature of republican - institutions fatal to the Church of Rome. Admitting, as a fact - which cannot be denied, and which Catholics are themselves the - first to proclaim, that there has been some, even considerable, - falling off from the church, and no little indifferentism, it - must be acknowledged that there has been less of both than, - from the circumstances of the country, might have been - reasonably expected; and that the same Irish, whose alleged - defection _en masse_ has been the theme of ungenerous - triumph to those whose 'wish was father to the thought,' have - done more to develop the Church, and extend her dominion - throughout the wide continent of North America, than even the - most devoted of the children of any other of the various races - who, with them, are merged in the great American nation. This - much may be freely conceded to them, even by those who are most - sensitively and justly proud of what their own nationality has - done to promote the glory of the Universal Church. Fortified by - suffering and trial at home, and inheritors of memories which - intensify devotion rather than weaken fidelity, the Irish - brought with them a strong faith, the power to resist as well - as the courage to persevere, and that generosity of spirit - which has ever prompted mankind to make large sacrifices for - the promotion of their religious belief."--P. 346. - -In order to give a more correct idea to his European readers of -the services rendered by the Irish in America to the cause of -religion, our author gives a retrospective view of the rise and -progress of Catholicity in the United States. This he illustrates -by extracts from the writings and correspondence of various -bishops and priests of the elder time, and also the later, and -with interesting data from other sources. He dwells at some -length on the foundation or introduction into these countries of -the two great orders of Charity and Mercy, the one founded in -Dublin by Mrs. McAuley, the other at Emmettsburg, Maryland, by -Mrs. Seton, an American lady and a convert. _A propos_ to -the latter, he relates the following: - - "It may be remarked, that this holy woman, this model wife and - daughter, was deeply impressed with the religious demeanor of - the poor Irish emigrants of that day--the opening of the - present century--who were detained in quarantine at Staten - Island, and attended by her father, as Health Physician to the - port of New York. 'The first thing,' she says, 'these poor - people did, when they got their tents, was to assemble on the - grass, and all kneeling, adored our Maker for his mercy; and - every morning sun finds them repeating their praises.' The - scenes then witnessed at Staten Island remind one of those - which were so fatally frequent in subsequent years. Even at - that time--1800, and the years following--large numbers of - emigrants arrived at the port of New York, suffering from the - dreadful scourge of fever, so calamitous to the Irish - race."--P. 363. - -For all that relates to the illustrious prelates, Bishop England -and Archbishop Hughes, their lives and their works, we must refer -the reader to the book itself. An anecdote, in which Bishop -England and one of his zealous priests were actors, will be found -peculiarly interesting: - - "One evening the bishop, who was on this occasion accompanied - by one of his few priests--Father O'Neill; it need scarcely be - added, a countryman of his own--drew up at a house of rather - moderate dimensions, whose master was a marked specimen of the - species surly. Negotiations were entered into for a dinner, - which the liberal host was willing to give on certain - conditions, somewhat exorbitant in their nature; but there was - to be no further accommodation. 'You cannot stop the night, - nohow,' said the agreeable owner of the mansion; and his look - of dogged dislike was quite as emphatic as his words. After - dinner, Dr. England sat on a chair in the piazza, and read his - 'office;' while Father O'Neill, having no desire to enjoy the - company of his unwilling entertainer, sauntered toward the - carriage, a little distance off, where the boy was feeding the - horses; and taking his flute from his portmanteau, he sat on a - log, and commenced his favorite air, 'The Last Rose of Summer,' - into which he seemed to breathe the very soul of tenderness. -{775} - From one exquisite melody to another the player wandered, while - the negro boy grinned with delight, and the horses enjoyed - their food with a keener relish. That - - 'Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast,' - - was here exemplified. As the sweet notes stole on the soft - night air of the South, and reached the inhospitable mansion, a - head was eagerly thrust forth, and the projecting ears thereof - appeared eagerly to drink in the flood of melody. Another - lovely air, one of those which bring involuntary tears to the - eyes, and fill the heart with balm, was played with lingering - sweetness, when a voice, husky with emotion, was heard uttering - these words, 'Strangers! don't go! do stay all night! don't go; - we'll fix you somehow.' It was the voice of the charmed host! - That evening the two guests enjoyed the snuggest seats at the - hearth, Father O'Neill playing for the family till a late hour. - Next morning the master of the house would not accept of the - least compensation. 'No, no, bishop! no, no, Mr. O'Neill! not a - cent! You're heartily welcome to it. Come as often as you - please, and stay as long as you can. We'll be always glad to - see you; but,' specially addressing Father O'Neill, 'be sure - and don't forget the flute!'"--P. 323. - -Mr. Maguire's account of the Irish in the late civil war is long -and interesting. He tells many interesting anecdotes of their -heroism, their fidelity to their flag, whether Confederate or -Federal, and also of the influence they, their religion, and its -ministers exercised on the non-Catholics with whom they were -brought in immediate contact. Here are one or two extracts: - - "A Southern general said to me, 'The war has worn away many a - prejudice against Catholics, such was the exemplary conduct of - the priests in the camp and the hospital, and the Christian - attitude of the church during the whole of the struggle. Many - kind and generous acts were done by the priests to persecuted - ladies, who now tell with gratitude of their services. Wherever - an asylum was required, they found it for them. I wish all - ministers had been like the priests, and we might never have - had this war, or it would not have been so bitter as it - was.'"--P. 480. - -Exceedingly honorable to the Irish soldiers of the Union is the -following testimony: - - "The Irish displayed a still nobler quality than courage, - though theirs was of the most exalted nature; they displayed - magnanimity, generosity--Christian chivalry. From one end of - the South to the other, even where the feeling was yet sore, - and the wound of defeat still rankled in the breast, there was - no anger against the Irish soldiers of the Union. Whenever the - feeble or the defenceless required a protector, or woman a - champion, or an endangered church a defender, the protector, - the champion, and the defender were to be found in the - Irishman, who fought for a principle, not for vengeance or - desolation. The evil deeds, the nameless horrors, perpetrated - in the fury of passion and in the license of victory whatever - these were, they are not laid at the door of the Irish. On the - contrary, from every quarter are to be heard praises of the - Irish for their forbearance, their gallantry, and - _chivalry_--than which no word more fitly represents their - bearing at a time when wanton outrages and the most horrible - cruelties were too frequently excused or palliated on the - absolving plea of stern necessity."--Pp. 552, 553. - -Of the Philadelphia riots and church-burning, and of the -memorable struggle for the freedom of Catholic education in New -York, Mr. Maguire gives interesting accounts. From this portion -of the work we select the following. The author has been speaking -of the beneficent effects exercised by convent schools; he goes -on to say: - - "What is true of convent schools is equally true of schools and - colleges under the care of the great educational - orders--Jesuits, Sulpicians, Vincentians, Redemptorists, - Brothers and Sisters of the Holy Cross, Christian Brothers, - Franciscans, and others."--P. 504. - -When Mr. Maguire comes to speak of the Fenians, he generally -takes a fair and impartial view of the subject. We must, however, -object _in toto_ to one remark of his. He says, on page 592: - - "So far as I have been able to learn, my belief is, that among - the Fenians in almost every State of the Union there are many - thousands of the very cream of the Irish population." - -{776} - -So far is this from being the case, as it must have been -represented to Mr. Maguire, that it was, and is, the constant -complaint of the Fenians themselves, precisely that the "cream of -the Irish population" kept widely aloof from them. - -The concluding pages of the book are devoted exclusively to the -strange phenomenon presented by the fondly-cherished, -never-dying, hatred of England found among the Irish in every -part of America; the deep-seated, burning thirst for vengeance on -the power whose baneful influence has for many ages blighted the -genius, the hopes, the energies of the Irish at home--whose -colossal shadow has thrown into the shade the fairer and more -graceful genius of the Celtic race, and made "the oldest -Christian nation of Western Europe," the proud Celto-Iberian -race, the poorest, the most abject of European nations, with all -its wealth of genius, of poetry, of energy, of all that gives -historic fame. - -Mr. Maguire has given a good "bird's-eye view" of the Irish in -America; he has shown them in various lights, and under various -aspects; still his book has left much untold, much that would -have interested the Irish and the friends of the Irish -everywhere. There is, moreover, a want of method in the -arrangement of this book--a certain haziness and indistinctness, -that detracts considerably from its value as a book of reference. -Too much is said of some things and some persons, too little of -other things and persons; and these omissions unfortunately -include what we here consider most honorable to "The Irish In -America." - --------- - - The Double Marriage. [Footnote 69] - - [Footnote 69: From _The Diary of a Sister of Mercy_. - By Mrs. C. M. Brame. Now in press, - by the Catholic Publication Society.] - - - - Chapter I. - -Just before vespers, as I came in from a visit to the hospital, -Mother Frances, our superioress, called me to her, and said: - -"Dear sister, you have been out nearly all day, and were up last -evening; you can go into the church for vespers, and then you had -better go to your cell." - -After the service was ended, I remained a few minutes to say my -prayers. When my time had expired, I went through the cloisters -to my cell; and, just as I opened the door, I heard from the -gate-bell a loud peal that rang through the silent house. I heard -the door opened, and a hurried message delivered. - -"Another call," I thought; and then came a quiet tap at my door. -I opened it quickly, and Mother Frances entered, saying: - -"I am grieved, sister, to disturb you so soon; but that poor -girl, Mary MacNeal, is dying at the hospital, and she wishes most -earnestly to see you." - -"Is she indeed dying? why, I left her so much better." - -"Yes; but a fatal change has taken place, and she has not long to -live." - -{777} - -There was no time to think of my aching head and wearied limbs. I -dressed again hastily, and, together with the messenger, soon -arrived at the hospital. - -At the entrance of the ward where Mary lay I met the nurse. "Oh! -God be praised, sister, that you're come at last! Poor Mary's -only cry is for you." - -This Mary MacNeal was a young girl who had been brought up in our -schools, and afterward maintained herself by dressmaking. Hard -toil, poor fare, and want of exercise did their work; and Mary -lay dying in the last stage of consumption. She was a good girl, -and had been long under my especial care. That very afternoon she -had implored me to be with her during her last moments. When I -reached her bed, a calm, happy smile welcomed me, and the feeble, -faint voice spoke a few words of greeting, "And ye'll say the -rosary, sister?" - -I knelt down and complied with her request. When we said the last -Gloria, Father Bernard came, and Mary received the last -sacraments. I have stood by many a death-bed: I have seen the -strong man in his agony expire; I have seen the atheist, fearing, -dreading God, die, with despair in his glazing eye and faithless -heart; I have seen infants die with the smile of an angel on -their little faces; in every form I have met with death; but I -never knew a soul leave this world that seemed more fit for -heaven than that of this young girl. The rosary in one hand, the -crucifix in the other, she lay so calm and still. Ever and anon, -as I wiped the death-damp from the pale brow, she lifted her eyes -as though to thank me. She seemed desirous to speak. I stooped -over her to catch the few struggling words, and they were: - -"Thank God, I have always loved the Blessed Mother; she is with -me now." And she murmured the sweet names of Jesus and Mary. - -Then the slight breath stopped; anon it came again; again it -went, and without a struggle that happy soul took flight. I -closed the eyes, still wearing the lingering look of gratitude -and love; I crossed the hands, and twined the beads around them, -and then knelt down and said the litany for the dead. I was now -preparing to leave the hospital, when the nurse came, and asked -me if I would step for a minute into the next ward, just to speak -to a poor old woman who seemed to be getting worse. This ward was -quite full; but I noticed a bed I had seen empty in the morning, -occupied; when I had finished talking to the old woman, I asked -who the fresh comer was. - -"Ah! sister, she's in an awful way, let her be who she may. I -asked her this afternoon if she would see you, or the priest; and -I declare the look of her frightened me--it was so wild and -fierce. But she's a lady, I am sure; for, though the poor feet of -her were bare and bleeding, the few ragged clothes she had on -were of the finest, and when she is in her senses, she speaks so -lady-like; but she went on in a dreadful way, and told me not to -talk to her of sisters or priests, but to do her the only -kindness I could, and let her die alone; so there she lies, and -not one bit or drop can I get down her." - -"But, nurse, I must see her, poor thing! Perhaps I can help to -soothe her." - -I approached the bed carefully, shading the lamp with my hand. I -set the light down on the table, and drew a chair close to the -bedside, and sat down upon it. Loud, heavy breathing, and quick, -frightened starts, told me the patient slept. I gently drew aside -the sheet, with which she had covered her face and head, and -started at the picture that met my gaze. -{778} -It was a woman, seemingly about two-and-twenty years of age; her -face and neck were covered with a perfect mass of thick, glossy -hair; it spread in its rich profusion over the pillow and the bed -clothes. I took one of the tresses in my hand, and wondered at -its length and softness. One small white hand was thrown above -her head, and it grasped a portion of the hair so tightly that I -could not move it, lest I should wake her. Before I had sat many -minutes, the sleeper awoke with a loud, piercing scream, and a -quick, fearful start. I laid my hands on her, to soothe her. - -"Do not be frightened," I said; "you are quite safe." - -"Who are you?" she replied abruptly and sharply. - -"I am a Sister of Mercy, and I am anxious to assist you." - -"I don't want you; go away; you only torment me." She turned from -me, and concealed her face. - -"I am afraid you mistake me," I said very gently; "indeed, I only -wish to do you good." - -"Do me good? You cannot; leave me alone! Let me die as I have -lived." - -"God is good, and very merciful, my poor sister." - -"Don't mention his name to me. Leave me! Let me be forgotten by -God and man. Let me die, and do not torment me." - -"God loves you with an infinite love--a love more tender than you -can imagine." - -"I tell you to go! I am cursed? hated! I want no good; I will -listen to none. Your words are all in vain; save them, and go!" - -With these words she resolutely turned from me, and covered her -face with the clothes, so that she could neither hear nor see me. -I took my rosary, and knelt down, and said it for her; and -ardently did I pray that the poor heart might be turned to God. -When I had knelt above an hour, she turned fiercely round, and -said - -"Are you still there? what are you doing?" - -"I am praying for you, my sister." - -"Praying for me!" and a wild, fearful laugh sounded through the -quiet room. "Praying for me; my name is forgotten in heaven. -Don't do that. My mother is in heaven. Don't let my name be heard -there, or she will know; but go away, and leave me. Heaven and -earth have abandoned me; why need you care for me?" - -The delirium and fever seemed to increase so rapidly, that I -feared my longer stay would be useless. A torrent of words were -pouring quickly from the parched lips; now a wild appeal, a -fearful cry to God for mercy; then a dreadful outburst of -reproaches and contempt against heaven; then a wild snatch of -song, and a laugh so unearthly, it almost chilled the blood in my -veins. Once, and once only, the loud voice grew calm and sweet, -and a quiet look came upon the flushed face when she fancied she -was a girl at home again, and her mother was speaking to her. - -I went home, for I was of no use, and the nurse gave the poor -sufferer an opiate before I left. I could not rest; that wild, -beautiful face was before me, and those pitiful cries rang in my -ears all night. The following morning I hastened to the hospital. -I found my patient more quiet, and a good deal exhausted. - -{779} - -I procured a basin of cold water, and wetting a handkerchief, -placed it upon her burning brow. Its coolness seemed to revive -her; for after I had bathed her forehead for some minutes, she -opened her eyes, and said, in a faint voice, "Is that you, -mother? bless you, thank you;" but after looking earnestly at me, -she turned away with a despairing sigh I never shall forget. -After I had well bathed her face and head, I gathered the long -hair and arranged it neatly under a cap. How beautiful she -looked! the red flush had gone, and her face was fair and white -as marble. The slight eyebrows were marked so clearly and arched -so beautifully, and the noble open brow was so fair, I could -distinguish every vein. Again my tears fell upon her face as I -stooped over her. She gave a quick start, and said, "Who are -you?" - -"I am a Sister of Mercy, one who loves you." - -"Loves me! and is that tear for me?" - -"Yes, not only one, but many more I have shed for you." - -"O sister!" and she turned and threw herself on my breast, "that -is the first tear any one has shed over me since my mother died. -My heart has been so proud, so full of bitter anger and hatred, -that I thought nothing could ever again soften it; that tear was -a dew-drop from heaven. A few moments since, I fancied you were -my mother, for your hand lay upon my head just as hers did when -she used to come, night after night, and bless me; just as it did -the night before I left her. O sister! do not let me lie in your -arms, you are so good, and I have been so wicked and sinful." - -"Nay, rest here; none are so sinful but there is love and mercy -left for them." - -"Mercy! can I, dare I hope for it?" - -"Hush, my child, you are tiring yourself out; now rest." - -"And do you promise never to leave me till I die? Say, will you -stay with me?" - -"I will indeed do all I can; for the present I must go. Will you -let me put this around you?" (It was a medal of the Immaculate -Conception.) - -"Yes," she replied, and took it with a trembling hand. - -"Are you a Catholic?" I asked, startled by the haste with which -she seized it. - -"I am, sister," and then a burning blush came over her face. "I -am, but a guilty, ungrateful one." - -"Then will you say some short prayers, while I go and visit my -other patients?" - -"I will, but it is long since I have said a prayer." - -At the end of an hour I returned, and found her weeping bitterly. -She took my hand and kissed it. I tried to quiet her excessive -grief. I said, "Do not cry, my child. Tell me, can I help -you--can I do anything for you? My name is Sister Magdalen; what -shall I call _you?_" She looked up with a sad face, and -replied, "My name is Eva." "Well, then, Eva, be comforted; if you -have sinned, there is mercy and hope for you; if you are unhappy, -there is comfort. Look at this;" and I gave her my -crucifix--"does not this teach you to love and hope?" There was -no answer, nothing but bitter sobs. I knelt down, and said the -_Memorare_, and then, taking Eva's hand, I was about to -speak, when she said, "Sister, sister, when I am better, and have -strength to talk, I will tell you my history, and you shall teach -me to be better." - -Day after day passed on, and she became so ill that we thought -she must die; but God so willed it that she began to improve, -and, at last, was able to speak and think rationally again. One -evening I sat by her bed, saying the rosary while she slept, -when, looking suddenly at her, I found her eyes open, and fixed -upon me intently. - -{780} - -"Sister Magdalen," she said, "I want to tell you my history; it -is a very sad one. I have sinned and suffered--will you hear me?" - -"With pleasure, because, when I understand you, I can the better -help you." - -And as she told it to me, I here give it. - - - Chapter II. - -"I need not trouble you with the history of my childhood; it was -spent alone with my dear mother, in a pleasant little village -near Bristol, and was a very happy and innocent one. My father -died before I was born, but he left an ample fortune to my -mother. I was her sole care and treasure; next to me she loved -and cared for our little church. The mission in our village was -but a poor one; my mother was its chief support. To our care was -given the sacristy, the chapel, the altar-linen and flowers. I -used to spend hours in dressing the altar and arranging the -flowers. The memory of those hours has never died; it has lived -with me ever; and even amid scenes of vanity and passion, it has -hung about me like the fragrance of a flower. - -"My mother was the sweetest and most gentle of women; the early -loss of her husband gave her a shock from which she never -recovered; and she made a resolution at his death to devote her -whole life to my education and to works of charity. I cannot -think of her without tears; she was so patient and good, nor did -I ever hear one unkind or hasty word from her. - -"I grew up well skilled in all the accomplishments my mother -loved and taught. One I was passionately fond of, and that was -painting. I had a talent for it, and a cultivated taste. - -"Imagine, sister, the course of a streamlet, with scarcely a -ripple upon it, glittering in the bright sunlight, ever flowing -calmly and gently, and you have a perfect image of my childhood. - -"This lasted until I was sixteen. A few days after my birthday, a -letter came from my mother's agent, a solicitor in London, -requesting her immediate presence. Not liking to leave me behind, -lest I should be dull, my mother offered to take me with her. I -was overjoyed at the proposal. London was a distant fairyland to -me, and I knew no rest or peace until we started. We were to stay -at Mr. Clinton's, a distant relative of my father's, who kindly -offered us the use of his house. He was married, but his wife was -dead, and he had one only daughter, with whom I soon became -intimately acquainted. Bella Clinton was an elegant girl, and -foremost among the leaders of fashion. I had not been there long -before I began to blush for my country dresses, and astonished my -gentle, yielding mother by the extravagant demands I made upon -her purse. Ah! there I learnt the fatal truth that I was gifted -with beauty. I had heard strangers say at home, "What a handsome -child! how like her father;" but I never realized the fact until -I stood ready dressed for my first ball, where Bella had -persuaded my mother to accompany us. - -"Bella had chosen for me a robe of pale pink satin and a rich -lace skirt; she twined pale pink flowers in my long black hair, -and golden bracelets around my arms, and then led me to her -mirror, and said, 'I am almost jealous, Eva!' -{781} -Ah! the lace pictured there was very fair, the eyes were flashing -with light, the cheek was tinged like a rose, the white neck and -arms shamed even the pearls that gleamed upon them. Beautiful, -bright, and sparkling the picture was; but would to heaven I had -died as I stood there, for I was then innocent and good. - -"You, perhaps, sister, never saw or cared to see a ball-room; on -me the effect was electrical. Just as we entered, the sweet, -fascinating melody of a popular waltz was floating round the -room; the room itself was radiant with light and beauty; jewels -were shining, feathers waving, rich satins were gleaming; and the -wearers, to my novice's gaze, were like beings from fairyland. - -"Miss Clinton was soon surrounded with friends, and I listened -with astonishment to her witty repartees and animated -conversation. I was introduced to many of her friends; our group -or party was, I could not fail to perceive, the most select in -the room. I sat by my mother, endeavoring to give my attention to -some officer who was detailing a striking adventure, when a face -and form suddenly attracted my attention; it was that of a -noble-looking man, with a head remarkable for the extreme beauty -of its contour and the richness of its dark curls. The face, too, -though not exactly handsome, was irresistibly attractive, from -its aristocratic mould of feature and melancholy expression. His -eyes were a singularly dark gray, shaded with long eyelashes; -they had a tired, listless look. I watched this gentleman some -few minutes, and then turning to my companion, said: 'Can you -tell me who is that distinguished looking man standing just -beneath the chandelier?' - -"'Lord Montford. He is a clever man; but a very reserved, haughty -character; he is known by the name of Le Grand Seigneur. I know -him well, intimately; but I never can penetrate the veil of -melancholy that hangs over him.' - -"'Perhaps he is unhappy,' I said simply; 'is he married?' - -"'No; he is one of the best _parties_ of the season. Some -say an early disappointment is the cause of his want of -sociability; others say he has a distaste for the society of your -charming sex.' And my informant made a low bow. - -"A dozen more questions trembled on my lips; but not liking to -continue the conversation, I remained silent. Suddenly looking -up, I saw Lord Montford's eyes fixed upon me. I blushed, feeling -like a guilty culprit. In a few minutes Miss Clinton came to me, -and said: - -"'Eva, you have made a splendid conquest. Here is Lord Montford -asking to be introduced to you. Come with me.' - -"'Indeed I cannot,' I replied, shrinking, scarcely knowing why. - -"'Mrs. Leason, make her come,' said Bella, smiling to my mother. - -"'Go, Eva,' my mother said; and I went. My first impulse was to -run away when I saw that tall, stately form bending before me; -but he looked at me with so kindly an expression of interest and -admiration that I accepted the invitation for the next quadrille -with less of fear and restraint than I had hitherto felt. When -the quadrille was over, Lord Montford took me into the -refreshment-room. - -"'It is no idle compliment to tell you, Miss Leason, that I -enjoyed that dance more than I have done anything for years.' - -"'Why?' I answered innocently, looking up with astonishment. He -smiled and answered: - -{782} - -"'If I wished to flatter you, I should say because you are more -beautiful and graceful than any lady I have seen for some time; -but the real truth is, that I can perceive this is your first -ball, and the freshness of your ideas is something novel to me.' - -"'Are not my ideas like other people's?' - -"'Far from it.' - -"'I am very sorry,' I began, half hesitatingly; 'indeed, I wish -to be like every one else.' - -"'Never wish so again, Miss Leason; wish always to be just as you -are now.' - -"Just at this moment my mother and Bella joined us, and he -relinquished my arm. - -"'Why, Eva,' said Miss Clinton, 'Surely you have some charm. I -have known Lord Montford for years, and I never saw him so -animated or so happy before.' - -"But I need not dwell longer on this part of my life. Day after -day, evening after evening, Lord Montford was by my side; and yet -so quietly were these meetings conducted, that it always seemed -that chance directed them. As Bella ceased jesting, my mother did -not notice his attentions. I soon began to look upon seeing him -as the only thing worth living for. I had no thought save for -him. As yet no _word_ of love passed his lips, though I -could not but perceive that he regarded me with no common -interest. - -"One day, as we were all in the drawing-room, my mother suddenly -announced her intention of returning home--almost directly. I -looked at Lord Montford, and saw an expression of pain upon his -face. I rose and went to the window to hide the tears that were -starting to my eyes. In an hour after this, a servant brought me -a note from Lord Montford, filled with expressions of love, and -asking for an interview, and praying that I would not mention it -to any one, even to my mother. I knew this was wrong, and this -was the first false step in my career. I knew concealment from my -mother was, in such a case, wrong; but stronger than the voice of -conscience, stronger than the whispers of my angel guardian, -stronger than the promptings of faith and obedience was the -passion that reigned in my heart. I wrote a few words. My mother, -Mr. Clinton, and Bella were going out to dine. I pleaded -indisposition, and remained at home. I promised in the afternoon -to grant Lord Montford the interview he desired. I went, when -three o'clock came, to the library, and I left it in an hour the -affianced bride of Lord Montford. One thing surprised me, and -that was, that he used the most urgent entreaties that I would -not mention our interview, or its result, to any one. Imprudently -I promised. - -"The day came when we left London, and yet no word would Lord -Montford suffer to be spoken of our engagement. He stood in the -hall as we passed from the house, and he hastily whispered to me: - -"'You shall hear from me soon, Eva, and my letter shall explain -all.' - -"I could scarcely bear the quiet, tranquil beauty of home; my -whole time was spent in wishing for and thinking of the promised -letter. - -"At length it came, and I went with it tightly held in my hand, -to my own room. I cannot now remember all it said, but the -concluding words I remember, and they were these: 'And now, Eva, -I have told you how dear you are to me, how you have come across -my dark dreary life like a bright sunbeam; without you I shall -again become a dull, melancholy misanthrope; with you I may -become a good and useful man. Will you refuse, Eva, to help me: -One thing more. -{783} -A reason of the utmost importance prevents me from at present -making public our engagement and marriage--a reason so potent -that, if you refuse secrecy, we must part. Say, Eva, shall this -be? Will you sacrifice my love, my hope, my happiness, for a -scruple?' - -"And so with a prayer for my consent, the letter ended; and then -I laid it down and wept--ay, wept--for there was a calmer, -holier feeling in my heart than I had known for a long time; and -the struggle was hard. My mother, could I leave her thus? How had -she nursed me, loved me! and with what pleasure and pride had she -looked forward to my settling in life! Her sweet face came before -me with all its goodness and purity. No; I could not leave her, I -could not thus deceive and disappoint her. There was the church, -too, with its altars and flowers; who would tend them? I could -not go, and so I resolved--a resolution, alas! too soon to be -broken. - -"At this moment a hand was gently laid upon my shoulder, and -looking up hastily, I saw my mother. - -"'Eva, are you ill, my darling, or unhappy? Why are you here -alone, and miserable?' - -"I made no reply, but laid my head upon my mother's breast and -cried aloud. Those were the last tears I ever shed there. I even -feel now her soft hand caressing me, and drawing back the hair -from my brow, while she soothed me as though I had been a little -child. - -"'I am ill and tired, mother,' I said, at length. - -"'I see you are, Eva.' And she laid me down gently, and sat by me -until I slept. Two days afterward I was out, and turning round -the road that led to the wood, I met Lord Montford. I found he -had arrived that day, and had been waiting many hours for a -chance of seeing me; but he looked so pale and ill I scarcely -knew him. Let me tell the result in few words. I promised him to -leave home, mother, and all things, and to accompany him wherever -he would. - -"'It is but for a short time, Eva,' said he, 'and then we will -return, and your mother will forgive us and bless us.' - -"'Why not wait the short time?' I said, for my face burned where -my mother's tears had fallen. - -"'I cannot; you do not know the reasons, Eva. But do not refuse -me. You are the last tie that binds me to life and hope.' - -"And he arranged that early the next morning I should meet his -carriage in the park; that we should go straight to London, and -there be quietly married; and then go on the same day to Paris. - -"That night, sister, I never slept. Many times I half knelt to -pray, and perhaps had I prayed, God would have heard me; but -there was that in my heart that would not let me: and so, in -wearily pacing my room, in bitter weeping and grief for my -mother, in passionate tears, when I remembered my promise, in -hard struggle and indecision, did I pass my last night under my -mother's roof. When morning dawned, I tried to go and look at my -mother; twice, thrice, I half opened the door, and, shuddering, -closed it; and with my heart half breaking at leaving her, and -yet drawn on irresistibly, I passed from my home a guilty -fugitive, a cruel, wilful child. I went out into the pure, sweet, -morning air, and it fanned so softly my burning face; the birds -were singing such glorious carols of praise; the flowers were -lifting their fair heads, drooping with dew; peace and beauty and -joy were all around me; but in my heart were darkness and sorrow, -grief and remorse. Suddenly a strong arm twined around me, and a -low voice, whose tones I knew and loved too well, poured into my -ears a rapture of love and thanks. -{784} -And in a whirl of time that seems to me now a dream, I was -married, and in Paris. Immediately on our arrival at Paris, my -husband wrote to my mother, telling her of our marriage, -conjuring her for a time not to reveal it, and begging her -forgiveness and blessing. An answer came, and my mother's gentle -love spoke in every line, yet her heart seemed broken as she -wrote. Trusting that time would reveal the mystery of my -husband's strange desire for concealment. I threw myself into the -vortex of pleasure and gayety. The hours passed like golden -moments. I knew no wish, no caprice, that my husband did not -immediately gratify. The most devoted love and ardent affection -were lavished upon me; he was ever with me: if for one hour we -were separated, he flew to me the next. Smiles chased the -melancholy and languor from his brow, and the light in his eyes -was to me brighter than the rarest jewel he loved to adorn me -with. It was short but brilliant, this dream of mine; its bliss -was dearly purchased. You will think the story that I am going to -tell you strange, but there are stranger in the world. - - - Chapter III. - -'I told you, sister, how devoted I was to painting; and this -taste my husband spared no pains to gratify. He took me, one day, -to one of the most splendid picture-galleries in Paris, and -there, amongst other _chef d'oeuvres_, I noticed a most -beautiful picture of St. Mary Magdalen. I stood entranced before -it: it represented a graceful, slender figure kneeling fore a -rustic altar. The hands were clasped in prayer, and the face was -slightly raised toward heaven; but anything so exquisite as the -blended look of remorse and love upon those splendid features I -never saw; it was as though the raining tears had softened the -dazzling beauty and brightness of the large, liquid eyes, and had -blanched the roses on both cheek and lip, and had left over the -fair face a lingering light, soft and spiritual. Long golden -tresses waved over her shoulders, and lay (even as she knelt) -upon the ground in their profusion and luxuriance. Hope and love -were written on the noble brow, while such humility, such -self-abasement were expressed in the prostrate, kneeling figure, -that at one glance the history was read. I forgot time, place, -and all things--my whole soul absorbed in the wondrous beauty of -the picture. My husband had left me to procure a catalogue, when -suddenly a heavy hand was laid upon my shoulder, and a voice -hissed, rather than spoke, into my ear: 'Ay, look--for the sin -that branded her is marked upon your brow!' The hot breath of the -speaker flushed upon my cheek--a low, scornful laugh, and it was -gone. Bewildered, I turned round, but saw no one who seemed -likely to have addressed me or who seemed to notice me. A few -paces from me, looking intently upon a small painting, there -stood a tall, stately lady, and no one else was near. I hastened, -when I recovered the use of my faculties, to ask her if she had -seen any one speak to me, when she quickly arose, and left the -room. As she turned to pass to the door, I saw her face; it was -handsome, but so cold and haughty, and with so fierce an -expression of self-will, that the words froze upon my lips; it -was a strange face, too, and it haunted me all day. I was -bewildered; but I did not tell my husband. -{785} -I did not wish to trouble or annoy him. I was frightened and out -of spirits, and when evening came, my husband would insist upon -my going to the opera. I went; but I could not forget those -dreadful words. The opera was beautiful; but my attention would -wander. Looking round the boxes, I suddenly saw the same lady I -had met in the picture-gallery. Her handsome, haughty face bore -an expression that surprised me; her large, glittering eyes were -fixed upon me, and a smile of triumph, malicious and revengeful, -curled her lip. I turned to my husband and said: 'I do wish, -Percy, you would tell me who that lady is there opposite with the -pink dress.' He turned, at my request; but when he saw her, his -face became deadly pale, and convulsed with emotion. 'Do you know -her?--are you ill?--what is the matter, Percy?' I cried. - -"'Nothing,' said my husband, 'but the heat is too great; will you -come home, Eva?' - -"I rose, terrified, to leave the box, and turning again to look -at the lady, I found her gone. As we were driving home, when my -husband became more composed, I told him of my adventure in the -picture-gallery, and asked him if he could possibly conjecture -the meaning of it. - -"'Why, why, Eva, did you not tell me this before? Now, do not be -frightened; but I have decided to leave Paris by the midnight -train: it is now ten o'clock; will you be ready?' - -"'Yes; but why this haste?' - -"'Ask me no questions, Eva; only hasten, and let us be gone.' - -"My husband's manner was stern, and he became so silent that I -dared not interrupt him. Directly we arrived at home, he left me -to arrange for our journey, and, ringing for my maid, I told her -to prepare for instant departure. I was tired, and my head ached -with useless conjectures. I felt a foreboding of coming misery -that I could not account for. I was in the drawing-room, packing -a few books, when a servant entered and told me I was wanted. I -said I could not see any one, I was engaged; but in a few minutes -the man returned, and said the lady insisted upon seeing me, and -before he had finished speaking, the lady I had seen at the opera -stood before me. - -"'You are leaving Paris,' she said, with a sneering smile; 'but -it is important that you should grant me a few moments; perhaps I -may alter your plans.' - -"I bowed and the servant withdrew. She stood and surveyed me for -some minutes with a strange, glittering look in her wild eyes; -and then coming to me, she said: - -"'You are passing fair. Percy Montford's second choice speaks -well for his taste.' - -"'I do not understand you, madam,' I said proudly; 'nor do I see -by what right you intrude upon me or use my husband's name.' - -"'Your husband, girl!' and a mocking laugh rang in my ears. 'Nay, -Percy Montford is no husband of yours.' - -"'You are mad,' I replied. But she interrupted me-- - -"'Mad! No; and yet, I tell you, I am Lady Montford! You do not -believe me? I will tell you again. Sixteen years ago, when I was -young, and the world said beautiful, I became the lawful wife of -the man who has deceived you.' - -"I rose indignantly, and grasped the bell-rope. - -{786} - -"'Nay,' said she, 'pause one minute before you summon aid or -assistance. I repeat--sixteen years ago I was married. My husband -had then no title; he was simply Mr. Ingram; he lived with me one -year, and then, finding my temper hot and my spirit bitter, he -left me, (amply provided for, it is true,) and has never seen me -since. I have followed him, I have tracked him from city to city. -I found out his admiration for you; I knew he would marry you -secretly--openly he dared not, for fear of me. I could have -saved you then, but I would not; I hated you because you were -beautiful and good, and I have watched and waited with a fierce -longing for the moment when your cup of joy was full, that I -might dash it from your lips, and turn it to the poisoned chalice -I have so long drunk. You still disbelieve me? Look,' and she -took some papers and laid before me. My hands shook, and my sight -failed me when I tried to read them; but I saw enough; and -covering my face, I sank on my knees. - -"I remember now, sister, that in my madness and my grief I knelt -to that woman, and I prayed to her to unsay her fearful words. I -can remember how she rejected me, how she scorned me and my wild -prayers, and how proudly she stood over me, gloating in my -misery. - -"'No, Eva Leason! you broke your mother's heart--you had no mercy -upon her, and I have none upon you. I am claiming only justice, I -am speaking only truth.' - -"'Percy!' I cried, 'come and save me!' - -"'Ah! Percy, save her! You are so noble and good! You never -deceived her, never betrayed her!' And then I remember no more, -save that darkness seemed to come upon me until I lost all sense -and feeling. - -"When I recovered in some degree my recollection, I was lying -upon a sofa, and my husband--ah! mine no longer!--knelt beside -me, his face and head hidden, and yet I knew that he was weeping. -She was gone. - -"I sprang to my feet.' Percy,'I cried, 'tell me, is this true? -You found her here. Has she told me the truth?' And I waited for -his answer with my life depending on it. - -"'I will deceive you no more, Eva. Alas! she has told you true.' - -"'And you have deceived me, stolen me from my mother and my home, -and made me an outcast!' My heart seemed on fire. I tore the ring -from my finger and the jewels from my hair, and threw them at his -feet; but he knelt, and passionately implored me not to leave -him, to listen to his story, to have mercy on him. But no, I -heeded no word; I tore my dress from his hands; I rushed from -him; I took no time; I had but one thought, and that was to fly. -I was delirious with grief and anger; my cloak and bonnet were in -the hall; I threw them on; and before Lord Montford knew where I -was, I had taken a carriage, and was on my road to the station. -My heart ached for my mother. I remember but very little else. I -crossed the Channel, and my passage took nearly all my money: I -had just enough to reach London, and then I was penniless. It -seemed to me that I wandered for hours in the dreary streets, and -at last I fell. I was picked up and carried here. Now, tell me, -sister, was not my punishment bitter? Can you wonder that I -craved to die, and hide my shame and misery?" - -"You are much sinned against, Eva; but tell me how could Lord -Montford marry you when he knew his first wife was living?" - -"I do not know, sister; I cannot think; yet now I remember, that -night he told me that he had married her when he was quite young, -and had never known peace or rest since; and that, when he knew -me, he loved me so and feared to lose me, he could not resist the -temptation. -{787} -Did I tell you, sister, that the first thing I heard when I came -to England was that my mother was dead? I saw it in a paper." - -But, dear reader, I shall weary you if I repeat all poor Eva's -long history; I must hasten and finish my story. - -Some weeks after this, I was sitting with her, reading to her, -when Mother Frances called me hastily from the room. I had told -her Eva's history, and I felt from her manner that she had -something of importance to say concerning her. - -"Sister," said the superioress, "there is a gentleman in the -convent parlor, and he has sent in his card. See, it is Lord -Montford." - -"O Mother Frances! what shall we do? what can we say to him? He -has, then, traced poor Eva here!" - -"Let us first discover his errand, and then we will act as seems -best." - -When we entered the parlor, Lord Montford rose, and when he -addressed us, his voice trembled. - -"May I ask," he began, "if a lady who some time since obtained -shelter at the hospital, is still here? I have traced her here; -can I be allowed to see her?" - -"Lord Montford," said Mother Frances, "Eva's history is well -known to me; and I have no hesitation in saying that, while this -roof shelters her, she shall be safe from your further -deceptions." - -"Nay, you mistake, Rev. Mother, I am come to offer Eva the only -reparation in my power. As you know my errors, concealment is -useless. My first wife is dead, and I am come to make her my own -again." - -It took a long time to prepare Eva for this news; I dreaded it. -She was so near the verge of the grave, that I feared the least -agitation would be fatal. She bore it calmly; and when I had told -her, Lord Montford entered the room, and I left them together. - -Would, dear reader, that I could tell you, as the old story-books -do, that Eva lived long and happily; but alas! no; she died three -weeks after this, reconciled to God and to the church. - -Eva Lady Montford lies in her quiet grave; violets are growing -where her bright head was laid low. The winds chant drearily -among the trees that shelter her tomb; and if you visit it when -the morning sun gilds the flowers, or the moon silvers the -leaves, you will always meet there one who, if he sinned deeply, -has repented more deeply still. - -From the wind that sighs over Eva's grave, comes there, my dear -young reader, no warning to you? Is there no secret hoarded in -that heart of yours, that a mother's eye has never penetrated; -and if so, will it lead to your happiness in this world or the -next? Ah! no; concealment or deception in the end works misery, -let the cause be what it may. A pure and open heart before God, -and a just and blameless one before the world, is my prayer for -you. - --------- - -{788} - - The Church and Her Attributes. - - -The heterodox of all shades recognize, in some form or in some -sense, what they call the church of Christ, and hold it in some -way necessary, or at least useful, to salvation. The Anglicans -profess to believe in a church founded by Christ himself, of -which they claim to be a pure or purified branch; the -Presbyterians profess to believe that there is a church, out of -which there is no salvation; the Methodists and Baptists call -their organizations churches, and hold them to be parts or -branches of one universal or catholic church; and even Socinians, -Unitarians, and Universalists, who deny the incarnation, speak of -the church, though precisely what they mean by it is not easy to -say. So far as we know, there is no sect, school, or party, not -included among those whom our theologians call infidels or -apostates, that does not profess a belief, of some sort, in the -holy catholic and apostolic church of the creed. - -In a controversy between us and the heterodox, the question is -not, _An sit ecclesia?_ but, _Quid sit ecclesia?_ The -controversy hinges, not on the existence of the church, but on -what the church is, and only rarely on which is the true church; -for when all have once come to agree as to what the church is, -there will be little dispute as to which she is. We start, then, -with the assumption that there is something to be called the -church of Christ, and proceed at once to point out what she is. - -The church of Christ, taken in its most comprehensive sense, in -all states, places, and times, is, says Billuart: "_Congregatio -fidelium in vero Dei cultu adunatorum sub Christo capite_--the -congregation of the faithful, united under Christ the head, in -the true worship of God." Most of the heterodox, as well as all -Catholics, will accept this definition. But this definition -includes the faithful who lived before Christ; as well as those -who have lived since, and as those who lived and died before the -incarnation could not enter into heaven before the way was opened -by our Lord himself, who is the first-born from the dead, and the -resurrection and the life, a definition more particularly adapted -to the state of the church since the coming of Christ is needed. -The church has indeed existed from the beginning; but before the -Word was actually incarnated, she existed by prophecy and promise -only; but Christ having come and fulfilled the promise, the -church exists now in fact, in reality, for the reality foretold -and promised has come. Hence St. Paul, in referring to the -faithful of the Old Testament, says, "And all these being -approved by the testimony of faith, received not the promise"--or -the fulfilment of the promise--"God providing something better -for us, that they should not be perfected without us." Heb. xi. -39, 40. The church, before Christ, was incomplete, and needed -further fulfilment or perfecting; the church in the state in -which she exists since Christ, is the church realized, completed, -or perfected. According to this state, and as the kingdom of God -on earth, she is, as Billuart again defines: "Societas fidelium -baptizatorum ejusdem fidei professione, eorumdem sacramentorum -participatione, eodem cultu inter se adunatorum sub uno capite -Christo in coelis, et sub ejus in terris vicario summo -pontifice--the society of the faithful, baptized in the -profession of the same faith, united in the participation of the -same sacraments and the same worship, under one head, Christ in -heaven, and on earth under his vicar, the supreme pontiff." -[Footnote 70] - - [Footnote 70: Billuart, _De Reg. Fid._ Dissert. III. - _De Eccl._ Art. I.] - -{789} - -All will not accept the whole of this definition; but all will -agree that the church is a society embracing all the faithful, -united in the true worship of God under one head, Jesus Christ in -heaven; but the heterodox deny the union under one head or one -regimen on earth. But what is a congregation or society of the -faithful under Christ its head? A congregation or society under -one head implies both unity and multiplicity, either many made -one, or one manifesting or explicating itself in many, and in -either sense supposes more than the heterodox in general -understand by the church. The faithful, congregated or associated -under one head, Christ, are one body, for Christ is the head of -the congregation or society, not merely of the individuals -severally; but the heterodox generally, in our times at least, -make the church consist solely of individuals aggregated to the -collective body of believers, because already united as -individuals by faith and love to Christ, as their head; which -supposes Christ to be the head of each individual of the church, -but not of the church herself. According to this view, men are -regenerated outside of the society or church, and join the church -because supposed to be regenerated or born again, not that they -may be born again. The church in this case is simply the -aggregate of regenerated persons, and derives her life from -Christ through them, instead of their deriving their life from -Christ the head through her. The one view makes the church a -general term, an abstraction, performing and capable of -performing no part in the regeneration and sanctification of -souls; the other makes the church a reality, a real existence, -living a real life not derived from her members, and the real -medium through which our Lord carries on his mediatorial work; -and therefore union with her is not only profitable to spiritual -life, but necessary to its birth in the soul, and therefore to -individual salvation. This must be the case if we suppose Christ -to be the head of the congregation or society called the church, -and of individuals severally only as they are affiliated to her. - -There is, we suspect, a deeper philosophy in the church than the -heterodox in general are aware of. "The church," it was said in -this magazine, in one of the essays on _The Problems of the -Age_, "is the human race in its highest sense," that is, the -regenerated human race, the human race in the teleological order, -not in the order of natural generation, which is simply cosmic -and initial. This supposes in the church something more than -individuals, as, indeed, does society itself. With nothing but -individualities brought together there is no society, there is -only aggregation, because there is no unity, nothing that is one -and common to all the individuals brought together. In all real -society there is a social principle, a social life, in which -individuals participate, but which is itself not individual, nor -derived from the individuals associated. Thus in every real -nation, not a pseudo nation made up of the forced juxtaposition -of distinct and often hostile communities, there is a real -national life. -{790} -An insult to the nation each one feels is an insult to himself; -and if the existence of the nation is threatened, every one in -whose heart throbs the national life, rises, and all, in the fine -Biblical expression, "march as one man" to the rescue, prepared -to save the nation or die in its defence. - -The unity of social life is still more manifest when we come to -the race. We are aware of the old quarrel between the nominalists -and conceptualists on the one hand, and the old realists on the -other; but we disposed of that controversy in the article -entitled _An Old Quarrel_, in the Magazine for May of last -year, and established, we think, the reality of genera and -species, while we denied that of abstractions, or simple mental -conceptions. If we deny the reality of genera and species, we -must deny the fact of generation, and the Catholic dogmas of the -unity of the species and of original sin. If all men have not -proceeded from Adam by way of natural generation, there can be no -unity of the species; and if no unity of the species, there can -be no original sin, which is "the sin in which we are born," the -sin of origin, the sin of the race, transmitted by natural -generation from Adam to all his posterity. To deny the reality, -of the species is to deny this, is to deny generation, that we -are born in any sense of Adam; to deny generation is to deny -regeneration; and to deny regeneration is to deny the whole -Christian or teleological order. We cannot then logically be -nominalists or conceptualists and Christian believers at one and -the same time. - -We do not pretend that the species subsists without -individualization any more than we do that the individual can -subsist without the species. What we contend for is, that in -every individual there is that which is not individual, but -distinguishable from the individuality, which is common to all -the individuals of the species, and which in men binds all men, -from the first to the last, together in the unity of their -natural head or progenitor. The species is more than the -individual, operates in the individual, determines his specific -nature, and separated from which the individual is nothing; but -the species does not subsist without individualization, and could -not be explicated by natural generation if not individualized. -Yet the entire race was individualized in Adam. - -We can now understand the assertion that "The church is the human -race in the highest sense," the regenerated race in its -progenitor, its unity and reality, therefore in its real head, in -the supernatural order. The head of the regenerated race, or the -race in the supernatural or teleological order, is Christ -himself, the second Adam, the Lord from heaven. Hence the apostle -says, (i Cor. xv.,) "As in Adam all die, so in Christ all shall -be made alive." The apostle, in this fifteenth chapter of his -Epistle to the Corinthians, draws a parallel between the first -Adam and the last Adam, which must hold good be the race as born -of the first Adam, and the race as born anew of the last Adam; -and, therefore, the race born anew must hold to Christ in the -order of regeneration a relation strictly analogous to that borne -by it in the natural or initial order, to the first Adam. The -difference is, that in the natural order the race is explicated -by natural generation, and in the supernatural or teleological -order by the election of grace. But the relation between the -members and the head is no less real in the one case than in the -other, and we live in the order of regeneration, if born again, -the life of Christ as really and truly as in the natural order we -live the life of Adam. The church, then, proceeds as really -through grace from Christ, the supernatural head, as the race -itself proceeds from Adam, the natural head. - -{791} - -This view of the church is sustained by Saint Augustine, who -represents Christ as both the head and the body of the church, -and says Christ and his members are the whole Christ--_totus -Christus_. If we view the church in her origin, her principle, -her life, that is, in her head and soul, she is Christ himself; -if we view her as the congregation or society of the faithful, -made one in the unity of the head, the church is the body of -Christ. Hence, Saint Paul teaches, (Colossians i. 18,) that -Christ "is the head of the body; the church, who is the -beginning, the first-born from the dead;" "the head, from which -all the body, by joints and bands being supplied with nourishment -and compacted groweth unto the increase of God." (Ib. ii. 19.) -"Christ is the head of the church; he is the Saviour of his -body." (Eph. v. 23.) "Now you are the body of Christ, and members -of member." (i Cor. xii. 27.) "We are members of his body, of his -flesh, and of his bones." (Eph. v. 30.) "And if one member suffer -anything, all the members suffer with it: or if one member glory, -all the members rejoice with it." (i Cor. xii. 26.) Nothing can -more clearly or unequivocally assert Christ as the head of the -church, the church as the body of Christ, or the members of the -church as members of his body and members of one another, or the -perfect solidarity of Christ and the church, and of the members -of the church in Christ, and with one another, as implied in the -definition of the church quoted from Billuart. - -The men of the world do not understand this, because they -recognize no existence but that of individual things, and have no -conception of unity. What transcends the individual or -particular, is, for them, an empty word, or a pure abstraction, -therefore nothing. They have never asked themselves how -individuals or particulars can exist without the general or -universal, nor how there can be men without the generic man. What -has not for them a sensible existence is, indeed, no existence at -all. They seem never to reflect that, if there were no -supersensible reality, there could be no sensible reality. The -sensible is mimetic, depends on the intelligible or noetic which -it copies or imitates. Take away the intelligible or -non-sensible, and the sensible would be a mere appearance in -which nothing would appear--less than a vain shadow. - -We have defined the church in her origin, principle, and life, to -be Christ himself; as the society of the faithful, to which all -the faithful are affiliated, to be the body of Christ. But the -principle on which we have asserted this union of the faithful -with Christ, applies only to those who are in the order of -regeneration; for in that order only is Christ our head, or are -we, as individuals, affiliated to him, and included in him, as -the father of regenerated humanity; and hence they who die -unregenerated, suffer the penalty of original sin and of such -actual sins as they may have committed. How then do we enter that -order? By the new birth; by being born of Christ into it, as we -enter the natural order by being born of Adam. The Pelagians, -Socinians, Unitarians, and Universalists reject the distinction -of the two orders, and recognize no regenerated humanity; the -Calvinists, Congregationalists, Baptists, Presbyterians, -Methodists, Evangelicals, etc., hold that we are translated from -the order of nature into the order of grace by the direct, -immediate, and irresistible operation of the Holy Ghost. -{792} -But the Holy Ghost, in his immediate operations, is God acting in -his divine nature, and the medium of our regeneration is God in -his human nature, the Man Christ Jesus, who, on this view, would -be superseded as the mediator of God and men. The order of -regeneration originates in the Man Christ Jesus, the Word made -flesh, or God in his human nature, not in God in his divine -nature; and therefore, to be in that order, we must be born of -God in his humanity. If we could be regenerated by the Holy -Ghost, or God in his divine nature alone, without the -intervention of God in his human nature, or the Man Christ Jesus -as the medium or mediator, the incarnation would go for nothing, -and we should be made by the new birth, sons of God in his divine -nature; since neither the Father nor the Holy Ghost assumed -flesh; as the eternal Word is himself the son of God, and God as -he is God; which, we need not say, is simply impossible and -absurd. By the hypostatic union with the Word, man becomes God in -his personality, but not in his nature, for the human nature -remains always human nature. The two natures remain, as we are -taught in the condemnation of the Monophysites, for ever distinct -in the unity of the one divine person. By regeneration we are -elevated, indeed, to be sons of God, but sons of God by -participation with the Eternal Son in his human, not in his -divine nature. We are made joint-heirs with Christ, and sons of -God by adoption, not by nature. - -There is no act conceivable without principle, medium, and end. -In the creation of man and the universe, the three persons of the -holy and indivisible Trinity concur, but in diverse respects--the -Father as principle, the Son or Word as medium, and the Holy -Ghost as end or consuminator. In the regeneration, which St. Paul -calls a "new creation," the whole Trinity also concur, the Father -as principle, the Son as medium, and the Holy Ghost as end, -consummator, or sanctifier; but here it is the Son in his human -nature, not in his divine nature, that is the medium; for St. -Paul says, "There is one God, and one mediator of God and men, -the man Christ Jesus." The Son, in his human nature, is the -medium of the whole order of regeneration, or of our redemption, -new birth, and return to God as our final cause or last end. We -must then be begotten of him in his humanity by the Holy Ghost, -as the condition of being born into the regeneration, and -becoming members of the regenerated human race. The heterodox -overlook this fact, and even when asserting the incarnation, -leave it no office in the regeneration and sanctification of -souls, or, at best, no continuous or permanent office. According -to them, the mediatorial work was completed when Christ died on -the cross, at least, when he ascended into heaven; and now the -salvation of souls is carried on by the Holy Ghost without any -medium or any participation of God in his human nature, as if one -person of the indivisible Trinity could operate alone, without -the concurrence of the other two! This, if it were possible, -would imply the denial of the unity of God, and the assertion of -the three persons of the Godhead as three Gods, not three persons -in one God. The heterodox, the supernaturalists, as well as the -naturalists, really deny the whole order of grace as proceeding -from God in his human nature, its only possible medium, and hence -the reason why they so universally shrink from calling Mary the -Mother of God, and accuse of idolatry the devotion which -Catholics pay to her. -{793} -Though the eternal Word took the flesh he assumed from her, yet, -as that flesh is not in their view the medium of our spiritual -life, they cannot see in her, more than in any other pure and -holy woman, any connection with our regeneration, and our -spiritual or eternal life. They cannot see that, in denying her -claims, they virtually reject the whole Christian order. - -The difficulty, though not the mystery, disappears the moment we -recognize the sacramental principle, which it was the prime -object of the Reformers to eliminate from the Christian system. -In the definition of the church, she is said to be "the society -of the faithful baptized in the profession of the same faith, and -united _inter se_ in the participation of the same -_sacraments_." The sacraments are all visible signs -signifying, that is, communicating grace to the recipient. Among -these sacraments is one, which is the sacrament of faith, the -sacrament of regeneration, that is, baptism, in which we receive -the gift of faith, and are born members of Christ's body, and -united to him as our head, and as the head of the regenerated -race. In baptism we are regenerated, born into the supernatural -order, the kingdom of heaven, and have the life of Christ infused -by the Holy Ghost into us, so that henceforth we become flesh of -his flesh, bone of his bone, one with him, and one with all the -faithful in him, as really united to him in the spiritual order, -as we are to Adam in the natural order, and derive our spiritual -life from him as really as we derive from God, through Adam, our -natural life. This is what we understand St. Paul to mean when he -says, "It is written, the first man, Adam, was made a living -soul; the last Adam a quickening spirit." The sacraments are all -effective _ex opere operato_, and through them the Holy -Ghost infuses the grace special to each, when the recipient -opposes no obstacle to it. Infants are incapable of offering any -obstacle, and are regenerated by baptism in Christ and joined to -him. In the case of adults who have grown up without faith, the -_prohibentia_, or obstacles to faith, must be removed, by -reasons that convince the understanding and produce what -theologians call _fides humama_, or human faith, such faith -as we have in the truth of historical events; but this faith is -wholly in the natural order, although it embraces things in the -supernatural order as its material object, and does not at all -unite us to Christ as our head. It brings us, when faithful to -our convictions, to the sacrament of baptism, but cannot -introduce us into the order of regeneration; the faith that -unites us to the body of Christ, and through it with Christ -himself, or divine faith, is the gift of God, and is infused into -the soul by the Holy Ghost in the sacrament of baptism itself. -[Footnote 71] - - [Footnote 71: Theologians generally teach that an act of - supernatural faith, elicited by the aid of a special - transient grace, precedes the infusion of the habit of - faith.--Ed. Catholic World.] - -Hence, in her present state, only the baptized belong to the -society called the church of Christ, and only the baptized are -united as one body under Christ, their head in heaven, or under -his vicar on earth. The satisfaction or atonement made by our -Lord to divine justice, though it was made for all, and is ample -for the sins of the whole world, avails individuals, or becomes -practically theirs, only as through baptism, _vel in re, vel in -voto,_ they are really united to Him, and are in Him as their -head, as we were in Adam; and hence the dogma, _extra ecclesiam -nulla salus,_ judged by the world to be so harsh and -illiberal, is founded in the very nature and design of the -church, of the whole mediatorial work of Christ, and in the very -reason of the incarnation itself. -{794} -To say a man can be saved out of the church, is saying simply a -man can be saved out of Christ, without being born of Him,--as -impossible as for one to be a man and, in humanity, without being -born of Adam. The justice, the sanctity, the merits, the life of -Christ, can be really ours, only as we are really assimilated to -His body, and are in Him as our living head, our Father in the -order of grace; and hence it was not idly or inconsiderately, -that St. Cyprian, one of the profoundest of the fathers, said: -"He cannot have God for his father, who has not the church for -his mother." It lies in the very nature of the case. - -The other sacraments are channels of grace from the head to the -body and its members; and are all means of sustaining or -restoring the life begotten in baptism, preserving, diffusing, or -defending the faith, bringing up children in the nurture of the -Lord, augmenting the life and compacting the union of the body of -Christ, and solacing individuals in their illnesses, and -comforting and strengthening souls in their passage through the -dark valley of death. The sacramental system is complete, and -provides for all our spiritual wants. Baptism initiates us into -the life of Christ; the Holy Eucharist nourishes that life in us; -Penance restores it when lost by sin; Confirmation gives strength -and heroic courage to withstand and repel the assaults of Satan; -Orders provide priests for offering the unbloody sacrifice, the -stewards of the mysteries of Christ, intercessors for the people, -teachers, directors, and defenders, in the name of Christ, of the -Christian society; Matrimony institutes and blesses the Christian -family; and Extreme Unction heals the sick, or sustains, -strengthens, and consoles the departing. Indeed, the sacraments -meet all the necessities of the soul, in both the natural and the -supernatural orders, from its birth to its departure, and even -leave us not on the brink of the grave, but accompany us till -received into the choir of the just made perfect. - -The medium of all sacramental grace is the Man Christ Jesus, the -Word made flesh, and the sacraments are the media through which -the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ flows out from him, the -Fountain,--the grace that begets the new life, justifies, -sanctifies, and makes pleasing to God, we mean,--is infused by -the Holy Ghost into the soul, and constitutes alike the vital -principle of the individual, and of the whole body, quickening -and sustaining each. In rejecting sacramental grace, the -heterodox separate the individual soul, and also the church -herself, from all real communion or intercourse with Christ, or -God in his human nature, and accept the seminal principle of -rationalism, into which we see them everywhere falling. They -dissolve Christ, and render the Word efficient only in his divine -nature. The sacraments are the media of our union with God in his -human nature, through which the hypostatic union is, in some -sort, repeated in us, or made by the Holy Ghost practically -effectual to the justice and sanctity of believers, and the -perfecting of the church, which is the body of Christ; and as -this grace, in its principle and medium, is Christ himself, all -who are born of it are born of him, and the life which they live -in and by it is the one life of God in his humanity. -{795} -Looking at the church, in what theologians call her soul, she is -literally and truly the man Christ Jesus, and looking at her as -the whole congregation of the faithful, she is the body of -Christ, and related to him as the body to the soul. It is this -intimate relation of the church to God in his human nature, that -led Moehler to represent the church as in some sort the -continuation on earth, in a visible form, of the Incarnation; and -she is certainly so closely united to his divine personality, -that we may say truly, that he is her personality, as really as -he is the personality of the flesh he assumed and hypostatically -united to himself. Perrone says that, if we exclude from this -view all pantheistic conceptions, it is scriptural, and, -moreover, sustained by the fathers, especially St. Athanasius, -who says, in writing of the Incarnation, "Et cum Petrus dicat: -certissime sciat ergo omnis domus Israel, quia et Dominum eum, et -Christum fecit Deus, hunc Jesum quern vos crucifixistis: non de -divinitate ejus dicit, quod Dominum ipsum et Christum fuerit, sed -de humanitate ejus, quae est UNIVERSA ECCLESIA, quae in ipso -dominatur et regnat, postquam crucifixus ipse est: et quae -erigitur ad regnum coelorum, ut cum illa regnet, qui seipsum pro -illa exinanivit et qui induta servili forma, _ipsam -assumpsit_." [Footnote 72] Christ, in his humanity, is the -universal church, which rules and reigns in him. We cannot study -the great fathers of the church too assiduously, and we wish we -had earlier known it. The doctrine we are trying to set forth is -there. - - [Footnote 72: Edit. Maur. opp. tom. i. p. 2, p. 887; apud - Perrone, Praelect. Locis Theolog. p. I. c. 2; _De Anima - Ecclesiae_, Art. I.] - -There is nothing here that favors pantheism: - 1. Because the hypostatic union is by the creative act of God, - as much so as the creation of Adam. - 2. Because, although God is really the church, regarded in her - soul, it is God in his human, which is for ever distinct - from his divine nature, and therefore in his created nature. - 3. Because the Word was incarnated in an individual, not in the - species, as some rationalists dream, save as the species was - individualized in the individual nature he assumed; and, - 4. Because, though Christ is identically the soul, the - informing principle, the life of the church, the individuals - affiliated to the body of the church retain their - individuality, their human personality, and therefore their - own free-will, personal identity, activity, or their - character as free moral agents. -Not all individuals apparently affiliated to the body of the -church are really assimilated to her, and vitally united to the -body of Christ. They pertain to the society externally, but not -by an inward union with Christ, the head and soul. They are, as -St. Augustine says, "_in_ not _of_ the church," as the -dead particles of matter in the human body which receive not, or -have ceased to receive, life from it, and are constantly flying -or cast off. _Gratia supponit naturam._ All the operations -of grace presuppose nature, and nature has always the power to -resist grace. Without grace nature cannot concur with grace; yet -even they who have been born again, and have entered into the -order of regeneration, are always able to fall away, or back, -practically, into the natural order. Not every individual in the -church is assimilated to her, nor every one who is assimilated to -her will continue to the end. But she herself survives their loss -and remains always one and the same body of Christ. - -{796} - -We have dwelt at great length on this view of the church, not -because we have any special partiality or aptitude for mystic -theology, but because we have wished to show that the church is -not something purely external and arbitrary. We hold that all the -works of God are real, and have a real and solid reason of being -in the order of things which he has seen proper to create. He -does nothing in the supernatural order, any more than in the -natural order, without a reason, and a good and valid reason. We -have wished to get at the reality, and to show that Catholicity -is not a sham, a make-believe, a reputing of things to be that -are not; but a reality, as real in its own order as the order of -nature itself, and, in fact, even more so, as nature is mimetic, -and Catholicity, to borrow a term from Plato, is _methexic_, -and participates of the divine reality itself. All heterodox -systems are shams, unphilosophical, sophistical, and incapable of -sustaining a rigid examination. Their abettors do not, and dare -not, reason on them. The age supposes Catholicity is no better, -is equally unsubstantial, unreal, dissolving and vanishing in -thin air at the first glance of reason. We have wished to show -the age its mistake, and to let it see that Catholicity can bear -the most thorough investigation, and that it has nothing to fear -from the most rigid dialectics. We do not pretend to divest it of -mysteries, or to explain the mysteries so as to bring them within -the comprehension of our feeble understandings, but to show that -the church, with all her attributes and functions, has a reason -in the divine mind and in the order of things of which we make a -part, and is a real, inward life, as well as an outward form. - -From the view of the church which we have presented, it is easy -to deduce her attributes. She is in some sort, according to St. -Athanasius, the human nature of Christ, or Christ in his -humanity, and he is her divine personality, for his humanity is -inseparable from his divine person. That she is one, follows, -necessarily, from the unity of Christ's person, from the fact -that, in her soul, she is Christ and, in her body, is his body. -Her unity is the unity of Christ himself, and the unity of the -life she lives in him. There are individual distinctions and even -varieties of race or family among men in the natural order, but -all men are men only in that they are one in the unity of the -species. Jesus Christ is not only the individual man Christ -Jesus, but also in the order of regeneration the species, as Adam -was both an individual man and the entire species in the order of -genesis or generation. The church as growing out of the -incarnation, and, in some sense, continuing it, and in her body -composed of individuals born of him and affiliated to him, must -necessarily be one, one in her faith, one in her sacraments, one -in her worship, one in her love, one in the life that flows -through her, animates and invigorates her, from the one Christ, -who is her _forma_, or informing principle, as the soul is -the informing principle of the body--_anima est forma -corporis_, as the holy Council of Clermont defines. Diversity -in any of these respects breaks the unity of the body and -interrupts communion with the head, and the communion of the body -with the soul, whence is derived its life. It is therefore all -Christians have always held heresy and schism to be deadly sins, -and the most deadly of all. They not only sever those guilty of -them from the body or external communion of the church, but from -her internal communion, from Christ himself, the only source of -supernatural and divine life. -{797} -There is not only the grossest ingratitude and baseness in heresy -and schism, but there is spiritual death in them. By them we die -to Christ as, in the natural order, we should die to Adam, or -lose our natural life, if we were deprived of our humanity or cut -off from communion with its natural head. It is not from bigotry -or intolerance that the church regards heresy and schism with -horror; it is because they necessarily separate the soul from -Christ, and destroy its spiritual life; because they reject -Christ, and crucify him afresh. It is so in the very nature of -the case, and she can no more make it not so, than the -mathematician can make the three angles of a triangle _not_ -equal to two right angles. It is not, therefore, without reason -that the church has always insisted that to keep the unity of the -faith is the first of Christian duties, or that St. Paul bids St. -Timothy to keep the deposit, and to hold fast the form of sound -words; for without the faith it is impossible to please God. We -know men may err without being heretics; we know that invincible -ignorance, an ignorance not culpable in its cause, excuses from -sin in that whereof one is invincibly ignorant; but there is no -invincible ignorance where one may know the truth, but will not; -and invincible ignorance itself cannot regenerate the soul, and -elevate it to the supernatural order, which can be done only by -faith given in baptism. - -The church is holy, holy in her doctrines, her worship, her life, -and in her living members. This follows necessarily from the -fact, that in her soul she is Christ, and her body the body of -Christ. She is holy as he is holy, and because he is holy, as she -is one because he is one. Doubtless all individuals in her -communion are not holy; for men may, as we have seen, be -_in_ the church and not _of_ the church. Regeneration, -or the infused habits of faith, justice, and sanctity, do not -destroy one's individuality, or take away one's free-will; men -may, if they will, profane the sacraments, eat or drink -unworthily, even fall from grace, and become gross sinners -against God and criminals before the state. These are not holy, -but the reverse; yet all who are born again, and are united by a -living bond to the church, may derive, if they will, life from -Christ through her, and all who do so are holy in her holiness, -as she is holy in the holiness of Christ. His life, the life of -God in his humanity, is their life. - -The attempt to disprove the sanctity of the church from the bad -conduct of some, if you will many, of her members, overlooks the -real character of the church, supposes her to be simply an -aggregation of individuals, living only the life she derives from -them; and it also starts from the false assumption that grace is -irresistible and inamissible. Poor Luther, in the morbid state -into which he fell in his convent, could find relief only in -assuming that, as he had once been in grace, he must be still in -grace, and sure of salvation; for grace, once had, can never be -lost, however one may sin after having received it. Yet this -doctrine was false, and but for his morbid, half insane state of -mind, he would never have entertained it for a moment. -Protestantism sprang from the diseased state of Luther's soul. A -sad origin. - -The church is _visible_ as well as invisible. This also -follows necessarily. The internal life of the church is -invisible, hidden with God; but the body of the church is -visible, as was the body of Christ when on earth. -{798} -The church is composed, as we have seen, of body and soul, and -everybody living on earth in space and time, is by its own nature -visible, and would not be body if it were not. The body of the -church is composed of individuals united in the profession of the -same faith, and in the participation of the same sacraments, -under one head, and is therefore, since the individuals are -visible, a visible body. The whole analogy of the case supposes -her to be both invisible and visible, as are all the sacraments, -which are visible signs or media of invisible grace. The church -is the medium through which the soul is regenerated and comes -into communion with Christ, the head, and derives life from his -life; and how if not visible could we know where to find her, or -be able to approach her sacraments, and through them be born -again, and be united in the supernatural order to Christ, as in -the natural order we are united to Adam? No: the church is as a -city set on a hill, and cannot be hidden; and is set on a hill, -made visible, that all may behold her, and flock within her -walls. - -The church is indefectible. This follows from the fact that -Christ himself whose body she is, is indefectible, and dies no -more, but ever liveth and reigneth. No matter whether you call -the rock on which he said he would build his church, and against -which the gates of hell shall not prevail, Peter, the truth that -Peter confessed, or Christ himself, her indefectibility is -equally asserted. He himself in every case, is the chief -corner-stone, is, in the last analysis, the rock; and the church -cannot fail, not because men may not fail, but because he who is -her support, her life, cannot fail, since he is God, and as truly -God in his human nature as in his divine nature. The heterodox of -all shades, however they may err as to what she is, hold, as we -have seen, that the church is, in some form, indefectible. - -The church is authoritative. Her authority is the authority of -Christ; and his authority is the authority of God in his human -nature. "All power is given unto me," he said, "in heaven and in -earth," and therefore is he exalted to be "King of kings and Lord -of lords," so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow. -The church is Christ in his humanity, and his authority is hers, -for it is in and through her that he exercises his authority. To -resist her, is to resist him, and to resist him is to resist God. -"He that despiseth you, despiseth me, and he that despiseth me, -despiseth him that sent me." This is no arbitrary authority, or -authority resting solely on an external commission or -appointment. It is internal and real in the church, as the body -of Christ, because he is in her, lives in her, and governs in and -through her. It is, then, no light thing to resist the authority -of the church; for to do so, is not to resist the authority of -fallible men, but the authority of God--is to resist the -authority of the Holy Ghost himself. The age feels it, and seeks -to justify itself in rejecting the church by denying the Divine -sovereignty, or that God has any rightful authority over the -creatures he has made. It demands liberty, and M. Proudhon, a man -of iron logic, maintained that to assert liberty in the sense -this age asserts it, we must dethrone God, and annihilate belief -in his existence. "Once admit the existence of God," he said, -"and you must admit the authority claimed by the church, the -papal despotism and all." We have met this denial of the Divine -sovereignty in the essay on _Rome and the World_, in the -current volume of the Magazine, and proved, we think -conclusively, that God is sovereign Lord and Proprietor of all -his works. -{799} -Very few people are willing to avow themselves atheists, however -atheistic may be their speculations; and most people have, after -all, a lurking belief that God is sovereign, and has plenary -authority over all the creatures he has made. Concede this, and -the authority of the Son is conceded; and if the authority of the -Son is conceded, that of the church cannot be denied or -questioned. - -The church is infallible. This follows necessarily, if our Lord -himself is infallible, which it were impious to doubt. Our Lord -is God in his human nature indeed; but God in his human nature is -God no less than in his divine nature. In this is the mystery of -the incarnation--that God should humble himself, assume the form -of a servant, annihilate himself, as it were, become man, and be -obedient unto death, even the death of the cross, and yet be God, -have all the fulness of the Godhead dwell in him bodily; this is -a mystery that only God himself can fathom. We know from -revelation the fact, and can understand its relation to our -redemption, justification, sanctification, and glorification; but -it remains a fact before which we do, and always must, stand in -awe and wonder. If Christ is God, God in his humanity and also in -his divinity, for he includes both natures in the unity of his -divine person. He has all the attributes of divinity, while he -has also all the attributes of humanity, what the fathers mean -when they say, "he is perfect God and perfect man." He knows all -things, and can do all things, and can neither deceive nor be -deceived. He is the divine personality of the church, who is not -the individual man, but the human nature hypostatically united to -himself, as we have seen from St. Athanasius. His life is her -life, and she must, therefore, be infallible as he is infallible. -He who is infallible as God is infallible lives in her, and she -lives, breathes, moves, and acts by him and in him. How then, can -she be not infallible? How could she err? She could no more err -as to the truth that lives and speaks in her than God himself, -for she is all in him, and in her soul indistinguishable from -him. She is not infallible by external appointment or commission -alone, but really so in herself, in her own life and -intelligence. We speak of the soul of the church, but as her soul -and body are not separated or separable, she must be equally -infallible in her body, or as the body of Christ, who is the life -and informing principle of the body. The body of the church, by -virtue of its union with Christ is, and must be, infallible. But -the body of the church is a society of individuals; and is it -meant that all individuals in the communion of the church are -infallible? There is in the church regenerated humanity which, -though it subsists not without individualization, is not -individual. This regenerated humanity is united to Christ, its -regenerator, and derives its life from him. In all the -individuals affiliated or assimilated to the body of the church, -there is both this regenerated humanity and their own -individuality. As regenerated humanity, no one can err, but in -their individuality all individuals do or may err more or less. -Reason is in all men, and reason within its sphere is infallible; -but all men are not infallible in their understanding of what is -reason, or what reason teaches. Individuals who are in the -communion of the church, so far as made one with her body and one -with the indwelling Christ, are infallible in his infallibility; -but in their individuality they are not infallible. -{800} -Hence, when it is said the church is infallible, the meaning is, -that she is infallible in the universal, not in the particular, -or in the sense in which she is one, not in the sense in which -she is many. Our faith as individual believers is infallible only -in believing with the church, what she in her unity and integrity -believes and teaches. - -The church, we should have said before, is catholic. This follows -from her unity and completeness. _Catholic_ means the whole, -or universal; and since the church is one, and is the body of -Christ, who is "the way, the truth, and the life," she cannot but -be catholic. She is catholic, in the words of the catechism, -"because she subsists in all ages, teaches all nations, and -maintains all truth." She is catholic because in her soul she is -Christ himself; because in her body she is the body of Christ; -because she is the whole regenerated human race in their head, -the second Adam. Having Christ, who, in the order of -regeneration, is at once universal and individual, she has the -whole, has the universal life of Christ, has all truth, for he is -the truth itself and in itself, and is the only way of salvation; -for there is no other name given under heaven among men whereby -we can be saved--neither is there salvation in another. She -subsists in all ages, prior to the incarnation, as we have seen, -by prophecy and promise; since the incarnation, in fact and -reality; and has authority to teach all nations, and is set to -make all the kingdoms of this world the kingdom of God and his -Christ. Whatever is outside of her is outside of Christ, and is -necessarily non-catholic. - -The church is apostolic. This means that she is endowed with -authority to teach and govern, not merely that she descends in -the direct line from the apostles, the chief agents in founding -and building her up, though, of course, that is implied in her -unity and catholicity in time no less than in space. It means -that she is clothed with apostolic authority; that is, authority -in doctrine and discipline. This authority is distinguishable -from the sacerdotal character conferred in the sacrament of -orders. Men may have valid orders, be real priests, and actually -consecrate in schism, or even heresy, as is the case with the -clergy of the schismatic Greek Church and some of the Oriental -sects. But these schismatic or heretical priests have no -apostolic authority, no authority to teach or govern in the -church, no authority in doctrine or discipline, and all their -sacerdotal acts are irregular and illicit. This authority, which -we have seen the church derives from the indwelling Christ, and -possesses as his body, we call the apostolate. It is inherent in -Christ himself, and is and can be exercised only in his name by -his vicar, the supreme pontiff, and the pastors of the church -under him and in communion with him. All the arguments that prove -the visibility of the church prove equally the visibility of the -apostolate, or, as Saint Cyprian calls it, the episcopate; all -the arguments that prove the unity of the church prove the unity -of the apostolate or episcopate; and, therefore, with those which -prove the visibility of the church, prove a visible centre of -authority, in which the episcopate takes its rise, or from which -the whole teaching and governing authority under Christ radiates -and pervades the whole body. The visible church being one, -demands a visible head; for if she had no visible head, she would -lack visible unity; and would be, as to her teaching and -governing authority, not visible, but invisible. Hence Saint -Cyprian, after asserting the episcopate or apostolate, held by -all the bishops _in solido_, says, that the unity might be -made manifest, or the apostolate be seen to take its rise from -one, our Lord established one cathedra and gave the primacy to -Peter. -{801} -Saint Cyprian evidently assumes the necessity of a visible centre -of authority, so that we may as individual members of the church, -or as persons outside the church seeking to ascertain and enter -her communion, know what is her authority and where to find it. -Hence in the definition of the church we began by saying she is -defined to be "the society of the faithful, baptized in the -profession of the same faith, and united _inter se_ in the -participation of the same sacraments, and in the true worship of -God, under Christ the head in heaven, and under his vicar, the -supreme pontiff on earth." The papacy is the visible origin and -centre of the apostolate, as Christ is himself its invisible -origin and centre, and is as essential to the being of the -visible church as are any of the attributes we have seen to be -hers. To make war on the supreme pontiff is to make war on the -church, and to make war on the church is to make war on Christ, -and to make war on Christ is to make war on God and man. - -It is no part of our present purpose to discuss the constitution -of the hierarchy or external organization of the church, which, -to a certain extent, is and must be a matter of positive law, and -which, though having its reason in the very nature and design of -the church as founded by the incarnation, lies too deep in that -mystery of mysteries for us to be able to ascertain it by way of -logical deduction. The idea of one living God includes the three -persons in the Godhead; the idea of the incarnation includes the -church; and the idea of the church includes unity, sanctity, -catholicity, visibility, indefectibility, infallibility, -apostolicity; and the idea of apostolicity includes authority in -its unity and visibility; and, therefore, the papacy is the -visible origin and centre of the authority of the church as the -visible body of Christ. So far we can go by reasoning from the -ideas, principles, or data supplied by revelation. The rest -depends on authority, and is not ascertainable by theological -reason. - -We know from the New Testament that our Lord has set in his -church some to be apostles, some to be pastors, etc.; but these -are all included in the supreme pontiff, who possesses the -priesthood, the episcopate, the apostolate, the pastorate, in -their plenitude; and all, except what is conferred in the -sacrament of orders, is derived directly or indirectly from him, -as its origin and source under Christ, whose vicar he is. This is -enough for our present purpose, and it is worthy of remark that -always has the papacy been the chief point of attack by the -enemies of the church; for they have had the sagacity to perceive -that it is the keystone of the arch, and that if it can be -displaced, the whole edifice will fall of itself. It is the pope -that heresy and schism today war against, and the whole -non-catholic world seek to deprive him of the last remains of his -temporal authority, because they foolishly imagine that the -destruction of the prince will involve the annihilation of the -pontiff. It is the pontificate, and Garibaldi avows it, not the -principality, that they seek to get rid of. But they may despoil -the prince; they cannot touch the pontificate. He who is King of -kings and Lord of lords has pledged his omnipotence to sustain -it. Our Lord has prayed for Peter that his faith fail not. - -{802} - -It were easy for us to cite the commission of our Lord to the -teaching church, and from that to argue her authority to govern -under him, and her infallibility in teaching; but we have had -another purpose in view. We have wished, by setting forth the -relation of the church to the incarnation, and deducing from that -relation her essential attributes, to show how the church can be -holy and yet individual Catholics can be unholy, and how -individuals, all individuals in their individuality, can be -fallible and err, and yet she be infallible. The heterodox argue -against the church from the misconduct of individual Catholics. -They ransack history and collect a long list of misdeeds, crimes, -and sins, of which Catholics have been guilty, and then ask, How -can a church who has done such things be holy or be the church of -God? In the first place, we answer, none of the things alleged -have been committed by the church, but, if committed at all, it -has been by individuals in the church; and in the second place, -even rebirth in baptism does not, as we have seen, destroy the -personality of the individual, or take away his free-will. He can -sin after grace as well as before, and glorification is promised -only to those who persevere to the end. The church is holy by her -union with Christ, as his body; individuals are so by their -assimilation to her, and by living through her the life of -Christ. - -It is asked again how, if the church is infallible, can -individuals be fallible; and if individuals are fallible, and do -not unfrequently err, how can the church be infallible? How from -any possible number of fallibles get an infallible? The answer is -in principle the same. The church is infallible, for he who -assumed human nature, and whose body she is, is her personality, -for she is individualized in the individual human nature he -assumed; but the individual is not in himself infallible, for he -retains his own personality with all its limitations and -imperfections. The infallibility is in Christ, and proceeds from -him to the regenerated race, not to the individual member in his -individuality. Our Lord assumed human nature without its human -personality, though human nature individualized; but individuals -assimilated to Christ through the church retain their proper -human personality, and are infallible only in the church, only so -far as they think and speak her thoughts, and believe what she -believes and teaches. The pope himself is not personally -infallible, but at most only when speaking _ex cathedra_, in -union with the mind of the church, and declaring her faith. Hence -some theologians maintain that the papal definitions themselves -are reformable till expressly or tacitly accepted by the -universal church, though we do not agree with them; for we regard -the pope as the vicar of Christ in teaching as well as in -governing, and, therefore, as expressing, when speaking -officially, the infallible faith of the universal church. For us, -in the language of St. Ambrose, _ubi Petrus, ibi ecclesia_. -Whenever the church speaks, she speaks the words of her Lord, and -is infallible and authoritative; whenever the individual speaks -in his own individuality, he is fallible, and his words, as his, -have no authority. The church can then be infallible and -individuals fallible. Consequently, any arguments drawn from the -errors and misdeeds of individuals have no weight against the -church. - -{803} - -If non-Catholics would pay attention to this, they would write -fewer books, publish fewer essays, and preach fewer sermons, -against the church, for they have hitherto alleged little or -nothing against her but the errors and bad conduct of churchmen. -When they wish for examples of the purest and most heroic -sanctity, they are obliged to seek them in her communion, and the -most anti-Catholic among them feel that they may assert without -proof any doctrine they happen to like, if the church has taught -and teaches it. It is remarkable with what confidence and mental -relish they assert particular doctrines for which they feel that -they have her authority. Is it because a secret conviction of her -infallibility lurks in the minds of all who are Catholic by their -reminiscences? and would they not be far less enraged against -what they call "the seductions of Rome," if it were not so, if -they did not feel themselves constantly tempted to return to her -communion? They resist her influence, in fact, only by a constant -effort, by main strength. - -But it is time to bring our remarks to a close. We have opened a -vast subject, one to which we could do scant justice in a -magazine article, even if we were otherwise able, as we are not, -to treat it not altogether unworthily. No mortal can speak -worthily of the church of Christ, in which the power, the wisdom, -the justice, the love, and the mercy of God, of the indivisible -and ever Blessed Trinity, in all their infinitude are, so to -speak, embodied and displayed. Even God himself cannot do more or -better than he has done in the church, for he gives in her -himself, and more than himself even he cannot give. How great, -how glorious, how awful is the church! How great, how exceeding -great, the loving-kindness of God, who permits us to call her our -mother, to draw life from her breasts, and to rest on her bosom! -We love the church, who is to us the sum of all things good and -holy, and we grieve daily over those who know her not; we grieve -when her own children seem to treat her with levity or -indifference; we are pained to the heart when we hear men, who -have souls to save, for whom Christ died, and whom she longs to -clasp to her loving bosom, railing against her, calling her "the -mystery of iniquity," and her chief pontiff "the man of sin." We -seem to see our Lord crucified afresh on Calvary, and to hear her -sweet voice pleading, "Father, forgive them, for they know not -what they do." - --------- - -{804} - - Magas; or, Long Ago. - - A Tale Of The Early Times. - - - Chapter IV. - -Four years are past since the incidents above related took place. -The scene is neither at Athens nor at Corinth, but at Nauplia. -[Footnote 73] Here, suddenly, a new school had been opened by a -lady, which attracts a vast concourse of disciples. The lady is -young, eloquent, beautiful, and the favor she meets with is -almost unbounded. Powerful protectors are around her; and -philosophy and science bow to her, though they hardly as yet -determine to what school the doctrines she propounds belong. -Among those who are attracted by her fame is a lady, just arrived -from Athens to be enrolled among the followers of the new -Aspasia, or Leontium as she is more generally called. Lotis is -herself no mean or obscure daughter of those muses which this new -professor has worshipped to such advantage. But Lotis is -disappointed in her expectations; the entrance to the academy is -guarded with such jealous care, that admission is not easy; in -vain she sends her name as daughter of a citizen of Athens of -some distinction in the philosophic world; strangers, and above -all those from Athens, are carefully excluded. Yet the city -continues to derive new lustre from this new propounder of -exalted themes; and those who were fortunate enough to gain -admission to her lectures, rang with applauses of the lucid -doctrines taught; they compared her eloquence to that of Plato, -her music to that of Amphion; and contended that, while all other -sects were tending to the destruction of ancient truth, this lady -demonstrated its existence in every nation, and brought it home -to the heart and feelings. Lotis heard of nothing throughout the -city but praises of the new exponent of wisdom who had travelled -throughout the earth, and had learnt to harmonize the teachings -of all philosophies. - - [Footnote 73: The Napoli di Romania.] - -"'Tis strange she will not admit you," said Lydon, a young -disciple, to whom Lotis was complaining of her exclusion; "and -the more to be regretted as she is preparing for departure; it -seems she did not intend to stay so long at Nauplia in the first -place; she was waiting for her protector, who had business at -Athens. They will both set out for Rome when he returns." - -"And is he expected soon?" - -"It is not easy to say. Magas is uncertain in his movements; he -often acts from mere caprice. He may be here shortly." - -"Magas!" - -"Yes, do you know him?" - -"I knew one of that name formerly. He was of noble birth; of -Athens." - -"Likely it is the same. He has been travelling for these few -years past, and in his travels picked up this philosopheress, who -has so enchanted him." - -"Is she really so beautiful as they say?" - -{805} - -"Words cannot describe her. She has the attractions of Venus with -the majesty of Minerva. When in repose, her calm dignity demands -our homage; but when she speaks, her features are lighted up with -an expression which defies description; her eyes, deeply set as -they are, dazzle with the intensity of their fire; she does not -declaim, she speaks in a low yet in a distinct and earnest tone -which all hear, words which seem to have been gathered at the -very fount of wisdom. There is an indescribable melody in her -voice, which melts the heart, and communicates the persuasion -that she knows more than she says; that she holds back something -as fearing the light would be too bright for our unaccustomed -eyes: she infuses the desire to know the truth, the certainty -that there is a truth; yet somehow, on reflection, the truth -itself seems withheld, and we hope next time to hear a fuller -exposition of that which no one doubts she possesses." - -"What is her doctrine?" - -"It would take herself to expound it, in the clear, musical, -irresistible manner with which she enforces conviction. I am -afraid I should only spoil her discourse by repeating it." - -"Try, nevertheless." - -"She teaches that truth is one--an immutable, eternal essence, -containing within itself all good, all beauty, all harmony, all -being; and that in it resides the creative power. - -"She says this creative power is an emanation of the Deity, or -rather the Deity himself made manifest. It is termed the Word. - -"And the Word or creative power made the universe--made all those -orbs which we see move around us by night and by day; and -moreover, breathed life and intelligence into organic forms, that -they might become conscious of, and enjoy existence. But for man -she claims a higher life; she says he was created in harmony with -the eternal essence, that he might know and enjoy a higher life -than that of animals, but that he disregarded the conditions on -which this higher life was held, and by violating them brought -the disorder into the world which now oppresses it. Man is the -only animal unfaithful to his instincts; the only one who does -not trust his own nature; the only one who is unhappy in the -non-realization of his aspirations." - -"But what remedy does she propose?" - -"She does not _propose_ one; she _declares_ one. She -says the Word became flesh, to communicate to man the Holy Spirit -he had lost, and by losing which his misery was occasioned. This -Holy Spirit comes alike from the Eternal Essence, and from the -Word which is its manifestation, and purifies the heart of man, -and so restores it to its primal state, or to a more holy one -yet." - -"But how is this to be effected for ourselves?" - -"That is just where she disappoints us. She gives glowing -descriptions of truth, beauty, beneficence in every sort of -manifestation, material and mental, and shows how the aspirations -of the poets prove that a sublime ideal raises man above the -practical existence we see him lead every day; but how to obtain -this Holy Spirit we have not yet learnt." - -"Has she given no rule?" - -"None but material ones; and according to her, material rules are -only types of spiritual ideas. She says, as the body has assumed -too much sway, it must be subdued by violence--that is, by -maceration, fasting, and such like. She says passion must give -way to reason, and the affections be rightly governed. This we -knew before; but what we want is '_power_' to carry out in -practice the precepts we admire; or as she would say, 'how to -obtain that Holy Spirit which is to live in us and direct us.'" - -"And you think she knows how?" - -{806} - -"I feel satisfied she does; we all feel satisfied she does. Her -words come forth as oracles; we question not--we believe. She has -been in India, in Cathay, in Tartary; and everywhere she says the -same truth lies hidden under some material form, and needs but -the light of the Holy Spirit to pierce through the veil and make -itself manifest." - -"Would I could see her!" - -"You would be carried out of yourself. Yesterday she spoke on -_Light_. Material light, with her, is but a type of a far -higher light, which penetrates the spirit with beauty, harmony, -and love, and makes it pure, holy, eternal, and capable of -receiving true knowledge. Light, material light, was created at -the same moment that intelligences and harmonies of a high -spiritual order sprang to life, to enjoy it. She went off into -something of this strain; - - God said: Let there be light! - Effulgent light! - As the wild watery mass chaotic lay; - While o'er it did the Holy Spirit move. - Obedient to the WORD, the glorious day - Sprang into being; and effulgent light, - Intelligence all bright - Of seraph holy and of angel sweet, - In glorious ecstasy their Maker greet, - And the deep bliss of their creation prove. - - Spirits of beauty, spirits of power - Then wakened to welcome the wonderful hour - That gave them existence, with light for their dower! - All dazzling the brightness illuming space, - Investing all matter with beauty and grace-- - All lustrous the beauty, the grandeur divine - That did in full glory resplendently shine: - The Truth--though revealed-- - As in Type, yet concealed. - The rays of the sun are less dazzling to sight, - Than the sparkles begemming the pinions so bright - Of the spirits who bowed at that mystical shrine, - When first with an impulse or instinct divine - They blent their sweet voices throughout every sphere, - To worship in love that doth worship endear. - - Entrancing and entranced in love to greet, - These beauteous spirits kindled into glow, - And shed their lustre all that chaos through. - And as those rays the harder mediums greet, - The sleeping atoms wake as from a trance; - The sparks electric shoot in mystic dance, - Rousing the power inert to onward move; - Impelled by rays of light, create by love, - Light's piercing gleams evolve material day - And angels' glances brighten up the clay; - Refracted rays, the types of virtue bright, - Enkindled atoms with their dazzling light; - - Splendor and brightness caught from angels' wings, - Infuse their action; and such beauty springs - From forth the atoms that, erst void and dark, - Had lain awaiting th' ethereal spark, - That now material beauty wears a grace - In which a type of heaven itself we trace. - All hail! material light! - Emblem of seraph bright. - Glowing with intelligence, the mirror of our God, - Still dost thou bless our sense. - Vesture of Omnipotence; - Still with thy visions bright - Dost dispel our darksome night, - Thou image bright of heaven, on earth's else dreary sod. - -"You must hear her to catch her fire, to glow with her -enthusiasm. I give her words imperfectly; but her action, her -delivery, the way in which she sounds the very depths of her -hearers' hearts--_that_ I cannot give you an idea of." - -"I must hear her, Lydon; cannot you smuggle me into her -presence?" - -"I will try, but it will be difficult; the old door-keeper, -stationed to keep her company select, will not take a bribe; and -a list of names is daily handed to him of those who are to be -admitted. But I will try." - -"Has she ever been to Athens?" - -"I think not. I have heard her speak of Egypt, India, and Cathay, -[Footnote 74] but of Athens, never. To-morrow I will try to get -admission for you as a resident of the city." - - [Footnote 74: The ancient name for China.] - -But neither Lydon, nor Lotis, nor any disciple was to be admitted -on the morrow. The report was, that Leontium was ill, very ill; a -sudden attack of one of those autumnal fevers to which Nauplia is -subject, rendered her unable to appear in public. As days went -on, the accounts became even more unfavorable; her delirium -alarmed her attendants, who spoke of her being given over to the -furies, and seemed to shrink from their duties. The arrival of -Magas, after a few days, enforced attendance on the lady; the -fever left her; but, weak and subdued, and laboring under the -influence of the evil tongues of her attendants, Leontium awoke, -to find much of her former prestige taken from her--nay, she even -fancied Magas himself grown cold. -{807} -But this last was a mere fancy; the intellectuality, the poetic -fire with which she was endowed, and which never left her, -animated her features unconsciously, and the pallor and loss of -flesh were more than compensated for by the ethereal expression -which exalted her countenance to something beyond the human, -albeit there were times when it became a question whether the -_genius_ that animated them were of Elysium or Tartarus. -Magas paid homage to the mind, and was held captive; he asked not -whence proceeded the charm that entranced him, he yielded to its -influence, and was blest; the altered tone he attributed to the -effects of fever; and the signs of mental disturbance, reported -by the attendants, were laid to the account of the delirium -usually attending such fever; he little dreamed that it was the -mind acting on the body, not the body acting on the mind, that -caused the derangement. . . . - - - Chapter V. - -Lotis was a woman, with a woman's curiosity and a woman's -pertinacity. She was one who had risen superior to the prejudices -of her age and nation. She reverenced, nay, she worshipped -greatness; but greatness, with her, meant power of intellect, -strength of character, genius; thus, herself a free woman, she -had not disdained to form an intimacy with a slave, when, in that -slave, she recognized superior qualities. She had been the pupil -of Chione in poetry, music, and eloquence, and had been aware of -the passion Magas entertained for the beautiful slave. She was -curious to see who had replaced her image in his heart; for she -remembered enough of Magas to feel assured that, to ensure his -constancy, he must worship as well as love; as also, that it -required a woman of commanding genius to hold his mind in bonds. - -Therefore was it, that she set a watch upon the house that -contained the famed Leontium, that she diligently informed -herself of her convalescence, and sought to know her daily -movements. - -One day, she heard that the lady's litter was being borne from -the house to outside the city. Hastily she commanded a litter to -be got for herself, and desired the bearers to follow -whithersoever the other litter was borne. This was not, however, -altogether so easy a matter; for the litter was no sooner out of -the city gates, than the bearers proceeded rapidly across the -plains for upward of a mile and a half, when they entered on a -more sandy district. Gray, craggy rocks, of a dreary aspect, -utterly devoid of verdure, began to hem in the prospect, and, at -length, the bearers set down the litter in a heap of ruins of -very astonishing character. Large stones, measuring twelve or -fifteen feet in length, four or five in width, and of an equal -length, rough and unhewn, were built into walls, without mortar, -in the most solid manner, the walls being from twenty to -twenty-five feet thick. Ruined gateways of unequal size, one -looking toward Argos, the other northward, toward the mountain, -peculiar in shape and construction, attested a workmanship of a -race who had long since disappeared, since their work was -modelled on another form than that which is termed Grecian, and -was beyond the physical strength of the present race. Evidently, -it was a citadel in ruins. -{808} -The site, an abrupt rock, commanding the adjacent country, was -admirably fitted for the purpose; but the city it was to protect, -the inhabitants to whom it was to guarantee security, where were -they to be found? The enclosure, about seven hundred and fifty -feet long by one hundred and sixty broad, was nearly filled with -rubbish, or rather with stupendous stones; and outside of the -enclosure all traces of the former city were completely -obliterated. It was difficult to account for the invalid lady's -choice of such a site for her meditation; but certain it is, she -got out, clambered over the stones, motioned her attendants to -keep themselves at a distance, and disappeared within the -enclosure. - -Lotis was now at a loss what to do. She descended from her -litter; but to plunge at once into that unknown abyss of sand and -ruin, she had hardly courage. Then what excuse could she frame -for intruding? Hesitatingly she proceeded; but curiosity got the -better of every other feeling; she climbed up the ruined citadel -and looked down. It was not possible! yes, it was true--it could -be no other! There, seated on a fallen column, leaning against -the ruined arch, sat--_Chione_, the very picture of -despair! - -To descend softly, so as not to alarm her--to glide to her side -as gently as the rugged pathway would allow, was the next idea, -and this Lotis accomplished, though with some difficulty; she -stood beside her former friend, unseen, unheard. Chione's -distraction was too intense, her reverie too deep; her eyes were -turned upward, tearless from the very depth of her emotion, and -her hollow voice sounded at intervals but these sad words: - -"My God! to know thee only by my loss! My God! can it be -possible? My God! may I never, never love thee again? Thou first, -thou fairest, thou only love!" - -The despair of these accents, the deadly pallor of Chione's -cheeks, the attitude, the site, the recollection of the past, -struck a pang through the frame of Lotis; her tongue seemed to -cling to the roof of her mouth; in her excitement she could but -advance one step, lay her trembling hand on her friend's -shoulder, and utter one word, "Chione!" - -The lady started, and gazed earnestly at the form before her. It -was some minutes before she spoke; when she did so, the tone of -her voice was very low and soft; she simply said, "And what -brings Lotis to the ruins of Tiryns?" - -"To see the famed philosopher of the east. Three weeks have I -been in the city, awaiting an introduction. This morning I -followed the litter, that I might at least see the celebrated -lady who has made all Nauplia ring with her name." - -"And you are punished for your curiosity by finding only Chione." - -"I should have been yet more earnest, had I known it was Chione I -was seeking. Your disappearance made a great sensation among your -friends, and none missed you more than myself. You had bidden me -hope, after that day at the temple, that our intercourse was to -be renewed, but my hope was cheated. Why did you leave without -telling me you were going?" - -"I did not know it myself. My mistress disposed of me to a friend -of hers at Corinth. I was taken away in the night." - -"And how came you with Magas again?" - -"I led a dreary life at Corinth. The people I was with were good -enough, but unlettered, and the woman was entirely given to -housekeeping. She put a distaff into my hands, and thought badly -of me that I would not spin from morning to night. I could not; -my heart had been devoted to philosophy, to poetry, to art; this -drudgery revolted me, though, as I said, the people were good, -and of the true religion." - -{809} - -"And what religion was that?" asked Lotis, with a smile. - -"Nay, ask me not; I cannot tell you now. I will tell you how I -got away, or rather was forced away. One day, when on a errand -for my mistress, I encountered Magas, and he seized me. He would -hear no remonstrance; his boat was in the bay; he hurried me off. -I went with him through Asia, visiting the temples, the schools -of philosophy, the halls of art, the academies of science. Magas -has been to me a patron, friend, encourager; he has brought me -out, induced me to appear in public; and in fact, done all he -could to make my life an elysiun. Impetuous as he is, to me he -has been faultless." - -"And yet you are not happy?" - -"Happy! Happiness is scarcely a plant of this earth, Lotis!" -sighed Chione. - -"Then why have you spoken as if it were attainable? Why have you -fired all hearts, in speaking to them of an indwelling God, who -is to restore all things to more than primitive order and -happiness? Why have you called the human soul the divine image, -if it is not capable of happiness?" - -"I said not that the human soul is not capable of happiness. I -said only that supreme happiness is not a plant of this earth, -and that is true. The earth has been cursed through the fault of -man; it cannot yield us this happiness." - -"But you give your hearers to understand that, through some means -or other, happiness may dwell in our hearts; therefore I say, -Chione, why dwells it not with you? Have you the means, or have -you not?" - -"I _had_," said Chione sadly. "Once I had the means of -happiness; once I was blest. I have forfeited the means, I am -happy no more." - -"Are they not recoverable then?" asked Lotis. - -"I hardly know. Sometimes I think on certain conditions they -might be; but those conditions, those conditions, O Lotis!" - -"Are they so very hard?" - -"They bid me renounce all! This life of excitement, this love of -Magas, this applause of the multitude, this luxury of -existence--to become again a slave. You know it well, Lotis, I am -but a runaway slave." - -"Your philosophy must be false, Chione, which implies such hard -conditions. Slavery is a necessary evil, I grant; but still it is -an evil to such as you, whose mind is exalted above the level of -the herd. I cannot think that you are bound to slavery by any -divine law; and as for human law, why, if you can keep clear of -that, as you have done lately, who on earth will blame you?" - -"You do not understand, you cannot understand how I am bound. -Magas, you are aware, is not--can never be my husband." - -"Well, I don't see why he _might_ not be, if he paid the -purchase-money for you, freed you, and then married you." - -"He is too proud to marry a nameless slave!" - -"But you are not nameless; you have made yourself a name in all -the cities through which you have passed. We have heard of your -fame at Smyrna, at Halicarnassus, at Ephesus, at--" - -"Stop! Unconsciously you are paining me. It was at Ephesus I -received the blow which is destroying me.' - -{810} - -"At Ephesus!" - -"O Lotis! if I could but tell you of the hollowness of this -philosophy the world so much admires; if I dared speak to you of -the light that shineth in darkness, though the darkness -comprehendeth it not; if my lips were not profane; if my life -were not blighted like a tree struck by lightning; then I might -tell you of that wisdom which is not in man's speech, but 'in the -power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.' But I -dare not; I am unhallowed, unworthy. Leave me, Lotis. Seek -another teacher." - -"What did you hear at Ephesus that has so unnerved you?" - -"I will tell you, though to you the words will bear no meaning. -But my heart must ease itself. I was walking through the streets, -when I observed a crowd entering one of those temples frequented -by the new sects. I entered with the rest. The preacher was -dilating on the necessity of his auditors having the -_spirit_ of Christ, which if ye have not, he said, ye are -none of his. He then proceeded to show how the world's sin had -crucified the Lord of heaven; how essential purity, truth, virtue -are to the Christian character; how every Christian's body was to -become the temple of the Holy Spirit; and how impossible it was -for the Holy Spirit to dwell with aught unholy, or aught not in -union with God. Hence the absolute necessity of sanctity to be -wrought in us by the _power_ of God, to whom we must -surrender our being. He then went on to speak of such Christians -as had apostatized; and the words, he used burned into my heart -like words of fire. 'It is impossible,' he said, 'for those who -were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and -were made partakers of the Holy Spirit, and have tasted the good -word of God, and the powers of the world to come, if they fall -away, to renew them again unto repentance; seeing they crucify to -themselves the Son of God afresh, and put him to an open shame.' -[Footnote 75] I heard no more; I fainted away. When I waked from -my trance, I was at home, and Magas was standing over me. His -anxiety respecting my health scarce enabled him to suppress his -anger at my having been seen in a Christian assembly." - - [Footnote 75: Hebrews vi 4-6.] - -"That I can easily believe; nor do I see what you wanted with -such low company, who have evidently bewitched you; for what need -you care what was said in such an assembly as that?" - -"What indeed, what indeed! O my God! that it should come to this, -that I dare no longer pronounce thy name, that I should be -ashamed of thee!" And Chione buried her face in her hands, and -gave way to an excessive fit of weeping. - -Lotis was puzzled. "Is this the great philosopher?" thought she; -"the new Sappho, the Aspasia of the age? Is it illness or magic -that has worked this mental derangement? for derangement it -evidently is." - -Lotis bent over her friend, endeavoring to console her, yet not -knowing how, when she was suddenly relieved by the sound of -horses' hoofs. She climbed to the top of the ruins. Magas was in -sight. She returned to whisper the news to Chione. Chione rose, -dried her tears by a strong effort of her will, and prepared to -greet her protector with a smile. He was evidently in an -ill-humor. - -"What sudden caprice is this? What possessed you to come out here -to a city of the past? A fine place this for a sick woman!" - -"You said you were going to Argos. I knew not that you would -require my presence." - -{811} - -"I was going to Argos, but was hindered when setting out; and -when I inquired for you, and heard you had come hither, I put off -my journey to learn what attraction could draw you to this -place." - -"The attraction of the past. Who raised these walls, Magas?" - -"How should I know? The Cyclops, I presume. Who else could have -lifted these immense stones? What have you to do with who raised -them or who destroyed them?" - -"The place was in harmony with my feelings, with the meditation I -was about to make on the transitory nature of human grandeur. It -will be my next theme." - -"You might choose a livelier one to advantage, Leontium," said -Magas. "You are destroying your own mind by cherishing these -gloomy thoughts. If, however, you want a fallen city to meditate -on, Mycenae is but seven miles ahead; and there you may ruminate, -if you will, on all the incidents of the Homerian epoch; and the -wild, savage waste may be the savage emblem of the royal -Agamemnon; while the ruins, which are absolutely magnificent, may -prove another puzzle--as to how the mighty stones that form the -edifices could have been lifted there. I measured two myself. -They were immense. One single stone extends across a wide -passage, and rests on the massive walls, forming the lintel. -Another extends from the lintel to the interior of the edifice. -It is thirty feet long, five feet thick, and twenty in width. It -is becoming fashionable to doubt the existence of the Cyclops. -But, I'd like to know, if _they_ did not lift these stones -into their places, who did do it? No mortal men of the present -race would be able. So I go in for the old tradition of Cyclopean -workers. - -"Ah! Lotis, I did not observe you. I inquired for you at Athens, -but was told you were travelling. Did you come out here with -Leontium? Our secret will be safe with you, of course?" - -"Of course," answered Lotis. "But I think you are somewhat too -near Athens for safety from other tongues. You will not be able -to keep the secret long from the public." - -"I shall not try. We are bound for Rome shortly, and there we -shall be safe. I would _purchase_ safety, if safety were to -be bought; but the mistress who held my Chione will not part with -her right. Many offers have been made to her. She still hopes to -reclaim Chione, and will not listen to money proposals. When you -return, you may renew the offers, if you will favor me so much. I -should prefer a legal release, if I could get one; but it matters -little." - -"You have not told me to whom I am to apply." - -"I thought you knew. To the Lady Damaris." - -"Why, she is said to be a Christian." - -"That does not invalidate her rights." - -"No; but it causes me surprise that it should be herself who -refuses freedom to Chione. I know many cases where she has freely -granted it." - -"She is an enigma, and so are all these people. It is not worth -talking about. I don't believe she'd prosecute her claim to -Chione, did she know Chione and Leontium were one and the same -person." - -During this colloquy Chione had sat motionless as a statue, and -had seemed so absorbed in her own thoughts as to be unmindful of -what was said. On its being ended, she rose, and requested Magas -to call for her litter. When he had departed to do so, she turned -to Lotis, and said earnestly: - -{812} - -"Lotis, when you return to Athens, will you do me a favor?" - -"Assuredly, I will." - -"Let the Bishop Dionysius know, in _confidence_, who -Leontium is, and what I said to you of Ephesus today." - -"The Christian bishop?" - -"Yes." - -"For what earthly purpose?" - -"No matter. Magas is coming back. Do you promise me?" - -"I do." - -"And you will keep the secret to all the rest of the world?" - -"I will." - -"Even to Magas?" - -"Yes." - -"Thanks, thanks. We will return home now." - - - Chapter VI. - -"Chione in grief, and a prey to despair!" - -It was the Christian bishop who spoke, and his interlocutor was -Lotis. - -"Even so, my lord. During her illness the report was that she was -beset by the furies. When I saw her, it seemed as though the hand -of some avenging god lay heavy on her. If, my lord, you -Christians are adepts in magic, as many people believe I would -ask you to disenthrall her from the influence under which she -suffers, whatever it may be." - -"And it is Chione who is this famous Leontium, who has made so -great a sensation in the eastern cities?" continued Dionysius, as -if not hearing the last speech of Lotis. - -"It is so." - -"From what I have heard, her eloquence is something unusual." - -"I too have heard so; but for myself, I was never present at one -of her instructions. I saw her alone, bowed down as it were -beneath the weight of the truth she was carrying; but unable to -speak the last word, that word which promised to be the key to -all the rest, the solution of mystery, the harmonizer of ideas. -That last word was not spoken at Nauplia; her pupils awaited it, -but her tongue was as it were paralyzed. Some powerful influence -seemed ever to prevent her from speaking it." - -"Poor Chione!" - -"My lord, may I venture to ask of you, do you believe, as some -do, that Chione is in possession of a truth she dare not declare? -that some divine hand is pressing down within her the word that -is panting for expression? Is Chione bewitched?" - -"She is suffering from a supernatural influence, that is -certain." - -"And can you deliver her? Why else did she send me to you?" - -"If she so _will_, she may be delivered; but the -supernatural Word she cannot speak has been offended; the -sacrifice he demands is great; will she make it?" - -"If in her power, I think she will. She is a mystery to me, as -all life seems to be. What is that Word Chione has offended? how -did she offend? what must she do to appease the divine wrath?" - -"My child," said the old Areopagite solemnly, "truth is not a -plaything wherewith to amuse the intellect, not a toy to while -away a tedious hour with. Truth is the manifestation of the -eternal harmonies, those harmonies which man has interfered with, -into which he has introduced a discord, the discord of sin. The -_humility_ of man, the recognition of sin, such a -recognition as brings the voluntary humiliation of self, must -precede his admission to the kingdom where those harmonies are -restored. The vainglory of philosophy, the pride of science, -however correct may be their surmises, are without _life_. -{813} -They can neither restore these harmonies, nor catch a glimpse of -the glory of that eternal comprehensive Unity, in which all -beauty, melody, and good reside; that eternal idea of which -matter is the varied type. A type now deranged by man's act so -hopelessly, that human power is utterly inadequate to its -restoration." - -"But the restorer comes; the expectation of nations points to -this," said Lotis; "and that expectation is everywhere; in India -as in Cathay, in Greece and among the barbarians." - -"The deliverer is come already," said Dionysius. - -"Then why is he not proclaimed? Is this the unspoken word that -Chione might not utter? Why, if the deliverer is here, is he not -announced?" - -"Because, before the disorder of exterior things can be remedied, -the _interior_ remedy must be applied to the soul. Exterior -forms obey the interior impulse. Man is lord of matter, and man's -disordered soul reflects itself upon the material subject to him. -The disorder manifest throughout exterior creation will be -remedied when the disordered spirit of man is healed. Therefore -is it that, now that the restorer is come, he is not recognized; -for he insists on the purification of the spirit, on the -annihilation of selfishness, on the necessity of being reunited -in spirit with the essential good as a precursor of other -renovations. That done, exterior good follows as of course." - -"Even as wealth follows industry, and health the practice of -temperance," said Lotis. - -"Natural virtue brings its results sometimes," said the venerable -teacher, "when justice rules; but as matters stand now, the -winner of wealth has often the least share. Oppression is one of -the inevitable results of making self-love the centre of action -instead of taking the justice of the eternal God for our guide. -Man's soul was created in the image of God. Hence its affinity -for beauty, its appreciation of lofty idea, its glowing -enthusiasm at recital of heroic deeds: but man's will snapped the -cord that bound it to the eternal will. Enamored of his own -charms, he forgot the source of his beauty; proud of his mighty -intellect, he has ceased to adore the God of all understanding; -freeing himself from the shackles of duty, he cast away alike the -nourishment of his beauty and the food of his towering intellect. -Man's _will_ must be directed to DESIRE God ere he can -regain good. Hence the work of the Redeemer is interior; it is -the implanting of the Holy Spirit as the necessary step to the -true redemption." - -"Chione's philosophy resembles this in some degree," said Lotis. - -Dionysius did not answer, Lotis resumed. - -"Who is this _Word_ of whom Chione speaks?" - -The answer came slowly, solemnly, deliberately, and it fell on -the ear of Lotis, as if a divine power accompanied it: - -"Jesus Christ." - -"The Saviour anointed," whispered she to herself, as she -translated the words: "The Saviour of men, anointed by God." -There was evidently a revelation to her, conveyed by the words; -one of those miraculous influences which, in the early days, -"long ago," were so common among truth-seeking souls. Her reverie -lasted long, and the good bishop did not interrupt her. He knew -that the Holy Spirit was shedding his influence upon her. -Suddenly she turned upon him with the question: - -{814} - -"And is Jesus Christ an inspired man, or is he God?" - -"Jesus Christ is the Word of God, and the Word was made flesh, -and dwelt among us," answered the bishop. - -Lotis replied not. The bishop continued in a very low voice: - -"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and -the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All -things were made by him: and without him was not anything made -that was made. In him was life; and the life was the light of -men: and the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness -comprehended it not." (St. John i. 1-5.) - -And Lotis fell on her knees, saying, "Lead me to him, to the -Divine Word, to Jesus Christ, for I will have no other master." - -"It is well, my child," said the good bishop, laying his hand -solemnly on her head. "It is well. May he who has thus directed -your choice give you the further grace to continue unto the end. -But, Lotis, you must learn the price of redemption; you must know -who the Master is you have chosen." - -And the venerable bishop, in a few short but impressive words, -traced the history of the world from Adam's fall, through the -line of patriarchs, through the perversion of morals which called -forth the deluge. He spoke of the call of Abraham, of the mission -of Moses, of the succession of the prophets unto John the -Baptist; and finally, of the advent of our Lord himself; of his -coming to his own, and of his own receiving him not; of his life, -miracles, and crucifixion; of his death, resurrection, and -ascension; and finally, of the descent of the Holy Spirit. - -Lotis listened and believed, and demanded to be washed from her -sins, that she might understand. She, yet a neophyte, seemed to -comprehend that sin forms the darkness which hinders the soul -from contemplating God. "Wash me from my sins," she said, "that I -may see the light."' - - - - To Be Continued. - ---------- - - Affairs In Italy. - - -Though the disgraceful part which the Italian monarchy has played -in the late invasion of Rome by marauding bands is now a matter -of common notoriety, elaborate efforts are still being made by a -majority of the Italian, and a certain portion of the European, -press to deny the well-known facts of the case. These organs are, -however, only following the illustrious example set to them by -Victor Emmanuel and Count Menabrea, whose official declarations -that the revolutionists had acted entirely without the authority -and knowledge of the Italian government are certainly the most -pitiful subterfuges to which the king and the premier of a great -power could possibly have been reduced. Indeed, we can hardly -conceive a more humiliating spectacle than that which the Italian -government presents in solemnly assuring the world that it had -not been secretly leagued with filibusters, while, to crown the -disgrace of the spectacle, nobody believes a word of its denial. -{815} -But General Menabrea has attempted even more than this. In his -answer to the invitation to the European Conference, dated -November 19th, 1867, he had the assurance to state that Rome, not -Italy, was the real cause of the present trouble. On another -occasion he ventured upon a somewhat similar statement by saying -that experience had taught Italy the impossibility of maintaining -friendly relations with her neighbor on the Tiber! It is -difficult to believe that any public man should care so little -for his reputation for truth as to utter such reckless -falsehoods. The whole history of the past eight years gives him -the lie, for it proves clearly that every provocation has come -from that Piedmont which is now styled Italy. Provocations by -resort to the revolution, as in the seizure of the Legations in -1859, and again in that of the Marches and Umbria in 1860, when -Viterbo, the capital of the patrimony, was also taken by force; -provocations by resort to legislation, as in the breach of the -concordats, in the civil marriages in an unchristian form, in the -suppression of the spiritual orders, in the confiscation of the -ecclesiastical property, in the violent measures adopted against -the episcopate, and in the parliamentary resolutions about Rome; -provocations by the personal speeches and acts of King Victor -Emmanuel, whom neither the sense of his exalted station nor the -traditions of his strictly orthodox dynasty have deterred from -expressions which he will yet have cause to deplore when the -fruits they are destined to bear become fully apparent; in a -word, all the provocations have come from the side of Italy. All -the evidences of moderation and conciliation (as was seen to the -very last in the case of the bishoprics) have come from the side -of the Holy Father; but they were always repaid with the blackest -ingratitude. The piratical raid against the church state was -merely the fit ending and the logical result of that long series -of aggressive measures which furnishes the counts in the -indictment against the Italian monarchy. We need not recapitulate -the provocations that have for years preceded the invasion of -Garibaldi's filibusters; for everybody will readily recall to -mind the machinations to excite a spirit of discontent in the -holy city and the surrounding districts; the aid and comfort -extended to the self-styled Roman Revolutionary Committee, which -has its seat at Florence; the libels against the person of the -supreme pontiff and his sacred office, which have disgraced not -only the press, but the floor of the two chambers; the -encouragement afforded to every incendiary and fugitive from -Roman justice, and the marked favor shown to all such characters -by the authorities. Indeed, but for the agency which the Italian -monarchy had in bringing about the invasion, that demonstration -would never have become what it is, one of the most flagrant -outrages known to the law of nations in modern days. In the midst -of profound peace, without a shadow of an excuse or a pretext on -the other side, Italy has not only tolerated, but sanctioned, the -publication of the most indecent attacks on the head of the -church. She has permitted the circulation of revolutionary -manifestoes and appeals against a neighboring state, whose -integrity the honor of the nation was pledged to respect and -enforce. -{816} -She has suffered the raising of money and arms for avowedly -hostile and unlawful purposes; the opening of recruiting stations -in public places, and under the direct patronage of high -officials; the discussion of general plans for the campaign; the -concentration of armed bands along her frontiers, and that under -the eyes of troops ostensibly stationed there to disperse and -prevent all such gatherings. She has enacted a farce, as foolish -as it was discreditable, in regard to the chief conspirator -himself, and carried this so far as to order her navy to blockade -a deserted rock, while he was held in reserve, to be turned loose -when the loyalty of the pope's subjects and the incapacity of the -minor chiefs threatened to defeat the whole enterprise. All these -are well-authenticated facts, and have since been proved by the -admissions made by the Italian press. Thus, for instance, the -Florence _Diritto_, of November 25th, 1867, uses the -following significant language: "All the world," says this -popular organ of the Italian democracy, in an article sharply -criticising the past policy of Ratazzi's cabinet, "will remember -that the Garibaldian movement, _which was openly tolerated in -its last phase by the government_, had given rise to the -general belief that the authorities were aware of everything -going on, and fully prepared to assume all the consequences. -Public opinion and the public press, as they beheld the -government borne along by the mighty popular torrent, unanimously -approved of the supposed determination of the ministry, and -rejoiced to think that such a patriotic and exalted object as the -acquisition of Rome should at once have the support of -Garibaldi's irregular action and the avowed sanction of the -government. The whole nation fancied that the ministry had taken -all the precautions necessary to attain its ends in one way or -other, and in any case. .... It is therefore impossible for us to -describe how bitter the disappointment was when France intervened -at the most critical moment. Rome remained quiet, Prussia gave no -sign of moving, and the Italian army proved entirely unprepared -for the emergency." It is in the face of such admissions as these -that King Victor Emmanuel has ventured to issue a manifesto -denouncing the invasion of St. Peter's patrimony as having been -undertaken without the authority and knowledge of his government, -and that his prime minister has dared to say it was Rome, not -Italy, which should be blamed for the renewed interference of -France. - -It is the perfidy and lawless ambition of the Italian monarchy -which have brought the French back to Rome. If this be regarded -as a misfortune--as, no doubt, in a certain sense it is, for a -foreign occupation always gives rise to an abnormal condition, -whose evils are great and whose effects often prove lasting--to -whom does the guilt attach? Not to the Holy Father, not to the -Romans, who have turned a deaf ear to the whispers of treason, -although their temptation was not great when we take into account -the present state and prospects of the monarchy! But there is no -need for us to indulge in sinister prognostications. Even had the -Italian forces stationed on the line, where they neither -protected the papal territory nor indicated the good faith of -their own government, really prevented the invasion, the crisis -must have come sooner or later. It was unavoidable from the very -nature of the relations between the two neighbors. But it is -extraordinary that the party who is alone to blame for it should -claim as a reward to be released from the obligations contracted -by the September convention. -{817} -We cannot bring ourselves to believe for a moment that the recent -outrage will result to the advantage of its authors and abettors. -In the sense of the parliamentary resolutions passed at Turin and -Florence, the solution of the Roman problem means nothing less -than the destruction of the papal rights, and the spoliation and -the oppression of the church. It will be well to bear this fact -distinctly in mind. The new monarchy has unmistakably shown how -it means to respect its most solemn obligations and the vested -rights of others; and, above all, it has shown how it would like -to treat the head of the church. And this Italy dares to demand -that the gate of the papacy should be intrusted to her -safe-keeping? Were it possible to obliterate the whole history of -the last eight years from men's recollection, the occurrences of -the last few months would alone suffice to warn Christendom -against listening to such a proposition. The Roman Catholic -community will hardly feel disposed to see Victor Emmanuel the -intestate heir of Garibaldi at Rome, as it has seen him once -before at Naples. - -The Roman problem requires, no doubt, a solution, for the French -are merely a momentary expedient. The subject is one that -interests the whole world, and which demands a settlement that -will not again expose the supreme pontiff to the danger of being -besieged at the Vatican, as was his handful of defenders in the -Bicoque Monte Rotondo, where they fought one against ten. We -shall not even touch here upon the claims of the pope as a mere -temporal ruler, and the most ancient on earth at that. Our -religious sentiment rebels against dragging a question whose two -component elements are indivisible into the narrow sphere of -politics, and still more into the sphere of revolutionary -politics which has made the nationality idea its god. The -Catholic sentiment resents the base suggestion of peril to the -independence of the church and its head. It cannot conceive a -popedom like the one to which the Byzantine exarchs have been -reduced. It wants no repetition of a Greek patriarchate among -Greeks and Turks. This is a question which concerns the entire -civilized Christian world, and not the Roman Catholic powers -alone. The royal speech from the throne to the North German Diet -contained a passage alluding to the important interests which -Germany and Italy are supposed to hold in common, and the chances -of Prussia's support in the case of a war with France about Rome -have, no doubt, entered largely into the calculations of the -Florence cabinet. But Prussia alone has over eight millions of -Roman Catholic subjects, who will never consent to the total -destruction of the foundation on which the independence of their -church rests, and who will therefore oppose every attempt to rob -the pope of his temporality. Such, at least, is the inference -which we are warranted in drawing from the spirit displayed -during the last month in Germany, and especially at the Mainz -meeting, where two thousand leading Catholics from all parts of -the country discussed the dangers of the church state. The -following are the resolutions which were passed unanimously on -that occasion: - -{818} - - "1. Divine Providence has made the successor of St. Peter the - sovereign of the Roman church state, and raised him above all - mere national interests, that he might be the subject of no - political power, but manage the religious affairs of all - Christian nations in perfect independence. This sovereign - right, conferred by God and confirmed by more than ten - centuries possession, is neither to be surrendered by the - Catholic Church, nor to be taken away from it by diplomatic - treaties or a revolutionary popular vote. The arbitrary and - chimerical scheme to make Rome the capital of Italy can never - be considered in comparison with the rights and interests of - Catholic Christendom. - - 2. The assertion that the pope, as a priest, is unfit to be the - head of a political government, and therefore unable to promote - the temporal welfare of his subjects, is an untruth - sufficiently refuted by the history of a thousand years. The - maintenance and restoration of the pope's political authority - in its original integrity is the only means to save Italy from - the demoralization which threatens her from the secret - societies and King Victor Emmanuel's policy. To have the Holy - Father in her midst constitutes to-day, as it has during her - whole Christian past, the highest honor, the true greatness, - and the blessing of Italy. - - 3. It is the duty of princes, and of every sovereign power, to - protect the independence of the head of the church to which - their Catholic subjects belong; and the Catholics of all - nations are entitled to demand that these obligations should be - sacredly observed. A government which countenances the - violation of the supreme pontiffs rights makes itself the - accomplice of the revolution. To suffer the government of - Victor Emmanuel to encourage with impunity or to undertake - itself enterprises tending to imperil the security of the Roman - church state, is to undermine all respect for the law of - nations and the principles of justice. - - 4. Love gifts, raised by the free, unanimous, and untiring - devotion of all Catholics, must supply the Holy Father with - that assistance which is indispensable for the government of - the church, as long as treachery and force withhold from him - the enjoyment of the estates bestowed on him in the past for - the advantage of all Christendom. For this purpose a general - organization must be formed. - - 5. In view of the present crisis, the maintenance of the army - which the Holy Father requires for the protection of his own - person and that of his loyal subjects is a matter which - profoundly concerns the whole Catholic world. It should be a - question of honor for every nation to be represented among its - ranks, and Germans could not dedicate their lives to a nobler - cause." - -But apart from the influence of these eight millions of Roman -Catholics in Prussia, no state which recognizes the binding force -of its own civilizing mission, and claims to be governed by law, -could take part in such a dangerous violation of international -unity, whatever its political affinities and antecedents might -otherwise happen to be. Germany may or may not have vast -interests in common with the Italian nationality, and may even -desire their realization. But the interests of religion rank far -above those of Italian nationality, with which, as we have seen, -the Roman question is constantly being confounded. The Italian -monarchy, as at present constituted, can inspire little -confidence and respect at home or abroad. Independent of all -other considerations, it is difficult to perceive how any true -friend of Italy, any patriot, could, even from a purely -politico-national stand-point, approve of the Garibaldian raid, -and the policy pursued by the Florence government in relation to -it. What the new monarchy stands most in need of at present is -something quite different from the Utopian completion of its -unity. -{819} -If this object has not been reached already because Rome and its -half a million of people are ruled by the pope, it will never be -accomplished. The monarchy wants to strengthen itself internally, -not to extend externally. A strong, able, and honest government, -an efficient administration, a restored finance, a thorough -system of public instruction, a development of its commerce, -agriculture, and industry, and, above all, peace and -harmony--these are the indispensable conditions to its future -welfare, even to its existence. Nothing could therefore have been -more fatal, even from the narrowest and most selfish point of -view, than the breach of the September convention. It was, upon -the whole, the most statesmanlike programme which the Italian -government has yet adopted during its brief life, and should have -been sacredly observed. Neither the treaty of alliance with -Prussia, which gave Italy the chance to acquire Venetia, nor the -peace of Vienna, which ratified that acquisition, could have -exerted so far-reaching an influence on the domestic and foreign -position of the country. The alliance with Prussia, it is true, -contained the germs of advantages which might eventually have -extended much beyond the settlement of the Venetian question and -the abandonment of the Quadrilateral by the Austrians. But the -fruition of these promises required time; for, as soon as Venetia -was disposed of, it became evident that the connection between -Italy and Prussia would have to remain long less intimate and -important than the connection between Italy and France. As long -as the latter power remained at Rome, the attention of the -Italian statesmen would have to continue fixed rather on Paris -than on Berlin. According to the intentions of its Italian -framers, the convention of September 15th was to serve gradually -to loosen the ties which bound Italy to France, and which began -then already to be borne with impatience by the nation. By the -evacuation of the Eternal City the Roman question was to be -changed into an exclusively Italian question. But this project -the conduct of the Italian monarchy, or, to speak more precisely, -that of the statesmen who succeeded in office those who had -devised the programme, has defeated, as we shall hereafter fully -explain; and the result is, that the Roman problem has once more -assumed a diplomatic, international phase, pending again between -Florence and Paris. - -The September convention has failed to put an end to these -further pretexts for foreign interference in the domestic affairs -of Italy, because its terms were never observed, and because its -authors were not afforded a chance to carry their policy out. -Nothing could have been more inauspicious than the fact that the -statesmen who concluded the convention should have been driven -from office on account of the Turin difficulties, at the very -time when their measures had received the approbation of a large -majority of the nation, and the sanction of the majority of the -two chambers. The fall of the Minghetti ministry was an anomaly -utterly contrary to all ideas of constitutional government. An -important programme, which changed the entire policy of the -country and committed it to a new one for the next future, had -been accepted. It could never have been adopted without the -sanction of the sovereign, nor without the approval of the -country and its representatives in parliament. And yet those who -had originated it and assumed all its responsibilities were -compelled to resign power to men that accepted the legacy only -because they could not help themselves, and whose views differed -totally from those of their predecessors in office. -{820} -The Minghetti cabinet, which had to retire in consequence of the -excitement caused among the people of Piedmont by the transfer of -the national capital stipulated for in the September convention, -was succeeded by the La Marmora, composed chiefly out of -Piedmontese elements, although it repudiated all the principles -of the Minghetti, while pretending to recognize the obligations -resulting from the convention itself. It is easy to conceive the -profound agitation produced by this change in the ranks of the -moderate party, which had hitherto constituted the parliamentary -majority. The most energetic element of this party had been the -Piedmontese. Through its intimate relations with the reigning -house, its long parliamentary experience, its business knowledge, -its marked predominance in the administration and the army, the -Piedmontese had always been the most trustworthy supporters of -the moderate cause, the strongest bulwark against the incessant -encroachments of radicalism. It was the majority of this element -that now coalesced with the radicals for the purpose of fighting -by their side against the late moderate leaders, whom they could -not pardon for having severed the hegemony of Piedmont and Turin -by the transfer of the capital to Florence. In addition to the -desertion of the bulk of the Piedmontese, the remainder of the -moderates split among themselves. Some refused to desert their -fallen leaders; others, and especially such as had joined the new -administration, while still content to adhere to a moderate -policy and to accept the September convention as a part of it, -yet thought they might safely venture to sacrifice the authors of -the latter to the prejudices of Piedmont, and that without -serious injury to the material features of the programme. This -division between the supporters of the old cabinet, the so-called -"Consorteria," and the new, became most conspicuous at the -elections in the autumn of 1865, when the latter opposed, or -permitted its followers to oppose, the candidates of the former, -which resulted in large accessions to the radicals. The Ricasoli -cabinet, formed in the spring of 1866, also hoped to strengthen -itself by conciliating the radicals, while it continued to -maintain the unfriendly attitude of its predecessors toward the -Consorteria. But the result was, that the Ricasoli ministry -failed to secure a majority when it dissolved parliament in -February, 1867. - -Is the steady decadence of the Italian monarchy due to the -disintegration of the moderate party, or is this disintegration -of the party of order merely a symptom of the general decline of -the old country and the new kingdom? It will suffice to throw out -these queries, and to contestate at the same time the -circumstance that the influence of the government has diminished -in the same ratio as that of the radicals has increased; that the -confusion and disorder in all departments of the public service -have kept pace with the financial embarrassment. Although every -ministry called to office since 1864 has been more or less -recruited from the _débris_ of the old moderate party, each -succeeding administration has proved itself less capable of -resisting the advances of the radicals and the Piedmontese -opposition, and the last Ratazzi ministry was forced at the start -to depend altogether on their support and forbearance. -{821} -These being the facts, it is only natural that the programme of -the moderates in relation to the Roman and the ecclesiastical -questions should have lost authority year after year, session -after session, until it has finally become impracticable of -execution. The non-intervention policy presupposed first of all a -government strong and honest enough to enforce a pacific course -toward the pope. But no such government has ever yet been known -in Italy. The secret negotiations with Rome, conducted by the La -Marmora and the Ricasoli cabinets, (through Vegezzi and Tonello,) -related only to spiritual affairs; but even these were defeated -by the machinations of the radicals in parliament and in the -press. This party desires no dealings whatever with the papal -government, neither in relation to temporal nor spiritual -matters. It is an uncompromising opponent of Cavour's maxim, -_Libero chiesa in libero stato_, which it considers the -greatest misfortune that could befall the country. Between the -radicals of Italy and the Church of Rome the war is one of life -and death. They charge the papacy with having caused the division -and subjugation of the peninsula. They hold up the whole -institution as the mortal foe of every national aspiration for -unity and independence. They say that only doctrinarians and -disguised clericals can draw a line of demarcation between Rome's -temporal and spiritual rule, and openly boast that it is their -mission to complete at once the unity of Italy, and to free the -world from papacy. These are the leading points in the radical -programme, and they are, therefore, the exact opposite to those -laid down in the September convention. - -But, despite the disintegration of the moderate party, despite -the feebleness of the consecutive ministries in office since -1864, a programme which substitutes the subjugation of the church -for its freedom, the physical conquest of Rome for its moral, -would perhaps have less rapidly gained ground, had not an -entirely new factor entered into the relations between the -Italian and the papal governments--between church and state; and -this factor was the all-engrossing financial question. The -radicals cunningly used it to hasten the solution of the Roman -problem by advocating the confiscation of the ecclesiastical -property, and they succeeded in persuading the moderates to -countenance a policy which was felt to be an outrage to all -justice. The latter, instead of acting in accordance with the -principle of a free church in a free state, accepted the radical -postulates. The influence of the radicals constantly grew, -because they were perfectly united, decided, and logical on all -questions relating to church and state, while, the moderates only -reluctantly, and with the secret consciousness of their own -inconsequence, assented to measures which endangered both the -discipline and possessions of the church. A party which fights -boldly under its own colors may be vanquished to-day, yet rally -again to-morrow and conquer at last; but a party which is -compelled to hide its colors and to hoist those of its foes -resigns all hopes of resuming the contest after the first -reverse. As far as the interests of the papacy are, therefore, -concerned, there is very little difference between the radicals -and the moderates of Italy. Both would like to obtain Rome, only -that the latter differ in regard to the means. While the radicals -would resort to brute force, the moderates would trust to cunning -and plotting; for they know that the Roman question is not, like -the Venetian, a mere question of national independence and unity, -which can be solved permanently by war or revolution. -{822} -Their object is not simply the destruction of the worldly power -of the pope and the annexation of the small strip of territory -still left to him. The supreme pontiff has more than once lost -his temporality; but his ascendency over the minds of men was -rather strengthened than weakened by his adversity, and with the -aid of his moral authority, his spiritual influence, he has every -time regained what he had lost. To deprive him, once for all, of -his worldly power, he must first be reduced to a condition which -will not allow him to avail himself again of his moral authority -as the head of the church, and it is to this end that the -moderates have been working in various ways. - -In relation to the proposed European congress we have nothing to -say, except that it is an impossibility. As the pastoral letter -of the Bishop of Orleans forcibly remarked, such a conference -could only be composed of kings; for the fate of the supreme -pontiff should never be left to the decision of a Gortschakoff or -a Bismarck. - -Since the above article was written, the debates in the Italian -chambers have shown to us anew that the Holy Father can expect -nothing from the monarchy. They have proved again that the Roman -question is considered by them to be a mere political question, -and this without the slightest reference to its religious and -international features. Cavour once announced, with the -approbation of parliament, that Italy _must_ have Rome; but -General Menabrea knows full well the pressure under which the -modern Machiavelli, the man of impromptu and chicane, was forced -to resort to this expedient. Menabrea may, perhaps, never make -common cause with Garibaldi as Ratazzi has done, not even for the -sake of Rome; but he is equally destitute of moral principles. -Italy, it appears, has not been rendered one whit the wiser or -more honest by the deep humiliation which she has recently -undergone; otherwise, she would not have the audacity to ask that -the Catholic world should confide the fate of the church to a -state which has for years persistently derided, oppressed, and -plundered the church. Italy has too recently been leagued with -one who never ceases to utter the vilest invectives and threats -against the papacy, and she is quite ready to avail herself again -of the next opportunity to outrage the law of nations by -proclaiming the law of the revolution. Italy, even had she the -wish, which she has not, would not have the power to protect the -church, for she has unchained every element most hostile to it, -and can now herself only exist by a chain of negations. To a -state like this, to which nothing has been sacred since Charles -Albert's revolt against Austria, in May, 1848, and which is so -feeble internally, the Catholic world could never dream of -intrusting its holiest and highest interests. Whole Europe would -first have to take leave of its senses. It is not solely the -Catholic powers which--unless, indeed, they aim, like Russia, at -the total destruction of Catholicism--are profoundly concerned in -this question. Every existing state has a vital interest in -opposing this openly avowed scheme to unsettle all fundamental -principles of equity and justice. Should the Italian doctrine -triumph, as Menabrea dares to prophesy, the old feudal times, -when might made right and brute force ruled supreme, would return -on earth in this nineteenth century. The church state exists -since eleven centuries, the Italian monarchy not yet as many -years; the church state owes its rise to the consent of its -populations, the Italian monarchy to a series of intrigues and -violence, rendered successful through foreign support. -{823} -And now the Italian monarchy comes again, in the midst of peace, -without cause or provocation, without the wish of those most -deeply interested in the question, the Romans themselves, to -declare once more, "Rome is mine!" Hers? how? Through those -boasted moral means, which have turned out to be a band of -filibusters, the accomplices of the banditti who selected the -evening of the twenty-second day of October, 1867, for the -purpose of inaugurating their heroic achievements with deeds of -murder and arson? This is the policy--these are the -principles--which General Menabrea, the putative father of the -September convention and of a "moral solution" of the Roman -question, has the unblushing hardihood to proclaim in the face of -civilized and christianized Europe! What answer will the two -hundred millions of Roman Catholics return? - --------- - - The Love Of The Pardoned. - - - "He to whom less is forgiven, - the same loveth less." - - - Disciple. - - "Sweet Lord, - 'Tis true thy love no measure knows; - And yet thou must agree, - A love within my bosom glows - Thou canst not feel for me-- - The love that springs in pardoned hearts - With all the joy such love imparts. - I long, but why I do not know, - That thou, dear Lord, couldst love me so." - - - Master. - - "My child, - Thy brethren are my images. - Wherefore I said to thee: - Whate'er thou doest unto these - Thou doest unto me. - Shall I have joy if thou dispense - Thy bounty on their need, - And if thou pardonest their offence - Feel not the loving deed? - That which _thou_ doest is divine. - Doubt not; _their_ love is also mine!" - --------- - -{824} - - - What Doctor Marks died of. - - -Some one at our camp-fire had chanced to mention Dr. Marks, which -called forth the comment that the doctor had died of -heart-disease--been found dead in his bed. - -Major Arnold lifted his dark, bright eyes from dreaming over the -coals, and looked steadily at the last speaker. "Died of -heart-disease?" he repeated, with a slightly sceptical -inflection. - -"Yes, sir!"--very positively. - -The major looked into the fire again, and thoughtfully thridded -his beard through his fingers, while he appeared to weigh the -pros and cons of some impulse in his mind. The pros tilted the -beam, and the major spoke. But he first drew his hand down across -his eyes, and swept away, with that pass, the present scene of -myriad tents, ghostly-white in the moonlight, or shining crimson -in the light of scattered fires; of closely-crowding, -shadow-haunted southern crags and forests that lifted themselves -from our feet to the horizon, their black and ragged rim standing -boldly out against a sky that was flooded with the mellow -radiance of the full moon, all its stars and all its purple -swamped in that silent and melancholy tide. - -"Poor Anne Atherton!" I had not thought that our rough major -could speak so softly. "I had been going to the door every day, -for weeks, to ask how she was, hoping in spite of the doctors. -But one morning, when I reached the steps, I saw a strip of crape -tied round the bell-knob. No need of questions that day. Poor -little Anne was gone! - -"I call her little; but she was eighteen, and well-grown. It is -only a fond way of intimating that she crept into all our hearts. -People liked her for her honest beauty, her ready smile, and her -cheerful voice. Anne was not one of your bilious-sublime sort, -but a strong, sweet, sensible girl, with an apple-blossom -complexion and a clear conscience. Her family were old friends of -mine, and Anne was engaged and about to be married to my -particular crony--John Sharon--one of the best fellows that ever -trod shoe-leather. Poor John! My heart ached for him as I went -down-town that day. - -"There's a little Scottish poem that reminded me, the first time -I read it, of John Sharon's loves and hates: - - 'Tweed said to Till, - "What gars ye rin sae still?" - Till said to Tweed, - "Though ye rin wi' speed, - And I rin slaw, - Whar ye droon ae man, - I droon twa."' - -"The current of John's feelings was like the current of Till -river. - -"That evening I went up to the house with my arms full of white -flowers. Minnie Atherton wanted me to go in to see her sister; -but I hesitated. I had always disliked to look at a corpse, and I -hated to lose from my mind the picture it held of that -rosy-cheeked girl, and take in its place ever so fair an image of -death. - -"'She looks very peaceful,' Minnie said tearfully, seeing my -unwillingness. 'And you may be able to comfort John. We can't get -him away from her.' - -{825} - -"I never was much at comforting people. All that I know how to -say to a crying woman is, 'Now, don't, my dear!' and to a crying -man I couldn't utter a word. Since then I have marched up to a -battery with less shaking of the nerves than I felt on that day -when I went into the darkened room where Anne Atherton lay dead, -and John Sharon sat looking at her. There were no tears in his -eyes, there was no trembling in his lip or voice. He looked as -though he had so long gazed upon and studied that face of hers -that his own had learned the secret of its frozen calm. I could -not tell which of the two was whiter. - -"How beautiful she was! There was still a faint pink in her lips; -but where that marvellous rich color had bloomed in the cheeks, -and a fainter tint in the small ears and rounded chin, there was -now only pure white. But that pallor revealed many an exquisite -outline which had been unnoted when her color dazzled the eyes. -Her head was turned aside, with one hand under the cheek, and her -long, fair hair was put back from the face, and lay in shining -ripples down her shoulders and back. She wore her bridal dress -and veil, some filmy, frosty stuff, that looked as though it -might melt, being so near the cluster of candles that burned at -her head. There was no light in the room but from those candles. - -"Minnie scattered my flowers over her sister's hair and dress. 'I -am glad that you brought tuberoses,' she said, 'Anne always loved -them.' - -"A long, slow sigh heaved John Sharon's breast. He carefully took -up one of the blossoms and looked it all over--the flower that -Anne had loved! Then he laid it tenderly back again. Not all the -blooms of earth could, for any other reason, have won a glance -from him at that moment; but I know that he has a tuberose -engraven as sharply upon his memory as you ever saw any white -flower cut upon a tomb-stone. - -"Presently Minnie left the room, glancing at me as she went. I -ventured to lay my hand on John's shoulder. I know it, Arnold,' -he said quietly. 'You would help me if you could. But there is no -help on earth. Don't worry about me. I can't leave while she is -above ground. There will be time enough, by and by, for rest.' - -"'I have no word of consolation to offer,' I said. - -"'But I have a thought that consoles me,' he replied, leaning -forward with tender passion to lay his hand on hers; 'I have not -altogether lost her. I shall meet her again, my darling! I shall -meet her again!' - -"I turned away and left them there hand in hand. - -"When I went up the next morning I found John trembling with -excitement. 'I have just restrained myself from taking Dr. -Marks's life!' he said, his teeth fairly chattering. 'What do you -think that the brute dared to propose to me? He wants to make a -_post-mortem_ examination of Anne! That young form that the -hand of man has never touched, to be cut up for the gratification -of a mere professional curiosity! I told him to run for his life, -or I would strangle him.' - -"Telling this, John panted like a man out of breath. - -"I tried to soothe him. 'These doctors get used to everything,' I -said. 'Marks could have no idea how you feel about it.' - -"He wrung his hands, still shivering with loathing of the thought -that had been forced on him. 'I can't get over it!' he said. 'I -am sorry that he was called in at the consultation. If I had -known in season, he should not have come. -{826} -He is a coarse-grained fellow, who, for the sake of gratifying -his curiosity about a disease, would outrage all the decencies of -life. 'I believe, Arnold--' here John choked with the words he -would have uttered. - -"'My dear fellow, try to forget it,' I said. 'He has asked, and -you have refused, and there's an end of the matter.' - -"'I don't believe that it is ended,' John said, looking at me -strangely. - -"'You don't mean--' I began. - -"But he lifted his hand as though he could not bear to have the -thought put into words. 'I shall watch her grave every night for -a week,' he said. 'Will you watch with me tonight, Arnold?' - -"I promised, and we parted. - -"Anne Atherton's case was a peculiar one. They had called it -quick consumption, for want of a better name. She always -persisted in saying that she had swallowed something sharp like a -pin, and that it had entered her left lung; but of all her -physicians, Doctor Marks was the only one who believed it -possible that she might be right. On the strength of this half -agreement he had proposed the examination. - -"The South cemetery, just outside the city, used to be the -paradise of body-snatchers. It was in a lonesome neighborhood, -and two sides bordered on the open country. Many a grave in that -cemetery had given up its dead to the dissecting-knife, while the -bereaved ones at home little dreamed that its sacred rest had -been disturbed. The Athertons had a lot there, and Anne was -buried in it. We covered the new-made grave with evergreens, -wreath linked in wreath, the whole sprinkled with white -flowers--a pretty counterpane for the fair sleeper below. - -"It was five minutes past nine in the evening when I vaulted over -the stone wall, and walked down the central avenue. The Atherton -lot was not far from the entrance, and instead of a high fence, -with gate and lock like the others, it was surrounded only by a -low rim of granite. As I approached, I saw the tall, white -monument in the centre, and John Sharon leaning against it, and -looking down on the wreath-covered mound at his feet. He started -when he heard my step, and came to meet me, taking my hand in a -strong, cold clasp. - -"'We will sit here,' he said, leading me to a shady nook at the -other side of the avenue. - -"The place he had selected was a grove of Norway spruces which -formed a half-circle, the open side facing the Atherton lot, and -not more than two rods distant from it. Thoughtful for my -comfort, though indifferent to his own, John had thrown a shawl -over the horizontal slab of marble in the centre of this grave, -and on that we seated ourselves. He had brought, too, a little -flask of brandy, which he pressed into my hand, but would not -taste of himself. It did not come amiss; for the season was the -last of October, and the night chilly, though clear and calm. - -"I asked John what he meant to do if the doctor should make his -appearance. - -"'I shall frighten him,' he said. 'I have my pistol here, and -mean to fire it. I couldn't bear to have a fight over her grave.' - -"We sat there and awaited in silence, John with his eyes fixed on -the mound across the way. The last ray of the setting moon -touched with a white lustre its wreaths, and every little ghost -of a flower, then slipped up the shaft of marble near by, pointed -with a luminous finger to the 'rest in peace,' engraven there, -showed name after name, and date after date, stole up the cross -at the top, lingered an instant on its summit, then melted into -the air. -{827} -Following its flight with my glance, I saw that the sky was of a -pale, transparent gray, with a few large stars in it. Clearly out -against this background stood the roofs and spires of that -sleeping city that breathed while it slept, and more clearly yet -the monuments, and a fine tracery of the bare trees, branch, -stem, and twig showing delicate as lace-work, of that nearer city -which slept in awful, breathless silence, never stirring for -sunrise nor sunset, never starting at any alarm, nor opening its -eyes, let who would go by. - -"The evening had been calm, but as it grew toward midnight a -faint and fitful breeze came now and then, like a sigh, setting -that net-work of branches in a shiver, and sweeping the dry -leaves about with a low and mournful rustling. The place and -time, the silence that was only broken by that weird and -spirit-like wind, and yet more, the face of my companion, -affected me strongly. John sat leaning slightly forward, his -hands clasped on his knees, his gaze fixed on that grave he had -come to watch, and as motionless as any stone about us. The -frozen look of his face chilled me. I could not see nor hear that -he breathed; and there was no movement of an eyelid even. I would -have spoken to him if I had dared. I longed for some sound which -would startle him out of that trance; but there he sat -motionless, apparently lifeless. - -"I took a swallow of brandy and tried to occupy my thoughts -otherwise. I looked through the interstices of the trees near me -and counted grave-stones. Close by were two old sunken graves -with slate stones leaning awry at their heads, where lay, or had -lain, grandfather and grandmother Sawyer--a later John Anderson -and his wife, who had gone, hand in hand, up and down the hill, -and now slept thegither at the foot. I say they had lain there; -for, in the fifty odd years since their burial, it was most -probable that their dust had left its place beneath those -tumble-down slate stones and gone about other business, rising, -may be, in grasses and flowers. Not much of the old couple left -in their coffins, be sure. Perhaps the children had carried the -last of them away in violets and mayweed, that very summer. -Possibly the birds had pecked them up, in one shape or another. - -"Would John Sharon never move? - -"I turned and peered back to where a small white cross stood, -looking like a child in its night-gown, with arms extended. I -could fancy some dear little frightened thing coming to me in -that lonely place, silent from fear, or only faintly whimpering, -all of a tremor, poor babe! till I should reach and clasp it -safe. The rustling of the leaves was its little bare feet in -them, the sigh of air was its sobbing breath. - -"I gave myself a shake. Well, to be sure! a white marble cross to -mark where a child had been buried a year or two before. I -remembered having seen, in June, a red-ripe strawberry on that -grave, looking as though the little creature's mouth were put up -through the sod to be kissed. - -"I turned to John Sharon again. He had not stirred. I looked at -the grave he watched, and wondered if, with that steadfast gaze, -he could pierce the sod, as clairvoyants tell, and see Anne -lying, cold and lovely, far below, with one hand under her cheek -and the other on her breast, and her hair flowing down unbound, -never again to float on any breeze, to toss with any light motion -of hers, to be twisted about his fingers. - -{828} - -"I turned quickly to touch him, but, as I raised my hand, he -started. A sough of air had arisen, faint but far-reaching; the -leaves rustled and crept all about the many graves; and through -that sound I heard a step. - -"John's form came erect, as though stiffened by a galvanic shock, -and he sharply turned his head aside to listen. For one moment -there was silence again, then a sound of feet carefully treading -down the avenue toward us. I heard the breath shiver through -John's teeth, and saw him take something from his breast. Then -two men came stealing across our view, their forms, as we sat -low, defined against the sky. One was unknown to me, but the -other was easy to recognize--Dr. Marks's large, athletic form -loomed against the stars. Both men carried spades, and the doctor -had a sack hanging over his arm. They went directly to the -Atherton lot, and, after whispering together for a moment, the -smaller man stooped to pull away the wreaths from the grave, and -Dr. Marks set his spade to the earth and his foot to the spade. - -"'We must make haste,' I heard him say. 'Our time is short.' - -"His was shorter than he knew. - -"Without looking directly at John, I had seen him come forward -with his knee to the ground, and raise his hand level with his -eyes, and I was aware of a flicker before his face, as of light -on polished metal. There was a faint sound of the spade thrust -through loose gravel, and, as he heard it,' John started, and -cried out as if the thrust had been through his heart. At the -same instant a flame leaped out from the gloom wherein we lurked, -the silence cracked with a sharp report, and both men dropped -their spades and ran. - -"John started to his feet, hastened to the grave which he had -saved from profanation, and, after having removed from it, with -loving care, every sign of disturbance, threw himself upon it, -and sobbed as though his heart would break." - -The major paused, brushed his hand across his eyes, and gazed a -moment longer into the coals, in which he had seemed to read that -story. Then he looked up quickly, straightened himself, and -became aware again of the southern night, the many tents, and the -fire-lighted faces of soldiers listening toward him. - -"I had my suspicions," he resumed, in a changed voice, "that -John's shot was not so harmless as he had intended it to be; but -I said nothing to him, and when he told me to go home, I went. -When I reached the street, I saw two men walking slowly away, one -supporting the other. The next day I heard that Dr. Marks was -dead. Strangely enough, we were able to keep the knowledge from -John. He never left the house, except at night, till after a -week, when we joined our regiments; and since then he has had -enough to think of and to do without inquiring after Dr. Marks's -health. - -"The doctor's family said he died of heart-disease; and I don't -blame them for putting the best face they could on the affair. -The hearts of most people, when they die, have something the -matter with them--they are likely to stop." - --------- - -{829} - - Bartoleme Las Casas. [Footnote 76] - - [Footnote 76: _The Life of Las Casas_, - "_The Apostle of the Indies_." - By Arthur Helps. - London: Bell & Daldy. 1868. 12mo, pp. 292. - For sale by the Catholic Publication Society, New York.] - - - Is The Charge In History Against Him Sustained? - - -Of all the great men of the Spanish race who ever visited the -shores of the American continent, it may with truth be said that -Bartoleme de las Casas, Bishop of Chiapa, was the greatest. His -personal virtues, in which he surpassed others, were only -equalled by the exalted purpose to which his long life was -exclusively devoted. His career was beset with perils that would -have appalled one who had not the courage and the constancy of a -paladin; his toils, privations, and sufferings were without -number. The insults, contumely, scorn, and malice to which he was -daily, hourly exposed, not from a few only, but from all of his -countrymen in the new world, were enough to crush the stoutest -heart. He was, preeminently, the most hated, the most despised, -the most universally unpopular being that crossed the broad -Atlantic from Spain. Sometimes they denied him shelter; sometimes -they refused him food; sometimes they threatened his safety, in -premeditated assaults for his assassination; they fled from his -presence at the altar as they would flee from a pestilence; and -they compelled him often to become a fugitive in order to -preserve his life. - -Not only in America, but in Europe also, was he subjected to -abuse and ridicule; but in Europe these were not universal. -Public opinion was there divided. Those who had returned from the -Western Indies, covered with renown and rolling in riches, who -were celebrated in story, not only after the manner of -knights-errant in romance, but in the very words, phrases, and -language of romance--those who went forth from home, poor, needy, -plebeian, and came back with untold wealth, to intermarry with -the families of the highest grandees, to intermix their blood -with the purest hidalgo, poured, forth their concentrated wrath -upon his devoted head. But, on the other hand, courtiers -all-powerful, prime ministers, and sovereigns received him with -open arms, granted him prolonged audience, and commiserated his -troubles, sympathizing deeply in his noble undertaking. In -secret, however, they had often to regret their inability to -render him the aid required for its success. With the clergy, and -especially among the highest prelates, the confessors of royalty, -the professors of the universities, the bishops, the archbishops, -the primates, and cardinals, his return was greeted with the same -satisfaction. From the lowly cloister to the imperial palace the -same good wishes for him prevailed. - -In the respectable classes of society at large, a singular -reception awaited him. Although they venerate him as one among -the best of mankind, they manifested their regard in the most -opposite deportment. When he ascended the pulpit to discourse -before the pious upon the unheard-of outrages, the fiendish -wickedness, the appalling cruelties inflicted by Christians, and -moreover, Christians who were their countrymen, upon simple, -confiding, weak, inoffensive thousands and tens of thousands of -Indians in the new world, the horror and abhorrence of -congregations knew no bounds. -{830} -Their fears of Divine vengeance falling upon themselves rose in -the same proportion, until they stood aghast lest a national -calamity should come upon them, like unto that which swept away -of old the cities of the plain. On the other hand, that portion -of the public which is light-minded, full of levity, and for ever -in search of novelty, encountered him elsewhere, on the plaza, in -the college court, on the prado, where he walked under the trees, -or at a posada where he dined; and they paused to listen to his -talk, for he talked much and too often on the same theme--the -rapacity and brutality of the cavaliers to the helpless, the -innocent, the ignorant, defenceless aborigines--the adopted -children of the holy father at Rome, the accepted wards confided -to the tender keeping of the good Queen Isabella of blessed -memory, to christianize and to civilize. While the monk poured -forth an eloquent statement of their wrongs, the when, the where, -and on what occasion, he named no names, in charity to the bad -men; but his hearers made the proper application, well knowing -the persons from common report; those millionaires just returned, -whose mushroom bloom of dunghill beauty, outshone the roseate -lustre of the ancient Guzmans and Colonas. - -The successful adventurers to the Indies of the West had already -received the popular and insulting nickname of the Cachopins of -Laredo; they were of the same breed with the Indian nabobs of -England in afterdays, and of the shoddy in our own. While, -therefore, the single-minded monk, in the fervor of his -eloquence, in the overflowing zeal for his cause, narrated what -these people had done to the natives, his audience were learning -how these men had made their money; and the more facts and -indignation exhibited by the speaker, the more highly were they -amused, the more heartily did they shake with silent laughter. -The monk saw the scenes in the most serious light; they saw them -in the most ludicrous aspect; for they were quietly in their mind -contrasting the world-wide extent between Cachopin pretensions -and Cachopin merit. And these, thought they, these baseborn and -brutish fellows, who are receiving patents of nobility by the -score, who aspire to quarter their crests upon the aristocratic -escutcheon possessed by grandees of the first class, emblazoned -with heraldic bears, eagles, lions, elephants, and leopards, -borne, centuries before, upon banners of that chivalry who fought -for Christendom at the cave of Covodonga, and for the preeminence -of Spanish honor, courage, and courtesy over France at the rough -vale of Roncesvalles--these are the fellows who wish to blend -those proud emblematic animals with their new coats of arms, the -tobacco leaf, the tomata, the roasting ear of Indian corn, the -sweet potato, perhaps, the appropriate devices for the conquerors -clubbed with a title taken from a miserable fish-town, in the -meanest, poverty-stricken, peddler-producing province in the -realm. [Footnote 77] - - [Footnote 77: The Cachopin figured in the comedies, farces, - romances, and lively pastorals of that age. - - In the beautiful pastoral of the _Diana_, by Jorgé - Montemayor, in a scene between Fabio, the page, and - Felismena, who is disguised as a boy, Fabio says: - - "I promise you on the faith of a hidalgo, (which I am, for my - father is a Cachopin of Laredo,) that my master has better - terms."--_See Book_ 2, p. 87; _the edition of_ - 1542. - - Don Quixote met the travellers on the road, and of course - described the beauty of his Dulcinea, and when asked who she - was-- - - "Her lineage, race, ancestry," answered the Don, "is not of - the old Roman Curtius, nor the modern Colonas, nor the - Moncadas of Catalonia, the Guerras of Aragon, nor Gusmans of - Castile, but of Tobosa de la Mancha." - - "And mine," said the traveller, "is of the Cachopins of - Laredo."] - -{831} - -The great object which Las Casas desired to attain was, in its -magnitude, commensurate with the mighty convulsions produced in -the minds of his own nationality. It was not to protect or defend -a parish, or a diocese, or a state from oppression, but to save -from destruction a continent, a hemisphere of the habitable -globe; it was to snatch and to shield millions of the natives in -the Indies of the West from slavery to the white race; for, -enslaved, the feeble Indian was sure to sink under the burdens -imposed, most of them perishing within two months, and none of -them surviving two years. If they went down to the grave in their -ignorance and infidelity, their souls might be without the pale -of salvation in their unregenerate state; if they were civilized, -believed in Christ, and were baptized, what glory would redound -to God, what treasure laid up in heaven for those aiding in their -conversion, what myriads of communicants added to the church! -Natural commiseration for their hard lot in this world, spiritual -considerations for their fate in the next, along with reward held -out to those who alleviated their distress now and prepared them -for eternal happiness hereafter, were the exalted motives that -prompted Las Casas to undertake the herculean task. - -With such sublime intentions, his ardor was strengthened to -undergo every toil and privation the body can suffer, to endure -every agony, every indignity the spirit can receive. The measures -he adopted for success, the means he employed to sustain them, -the instruments he made use of, constitute the materials for his -life. These were numerous, varied, dissimilar, and seemingly -discordant. One was the simple being, almost in a state of nature -in the rudest hut, living upon roots, sheltered by a frail canopy -of leaves, clothed with a rabbit-skin or a yard of cotton, or -without any covering at all, and possessed of an intellect just -dawning into consciousness of its faculties, so that the common, -almost universal opinion was that he did not as yet belong to the -human species, but was born to live, to be worked, and to die -like beasts of the field. On the other hand, Las Casas invoked -the assistance of the most illustrious of the age, the refined -and intellectual in the most powerful state in Europe. He -impressed his thoughts upon the august Cesar, seated upon his -imperial throne, who claimed legitimate succession in the divine -line from the celestial deity. - -For fifty years was his time devoted to this cause, with varied -hope of success and disaster; but before he lay down to die, much -had been achieved, and with the encouragement that more could be -accomplished in the future. The life of Las Casas is yet to be -written. Those who have essayed it so far have only furnished a -few facts, mixed with many errors. They have not attempted to -combine the materials into general principles, and to analyze the -incentives of those who were his enemies, or who were his -friends, and thus reduce the conduct of all into a general -consistency. Sympathizing with him in his exertions, they -conclude that those who opposed him were all bad men, and those -who encouraged him were all good men. But that is not the temper -in which biography and history ought to be written. Facts or -events are only one part of the work; the causes which preceded -or influenced them should be investigated. Nothing should be left -to ignorant conjecture, to idle inference or gratuitous -suspicion. -{832} -All the surroundings must be explained. In writing his biography -some insight into the learning of that period and into the state -of science at the time should be gained, especially in the -departments of history, of moral philosophy, of the civil law, of -the canon law, and international jurisprudence. Not even the -lighter literature, including the popular poetry, the drama, and -romances, can with safety escape observation. Above all, being at -the era of the revival of learning, along with the first -improvements in the art of printing, the changes made in modern -languages are to be noted. In these transformations, the -significance of many words and phrases was often doubtful. -Sometimes they had to be taken according to their old meaning; -sometimes again in the new. When astrology was banished, its -theory was discarded; but at least two thirds of its terms were -retained: when alchemy suffered the same fate, its vocabulary, as -well as its crucibles, retorts, and alembics, were transferred to -the chemical laboratory: when the practice of medicine was -relinquished, physicians took possession of its expressions for -comments, and wrote out their prescriptions in many of its -hieroglyphics. These mutations were progressing when Columbus was -sailing due west in search of a route to the east. Whether words -were to be interpreted according to science, or according to -suppositions which had prevailed before science, was often a -difficult question to solve. - -Illustrations would indicate how far research must go to -understand the times and transitions taking place. It is needless -to add, that nothing of the kind has been noted; nor, from -appearances, will it ever be thought of. His writings have been -glanced at to elucidate some point controverted, and then hastily -thrown aside. What was learned, moreover, was in a confused mass -of facts and dates, which were difficult to comprehend, and more -difficult to reduce to a consistent form. The consequence has -been that, instead of a knowledge of the learning and science at -the period when he lived, to enlarge the circle of their literary -reputations, they have embarrassed some historical subjects, and -well will it be for them if they have not endangered their -laurels. It would seem that many who have treated of Las Casas, -or even touched upon his character, have fallen into some -mistake, error, or curious blunder. Nor is their number confined -to writers of an inferior order; it embraces some names renowned -in Europe and America for justly merited historical excellence. -They learned a few facts; they guessed the rest; and their -guessing, like all loose conjectures in general, leads to false -conclusions, with the consequent danger therefrom. - -Las Casas commenced his _History of the Indies_ in 1527. -when he was in his fifty-third year; he concluded it in 1559, -when he was in his eighty-fifth. He had in his possession some -valuable documents obtained from Columbus; but beyond these he -relied for the most part on his own knowledge of events, along -with accredited rumors and reports in circulation. In his will he -directs that the _Historia_ shall not be made public for -forty years after his decease. But reasons exist for the belief -that it was read by Philip the Second, in the Escorial; and it is -certain Antonio de Herrera availed himself of its information -before the year 1600, when he completed his _Description of the -Indies of the West_. The _Historia_ by Las Casas still -remains in manuscript in the Royal Academy of Madrid. -{833} -Herrera, being the chief royal chronicler of the Indies, and -chronicler for Castile, was ordered by the supreme council of the -Indies to prepare his _Description_. It is presented in the -form of annals, where events are recorded in the year in which -they transpired. Consequently the breaks are incessant in the -regular sequence, to conform to chronological arrangement. But -historical effect was not designed; historical accuracy in the -statement of facts being all that was demanded. - -To this end, Herrera consulted every book, in print or in -manuscript, known to him, and had access to every official -document in the archives of Simancas and Seville, to insure -accuracy and verify every assertion. He does not often explain -the policy or intentions of the government; because statecraft, -in those days, enjoined the silence of Italian diplomacy and -practised the secrecy of the Venetian Council of Ten. The royal -purpose in what was done or ordered, was above the sphere of the -annalist; the introduction of personal or private biography was -below it. He took for his model and guide, through the intricate -maze of voyages, discoveries, and adventures, the _Historia_ -of Las Casas. He adopted that part only, however, which his duty -required; he rejected that which was uncertain, untrue, or purely -of personal interest. In rejecting, he did not discredit Las -Casas, believing him to be of undoubted veracity, and in general -very accurate. But Las Casas had unavoidably fallen into errors, -from defect of memory, with advancing years, and from -misinformation, or from facts misunderstood by the manner in -which they reached him. That Herrera should improve upon him or -defer to his accuracy as a historian is not singular, and -expresses a high appreciation of his excellence. Nor can it be -surprising, when called upon to pronounce, in his -_Description_, between the statements of Las Casas and his -enemies, Oviedo and Gomara, he should decide that Las Casas had -good cause for much feeling against them. When the voluminous -work of Herrera was printed, it was found to be a masterly -production; nor has its authority been seriously questioned -since. At the present day it stands as imputing perfect verity. -It ranks with the _Annual Register_ and _National -Almanac;_ it is of the same class of publications, but far -more extensive in its design. - -The imperfections of Las Casas in his _Historia_ and those -portions not quoted by Herrera are the parts which first claim -attention. In understanding his peculiar position toward those -with whom he was thrown in contact, his inferences of the motives -by which they were actuated cannot be implicitly relied on. He -did not comprehend fully their situation; he could not account -for their conduct, because explanations were not made which at a -flash would have revealed the difficulties. In the absence of -those he could not refrain from ascribing bad motives to some -officials, such as Fonseca, Bishop of Burgos. Others he honored, -because they were disinterested, pure, virtuous personages, with -their sensibilities excited at the wrongs done to the aborigines, -and who sympathized with him in his praiseworthy enterprise. -Such, in his opinion, were Cesneros, Cardinal Ximenes, and -Adrian, Cardinal de Tortosa. These prelates were in turn prime -ministers, but their mode of receiving Las Casas was different. -Ximenes was cold and austere in general, with his thoughts -absorbed in affairs of state. -{834} -To Las Casas his deportment was not reserved; he was genial in -his reception, and could read his traits at a glance; his -feelings, too, were all on the same side, and it happened the -interests of the crown were in accordance with his feelings. The -cardinal, therefore, received him with unusual cordiality, and -with much consideration; he listened to the facts communicated, -to think them over, and to act upon them. He was thankful and -considerate to Las Casas for the valuable information imparted, -and sometimes relieved his poverty from his private purse. When -the cardinal had learned all that Las Casas could tell about the -condition of the Indies, he was graciously and quietly bowed out. -For Ximenes had not the time nor inclination to hear more, which -was sure to follow, if he could, with any decency, avoid the -infliction. - -Cardinal Adrian, subsequently Pope Adrian, was of a mild, quiet, -disposition. He gave to Las Casas longer interviews, because he -had more to learn, having recently come to Spain for the first -time, from the Low Countries. Adrian therefore was more gracious -still; but when Las Casas, in his nervous excitability, -discoursed upon the never-ending theme of the injustice of Indian -slavery, its sinfulness, its impolicy, its danger to the souls of -persons in high places who tolerated it, and began on the -Scriptures, the fathers, the decretals, the bulls, and the canon -law, and the civil law, and the moral law, with interminable -citations and iterations, the patience of even the meekest of -cardinals would sometimes give way. For both Adrian and Cesneros -understood these matters better than he did; and while assenting -to the truth of what was uttered, they were not inclined to hear -it so often and at such length repeated. - -Ximenes, when not wishing to see him, time being too precious, -turned him over to some dean or bishop; but Adrian, when desirous -of more explanations, sent some friend among the Flemish counties -to search for Las Casas, to converse with him, in order to -acquire a thorough knowledge of the Indies, and of his opinions -and plans. One day he met Señor De Bure by appointment, who felt -an interest in the Indies. Las Casas was delighted to find the -Flemish gentleman felt for the poor Indians, and forthwith his -hopes rose that the government would do something. De Bure, in -his eyes, was the very best of human beings. De Bure would listen -to all that could be said, and soon took him to his uncle, De -Laxao, who was the young sovereign's chamberlain, with -inexpressible influence. De Bure was a buffer for Adrian, nothing -more, to keep off Las Casas from that cardinal when he did not -want to see him, but wished to be kept duly advised on Indian -topics. - -Fonseca was of a different mould; he was a man of business, rude, -abrupt, with little delicacy in his manners to suppliants. He had -a better acquaintance with the Indies; knew all about the -condition of the natives; and if he had any sympathy for Las -Casas, he did not permit it to be seen, nor for one moment would -he countenance his proposals or listen to his plans. He deemed -them as visionary as he had once viewed the scheme of Columbus to -discover a new continent. He now was equally sure Las Casas could -not civilize that continent when it was discovered. Consequently -Las Casas loved Ximenes and Adrian, and heartily despised the -Bishop of Burgos. -{835} -Every school-boy who ever read of Columbus or Cortez has learned -what a very bad man was Fonseca, and all modern authors know what -was in their school-books; but they know nothing more. Every life -of Columbus, of Cortez, of Las Casas is written in the same vein. -The Bishop of Burgos is abused in all of them. He treated the -discoverer of America shamefully; he insulted the Protector of -the Indians; he persecuted the conqueror of Mexico. These -illustrious men denounced him, and their biographers are in sworn -biographical fealty bound to denounce him also. Their heroes are -never wrong; for what hero in biography or romance can ever be -wrong? In the very nature of such compositions it is an utter -impossibility. Fonseca was never in the right; for what opponent -of their idols could have any reason or justice on his side? - -Now, the best of reasons may be found for his policy to Columbus -and Las Casas. They both wanted funds from the treasury when he -was minister, and when no funds could be spared; for the nation -was insolvent--a secret well known to him, but which it was -all-important should not be known to the public. He would not -give a ducat for any exploring voyage or prospective discovery, -or for any expenses after a discovery was made. When Isabella -begged and implored the cold minister to yield to her -importunities for Columbus, he positively refused; nor could any -entreaties induce him to relent. The queen, in consequence, had -to pawn her jewels to equip the armada fitting out at Palos. -Fonseca was not disgraced for his obstinacy; and although nothing -of a courtier, he was too useful to be removed. Las Casas was -served in the same way when Charles was anxious to aid him with -funds. Fonseca was again as surly, and when at last the sovereign -determined in council that, come what might, Las Casas should -have aid, Fonseca washed his hands of the business, and soon -after met him with a smile. This unexpected amiability Las Casas -describes as evincing "some nobleness of nature." How many -meritorious subjects, with honest claims on the treasury, were -disappointed of a pittance thereby, is not considered. Knights -who had spent their estates in prosecuting the wars against the -Moors, who had grown old and poor in the royal service, who had -fought for Christendom at Alhama, conquered at Malaga, and -contributed to the siege and capture of Cordova, may have turned -away heart-sick, in want of a maravedi, and only diminished the -importunate, unsuccessful crowd besieging the doors of ministers, -to swell the number of daily beggars at the hatch of some -convent. In the novel of _Gil Bias_ a picture is presented -of the neglect shown to meritorious subjects, whose necessities -are no less imperative than their deeds were commendable. Captain -Chinchilla is a sample of thousands. He had lost an eye at -Naples, an arm in Lombardy, and a leg in the Low Countries; but -his sovereign had not a ducat to spare. In such condition of the -finances, a minister required a heart of stone to turn away from -starving appeals for a bare pittance or the smallest pension. -Fonseca could not be just; how much less could he be generous? A -man who would endure this for the crown deserved much of the -royal favor. For this was Fonseca invaluable; his nerve to save -every real to the state was a quality much wanted. - -But Hernando Cortez never besought the royal bounty; why, then, -should Fonseca persecute him? It is said he exhibited uniform -malignity against all great men; he persecuted Cortez. To this -last instance a reason can be interposed. -{836} -For some cause Fonseca took part in the private quarrel between -him and Velasquez, the Governor of Cuba. What was the minister's -motive is merely conjecture; but if true, it is not worthy of -consideration. Velasquez and Cortez were both villains; and a -controversy between them arose about the division of the Mexican -spoils. The governor furnished the funds for that expedition, and -fitted out the ships on joint account. He complained that Cortez -made no return of the profits, Fonseca took the side of Velasquez -and aided him in his suit. It was difficult to determine who had -the law in his favor; but the man who would cheat his patron and -partner, as Cortez certainly did, who would torture to death an -innocent prisoner and that prisoner a dethroned monarch, as -Cortez in cold blood put Guatomotz to the torture, is not only a -contemptible knave, but a hideous monster in human form. - -Velasquez was another of the same breed; and if his infamy was -less, the opportunity for the display of his propensities was -wanting; his field was not so magnificent; but he cultivated to -the utmost extent the smaller space which Cuba presented. Bad -faith toward each other was the common practice among colonial -chiefs. Velasquez owed his appointment to the judges of the -Audiencia of Hispaniola, who fitted him out to do business for -both in the same way that he in turn had commissioned and -supplied Cortez, and as Cortez again nominated certain -confidential friends to govern Mexico when he undertook his -unfortunate expedition to Honduras. Of course these friends -cheated Cortez, as he had cheated Governor Velasquez, and as the -governor had cheated the judges of the Audiencia, and as the -judges were perpetually defrauding their sovereign. Not one spark -of honor or honesty was exhibited by any of them. They were -rapacious, reckless, restrained by no law or teaching or sense of -morality; while the temptation before their eyes was too splendid -and overpowering to resist. The breach of a solemn promise was -cheap as a dicer's oath; it was not even a venal offence; the -torture of the Indians was not a crime; the burning alive at a -slow fire of the royal Aztec was at best only an indiscretion. -Thousands, including girls and boys, had been subjected to the -same treatment, and for the same purpose, to wring the last ounce -of gold-dust from the unhappy creatures. - -The proceedings of Governor Velasquez, in Cuba, were not unlike -the conduct of Cortez in Mexico. The governor enslaved, he -tortured, he destroyed; and so did every cavalier who came in -contact with the natives. The only gentlemen in the Antilles were -the buccaneers, the British, Dutch, and French pirates. They, to -be sure, in search of booty, cut the throats of the Spaniards -whom they captured; but they were of too much principle to -conceal the plunder from their companions or to divide unfairly. -But the Castilians did not stop with cutting throats of innocent -Indians; they despoiled each other. They had not the proverbial -honor found among thieves. In such a delightful society, moral -rectitude was not one of the cardinal virtues; and if Fonseca -inclined to Velasquez while popular opinion is with Cortez, the -discrepancy may be ascribed to the fact that popular opinion will -in such cases decide in favor of him whose baseness is the -greater, the more magnificent and successful. -{837} -Las Casas detested Cortez, and preferred the governor; but he -complains of the unjust policy of Ferdinand to Columbus. It is -probable Las Casas is mistaken again; he knew nothing of cabinet -secrets. The character of the great navigator deservedly stands -high, not only for the splendor of his discoveries, but for the -purity of his life. His fame cannot be assailed with any truth or -propriety; while on the other hand, history does not accord much -credit to Ferdinand for his public or private worth. Yet it is -impossible, in considering all the circumstances, to avoid the -conclusion that the king was right, and had at least equity to -sustain him, or rather to justify his counsellors, for it was a -matter of state. It is true, the crown of Castile had entered -into a formal contract with Columbus to confer upon him a high -command over all the countries he should discover. The king now -refused to make good this stipulation; he broke the contract, and -proposed compensation by estates conferred in Castile. Columbus -held the crown to the bond and refused all compromise. He had set -his heart on becoming the man of greatest wealth in the world and -to bestow it all to Christendom in a cruza for the recovery of -the holy places from the infidel. A more sublime purpose could -not be conceived; for at the time, Constantinople was captured, -the islands for the most part in the Levant overrun, Italy in -danger, a foothold gained in Sicily and Sardinia, France hastily -sending troops to the frontiers of Austria, Hungary invaded, the -Knights Templars of St. John far in advance at Rhodes under fire, -and prayers daily offered up by the people in their churches at -Amsterdam, imploring the Almighty to avert the Saracen from their -gates; the crowning victory for the Christians was not gained for -a half-century later at the Gulf of Lepanto. - -This brilliant scheme of Columbus to roll back the tide of war, -engrossed his leisure hours. For its accomplishment, he hoped to -obtain riches from the new world; and when made governor of -Hispaniola, was avaricious to amass a stupendous fortune. Among -other measures he sent three hundred natives to Seville, to be -sold as slaves. Queen Isabella, hearing of it, ordered that they -be sent back, declaring no one had a right to enslave her -vassals. Although incensed, she did not reprimand Columbus. He -had enough of difficulties to contend with in his administration, -without the further burden of her displeasure; for it was soon -found out he evinced an incapacity to govern men in civil -society. Successful he might be in ruling sailors on the -forecastle; but that had not taught him how to govern men on -shore. He exacted implicit obedience; he pursued his own plans -without consultation; he compelled cavaliers to assist in manual -labor. Worse than all, he was a foreigner, and it ended in a -revolt with open war. A royal commissioner was sent out to -institute an investigation, which terminated in Columbus being -sent to Seville in chains. Isabella, at this indignity offered to -her favorite admiral, ordered the irons to be removed, but would -not consent, withal, to reinstate him in authority. After her -death, he renewed his application, without a better result; the -king refused to comply with the words of the royal contract. The -promise had been made, but it was made for the state--for the -public benefit--and the opinion of lawyers was, that it could be -broken if it were for the common good not to carry out its -provisions. A proper equivalent could be awarded for the damage -done to the admiral. -{838} -This was the theory of rights then; it is still the theory and -practice of all governments at the present time. But Columbus -refused every offer in the nature of a recompense, which would -have left him rich, and placed him on a level with the highest -grandees in the realm. He nursed his wrongs in silence, -languished in comparative poverty, and died of a broken heart. - -Las Casas never forgot this treatment of the great admiral, his -warm personal friend; he distrusted princes ever after. He fell -into the error common to most men soliciting court favor, that -whatever was done to promote his wishes was done from personal -considerations to him, through his individual exertions and -influence, and not out of any regard for the welfare of the -Indians. On the contrary, the welfare of the Indians was all that -recommended him to the attention of the cardinals, or to royal -notice, and invested him with importance. The policy of the crown -was to save the aborigines from destruction. It might be a -selfish policy, but it surely was, at the same time, enlightened -and correct in every point of view. But every colonial official, -every special agent, every Spaniard was thwarting the -governmental plan, to promote their own interests and their -private emolument. The proceeds of the plantations, of the mines, -of the pearl fisheries, were in great demand at fabulous values, -while the labor of the Indians enslaved was cheap and abundant; -therefore, they were made slaves in the very face of the royal -prohibition. - -It is true these slaves sickened and died within a short period, -but plenty more were forthcoming at a low rate; and thus the -desolation went on. The crown had resolved to check the atrocity; -but how could it be accomplished? The clergy were not implicated -in the guilt, but they were incapable of assisting at first, or -advising. The most of them, moreover, believed at one time that -the natives were not human. The Dominicans, who arrived out about -1510, thought otherwise; and they, in turn, under the guidance of -Las Casas, infused their opinion into the other brethren. His -discussion before the young emperor with Quevedo, Bishop of -Darien, was to settle their status; for Quevedo contended they -were not intellectual beings. Many doubts prevailed also among -the clergy, and it was the universal belief of the laity, -according to Remisal, until, in 1537, Paul III. issued his famous -bull declaring they were human and free, capable of instruction -and salvation. The crown had great difficulties in the matter, -and the ministers were much perplexed in learning what to do; but -the imperial troubles were not disclosed to Las Casas, for the -troubles were diplomatic secrets which to none could be divulged. -Their confidence in his veracity, sincerity, and -disinterestedness, was unbounded; he was the only one they could -trust for a correct account. He was successively created -Protector of the Indians, chaplain to the emperor, and Bishop of -Chiapa. While the sovereigns appreciated him, esteemed him, heard -every word he had to say bearing upon the subject, he mixed it up -so often with so many extraneous remarks, observations, and -quotations, that they must now and then have considered him an -intolerable bore. With this comprehension of the principles -maintained by the Castilian cabinet, a clue is discovered to -guide through the mazes and intricacies of Indian politics. -Emergencies sometimes compelled deviations or exceptions for the -moment; but when the necessity passed away, the policy was -immediately restored. - -{839} - -It is now time to turn to the new work of Mr. Arthur Helps. To -those who have read a page about Las Casas, this book can excite -only feelings of disappointment and regret. The public expected -some improvement at least on preceding biographies, which was -certainly a very moderate expectation; but it has not been -gratified. The volume is written with the design to expatiate on -the great virtues of the bishop, to eulogize his actions, to -excuse his errors, to defend his fame. But the memory of Las -Casas needs no aid of this kind in panegyric or palliation. His -deeds have passed into history, and by its calm, enlightened, -disinterested verdict he must stand or fall. So far he has not -been favored with a dispassionate hearing, nor by any means with -an enlightened public. A prejudice has prevailed against him, -from one cause among his countrymen, from another source abroad; -and Mr. Helps, without intending to do him harm, would strengthen -the prevailing impression abroad by his publication, if it were -generally read, but which is doubtful. On the second page, in -stating "the character of Las Casas," he writes: - - "The utmost that friends or enemies, I imagine, could with the - slightest truth allege against him was an over-fervent - temperament. If we had to arrange the faculties of great men, - we should generally, according to our easy-working fancies, - combine two characters to make our men of. And in this case we - should not be sorry, if it might have been so, to have had a - little of the wary nature of such a man as King Ferdinand the - Second intermixed with the nobler elements of Las Casas. - Considering, however, what great things Las Casas strove after - and how much he accomplished, it is ungracious to dwell more - than is needful upon any defect or superfluity of his - character. If it can be proved he was on any occasion too - impetuous in word or deed, it was in a cause that might have - driven any man charged with it beyond all bounds of prudence in - the expression of his indignation." - -It will be perceived, on perusal that, wherever the bishop has -been charged with any fault, imperfection, failure, or -inconsistency, this author readily admits it, and then proceeds -to offer extenuating circumstances, or to petition for mercy for -his hero, on the plea that he had good intentions or had done -important services. When, again, the author has some bright spot -to dwell upon in his career, it is presented in a questionable -shape, which deprives it of all lustre, leaving the suspicion on -the mind of readers that the bishop is a much overrated man. Mr. -Helps furnishes no new facts, he explains none that are old, he -states very few correctly. About dates the author is most -commonly in error when given; but for the most part he does not -deign to notice them, which in this case is a blessing; for he -seems as indifferent to their importance as if he were writing a -novel or a love-letter. In the composition, he has had recourse -to two works only--the _History of the Indies_, by Las Casas -himself, and the _History of Guatemala and Chiapa_, by -Remesal. - -The _Historia_, by the bishop, is not the most important of -his many productions, nor are the selections from Remesal made -with much discrimination. _The Conversion of the Indians in -Verapaz, or the Land of War_, is interesting; but Mr. Helps in -his account does not leave much of its glory to Las Casas, while -Las Casas was for ever boasting, with truth, of that achievement -as his first success, and claiming it justly as peculiarly his -own. In the same _History of Guatemala_ it is narrated how -Las Casas refused to visit the viceroy in Mexico, because he had -ordered the hand of a priest to be cut off at Antequera. Mr. -Helps translates it, the priest's head at Antequera; probably he -does not know that Antequera is the ancient Spanish name for the -modern city of Oaxaca. - -{840} - -With this slender stock of material the book was written; and in -consequence, whenever a doubt arose about a fact, or a further -reason was required for some elucidation, it will be seen, on -every page, that writing history was made easy by guessing, or -moral observations, of which some specimens are selected: - - "I do not know what transaction he alludes to." - "I hardly see him without prophetic vision." - "It moves our pity to think." - "Probably being somewhat tired." - "Perhaps not wishing to alarm." - "I think with Las Casas." - "There is no doubt." - "I have scarcely a doubt." - "If the writer of this narrative may be permitted - to fancy himself." - "I conceive for a single day." - "I fancy him sitting." - "It may be doubted, however." - "As it appears to me." - "I suspect the wisest amongst us would." - "I cannot but attribute." - "We may very well imagine." - "A young man, as I conjecture." - "Probably on that account." - "To me it seems." - "Always I imagine." - "We must not suppose." - "And so I think." - -And so will every reader think. Mr. Arthur Helps has essayed to -write history before. _The Spanish Conquest in America_ -stands to his literary credit. But he has a way peculiar to -himself in the gestation and parturition of his historical -offspring. He explains, in the preface to the third volume of his -_Spanish Conquest_, his obstetrical mode of doing this -thing. It is thus accounted for: - - "In issuing this third volume, I take this opportunity of - making a statement, which perhaps it would have been well to - have made before. - - "The reader will observe that there is scarcely any allusion in - this work to the kindred works of modern writers on the same - subject. This is not from any want of respect for the able - historians who have written upon the discovery or the conquest - of America. I felt, however, from the first, that my object in - investigating this portion of history was different from - theirs, and I wished to keep my mind clear from the influence - which these eminent persons might have exercised upon it. ... - Moreover, while admitting fully the advantages to be derived - from the study of these modern writers, I thought it was better - upon the whole to have a work composed from independent - sources, which would convey the impression that the original - documents had made upon the author's mind." - -With this explanation, nothing more remains to observe. If he has -founded a school in this method, or if his original plan upon -which to write history will die out with him, is yet to be seen. -The _Spanish Conquest_, by Mr. Arthur Helps, is in thick, -solid, heavy form, and in volumes no less than four. Insatiate -Arthur! would not one suffice? His moral reflections and his -axioms have one merit, if the number of ages in which they have -been in common use can make them venerable. From the Pyramids -centuries may look down upon some of them. - -In the _Life of Las Casas_, the author in the preface -informs the world that-- - - "There are few men to whom, up to the present time, the words - which Shakespeare makes Mark Antony say of Caesar, would more - apply than to Las Casas: - - 'The evil that men do lives after them, - The good is oft interred with their bones.' - - At one inauspicious moment of his life he advised a course - which has ever since been the one blot upon his well-earned - fame, and too often has this advice been the only thing, which, - when the name of Las Casas has been mentioned, has occurred to - men's minds respecting him. He certainly did advise that - negroes should be brought to the New World. I think, however, I - have amply shown in the _Spanish Conquest_, he was not the - first to give this advice." - -This is the way Mr. Helps enters the lists to be his champion. We -do not know where the evils of Las Casas live on--when the -ossification of the good with his bones supervened. -{841} -Instead of quoting Shakespeare, a few lines written by the great -British statesman, George Canning, for the Anti-Jacobin, in his -ode to the "New Morality." would be more applicable to Mr. Helps -himself: - - "Give me th' avowed, erect, the manly foe, - Bold I can meet, perchance avert his blow; - But of all plagues, good heavens! thy wrath can send, - Save, save, oh! save me from the candid friend." - -The memory of Las Casas has suffered greatly from many of those -unthinking, unsearching plagues, who are ever ready to confess -what "it is due to candor to state," etc. A dozen at least might -be counted of names high in the roll of literature: Llorente, -Washington Irving, Mr. Prescott, are among the number. The time -has come to explode this bubble about his want of fixed -principles. All are pleased to admit he was a good man, leading a -virtuous life, with a noble purpose in view; but that he was -inconsistent in recommending negro slavery, while advocating the -emancipation of the Indians. Now, if one be in his right mind, -and yet inconsistent in opinions or conduct, he cannot be -virtuous in principle or practice. The expressions are -incongruous. How can he be accounted virtuous, if at times he is -vicious? How can he be received as good, when he has advised what -is bad? Rectitude is wanting. In public life an inconsistent man -is dangerous; because he destroys order and promotes disorder; he -creates distrust in the absence of integrity in purpose. In -private life no dependence can be reposed in him; he is not -respected, and if the infirmity be great, his friends send him to -an asylum for the insane. - -Navarete thus states the charge against Las Casas: - - "It is this expedient of Las Casas which has drawn down severe - censure upon his memory. He has been charged with gross - inconsistency, and even with having originated the inhuman - traffic in the new world. This last is a grievous charge; but - historical facts and dates remove the original sin from his - door, and prove that the practice existed in the colonies, and - was authorized by royal decree long before he took part in the - question." [Footnote 78] - - [Footnote 78: Navarete, _Viages and Descubriamentos_. - Tom. iii. p. 418.] - -This charge was first made against the bishop by Dr. Robertson, -in his History of America, in 1777. The doctor therein contrasts -him with Cardinal Ximenes, Prime Minister of Spain, observing: - - "Cardinal Ximenes, when solicited to encourage this commerce, - peremptorily rejected the proposition, because he perceived the - iniquity of reducing one race of men to slavery, while he was - consulting about the means of restoring liberty to another. - (_Herrera Dec_. ii. _lib_. ii. _cap_. 8.) But - Las Casas, from the inconsistency natural to men who hurry with - headlong impetuosity toward a favorite point, was incapable of - making the distinction." (_Herrera Dec. lib_. ii. - _cap_. 20.) - -If Ximenes had been living when this exalted morality was -accorded to him, his astonishment would have been great; he -claimed no morality of that kind. - -In turning to Herrera, at the eighth chapter, referred to by Dr. -Robertson, it will be found the doctor has drawn upon his -imagination for the paragraph on Ximenes. The cardinal was not -thinking about morality, but about money. Herrera states it thus: - - "At the same time it was ordered that negro slaves should not - pass to the Indies; which order was understood at once; for, as - they went out, in the scarcity of Indians, and as it was known - that one negro did the work of four, whereby a great demand had - arisen for them, it appeared to the Cardinal Ximenes, that he - might place some tax on their exportation, from whence would - result a benefit to the treasury." - -{842} - -But Herrera, in the twentieth chapter, does, with truth, connect -Las Casas with the recommending of negro slaves. Every line of -this passage must be carefully noted, in order to understand what -follows. It is in these words: - - "The licentiate Bartoleme de Las Casas ... turned to another - expedient, advocating that the Castilians, living in the - Indies, might import negroes; for with them on the plantations - and in the mines, the Indians would be much alleviated; and - that it be advised to carry out a large number of workmen, with - certain privileges accorded to them. Adrian, Cardinal of - Tortosa, heard these suggestions with much pleasure. ... And in - order to know better the number of slaves required for the four - islands, Hispaniola, Cuba, Puerto Rico, and Jamaica, an opinion - was asked from the Royal House of Trade at Seville, and they - responding four thousand, persons were not wanting, who, to - gain favor, informed the Governor de la Bresa, a Flemish - gentleman of the council of the king, and his major-domo. De - Bresa begged the monopoly of it; the king granted it, and De - Bresa sold it to the Genoese for 25,000 ducats, on condition - that the king would not bestow another monopoly for eight - years. The grant was very injurious to the settlers of these - islands, and for the Indians, for whose alleviation it had been - ordered. Because when the traffic was free, as has been stated, - every Castilian carried out slaves. But as the Genoese sold the - privilege for each one for a large sum, few purchased, and thus - this benefit ceased." - -Searches were made in Herrera to prove that the traffic did not -commence with Las Casas' advice. This fact was easily -established; but it did not meet the issue. The question was, did -Las Casas, in 1517, recommend the importation of negroes? and the -fact was made out. Several points were rendered clear, and made -so from the bishop's own _History of the Indies_; that he -recommended the measure hastily; that it was an unfortunate -recommendation; that his remorse was great for it; that he hoped -God would forgive him, for he had done it in ignorance. Those who -never examined further, infer that the criminality of the -slave-trade was deemed as sinful at that time in the first half -of the sixteenth as it is now in the last half of the nineteenth -century. Hence the mistakes among modern historians. - -When the investigation would appear to be concluded, and Las -Casas condemned out of his own writings, the difficulty in the -case in reality only commences. The rubbish surrounding it is -removed; nothing more. What did Las Casas admit? Surely not the -charge that he was inconsistent; for two centuries elapsed before -the charge was made; but he accuses himself for having given the -advice hastily; that it eventuated unfortunately, (but not to -him;) that he gave it ignorantly; that he hoped to be forgiven. -To present the case in its opposite aspect: if the advice had -proved beneficial instead of injurious to the Indians, he would -not have suffered remorse. He had given the advice without -reflecting, without examination, consequently in ignorance; for -if he had reflected for one moment, he would have foreseen what -consequences would follow, and which proved disastrous to the -natives. - -But, while presented in this light, it is somewhat weakened by -the accompanying words of Las Casas. Mr. Ticknor, in his -excellent _History of Spanish Literature_, explains the -remorse from another view. He concludes that the bishop, in -giving the advice, was ignorant of the fact that the African -negroes were captured in unjust war; and when he learns they were -made slaves, as the Indians were enslaved, his soul was filled -with horror for the sin he had committed in recommending the -importation. Some of the words of Las Casas will bear out this -hypothesis--on the first impression it would appear conclusive; -but, unfortunately, other expressions must be explained, so as to -give effect to every line. -{843} -Besides this, why should the bishop feel remorse for what was -done ignorantly, when engaged in the holy work to promote the -salvation of souls? Las Casas was too well versed in casuistry to -deem himself criminal under these circumstances. Moreover, the -bishop, when in the exercise of his sacred duties in his diocese -of Chiapa, wrote out a rescript for his clergy, dated in -November, 1546, wherein he charges them not to confess Christians -holding Indian slaves, but does not include negro slaves. This, -to be sure, might have been an oversight, were it not for a few -lines written further down, where he cautions his clergy to guard -well the holy sacrament of marriage as well among the negroes as -the Indians. The document will be found in full in Remesal. From -this it appears Las Casas, thirty years later, had not discovered -that negroes were on the same footing with the Indians, being -then seventy-two years old. - -In his _Historia_, one hundred and first chapter, he writes -of himself: - - "This advice--that license be given to bring negro slaves to - these countries--the Clerigo Casas first gave, not - understanding the injustice with which the Portuguese take them - and enslave them, which, from what happened from it, he would - not have given for all he had in the world; for he always held - it unjust and tyrannical making them slaves; for the same right - as in them as in the Indians." - -The translation of Mr. Helps is not followed; because he does not -translate some of the words at all; and, in one instance, gives -to a verb a wrong expression, inconsistent with the sentence and -with a subsequent paragraph. The line, "After he had apprehended -the nature of the thing," is no more to be found in the passage -than in the Psalms. In the one hundred and twenty-eighth chapter -of the _Historia_, Las Casas again refers to the subject, -and states why, on the representation of the planters that they -would free their Indians if permission were given to them to -import negroes, he consented to recommend the measure to the -crown. He next alludes to the bad consequences flowing from the -_monopoly_, and concludes thus: - - "Of this advice, which the clerigo gave, not a little did he - afterward repent, judging himself guilty from his haste, - (_inadvertenti;_) and because he saw, as it turned out to - be, as unjust, the capture of the negroes as of the Indians. - There was no other remedy than what he advised--to bring - negroes in order to free the Indians, although he might suppose - they were just captures, although he was not certain that his - ignorance and good intention would excuse him in the divine - wisdom." - -It appears from the passage in Herrera, quoted above, that the -advice was bad; for a monoply of the traffic in negroes was -granted to De Bresa, who sold his speculation to the Genoese, and -they raised the price so high that the planters could not -purchase Africans nor import Christian-born negroes from Spain as -formerly. In consequence, the trade in Indian slaves, who were -cheaper, increased, to the chagrin of Las Casas for his -inconsiderate suggestion. His heedless conduct, in his own eyes, -at last appeared sinful. In some part of it he had displeased -God; for the Deity permitted the Indian servitude to go on, -which, in the mind of Las Casas, he would not have permitted had -not he incurred, in some way, the divine displeasure. Was it his -precipitancy of action in the measure? was it advising the -importation of Africans, some of whom might have been captured in -an unjust war, which incensed the Deity? Las Casas could not -determine, and hence his confusion of mind and forgetfulness of -the incidents in writing the _Historia_. Whatever view, -however, may be taken of it, or which preferred, it is certain -that, under no aspect, can the charge of inconsistency made by -Dr. Robertson, and stated by Navarete, be sustained. - -{844} - -Washington Irving's note on Las Casas, in the appendix to his -_Columbus_, evinces much commendable research, and a -collection of all the facts he could find. But unfortunately, he -had not studied the career of the bishop; he did not pursue his -examination deep enough; he also overlooked some evidence before -his eyes in Herrera. When Mr. Irving had finished his search and -noted the evidence, he stated confusedly what he had collected, -without discriminating between inferences and facts; sometimes -treating facts as inferences or excuses in the biographies of -Ximenes; sometimes treating the inferences in Robertson and -Quintana as facts. He entered upon the examination impressed with -the conviction that Las Casas had been inconsistent; that the -moral conscience of that age was against slavery as much as it is -now. He comes to no conclusion, and leaves the charge against the -bishop in the same condition he approached it. - -Mr. Prescott, in his excellent _History of the Conquest of -Mexico_, in a note on Las Casas, copies only from Quintana, -and thereby copies also, many of the mistakes of that celebrated -Spanish author. The singular spectacle, therefore, among the -curiosities of literature is presented in Mr. Prescott's -_Conquest_, a work of sterling value, for its accuracy -resting always upon respectable authorities, wherein a note is -seen abounding in errors. Mr. Prescott is also a believer in the -inconsistency of the bishop, and that the moral sense at that -time was against slavery. - -Mr. Ticknor, too, in his _History of Spanish Literature_, a -history renowned and properly admired everywhere, with all his -respect for the bishop, is not without his little literary -imperfections. It is evident he is not familiar with the events, -and their surroundings in the life of Las Casas. He places the -famous controversy of the bishop with Sepulveda in 1519. But in -that year was the well-known debate of Las Casas with Quevedo, -the Bishop of Darien, in the presence of the youthful sovereign. -Sepulveda was then a young man of twenty-six years. But Mr. -Ticknor wanders in good company, one of the most eminent of -England, the celebrated Sir James Mackintosh, who, in his -_Progress of Ethical Philosophy_, states Sepulveda met Las -Casas in argument in 1542. That, however, was the year of the -famous assembly convoked by imperial order, at Barcelona and -Molino del Rey, to take into consideration the bishop's _Brief -Account of the Destruction of the Indies._ Both of these able -historians are wrong about the date of the Sepulveda discussion: -even Mr. Helps knows better; it was in 1550. Mr. Ticknor further -reports that the _Brief Account_ was written for the emperor -and dedicated to the prince, afterward Philip the Second. It -would have been more proper to write that the _Brief -Account_ was written for the emperor, and ten years after -printed and dedicated to the prince, then in England, the Prince -Consort with Queen Mary. - -The state of public opinion, in regard to slavery at that period, -requires a few words in explanation in order to leave no -uncertainty in the law, or stain on the crown, on the church, or -civilization. It differed much from the present, because the -condition of society was in many respects not analogous. Slavery -was not then considered immoral; but was actually, in its -practice, indicative of progress, in ameliorating the calamities -of war and the fate of captives by land and sea. -{845} -Every war undertaken by a civilized nation, and declared in the -usual forms, with the solemn religious ceremonies, was held to be -a just war. It was an appeal to the God of armies, as an umpire -or judge; it was the ordeal by battle. When a victory was won, it -was held by the victors a divine decision in their favor; the -vanquished were deemed criminals before high heaven; and as a -punishment they were put to death. When the prisoners were too -numerous for a general massacre, they were led captive to -colonize some vacant territory, and to work for their masters. -These victims did not feel grateful to their enemies for their -clemency; but poured forth their thanks to Providence for his -mercy. Their offspring continued in slavery; for the sins of the -father were visited on the children to the third and fourth -generations, for ever. Even in the course of time, when they -intermixed in blood, language, and religion with the descendants -of their conquerors, they were often held to servitude. This was -the theory and the practice under it; but subject to many -exceptions. Exchange of prisoners was sometimes effected; some -were ransomed; some were released. At the date of the discovery -of America, Spain had been at war with the Saracen for seven -centuries; it was not only a just war, but a holy crusade. When -captures were made on either side, slaughter ensued without -compunction; but not invariably. Both armies and navies were -acting on religious conviction; but both were better civilized, -the infidel being deemed the more refined of the two. It is true, -the old and young, the infirm and diseased, who were poor, were -slain or pitched overboard; while the rich and the strong were -held for slaves or for ransom. When a parent learned that his -child or relation was spared, only enslaved, he felt the joy with -which an American mother on the border hears the news that her -little girl has not been scalped by the Camanches when captured. - -In Europe, therefore, slavery was deemed a mitigation of the -horrors of war: an evil inflicted by the hand of Providence, but -a lesser evil. No one spoke or wrote against the institution; -whoever had dared would have been considered not much better than -a brute. Perhaps a few Moslem fanatics desired more Christian -blood-letting; perhaps a few Christian fanatics wished a little -more of the fluid from the arteries of Moors. Yet in no period of -the world's history was it held just to retain slaves not -captured in a just war. In Jerusalem, they were returned to the -neighboring nations when acquired in private piratical forays. -This was the Hebrew law. The law of Moses forbade man-stealing, -mentioned in Isaiah, and repeated by Saint Paul in Timothy; but -man-stealing meant no more than any other stealing of movable -property. - -In Athens, the same morality was recognized. Aristotle laid it -down in his "Politics" that barbarians could not be held in -servitude unless taken in a just war. Rome borrowed her -international code from Greece, as she borrowed everything else -intellectual. On the revival of learning in the west, the Roman -civil law was introduced through the continent of Europe. The -justice of war, the property acquired under it, the moral power -to enslave, when, where, and in what cases, was elaborately -taught at the universities. Its principles were as well -understood in the canon law as in the civil law; teachers in -ethical philosophy also expounded the doctrine which prevailed in -every tribunal or judicature. They all agreed in their premises -and maxims; they only differed in their application, as their -minds were clear or obtuse. - -{846} - -The rules for the interpretation of laws were the same in the -courts of civil or ecclesiastical jurisdiction. The presumption -of law was that, as slavery of the foreign infidel existed in -Spain, every infidel of a foreign nation was a slave. If one -claimed his freedom, the burden of proof lay upon him to prove he -was free. When negroes from Africa were brought by Portuguese -slave-traders to the Seville market, the presumption arose that -these creatures were of that condition. If one of them could show -that he was not a slave, that he was not captured in war, but -stolen from his tribe, he was adjudged a free man. It had always -been known that men were stolen and sold; but every slave -claiming to be free had to prove it. The public did not inquire -into the fact when they purchased; they did not send to -Senegambia. It is well known that mule-stealing is as common in -Kentucky as sheep-stealing in the State of New York. Yet no one -in the city, purchasing either kind of animal in the open market, -will hesitate to buy mules or mutton from a regular drover or -butcher. Who could wait, when taking his seat at breakfast, until -his conscience was appeased to find out first whether the veal -cutlet before him was not cut from a stolen calf? No one, high or -low, in Spain, had any misgiving in the traffic of slaves, either -in importing them to Andalucia or in exporting them to Jamaica. - -But the natives of the Western Indies stood on a different -footing, and when their question was first presented by Queen -Isabella to the universities of Valladolid and Salamanca for a -just opinion, whether the Indians could be enslaved, the -professors unanimously decided they could not. The doctors of -theology, versed in the canon law, maintained the aborigines of -the western hemisphere were conceded to the crown by the bull of -Alexander VI. granting the sovereignty of America to the kingdom -of Castile and Leon, and the inhabitants, as wards to civilize -and make Christians in express terms to be found in the -pontifical document; that the sovereign had accepted it on these -conditions. To break the promise was to betray the trust. On the -other hand, the civil jurists held the Indians were vassals of -the crown acquired in peaceful discovery and not reduced by war. -Therefore they were never captured, and consequently could never -be enslaved. - -The crown agreed with the lawyers on the question of title by -which the Indies of the West were held. The crown also recognized -the stipulations in the bull to civilize and christianize the -Indians. Consequently, it was resolved that just war could not be -undertaken against them; but the government placed over them -should be a missionary government; with a political polity, at -the same time, for colonists only, from Castile. Hence, the -innumerable mission establishments in America and the -comparatively insignificant civil institutions for the Europeans; -hence, also, the double aspect of formation in the vice-royalty-- -the dual government under one head. - -The royal officials sent out had no jurisdiction over the -Indians, except the viceroy; the religious missionaries had no -charge over the Spaniards. As the natives greatly outnumbered the -Castilians, the institutions, in a short time, inclined more to -the ecclesiastical than to the civil or political; and the -religious element continues predominant to the present day. -{847} -Presidents still govern in fact, although not in the same form as -the old viceroys; and as the viceroys represented the king in -temporal and spiritual matters, the republican presidents -endeavor to imitate, in the plenitude of their power, both the -sovereign and the pontiff. - -Las Casas understood the law as laid down by the civil jurists, -and as understood also by the theologians. Sometimes he defended -the Indians under the civil code; sometimes under the canon law. -In one way he appealed to his countrymen's sense of justice; in -another, to their conscience. In general his arguments were based -on the bull of Alexander, contending that the natives were placed -in charge of the sovereigns by the head of the church for a -religious purpose. Llorente considers this course the weaker side -to take, because the pope has no prerogative to grant kingdoms, -and principalities, and discoveries at pleasure; yet he excuses -Las Casas, because this assumption of the pope's was generally -recognized in that age. But the excellent biographer overlooks -the words in the petition from Isabella to Alexander, desiring -the sovereignty. A saving clause will be found in it, which -intimates: "Distinguished lawyers are of opinion that the -confirmation or donation from the pontificate is not requisite to -hold possession justly of the new world." In that it will be -perceived a reservation is inserted against the very power to -grant that which it was requested to be granted. - -The bishop was aware of this, but still preferred to appeal to -the conscience of the conquerors and colonists; to portray the -wickedness in enslaving, where their religious convictions might -be touched, rather than rely upon the law of the case where every -secular law was continually broken, and where even divine law was -not much better respected. His policy was correct; its good -effects ultimately were manifest, and at last eminently -successful. - -At this time died Hernando Cortez, the conqueror and scourge of -Mexico. When his will was opened, one item directed, as Mr. -Prescott translates: - - "It has long been a question whether one can conscientiously - hold property in Indian slaves. Since this point has not yet - been determined, I enjoin it on my son Martin and his heirs, - that they spare no pains to come to an exact knowledge of the - truth, as a matter which deeply touches the conscience of each - of them no less than mine.' - -The historian, in a note on the same page, gives this extract in -the original, where it reads differently, thus: - - "Item, concerning the native slaves in New Spain, aforesaid; - those of war as well as of purchase, there have been, and are - many doubts," etc. - -The term, "by purchase," refers to those natives who were slaves -before the arrival of the Spaniards, and sold to him. Mr. -Prescott does not perceive the point for which Las Casas was -contending, and which touched the conqueror on his death-bed with -all his mighty crimes fresh on his soul at the last moment, -whether Indians, although taken in war, could be enslaved. On the -next page Mr. Prescott remarks: "Las Casas and the Dominicans of -the former age, the abolitionists of their day, thundered out -their uncompromising invectives against the system, on the broad -ground of natural equity and the rights of man." This is a -mistake; Las Casas and other Dominicans always held up the bull -of Alexander VI., as our abolitionists pointed to the National -Declaration of Independence. -{848} -The glamour perpetually before the eyes of modern biographers -about the natural equity and the rights of man prevailing in the -sixteenth century has misled them into many errors. - -Cortez had no scruples on the subject of his negro slaves! He -does not provide for them. His man, Estevan, had the honor of -introducing the small-pox to this continent, at Vera Cruz. Many -of the race, both African and Spanish-born, were brought to the -Indies before 1500; but soon after their arrival, proving -refractory, they rebelled against the masters in what was called -the Maroon war. Others ran away to the mountains, enticing the -simple natives with them, where the negro lived in oriental -leisure and luxury, in his harem, who worked for him, and -provided for all his wants. In 1502, Governor Ovando recommended -that further importation be prohibited; because they escaped, and -would not work for the planters. The clergy joined in the -recommendation, because the negroes took the Indians with them, -whereby the Indian could not be instructed in religion. - -In 1506, Ovando's recommendation was adopted; but in part only. -The introduction of negroes from Africa was prohibited, while the -colonists were permitted to bring over Christian negroes born in -Spain. The king gave a special license for a few Africans to work -in the mines, where they would not come in contact with the -natives. Mr. Bancroft, in the fifth chapter of his _History of -the United States_, is quite indignant at the royal hypocrisy; -he, too, has the disease of natural equity and rights of man in -the cerebellum. This historian observes: - - "The Spanish government attempted to disguise the crime by - prohibiting the introduction of slaves who had been born in - Moorish families. ... But the idle pretence was soon abandoned. - ... King Ferdinand himself (1510) sent fifty slaves to labor in - the mines." - -The same chapter fifth is full of precious reading to those who -are curious to learn how facts sometimes may be interpreted, and -history made up. - -These are the reasons why Cardinal Ximenes was opposed to the -trade, as explained by his biographers; and these, also, for the -repugnance of Las Casas to it, as stated several times in his -works. But the cardinal determined to raise revenue from the -traffic; he thereupon, in 1516, stopped the trade until he could -arrange the duties to be levied. For this stoppage, Dr. Robertson -fired off an eulogium, which was not applicable. Washington -Irving eagerly sought out the chapter in Herrera, referred to by -the doctor, and was duly disgusted on finding that Ximenes was -not thinking about sublime moral sentiments, but about money. The -biographer of Columbus was much perplexed; he could only console -himself for the discrepancy by remarking that, "Cardinal Ximenes -in fact, though a wise and upright statesman, was not troubled -with scruples of conscience on the question of natural rights." -How a cardinal can be an upright man without an invariable -delicacy of conscience, wherewith to decide justly at all times, -surpasses common comprehension. The excuse for Ximenes is about -equal to the compliment for John Smith, if it were said that the -ubiquitous John is an exemplary member of society when he is -sober. - -On second thoughts, Mr. Helps, after all, may be entitled to -higher rank, by comparison with other authors, than on first -impression is accorded to him. -{849} -His home is in a hemisphere where historical questions, purely -American, are receding more and more from public consideration; -while most of the other gentlemen belong to this side of the -Atlantic, where such subjects are rising in the horizon, and -claiming greater attention. If facts, then, of the first -magnitude are Overlooked in the new world, how many more will be -overlooked in the old? If they do these things in the green tree -at Boston, what shall be done by a Dryasdust in London? - -Space does not permit an examination of other faults of less -gravity attributed to Las Casas. It is said that, when he wrote -his _Brief Account_, he exaggerated in over-stating the -immense extent of the destruction among the aborigines; that his -excited feelings and tender sensibilities had led him astray by -the unparalleled atrocities perpetrated in his presence. But on -the contrary, it was the magnitude of these atrocities which -excited his feelings and shocked his sensibilities. Every word in -the _Brief Account_ can be maintained; furthermore, it will -be found his statement in that tale of horror is not only true, -but falls short of all the truth. Foreign nations, jealous and -dreading the greatness of Spain, eagerly translated and published -the _Account_. It soon appeared in print in English, in -French, in Dutch, and Latin; it would have also been presented in -German, if a German literature had been in existence: Caricature -pictures embellished the pages, depicting scenes in the many -modes of torture practised upon the Indians, upon the simple, -innocent, confiding, naked men and women, upon little boys and -girls, scarce beyond infancy. - -These unheard-of crimes sent a thrill throughout Christendom, and -set a stigma for cruelty on the Castilian name. The Spanish -people, proverbial for their honesty, humanity, and integrity, -acting with little wisdom, denied the correctness of the account; -consequently, they were required to make good their denial. This -being impossible, the nation took vengeance on the memory of Las -Casas, when in his grave. But the conduct was foolish; the nation -was no more responsible for the outrage on the natives, than it -is responsible for a gang of desperadoes and outlaws in the -mountain, who let loose their bull-dogs on kids and lambs in the -Sierra Morena. Consequently, the name of Las Casas was held up to -national execration, wherever was spoken the beautiful idiom of -Castile. The learned looked upon his virtuous exertions with cold -suspicion; literature became tinctured with it; the church, -catching the tone of public opinion in the Iberian peninsula, -withheld her recognition and recompense; thus ignoring perhaps -her greatest ornament and benefactor in modern times. In the -course of years, his name passed almost into oblivion in Spain -when the asperity died out. But among the officials in Spanish -America, hatred to him was imperishable. So far down, even in -1811, the Consulado of the City of Mexico denounced him as a -"most illustrious Spanish declaimer, who wished to make himself -renowned at the expense of the true national glory; and if he -followed it some time, he gained at last the merited odium of -posterity and the contempt of all honest and right-minded -foreigners." At the same moment, nearly thirty millions of the -native population, the descendants of those whom he was mainly -instrumental in saving from slavery and consequent destruction, -sent forth daily their grateful hymns in praise of his virtues, -and in their orisons besought the heavenly grace to grant sweet -repose to his imperishable soul. - -{850} - -Well does he deserve their gratitude. At the beginning, Las Casas -was a missionary unto the missions; he taught the clergy first -that the natives were intellectual beings like themselves; he -organized the movement for the extirpation of slavery; he -instructed them how to appeal to the conscience of the dying man -holding fellow-men in bondage; he ordered them to refuse the -sacraments to the strong, who approached the holy altar; he -reported the plan for the missionary government to the sovereigns -in Spain; he organized it in America; and originated the method -by which the docile creatures were collected into communities or -pueblos, far removed from the white race; he laid down the rules -for the hours of labor and repose, for their instruction and for -their civilization. He instituted the regulations for the -guidance of the priests, and instilled into them the duty of -watching over their flock at all times, in all places; to shield -them from oppression; to alleviate their distress in sickness; to -soothe them in affliction; to counsel them when in health; to be -their guide, comforter, and friend. Nor has one of his teachings -been changed or set aside. They remain to this day in full vigor -in every pueblo, from the furthest confines of California to the -most remote mission of Paraguay. When he passed away from earth, -at the extreme age of ninety-two, the spirit with which his zeal -was animated, was caught up by the priesthood who sat at his feet -to listen to his inspired words. The germ he planted in their -bosom grew with their growth, strengthened with their strength. A -world was redeemed, and an humble monk from Seville, a truly -God-fearing man, Bartoleme Las Casas, was their redeemer. - -The time has gone by when the European mind can do him justice. -Colonial affairs of the Western continent have no longer an -interest in that quarter. His native land has thrown him off. It -is only in America the greatness of his achievement can be -portrayed, the lustre of his fame renewed. Nor can this pleasing -task be accomplished in Spanish America, where as yet a -provincial literature prevails. It must come, if come at all, -from out of our own republic. More than one half of the immense, -wide-spreading territory of the United States once belonged to -Spain; and Spanish missionary institutions, laws, customs, and -manners underlie the Anglo-Saxon historical, legislative, and -judicial superstructure of a later period. Jurists are now in -search, groping in the dark, for the clue to that seemingly -inextricable labyrinth of civilization on which Spanish-American -history is founded, and from whence contemporaneous laws and -customs are derived, in order to elucidate intricate principles -daily arising in the adjudication of titles to lands. - -The highest court approaches the deciding of such cases with some -trepidation and more distrust, lest they misapprehend a Spanish -colonial law or do not understand the reason for the enactment of -the law; or because, also, a contract may be misinterpreted from -misinformation of local institutions and local phrases, that -throw their atmosphere around expressed stipulations in legal -documents. They now feel the necessity for an exposition dating -back to the commencement of Castilian occupancy on this continent -and the institution of missions. In vain have they sought for -that source of knowledge, for that corner-stone upon which to -construct the true theory over again of viceregal domination. -{851} -At last they will turn to the works of Las Casas, to master their -contents; and when understood, they will lay their hand on what -remains of his noble intellect, and exclaim, "Thou art the man." -Then will be unfolded the mysteries of the Spanish colonial -double codes, and advocates will expound them with the courage -and confidence with which they expatiate upon the common law of -England. - -It was as idle to look among various races of peaceful -aborigines, for the founder of their civilization, clothed in the -garb of a warrior, wearing a sword at his side, as to expect to -encounter the great protector and first chief magistrate of a -mighty military nation under the cowl of a monk. Las Casas was to -the Spanish domain west of the Mississippi river what Washington -was to our English territory east of it; and as resort is -constantly had to the writings of the great general, to -understand the principles of government in one portion of the -republic, reference must be made to the essays of the great -missionary to explain the ideas and objects for which the other -was inhabited. American jurisprudence will be the channel through -which a proper estimate of Las Casas will be attained. Then shall -his works be placed in the alcoves of libraries along with the -documentary legacies of Washington, of Jefferson, of Hamilton, -and Adams; and chapels will be erected to enshrine his relics in -marbles, in malachite and lazuli, in gems and in gold. For it -will then be established that Bartoleme Las Casas in America -gained and preserved more souls to the church, than in Europe the -heresy of Luther ever lost. - ---------------- - - Sayings Of The Fathers Of The Desert. - - -There were two brothers of great sanctity, living in the same -congregation, who, by their merits, saw in each other the grace -of God. Now, it chanced that one of them went out on the sixth -feria, apart from the rest of the congregation, and saw a person -eating at an early hour. "Dost eat at this hour on the sixth -feria?" said he. The next day Mass was celebrated as usual, and -when the other brother looked at him, and saw that the grace -which had been given him was gone, he was sad. And when they had -entered his cell, he said: "What hast thou done, brother, for I -no longer see the grace of God in thee as heretofore?" "I -remember to have done nothing bad either in thought or in deed," -was the answer. "Have you spoken to any one in an uncharitable -manner?" asked the brother. Then recollecting himself, he -replied: "Yes. Yesterday I saw some one eating at an early hour, -and asked him whether he ate so early on the sixth feria. This, -then, is my fault. But come, work with me for two weeks, and let -us pray God to forgive me." They did so, and after two weeks' -time he beheld God's grace again descending upon his brother, -and, giving thanks to God, who alone is good, they were full of -consolation. - ------------------ - -{852} - - New Publications. - - The Friendships Of Women. - By William Rounseville Alger. - Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1868. - -Mr. Alger has certainly given us a charming volume, and one which -is distinguished for its freedom from the weak sentimentality and -doubtful moral tone that one fears to find in publications of our -day, whose aim it is to treat of the passions of the human heart. -He has chosen the noblest and purest examples in history to -illustrate his subject, and the incidents of life are selected -with good taste and judgment. The Catholic Church refines and -elevates every genuine sentiment of the heart, and we should, -therefore, naturally look for the most shining examples of -friendship among those of her children who have instanced in -their lives her divine power of purification and exaltation of -the soul. The best examples in this volume are such--St. Monica, -and her great son, St. Augustine; St. Scholastica and her -brother, St. Benedict; St. Jerome and St. Paula; St. Francis of -Assisi and St. Clara; St. Francis de Sales and St. Jane Frances -de Chantal; St. Theresa and St. John of the Cross; Sir Thomas -More and his daughter, Margaret Roper; Eugénie de Guérin and her -brother Maurice; Madame Swetchine and Father Lacordaire. In -several places Mr. Alger recognizes this fact, and acknowledges -that the Catholic faith tends to foster pure and exalted -friendships. Noticing some very remarkable intimate friendships -which sprung up between certain holy priests and their female -penitents, he adds: "Unquestionably there have been very numerous -friendships, worthy of notice, between clergymen and devout women -in the Protestant sects. But they are different from those in the -Catholic communion, which has, in this respect, great advantages. -In the Protestant establishment all are on a free equality, and -the religion is an element fused into the life. With the -Catholics, the overwhelming authority of the church invests the -priests with godlike attributes, while celibacy detaches their -hearts from the home and family, leaving them ready for other -calls. The laity are placed in a passive attitude, except as to -faith and affection, which are more active for the restrictions -applied elsewhere: and religion is pursued and practised as an -art by itself. The church ritual, by its dramatic contents and -movements, peerless in its pathetic, imaginative power, -intensifies and cleanses the passions of those who appreciatively -celebrate or witness it, and who are naturally attracted -together, as, in blended devotional emotions and aims, they -cultivate that supernatural act whose infinite interests make all -earthly concerns appear dwarfed and pale. The instances already -cited of the friendships thus originating, suffice to indicate -the wealth in this kind of experience which must remain for ever -unknown to the public." - -The fact is plain, although Mr. Alger makes sorry work in -attempting to philosophize upon it. A month's experience in the -confessional, if that were possible for him, would teach him with -whom "religion is an element fused into the life," and that the -faith of a Catholic is not a matter of sentiment only, and it -might reveal to him, also, the secret of that holy friendship of -which, in truth, the world outside knows nothing. It certainly -does surprise us that, from his close perusal of the lives of -these friends in God, he has failed to discover it. We can tell -him, however, the reason why he has not found the secret of their -affection, for we read it plainly on every page of his book. He -fails to recognize the reality of the supernatural, and therefore -has no appreciation of any friendship which is not wholly human -in its foundation and motive. This is the fault we have to find -with modern non-Catholic literature, and which renders it so cold -and sterile. -{853} -We are not the ones to carp at human love and human friendship. -Both are of God, and blessed by him. The doctrines of Calvinism, -which has darkened the spiritual life of those who have been -nourished under its influence, and which stigmatizes the nature -of man, with all its aspirations, as of the devil, devilish, is -alone responsible for the degradation of the heart's affections, -and that dearth of human friendship of which the author complains -in his introduction, and the desire to reestablish which appears -to have moved him to the composition of this work. The revolt -against the doctrine of total depravity has resulted in pure -naturalism and transcendentalism. Hence, human reason is deified -together with the instincts. Reason is the highest, for there is -nothing above it; and "act out thy instincts," is the holiest, -for they are divine. - -May not this inordinate cultivation of the passions, and their -unbridled gratification, which is the burden of the sensational -literature of our day, be a reaction from the unnatural -restraints of puritanism? The actual state of things we leave our -author to give in his own words. "The proportionate number of -examples of virtuous love, completing itself in marriage, will -probably diminish, and the relative examples of defeated or of -unlawful love increase, until we reach some new phase of -civilization, with better harmonized social arrangements-- -arrangements both more economical and more truthful. In the mean -time, everything which tends to inflame the exclusive passion of -love, to stimulate thought upon it, or to magnify its imagined -importance, contributes so much to enhance the misery of its -withholding or loss, and thus to augment an evil already -lamentably extensive and severe." Why does not Mr. Alger ask -himself the reason of this increasing immorality, and the -diminution of the number of marriages? He says, again, "There -never were so many morally baffled, uneasy, and complaining women -on the earth as now." And why? His answer confirms what we have -before said. "_Because never before did the capacities of -intelligence and affection so greatly exceed their -gratification_." Mr. Alger sees no other heaven than this -earth, no "better part" than marriage; is blind to the -supernatural end of man; fails to appreciate the examples of -divine friendships he cites, and has no remedy to offer for the -evils he deplores, but the stimulation of another human -sentiment, purer in its conception, and less liable to abuse than -the more ardent passion of love, and the establishment and -cultivation of "woman's rights," to replace (we cannot help -thinking it) the convent and its supernatural life of divine -love; and substituting personal friendships for that charity -which embraces the whole race. For, he says: "Now, the most -healthful, effective antidote for the evils of an extravagant -passion, is to call into action neutralizing or supplementary -passions; to balance the excess of one power by stimulating -weaker powers, and fixing attention on them; to assuage -disappointments in one direction by securing gratification in -another." And, again: "The good wife and mother fills a beautiful -and sublime office--the fittest and the happiest office she can -fulfil. If her domestic cares occupy and satisfy her faculties, -it is a fortunate adjustment; and it is right that her husband -should relieve her of the duty of providing for her subsistence. -But what shall be said of those millions of women who are not -wives and mothers; who have no adequate domestic life, no genial, -private occupation or support? Multitudes of women have too much -self-respect to be desirous of being supported in idleness by -men, too much genius and ambition to be content with spending -their lives in trifles; and too much devotedness not to burn to -be doing their share in the relief of humanity, the work and -progress of the world. If these were but all happy wives and -mothers, that might be best. But denied that function, and being -what they are, why should not all the provinces of public labor -and usefulness which they are capable of occupying, be freely -opened to them! What else is it save prejudice that applauds a -woman dancing a ballet or performing an opera, but shrinks with -disgust from one delivering an oration, preaching a sermon, or -casting a vote? -{854} -Why is it less womanly to prescribe as a physician than to tend -as a nurse? If a woman have a calling to medicine, divinity, law, -literature, art, instruction, trade, or honorable handicraft, it -is hard to see any reason why she should not have a fair chance -of pursuing it." - -Mr. Alger, however, catches some faint glimpses of the truth to -which we have alluded, and we wish that he would ponder well the -full meaning of his own language, when speaking of the friendship -of Madame Swetchine and Father Lacordaire--a friendship which -appears to have been a subject of intense interest to him, and to -have awakened his unqualified admiration. "No one who has not -read their correspondence, reaching richly through a whole -generation, can easily imagine the services rendered by this -gifted and saintly woman to this holy and powerful man. Community -of faith, of loyalty, of nobleness, joined them. It was in -looking to heaven together that their souls grew united. Drawn by -the same attractions, and held by one sovereign allegiance, such -souls need no vows, nor lean on any foreign support. _The -divinity of truth and good is their bond._" What is this -"divinity of truth and good"? Is it God, the living, personal -God, who redeems, inspires, regenerates, sanctifies, and -glorifies humanity, or is it not? What is the character of the -life born of this communion in God? Are such friendships possible -outside of revealed religion? We think not, and we regret that a -mind of such culture as our author has shown his to be, should -not see that he has been forced to go outside of the bounds of -his own theory to find the realization of his ideal. - -The final chapter of his work, "On the present needs and duties -of women," is not so foreign to the title of the volume as one -might be tempted to believe on a cursory reading. Mr. Alger -finds, as he says in his introduction, that the position of woman -in society is descending. He looks for some "new phase of -civilization" to bring her back to a position of honor and -usefulness equivalent to that which she is so rapidly losing. He -blames Christianity and its traditions for making woman the -weaker vessel, and reducing her to subjection under the rule of -man, as the head of the divine institution of the family. It -seems to us that this relative position of the man and the woman -is established by pretty high authority. - -"To the woman, also, he said, I will multiply thy sorrows and thy -conceptions: in sorrow shalt thou bring forth children, _and -thou shalt be under thy husband's power, and he shall have -dominion over thee._" This, however, Mr. Alger conveniently -rejects as a legend. But does he forget that the Christian church -emancipated woman, and redeemed her from that degraded condition, -into which, for want of the regenerating influence of the -supernatural life of that church, she is once again descending? -We are not surprised to see Mr. Alger throwing all revelation -aside, denying original sin and its consequences. But let him -beware. He will drag humanity back into the state of barbarism, -or drown it in the sink of heathen licentiousness. This modern -spirit of materialism, this throwing off the yoke of divine -authority, is the result of the old temptation, "Ye shall be as -gods, knowing good from evil," and we are present witnesses to -the curse that is falling upon those who give ear to the tempter. -Men and women forget God, and there is a fearful resuscitation of -the basest forms of heathen immorality among them. Will Mr. Alger -tell us to what principle (either of civilization or of religion) -he attributes the dying out of the non-Catholic native American -stock in New England, and what new phase of civilization will -prevent its total extinction? - -Mr. Alger would regenerate the millions of women whose aimless -life he deplores, by making woman equal in all the duties of life -to the man. No matter what the whole world has said before, no -matter what superstitious revelations have said, no matter if the -teaching of the Bible distinctly shows the contrary, no matter if -the Christian church affirms by the mouth of St. Paul, "I suffer -not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to -be in silence; for Adam was first formed, then Eve." -{855} -"We are led," says our author, "by teachings of philosophy and -science which we cannot resist," to differ with the traditions of -the whole world and the Christian church, and as for the Apostle, -"his logic limps;" for, "did priority of creation confer -authority to govern, then man should obey the lower animals." (!) - -Mr. Alger has a theory, and endeavors to illustrate it, and draw -the logical conclusions. We fear that those conclusions will -harmonize but ill with the experience of the human race, and will -be found sadly wanting in their adaptability to its needs. - ------------- - - An Illustrated History Of Ireland. - With ten first-class full-page Engravings of Historical Scenes, - designed by Henry Doyle, and engraved by George Hanlon and - George Pearson; together with upwards of 100 woodcuts by - eminent artists, illustrating the Antiquities, Scenery, and - Sites of Remarkable Events. - 1 vol. 8vo, pp. xiv., 581. - London: Longman & Co.; - New York: Catholic Publication Society, 126 Nassau Street. - -We extend a most cordial welcome to this "Popular Illustrated -History of Ireland." It is precisely such a manual of that deeply -interesting and suggestive history, as should be in the hands of -every man or woman who claims connection with the ancient race of -the Gael, or who wishes to obtain a correct knowledge of that -people. Such a manual could only have been produced in our -generation. Thirty or forty years ago, it were an impossibility. -Little was then known of the genuine materials of the history of -Ireland; of the vast body of annals, which Eugene O'Curry -deliberately affirmed, some twelve years since, must form the -basis of any really intelligible version of the story of "ancient -Erinn;" of the Genealogies and Pedigrees, the Historic Tales, the -Law Books, the Topographical Poems, and of the whole mass of -miscellaneous historical literature, which the national historian -must avail himself of, before he can give us anything more than a -dry and meagre outline; before he can bring out in full relief, -the pregnant record of the colonization, conversion, invasions, -persecutions, wars, struggles, triumphs and reverses; sufferings -and sorrows of Innisfail; before he can supply those lights and -shades, all those minute circumstances, "which explain not only -historical events, but those equally or even more important -descriptions, in which the habits and manners, the social ideas -and cultivation, the very life of the actors in those events are" -depicted for our instruction as well as entertainment. It is true -there were then as now accessible scores, even hundreds of -so-called "Histories of Ireland," from Dermod O'Connor's rude and -ruthless translation of the _Foras Feasa Ar Eirinn_ of Dr. -Geoffrey Keating, down through the ponderous volumes of Leland, -and Warner, and O'Halloran, and Plowden, and Ledwich, and -Musgrave, to the crude compilations of Taaffe, and Gordon, and -Crawford, and Commerford, and Lawless; to the more polished and -pretentious, but not practically more useful, rather more -pernicious epitome of Thomas Moore. There were Ogygias, -Itineraries, Collectanea, Chronicles of Eri, and such pedantic -rubbish, in heaps on the shelves of public libraries, in old -book-stores, in the closets and chests of fossilized book-worms. -All of those pseudo-histories served rather to discourage than -advance the study of the real history of Ireland; to bring into -disrepute, rather than to exalt, the Irish name, and race, and -nation, and the glorious church founded by the great apostle of -the faith. - -To a learned and faithful, though almost forgotten representative -of the venerable priesthood of Ireland belongs the high honor of -having produced, in the language of the stranger, the first truly -original work of an historical nature, an able, erudite, and -inspiring history of the most devoutly cherished inheritance of -the race, the ancient church of his native land; and this, too, -within the memory of men yet living, and not far past the prime -of life. We allude to the _Ecclesiastical History of -Ireland,_ of the Rev. Dr. John Lanigan, which was issued in -four volumes octavo, from a Dublin press, in the year 1822. -{856} -It commenced with the introduction of Christianity into Ireland, -and closed with the era of the Anglo-Norman invasion. Half a -life-time was given to the preparation of the book, the -accomplished author of which "spared no pains in the collection -and collation of such documents as materially" bore on the -subject, and such as were in his time accessible in the British -Islands, and on the continent. His aim was "to exhibit a faithful -picture of the doctrine and practice of the ancient Irish Church, -and to show its connection, at all times, with the universal -church of Christ." This he did as far as it was then in the power -of a great and zealous scholar to do. But he felt, and his -contemporaries were by him taught to appreciate, the want of a -familiar and critical knowledge of the immense stores of Celtic -lore, the full magnitude and importance of which it has since -taken more than the average of a generation of unprecedentedly -diligent research, and of unsurpassed ability, to ascertain and -make clear. - -Soon after the publication of the really great work of Dr. -Lanigan--now altogether out of print--the famous Ordnance Survey -of Ireland was fairly entered upon. In its prosecution, some of -the most profoundly learned men of the country were employed, -under the superintendence of Colonel Thomas A. Larcom and Dr. -George Petrie. It was in connection with this great national -undertaking that the knowledge and skill of the lamented -scholars, Dr. John O' Donovan and Professor Eugene O'Curry, were -first utilized for the public good. Thenceforward, with and -without the aid of government, these great men pushed earnestly, -enthusiastically onward, in their investigations into the extant -materials of their country's history; rescuing from oblivion and -decay priceless memorials of the past, in every form and shape, -in Ireland and elsewhere whither they were called upon to exert -themselves; and classifying, systematizing, translating, editing, -annotating, and publishing, with unremitting industry, and with -marvellous power and tact, until they ceased from their labors -for ever, and passed hence to their reward. Great, indeed -irreparable, was the loss which the history and literature of -Ireland sustained in their deaths. - -Without the impetus given to the investigation of the past of -Ireland by the great, single-handed enterprise of the Rev. Dr. -Lanigan, it is questionable whether the progress that was made in -the succeeding thirty years could possibly have been achieved in -the interest of the historical literature of the nation. Without -the help of O'Donovan and O'Curry and Petrie, the race could not -have had placed within its reach so vitally important a portion -of that literature as has been given to the public in a -thoroughly scholarly form and style, within the past twenty-eight -years, by the Irish Archaeological, Celtic, Ossianic, and kindred -archaeological societies, by Messrs. Hodges & Smith, by Mr. James -Duffy, of Dublin, and through various other agencies. Without the -advantages resulting from their labors, we could not have had the -many very able works on general and special topics of national -historical interest which, within our own recollection, have -proceeded from the pens of truly national writers. Without the -vast stores of information acquired by O'Donovan and O'Curry -themselves, while prosecuting their fruitful studies and -researches, even the _Irish Grammar_ and the magnificent -version of the _Annals of Ireland_ of the former, and the -celebrated _Lectures on the Manuscript Materials of Ancient -Irish History,_ the crowning work of the latter, could not -have been produced in our day and generation. And it is saying no -more than is frankly avowed by the vigorous writer of the -_Popular Illustrated History of Ireland_, that, without the -benefit of the light that has been thrown upon bygone times in -Ireland, since Dr. Lanigan published his _Ecclesiastical -History_, this latest and best of the modern histories of -Ireland could not have been prepared for publication, and issued -in such an appropriate style. - -The work before us, for a copy of which we are indebted to "The -Catholic Publication Society," makes a handsome octavo volume of -over 600 pages, divided into 36 chapters, prefaced by an -admirably written and very timely disquisition on the Irish land -and church questions, the most vital questions of reform in -Ireland in our time; and supplemented by a very full index. -{857} -It is illustrated by ten full-page historical engravings, from -designs by Mr. Henry Doyle, a worthy son of the noble Irish -Catholic artist, Richard Doyle, who refused to prostitute his -genius in the interests of the assailants of his church through -the columns of the London _Punch_; and by over one hundred -very beautiful sketches on wood of the scenery, antiquities, -sites of remarkable events, etc. etc. The illustrations, woodcuts -and all, are in the very best style of the art which they -represent. Mr. Doyle's contributions of themselves would form an -attractive collection. The emblematic title-page, suggestive of -all that is grand and noble in the period of the independence of -the nation, is an exquisite picture. Of rare merit, likewise, are -most of the other designs furnished by Mr. Doyle. The Emigrant's -Farewell, opposite page 571, is a truthful, characteristic, and -painfully suggestive sketch. - -The narrative itself is as fine a specimen of comprehensive -analysis and condensation as we have any knowledge of. It -faithfully reflects the present advanced state of historical -research in and relating to the country. It embodies all the -ascertained facts of the history of Ireland. The character of its -early inhabitants; their social, civil, and religious habits and -customs; their martial, legal, literary, and--noblest, most -glorious, most enduring of all--their missionary triumphs; all -are accurately, though succinctly, portrayed. The tragic eras of -the history of the nation, from the Invasion to the achievement -of Catholic Emancipation--more than 650 years--are also limned -in vivid colors. No available source of information has been -unheeded by the writer, who seems to have not merely read, but -studied earnestly, every published work of value or interest, -down to the very latest publication, bearing directly or -indirectly on the subject, not even excepting the driest and most -abstruse of the several society tracts and monograms of the -archaeologists. The sketches of early Celtic literature are -worthy of even O'Donovan or O'Curry, brief, precise, and -satisfactory. The book is trustworthy in all its peculiarities, -eminently so in its text and notes, which are presented in a -clear, unaffected, but most interesting style, and with a -conscientiousness which is not obtrusive, but which is -recognizable in every line of the writer. - -We have been so interested in the details of the history, and so -delighted by the more purely narrative parts, that we find we -have marked for citation several peculiarly striking passages, -for which we have no room. One passage which we give will serve -as the meetest conclusion to our notice of the work; as well as -to indicate the spirit of the history, and illustrate the -flowing, artless, and pathetic style of the writer. In treating -of the extant memorials of St. Patrick, it is thus beautifully -remarked: - - "One prayer uttered by St. Patrick has been singularly - fulfilled. 'May my Lord grant,' he exclaims, 'that I may never - lose his people, which he has acquired in the ends of the - earth.' From hill and dale, from camp and cottage, from - plebeian and noble, there rang out a grand 'Amen.' The strain - was caught by Secundinus and Benignus, by Columba and - Columbanus, by Brigid and Brendan. It floated away from - Lindisfarne and Iona to Iceland and Tarentum. It was heard on - the sunny banks of the Rhine, at Antwerp and Cologne, in - Oxford, in Pavia, and in Paris. And still the old echo is - breathing its holy prayer by the priest who toils in cold and - storm to the 'station' on the mountain-side, far from his - humble home. By the confessor who spends hour after hour, in - the heat of summer and the cold of winter, absolving the - penitent children of Patrick. By the monk in his cloister. By - noble and true-hearted men, faithful through centuries of - persecution. And loudly and nobly, though it be but faint to - human ears, is that echo uttered also by the aged woman who - lies down by the wayside to die in the famine years, because - she prefers the bread of heaven to the bread of earth, and the - faith taught by Patrick to the tempter's gold. By the emigrant, - who with broken heart bids a long farewell to the dear island - home, to the old father, to the gray-haired mother, because his - adherence to his faith tends not to further his temporal - interests, and he must starve or go beyond the sea for bread. - Thus, ever and ever, that echo is gushing up into the ear of - God, and never will it cease until it shall have merged into - the eternal alleluia which the often-martyred and ever faithful - children of the saint shall shout with him in rapturous voice - before the Eternal Throne." - ------------------- - -{858} - - Legends Of The Wars In Ireland. - By Robert Dwyer Joyce, M.D. - 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 352. - Boston: James Campbell. 1868. - -This handsome little volume is, we believe, the first -contribution of Dr. Joyce to Irish-American literature since his -arrival in this country. We have read several of his sketches, -years ago, in the Irish periodicals, and one of them, the -"Building of Mourne," appeared in one of the first numbers of -this magazine. - -The stories Dr. Joyce has collated in this volume are told in an -easy, racy style, and make pleasant reading for a winter's -evening. They please us better than the majority of the sketches -and stories about Ireland which have frequently appeared here and -in England, as they are, with a few exceptions, free from that -exaggeration of plot and detail which take away the moral effect -of too many of the so-called legends. The book contains the -following stories: - A Batch of Legends; - The Master of Lisfinry; - The Fair Maid of Killarney; - An Eye for an Eye; - The Rose of Drimmagh; - The House of Lisbloom; - The White Knight's Present; - The First and Last Lords of Firmoy, - The Chase from the Hostel; - The Whitethorn Tree; - The White Lady of Basna; - The Bridal Ring; - The Little Battle of Bottle Hill. - ---------- - - Verses On Various Occasions. - By John Henry Newman, D.D. - London: Burns, Gates & Co. - For sale at the Catholic Publication House. - -Dr. Newman has conferred a long-expected favor upon many friends -in the collection and publication of his poems under the present -form. Those who have known and honored his course will appreciate -the thoughtfulness which prompted him to subjoin the dates of -their composition, as also the names of places where they were -written. To such also those poems will, of course, be of the -greater interest, which are, in fact, the sighs of his troubled -heart as God led him step by step toward the church. These were -composed between 1830 and 1833, and make up a large part of the -volume. In the _Apologia_ we get an insight into the trials -of his mind, as he faithfully held fast to truth, and fought for -it, even against his own, for conscience' sake. Here we look into -his heart, and witness the communion of his spirit with God. Dr. -Newman had many to doubt the sincerity of his course, the purity -of his motives, and the singleness of his purpose. Who can read -these spoken thoughts, spoken rather to God than to man, and -doubt him still? We cannot refrain from transcribing one already -well known, which is remarkable for the expression it conveys of -the deep emotions of his soul at a time when his mind was torn -with anxious doubt concerning the truth of Anglicanism. He felt, -as most converts feel in their journey to the Home of Faith and -Truth, that they are on the way to a promised land, led by the -cloud of desolation that God raises in the desert, and yet know -not where that Home is nor of what sort or fashioning it may be. -The poem we allude to is entitled, - - "THE PILLAR OF THE CLOUD. - - "Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, - Lead thou me on! - The night is dark, and I am far from home-- - Lead thou me on! - Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see - The distant scene--one step enough for me. - - "I was not ever thus, nor prayed that thou - Shouldst lead me on, - I loved to choose and see my path; but now - Lead thou me on! - I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears, - Pride ruled my will; remember not past years. - - "So long thy power hath blest me, sure it still - Will lead me on, - O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till - The night is gone: - And with the morn those angel faces smile - Which I have loved long since and lost awhile." - -We think some one has said--and if not, we say it ourselves--that -the next difficult thing to writing a book is to give it a name. -What every one has not failed to notice, who is conversant with -the sermons of Dr. Newman, we find equally true of these poems, -the felicity of his choice of titles. -{859} -It is the touch of genius; and we venture to assert that Dr. -Newman excels in this all living writers. There is no evidence -that these "Verses" were written or are published now for poetic -fame, and yet no one can help but accord to them the praise due -to poetry of a high order of merit; revealing at the same time, -as they do, what a great deal of true poetry does not and need -not necessarily show, the mind of the scholar and of the master -of language. The volume closes with the remarkable poem entitled, -"The Dream of Gerontius," which our readers have already enjoyed -from the pages of _The Catholic World_. - ---------- - - The Blessed Eucharist Our Greatest Treasure. - By Michael Müller, - Priest of the Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer. - Baltimore: Kelly & Piet. - -This work is written in plain and unaffected style to promote the -noblest, best, and most useful of objects, the devotion to our -Lord Jesus Christ present in the Most Holy Sacrament of the -altar. Catholics are taught and believe this great mystery of -love; but many, though they believe, do not seem to realize -sufficiently what it is they believe. They have not thought much -upon it. They have, not penetrated its depths. Their knowledge is -superficial, and their devotion consequently is cold. And this -for many reasons is particularly the case in this country. Here -we have immense congregations and few priests, and they loaded -down with the building of churches, and a variety of work which -has been already done in other countries. The people often are -either out of reach of the church, or struggling for the means of -living, and therefore have grown careless, and failed to receive -the instruction which they require. Hence there is need, and -great need, of all the means of instruction which can be brought -to bear, and good books on the grand doctrines of religion are -calculated to do an incalculable amount of good. This book of -Father Müller's is intended to supply much needed instruction on -the Blessed Sacrament, and we hope it will receive an extensive -circulation. In reading it, we are reminded of the _Visits to -the Blessed Sacrament_ by Saint Alphonsus, which have been so -acceptable and useful throughout the whole church, and we do not -doubt many souls will derive great edification and pleasure from -its perusal. - -------------- - - The Cromwellian Settlement Of Ireland. - By John P. Prendergast, Esq. With three maps. - 1 vol. pp. 228. - New York: P. M. Haverty. 1868. - -This is the most thorough _exposé_ of the wholesale plunder -and robbery of the unfortunate Irish by the English soldiers -under Cromwell yet published. It quotes the documents by the -authority of which the land was taken from its rightful owners, -and parcelled out to the jail-birds of the "protector." - -Mr. Prendergast is a Dublin lawyer. He was in the circuit in the -counties of Wicklow, Wexford, Waterford, Kilkenny, and Tipperary -for ten years, when he received a commission to make pedigree -researches in the latter county. His search for documents -relating to Ireland was not confined to that country alone. He -visited England, and examined the extensive Irish documents in -the libraries there. But, he tells us, it was in the castle of -Dublin he found the most important ones. These, along with -extracts from others, found elsewhere, make up his book. It is -full of historical materials on the confiscation of Ireland, -never before published, which make it an important work to be -studied by every student in Irish history. It throws a flood of -light on the manner in which the Irish were robbed, exiled, -murdered, and for no other purpose but to get their property for -the invaders. It tells a sad and sickening story of wrong and -outrage, unknown in the history of any other country in Europe, -much of which has been kept hidden, because the guilty parties -did not wish such things should see the light. But truth, like -murder, will out, and Mr. Prendergast, who, it is well to -observe, is not a Catholic, has done a good service to the cause -of truth, in the volume before us. - ------------ - -{860} - - Manual Of Physical Exercises. - By William Wood. - With one hundred and twenty-five illustrations. - New York: Harper & Brothers. 1867. - -That physical education is absolutely necessary to a full and -perfect development of the intellectual faculties, is now -universally conceded. In this connection, therefore, we have but -to add that the manual now before us gives, in simple phrase, -aided by, numerous appropriate illustrations, a vast amount of -information by which our health may be preserved, our strength -increased, our mental powers as a consequence improved, and -therefore, not only our individual comfort promoted, but our -general usefulness as members of the body politic very materially -enhanced. - ------------ - - Lives Of The Queens Of England, From The Norman Conquest. - By Agnes Strickland, author of - _Lives of the Queens of England_. - Abridged by the author. - Revised and edited by Caroline G. Parker. - New York: Harper & Brothers. 1867. - -This excellent abridgment presents us with a series of -pen-portraits, strikingly and impartially depicted, of the Queens -of England, from Matilda of Flanders, wife of William the -Conqueror, to the present queen-regnant, Victoria. While giving, -in a modified form, the more delicate facts of their history, it -carefully retains all that is essential to a complete knowledge -of their lives, public and domestic, their political triumphs and -reverses, their private joys and sorrows. - -------------- - - Home Fairy Tales. - By Jean Macé. - Translated by Mary L. Booth. - With Engravings. - New York: Harper & Brothers. 1868. - -In its illustrations, binding, and typographical excellence, this -volume ranks first amongst the many which, during the holiday -season just passed, have attracted the favorable regard of the -rising generation. But, while cheerfully according this meed of -praise to the Messrs. Harper, and no less acknowledging the merit -of Miss Booth's translation, a vivid remembrance of what best -pleased ourselves, in days gone by, compels us to add, that these -tales, unlike many others we might enumerate, will never become -household words with children. Fairy tales intended, as these -evidently are, to convey a moral, may be likened to sugar-coated -pills. The fault with these tales is, that the coating, so to -speak, is too thin, and, consequently, the unpalatable though -sanative globule too easily detected. - ---------- - - The Lovers' Dictionary. - A Poetical Treasury of Lovers' Thoughts, Fancies, Addresses, - and Dilemmas, indexed with ten thousand references, as a - Dictionary of Compliments, and Guide to the Study of the Tender - Science. - New York: Harper & Brothers. 1867. - -Of this anonymous volume, if the author's judgment and good taste -had equalled his industry, mere mention on our part would -suffice. But even a cursory examination compels us to add that, -while it contains many beautiful poems and elegant extracts, we -found very many indifferent, not a few objectionable from a want -of appositeness, and some that should not have been inserted. - -Should the author compile another volume, intended for the -impressible of both sexes, we heartily wish him, in consideration -of his zeal, "a little more taste," the more fully to carry out -his good intentions. - ------------- - -"The Catholic Publication Society" -has the following books in press, and -will publish them as follows: - March 10, _The Diary of a Sister of Mercy_; - April 1, _In the Snow; or, Tales of Mount St. Bernard_, - by Rev. Dr. Anderdon; - April 20, _Nellie Netterville; or, A Tale of - the Times of Cromwell_, by Miss Caddell; - May 10, _Problems of the Age_. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Catholic World, Vol. 06, October, -1867 to March, 1868., by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CATHOLIC WORLD, VOL. 06 *** - -***** This file should be named 55841-8.txt or 55841-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/8/4/55841/ - -Produced by Don Kostuch -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |